The Bondwoman

  CHAPTER VIII.

  The dowager was delighted to find that the one evening of completesocial success had changed her daughter-in-law into a woman ofsociety. It had modified her prejudices. She accepted invitationswithout her former protests, and was only careful that the people whomshe visited should be of the most distinguished.

  Dumaresque watched her with interest. There seemed much of deliberationback of every move she made. The men of mark were the only ones towhom she gave encouragement, and she found several so responsivethat there was no doubt, now, as to whether she was awake to her ownpower--more, she had a mind to use it. She was spoken of as one of thebeauties of the day.

  The McVeighs had gone to Italy, the mother to visit a relative, theson to view the late battle fields on the other side of the Pyreneesand acquaint himself with military matters wherever he found them.

  He had called on the Marquise the day following the fete at the HotelDulac. She had quite recovered her slight indisposition of thepreceding evening, and there had been no hesitation about receivinghim. She was alone, and she met him with the fine, cool, graciousmanner reserved for the people who were of no importance in her life.

  Looking at her, listening to her, he could scarcely believe this couldbe the girl who had provoked him into a declaration of love less thana day ago, and in whose eyes he had surprised a fervor responding tohis own. She called him Lieutenant McVeigh, with an utter disregard ofthe fact that she had ever called him anything else.

  When in sheer desperation he referred to their first meeting, shelistened with a chill little smile.

  "Yes," she agreed; "Fontainbleau was beautiful in the spring time.Maman was especially fond of it. She, herself, had been telling afriend lately of the very unconventional meeting under the bushes ofthe Mademoiselle and Monsieur Incognito, and he--the friend--hadthought it delightfully amusing, good enough for the thread of acomedy."

  Then she sent some kindly message to Mrs. McVeigh, but refused to seethe wonder--the actual pain--in the eyes where before she hadremembered those half slumberous smiles, or that brief space ofpassionate pleading. He interrupted some cool remark by rising.

  "It is scarcely worth while--all this," he said, abruptly. "Had youclosed your doors against me after last night I should haveunderstood--I should have gone away adoring you just the same. But toopen them, to receive me, and then--"

  His voice trembled in spite of himself. All at once he appeared somuch more boyish than ever before--so helpless in a sort of misery hecould not account for, she turned away her head.

  "With the ocean between us my love could not have hurt you. You mighthave let me keep that." He had recovered control of his voice and hiseyes swept over her from head to foot like blue lightning. "I bid yougood-day, Madame."

  She made an inclination of the head, but did not speak. She hadreached the limit of her self control. His words, "_You might have letme keep that_," were an accusation she dared not discuss.

  When the door closed behind him she could see nothing, for the blur oftears in her eyes. Madame La Marquise received no other callers thatday.

  In the days following she compared him with the courtiers, thediplomats, the very clever men whom she met, and told herself he wasonly a boy--a cadet of twenty-two. Why should she remember his words,or forget for one instant that infamy with which his name wasconnected?

  "He goes on his knees to me only because he has grown weary of theslave-women of the plantations," she told herself in deepest disgust.Sometimes she would look curiously at the hands once covered by hiskisses. And once she threw a withered bunch of forget-me-nots from herwindow, at night, and crept down at daybreak next morning and foundit, and took it back to her room.

  It looked as though the boy was holding his own despite thediplomats.

  When she saw him again it was at an auction of articles donated for acharity under the patronage of the Empress, and open to the public.Cotton stuffs justled my lady's satins, and the half-world stared atshort range into the faces whose owners claimed coronets.

  Many leading artists had donated sketches of their more pretentiouswork. It was to that department the Marquise made her way, andentering the gallery by a side door, found that the crowd hadseparated her from the Countess Biron and the rest of their party.

  Knowing that sooner or later they would find her there, she halted,examining some choice bits of color near the door. A daintily dressedwoman, who looked strangely familiar, was standing near withapparently the same intent. But she stood so still; and the poise ofher head betrayed that she was listening to something. The somethingwas a group of men back of them, where the black and white sketcheswere on exhibition. The corridor was not wide, and their conversationwas in English and not difficult to understand if one gave attention.The Marquise noted that Dumaresque was among them, and they stoodbefore his donation of sketches, of which the principal one was alittle study of the octoroon dancer, Kora.

