! They called me in to prescribe for a trivial indisposition, shortly
after their arrival; and I tell you, Frowenfeld, it made me shiver to
see two such beautiful women in such a town as this without a male
protector, and even"--the doctor lowered his voice--"without adequate
support. The mother says they are perfectly comfortable; tells the old
couple so who took them to the ball, and whose little girl is their
embroidery scholar; but you cannot believe a Creole on that subject, and
I don't believe her. Would you like to make their acquaintance?"

Frowenfeld hesitated, disliking to say no to his friend, and then shook
his head.

"After a while--at least not now, sir, if you please."

The doctor made a gesture of disappointment.

"Um-hum," he said grumly--"the only man in New Orleans I would honor
with an invitation!--but all right; I'll go alone."

He laughed a little at himself, and left Frowenfeld, if ever he should
desire it, to make the acquaintance of his pretty neighbors as best
he could.

CHAPTER VII

WAS IT HONORE GRANDISSIME?

A Creole gentleman, on horseback one morning with some practical object
in view,--drainage, possibly,--had got what he sought,--the evidence of
his own eyes on certain points,--and now moved quietly across some old
fields toward the town, where more absorbing interests awaited him in
the Rue Toulouse; for this Creole gentleman was a merchant, and because
he would presently find himself among the appointments and restraints of
the counting-room, he heartily gave himself up, for the moment, to the
surrounding influences of nature.

It was late in November; but the air was mild and the grass and foliage
green and dewy. Wild flowers bloomed plentifully and in all directions;
the bushes were hung, and often covered, with vines of sprightly green,
sprinkled thickly with smart-looking little worthless berries, whose
sparkling complacency the combined contempt of man, beast and bird
could not dim. The call of the field-lark came continually out of the
grass, where now and then could be seen his yellow breast; the orchard
oriole was executing his fantasias in every tree; a covey of partridges
ran across the path close under the horse's feet, and stopped to look
back almost within reach of the riding-whip; clouds of starlings, in
their odd, irresolute way, rose from the high bulrushes and settled
again, without discernible cause; little wandering companies of sparrows
undulated