of my sable
nurse, but lay for a moment reflecting. True, the lady knew nothing of
my encounter with the bully. Ha! Antoine--then. Had he not come
ashore? Was he--? Scipio anticipated the question I was about to put.
His face became sad as he recommenced speaking.

"Ah! young mass'r, Mamselle 'Genie be in great 'stress dis mornin--all
de folks be in great 'stress. Mass'r Toney! Poor Mass'r Toney."

"The steward, Antoine? What of him? Tell me, has he not come home?"

"No, mass'r--I'se afeerd he nebber, nebber will--ebberybody 'feerd he be
drownded--folks a been to de village--up an down de Lebee--ebery wha.
No Toney. Captain ob de boat blowed clar into de sky, an fifty
passengers gone to de bottom. Oder boat save some; some, like young
mass'r, swam 'shore: but no Toney--no Mass'r Toney!"

"Do you know if he could swim?" I asked.

"No, mass'r, ne'er a stroke. I knows daat, 'kase he once falled into de
bayou, and Ole Zip pull 'im out. No--he nebber swim--nebber."

"Then I fear he is lost indeed."

I remembered that the wreck went down before the Magnolia had got close
alongside. I had noticed this on looking around. Those who could not
swim, therefore, must have perished.

"Poor Pierre, too. We hab lost Pierre."

"Pierre? Who was he?"

"De coachman, mass'r, he war."

"Oh! I remember. You think he is drowned, also?"

"I'se afeerd so, mass'r. Ole Zip sorry, too, for Pierre. A good nigger
war daat Pierre. But, Mass'r Toney, Mass'r Toney, ebberybody sorry for
Mass'r Toney."

"He was a favourite among you?"

"Ebberybody like 'im--black folks, white folks, all lub 'im. Missa
'Genie lub 'im. He live wi' ole Mass'r Sancon all him life. I believe
war one ob Missy 'Genie gardiums, or whatever you call 'em.
Gorramighty! what will young Missa do now? She hab no friends leff; and
daat ole fox Gayarre--he no good--"

Here the speaker suddenly interrupted himself, as if he feared that his
tongue was going too freely.

The name he had pronounced and the expression by which it was qualified,
at once awakened my curiosity--the name more than the qualification.

"If it be the same," thought I, "Scipio has characterised him not
otherwise than justly. Can it be the same?"

"You mean Monsieur Dominique Gayarre, the _avocat_?" I asked, after a
pause.

Scipio's great white eyeballs rolled about with an expression of mingled
surprise and apprehension, and rather stammeringly he replied:--

"