  Then in a flash she understood who the person was who listened. Shewas the original of the picture, drawn there no doubt by a sort ofvanity to hear the artistic praise, or personal comment. But a swiftglance showed her it had been a mistake; the dark brows were frowning,the full lip was bitten nervously, and the small ungloved hand wasclenched.

  The men were laughing carelessly over some argument, not noticingthat they had a listener; the people moving along the corridor, singleand in groups, hid the two who remained stationary, and whose backswere towards them. It was most embarrassing, and the Marquise wasabout to move away when she heard a voice there was no mistaking--thevoice she had not been able to forget.

  "No, I don't agree with you;" he was saying, "and you would not findhalf so much to admire in the work if the subject were some oldplantation mammy equally well painted. Come over and see them wherethey grow. After that you will not be making celebrities of them."

  "If they grow many like that I am most willing, Monsieur."

  "I, too. When do we start? I can fancy no land so well worth a visitbut that of Mohammed."

  The first speaker uttered an exclamation of annoyance, but the otherslaughed.

  "Oh, we have seen other men of your land here," remarked Dumaresque."They are not all so discreet as yourself. We have learned that theydo not usually build high walls between themselves and prettyslaves."

  "You are right," agreed the American. "Sorry I can't contradict you.But these gorgeous Koras and Phrynes remind me of a wild blossom inour country; it is exquisite in form, beautiful to the eye, but poisonif touched to the lips. It is called the yellow jasmine."

  "No doubt you are right," remarked one of the men as Kora dropped herveil over her face. "You are at all events poetical."

  "And the reason of their depravity?"

  "The fact that they are the outgrowth of the worst passions of bothraces--at least so I have heard it said by men who make more of astudy of such questions than I."

  A party of people moved between the two women and the speakers. TheMarquise heard Kora draw a sobbing breath. She hesitated an instant,her own eyes flashing, her cheeks burning. _He_ to sit in judgment onothers--he!

  Then she laid her hand on the wrist of Kora.

  "Come with me," she said, softly, in English, and the girl with oneglance of tear-wet eyes, obeyed.

  The Marquise opened the door beside her, a few steps further andanother door led into an ante-room belonging to a portion of thebuilding closed for repairs.

  "Why do you weep?" she asked briefly, but the kindly clasp of herwrist told that the questioner was not without sympathy, and the girlstrove to compose herself while staring at the other in amazement.

  "You--I have seen you--I remember you," she said, wonderingly, "theMarquise de Caron!"

  "Yes;" the face of the Marquise flushed, "and you are the dancer--Kora.Why did you weep at their words?"

  "Since you know who I am, Madame, I need not hesitate to tell you more,"she said, though she did hesitate, and looked up, deprecatingly, tothe Marquise, who stood a few pace
s away leaning against the window.

  There was only one chair in the room. Kora perceived for the firsttime that it had been given to her while the Marquise stood. She aroseto her feet, and with a deference that lent a subtile grace to herexpression, offered it to her questioner.

  "No; resume your seat;" the command was a trifle imperious, but it wassoftened the next instant by the smile with which she said: "A dearold lady taught me that to the burdened horse we should always givethe right of way. We must make easier the way of those who bearsorrows. You have the sorrow today--what is it?"

  "I am not sure that you will understand, Madame," and the girl'svelvety black eyes lifted and then sought the floor again. "But you,perhaps, heard what they said out there, and the man I--I--well, hewas there."

  The lips of the Marquise grew a trifle rigid, but Kora was too muchengaged with her own emotion to perceive it.

