ch
village, streets lined by red-tiled houses and crossing limpid streams
by quaint bridges. Death had overtaken them beside a monster tawny
river of which their imaginations had not conceived, a river which draws
tribute from the remote places of an unknown land,--a river, indeed,
which, mixing all the waters, seemed to symbolize a coming race which
was to conquer the land by its resistless flow, even as the Mississippi
bore relentlessly towards the sea.

These were my own thoughts as I listened to the tones of the priest as
they came, droningly, out of the door, while Nick was exchanging jokes
in doubtful French with some half-breeds leaning against the palings.
Then we heard benches scraping on the floor, and the congregation began
to file out.

Those who reached the steps gave back, respectfully, and there came an
elderly lady in a sober turban, a black mantilla wrapped tightly about
her shoulders, and I made no doubt that she was Monsieur Gratiot's
mother-in-law, Madame Chouteau, she whom he had jestingly called the
queen regent. I was sure of this when I saw Madame Gratiot behind her.
Madame Chouteau indeed had the face of authority, a high-bridged nose, a
determined chin, a mouth that shut tightly. Madame Gratiot presented us
to her mother, and as she passed on to the gate Madame Chouteau reminded
us that we were to dine with her at two.

After her the congregation, the well-to-do and the poor alike, poured
out of the church and spread in merry groups over the grass: keel
boatmen in tow shirts and party-colored worsted belts, the blacksmith,
the shoemaker, the farmer of a small plot in the common fields in
large cotton pantaloons and light-wove camlet coat, the more favored in
skull-caps, linen small-clothes, cotton stockings, and silver-buckled
shoes,--every man pausing, dipping into his tabatiere, for a word with
his neighbor. The women, too, made a picture strange to our eyes, the
matrons in jacket and petticoat, a Madras handkerchief flung about their
shoulders, the girls in fresh cottonade or calamanco.

All at once cries of "'Polyte! 'Polyte!" were heard, and a nimble young
man with a jester-like face hopped around the corner of the church,
trundling a barrel. Behind 'Polyte came two rotund little men perspiring
freely, and laden down with various articles,--a bird-cage with two
yellow birds, a hat-trunk, an inlaid card box, a roll of scarlet cloth,
and I know not what else. They deposited these on the