me to your friend."
"My cousin. Mr. Nicholas Temple," I said.
Monsieur Gratiot looked at him fixedly.
"Of the Charlestown Temples?" he asked, and a sudden vague fear seized
me.
"Yes," said Nick, "there was once a family of that name."
"And now?" said Monsieur Gratiot, puzzled.
"Now," said Nick, "now they are become a worthless lot of refugees and
outlaws, who by good fortune have escaped the gallows."
Before Monsieur Gratiot could answer, a child came running around the
corner of the house and stood, surprised, staring at us. Nick made a
face, stooped down, and twirled his finger. Shouting with a terrified
glee, the boy fled to the garden path, Nick after him.
"I like Mr. Temple," said Monsieur Gratiot, smiling. "He is young, but
he seems to have had a history."
"The Revolution ruined many families--his was one," I answered, with what
firmness of tone I could muster. And then Nick came back, carrying the
shouting youngster on his shoulders. At that instant a lady appeared in
the doorway, leading another child, and we were introduced to Madame
Gratiot.
"Gentlemen," said Monsieur Gratiot, "you must make my house your home. I
fear your visit will not be as long as I could wish, Mr. Ritchie," he
added, turning to me, "if Mr. Wharton correctly states your business. I
have an engagement to have my furs in New Orleans by a certain time. I
am late in loading, and as there is a moon I am sending off my boats
to-morrow night. The men will have to work on Sunday."
"We were fortunate to come in such good season," I answered.
After a delicious supper of gumbo, a Creole dish, of fricassee, of creme
brule, of red wine and fresh wild strawberries, we sat on the porch. The
crickets chirped in the garden, the moon cast fantastic shadows from the
pecan tree on the grass, while Nick, struggling with his French, talked
to Madame Gratiot; and now and then their gay laughter made Monsieur
Gratiot pause and smile as he talked to me of my errand. It seemed
strange to me that a man who had lost so much by his espousal of our
cause should still be faithful to the American republic. Although he
lived in Louisiana, he had never renounced the American allegiance which
he had taken at Cahokia. He regarded with no favor the pretensions of
Spain toward Kentucky. And (remarkably enough) he looked forward even
then to the day when Louisiana would belong to the republic. I exclaimed
at this.
"Mr. Ritchie," said he, "the most c
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