  "I suppose I shouldn't speak of him to a--a lady who can't understandpeople who live in a different sort of world. But you mean to be kind,and I suppose have some reason for asking?" and she glanced at thelady in the window. "So--"

  The Marquise looked at her carefully; yes, the girl was undeniablyhandsome; a medium sized, well-turned figure, small hands and feet,graceful in movement, velvety oriental eyes, and the deep creamcomplexion over which the artists had raved. She had the manner of onewell trained, but was strangely diffident before this lady of theother world. The Marquise drew a deep breath as she realized howattractive she could be to a man who cared.

  "You are a fool," she said, harshly, "to care for a man who speaks soof your people."

  "Oh, Madame!" and the graceful form drooped helplessly. "I knew youcould never understand. But if folks only loved where it was wise tolove, all the trouble of the world would be ended."

  The hand of the Marquise went to her throat for an instant.

  "And then it is true, all they said there," continued Kora; "that iswhy--why I had let you see me cry; what he said is true--and I--Ibelong in his country where the yellow jasmine grows. There are timeswhen I never stop to think--weeks when I am satisfied that I havemoney and a fine apartment. Then, all at once, in a minute like this,I see that it does not weigh down the one drop of black blood in myhand there. Sometimes I would sell my soul to wipe it out, and Ican't! I can't!"

  Her emotions were again overwhelming her. The Marquise watched herclench the shapely hands with their tapering fingers and many rings,the pretty graceful bit of human furniture in an establishment forsuch as _he_!

  "An oriental prince was entertained by the Empress last week," sheremarked, abruptly. "His mother was a black woman, yours was not."

  "I know; I try to understand it--all the difference that is made. Ican't do it; I have not the brain. I can only"--and she smiledbitterly--"only learn to dance a little, and you don't need brain forthat. My God! How can they expect us to have brain when our mothersand grandmothers had to live under laws forbidding a slave to disputeany command of a white man? Madame, ladies like you--ladies ofFrance--could not understand. I could not tell you. Sometimes I thinkmoney is all that can help you in this world. But even money can'tkill the poison he spoke of. We might be free for generations but thecurse would stay on us, because away back in the past our people hadbeen slaves."

  "So have the ancestors of those men you listened to," said theMarquise, and the girl looked at her wonderingly.

  "_They!_ Why, Madame!"

  "It is quite true. Everyone of them is the descendant of slaves of thepast. Every ancient race was at some time the slaves of some strongernation. Many of the masters of today are the descendants of people whowere bought and sold with the land for hundreds of years. Think ofthat when they taunt you with slavery!"

  "Oh! Madame!"

  "And remember that every king and queen of Egypt for centuries, everyone told of in their bibles and histories, would look black beside thewoman who was your mother! Chut! do not look so startled! TheCaucassian of today is now believed by men of science to be only ableached negro. To be sure, it has taken thousands of years, and theice-fields and cave dwellings of the North to do the bleaching. Butman came originally from the Orient, the very womb of the earth fromwhich only creatures of color come forth."

  "You!--a white lady! a noble! say this to comfort me; why?" asked thegirl. She had risen again and stood back of the chair. She looked halffrightened.

  "I say it because, if you study such questions earnestly, you willperceive how the opinion of those self-crowned judges will dwindle;they will no longer loom above you because of your race. My child, youare as royal as they by nature. It is the cultivation, the training,the intellect built up through generations, by which they are yoursuperiors today. If your own life is commendable you need not beashamed because of your race."

  Kora turned her head away, fingering the rings on her pretty hands.

  "You--it is no use trying to make a lady like you understand," shemuttered, "but you know who I am, and it is too late now!"

  She attempted to speak with the nonchalance customary to her, but theentire interview, added to the conversation in the corridor, hadtouched depths seldom stirred, and never before appealed to by awoman. What other woman would have dared question her like that? Andit was not that she had been awed by the rank and majesty in whichthis Marquise moved; she, Kora--who had laughed in the face of aPrincess whose betrothed was seen in Kora's carriage! No; it was notthe rank, it was the gentle, yet slightly imperious womanliness, backof which could be felt a fund of sympathy new and strange to her; itappealed to her as the reasoning of a man would appeal; and man wasthe only compelling force hitherto acknowledged by Kora.

  The Marquise looked at her thoughtfully, but did not speak. She wastoo much of a girl herself to understand entirely the nature beforeher or its temptations. They looked, really, about the same age, yetfor all the mentality of the Marquise, she knew Kora was right--theworld of emotions that was an open book to the bewitching octoroon wasan unknown world to her.

  "The things I do not understand I will not presume to judge," shesaid, at last, very gently; "but is there no one anywhere in thisworld whose affection for you would be strong enough to help you liveaway from these people who speak of you as those men spoke, yet whoare themselves accountable for the faults over which they laughtogether."

  "Oh, what you have said has turned me against that Trouvelot--thatdandy!" she said, with a certain vehemence. "He is only a Count ofyesterday, after all; I'll remember that! Still; it is all the habitof life, Madame, and I never knew any other. Look here; when I wastwelve I was told by an old woman to be careful of my hands, of mygood looks every way, for if I was handsome as my mother, I wouldnever need to do housework; that was the beginning! Well!" and shesmiled bitterly, "I have not had to do it, but it was through noplanning of theirs."

  "And your mother?"

  "Dead; and my father, too. He was her master."

  "It is that spendthrift--Trouvelot, you care for?"

  "Not this minute," confessed the girl; "but," and she shrugged hershoulders, "I probably shall tomorrow! I know myself well enough forthat; and I won't lie--to you! You saw how he could make me cry? It isonly the man we care for who can hurt us."

  The Marquise did not reply; she was staring out of the window. Kora,watching her, did not know if she heard. She had heard and was angrywith herself that her heart grew lighter when she heard the name ofKora's lover.

  "I--I will not intrude longer, Madame," said the girl at last. "Whatyou've said will make me think more. I never heard of what you've toldme today. I wish there were women in America like you; oh, I wishthere were! There are good white ladies there, of course, but theydon't teach the slaves to think; they only tell them to have faith!They teach them from their bible; and all I could ever remember of itwas: 'Servants, obey your masters;' and I hated it. So you see,Madame, it is too late for me; I don't know any other life; I--"

  "I will help you to a different life whenever you are willing to leaveParis," said the Marquise.


  "You would do that, Madame?"

  Kora dropped into the chair again, covering her face with her hands.After a little she looked up, and the cunning of her class was in hereyes.

  "Is it to separate me from _him_?" she asked, bluntly. "I know theywant him to marry; are you a friend of his family?"

  The Marquise smiled at that.

  "I really do not know if he has a family," she replied. "I aminterested because it seems so pitiful that a girl should never havehad a chance to live commendably. It is not too late. In your owncountry a person of your intelligence and education should be able todo much good among the children of the free colored people. You wouldbe esteemed. You--"

  "Esteemed!" Kora smiled skeptically, thinking no doubt of thehalf-world circle over which she was a power in her adopted city; she,who had only to show herself in the spectacle to make more money thana year's earnings in American school teaching. She knew she could notreally dance, but she did pose in a manner rather good; and then, herbeauty!

  "I was a fool when I came here--to Paris," she said woefully. "Ithought everybody would know I was colored, so I told. But they wouldnot know," and she held out her hand, looking at the white wrist, "Icould have said I was a West Indian, a Brazilian, or a SpanishCreole--as many others do. But it is all too late. America was neverkind to my people, or me. You mean to be kind, Madame; but you don'tknow colored folks. They would be the first to resent my educationaladvantages; not that I know much; books were hard work for me, andParis was the only one I could learn to read easy. As for America, Iown up, I'm afraid of America."

  The Marquise thought she knew why, but only said:

  "If you change your mind you can let me know. I have a property in NewOrleans. Some day I may go there. I could protect you if you wouldhelp protect yourself." She looked at the lovely octoroon withmeaning, and the black velvety eyes fell under that regard.

  "You can always learn where I am in Paris, and if you should changeyour mind--" At the door she paused and said kindly: "My poor girl, ifyou remain here he will break your heart."

  "They usually do when a woman loves them, Madame," replied Kora, witha sad little smile; she had learned so much in the book of Paris.

  The friends of the Marquise were searching for her when she emergedfrom the ante-room. The Countess Biron confessed herself in despair.

  "In such a mixed assembly! and all alone! How was one to know whatpeople you might meet, or what adventures."

  "Oh, I am not adventurous, Countess," was the smiling reply; "and letme whisper: I have been talking all of the time with one person, onevery pretty person, and it has been an instructive half hour."

  "Pretty? Well, that is assurance as to sex," remarked Madame Choudey,with a glance towards one of the others of the party.

  "And if you will watch that door you will be enlightened as to theindividual," said the Marquise.

  Three pair of eyes turned with alertness to the door. At that momentit opened, and Kora appeared. The lace veil no longer hid herbeautiful eyes--all the more lovely for that swift bath of tears. Shesaw the Marquise and her friends, but passed as if she had never seenone of them before; Kora had her own code.

  "Are you serious, Judithe de Caron?" gasped the Countess Helene. "Wereyou actually--conversing--with that--demi-mondaine?"

  "My dear Marquise!" purred Madame Choudey, "when she does not even_pretend_ to be respectable!"

  "It is because she does not pretend that I spoke with her. Honestyshould receive some notice."

  "Honesty! Good heavens!" cried Madame Ampere, who had not yet spoken,but who expressed horror by her eyes, "where then do you find yourstandards for such judgment?"

  "Now, listen!" and the Marquise turned to the three with a quizzicalsmile, "if Kora lived exactly the same life morally, but was a rulerof the fashionable world, instead of the other one; if she wore acrown of state instead of the tinsel of the varieties, you would notexclaim if she addressed me."

  "Oh, I must protest, Marquise," began Madame Ampere in shockedremonstrance, but the Marquise smiled and stopped her.

  "Yesterday," she said slowly, "I saw you in conversation with a manwho has the panels of his carriage emblazoned with the Hydrangea--alsocalled the Hortensia."

  The shocked lady looked uncomfortable.

  "What then? since it was the Emperor's brother."

  "Exactly; the brother of the Emperor, and both of them the sons of amother beside whom beautiful Kora is a thing of chastity."

  "The children could not help the fact that they were all half-brothers,"laughed the Countess Helene.

  "But this so-called Duke could help parading the doubtful honor of hisdescent; yet who fails to return his bow? And I have yet to learn thathis mother was ignored by the ladies of her day. Those Hortensias onhis carriage are horrible to me; they are an attempt to exalt in aqueen the immorality condemned in a subject."

  "Ah! You make my head swim with your theories," confessed theCountess. "How do you find time to study them all?"

  "They require no study; one meets them daily in the street or court.The difficulty is to cease thinking of them--to enjoy a careless lifewhen justice is always calling somewhere for help."

  "I refuse to be annoyed by the calls, yet am comfortable," said MadameChoudey. "The people who imagine they hear justice calling have had,too often, to follow the calls into exile."

  "That is true," agreed her friend; "take care Marquise! Your theoriesare very interesting, but, truly, you are a revolutionist."

  Their little battle of words did not prevent them parting with smilesand all pleasantry. But the Countess Biron, to whose house theMarquise was going, grimaced and looked at her with a smile of doubtwhen they were alone.

  "Do you realize how daring you are Judithe?--to succeed socially youshould not appeal to the brains of people, but to their vanities."

  "Farewell, my social ambitions!" laughed the Marquise. "Dear Countess,pray do not scold! I could not help it. Why must the very respectableworld see only the sins of the unfortunate, and save all their charityfor the heads with coronets? Maman is not like that; she is alwaysgentle with the people who have never been taught goodness; though sheis severe on those who disgrace good training. I like her way best;and Alain? Well, he only told me to do my own thinking, to be sure Iwas right before I spoke, and to let no other consideration weigh atall."

  "Yes! and he died in exile because he let no worldly considerationweigh," said the Countess Helene grimly.