ed
above the levee saw a sight that had long been missing from her
orbit. The old plantation house shed a soft and alluring radiance
from every window. Of its two-score rooms only four had been
refurnished--the larger reception chamber, the dining hall, and
two smaller rooms for the convenience of the expected guests. But
lighted wax candles were set in the windows of every room.

The dining-hall was the _chef d'oeuvre_. The long table, set with
twenty-five covers, sparkled like a winter landscape with its snowy
napery and china and the icy gleam of crystal. The chaste beauty of
the room had required small adornment. The polished floor burned
to a glowing ruby with the reflection of candle light. The rich
wainscoting reached half way to the ceiling. Along and above this
had been set the relieving lightness of a few water-colour sketches
of fruit and flower.

The reception chamber was fitted in a simple but elegant style.
Its arrangement suggested nothing of the fact that on the morrow
the room would again be cleared and abandoned to the dust and the
spider. The entrance hall was imposing with palms and ferns and the
light of an immense candelabrum.

At seven o'clock Grandemont, in evening dress, with pearls--a
family passion--in his spotless linen, emerged from somewhere. The
invitations had specified eight as the dining hour. He drew an
armchair upon the porch, and sat there, smoking cigarettes and half
dreaming.

The moon was an hour high. Fifty years back from the gate stood the
house, under its noble grove. The road ran in front, and then came
the grass-grown levee and the insatiate river beyond. Just above the
levee top a tiny red light was creeping down and a tiny green one
was creeping up. Then the passing steamers saluted, and the hoarse
din startled the drowsy silence of the melancholy lowlands. The
stillness returned, save for the little voices of the night--the
owl's recitative, the capriccio of the crickets, the concerto of
the frogs in the grass. The piccaninnies and the dawdlers from the
quarters had been dismissed to their confines, and the melee of
the day was reduced to an orderly and intelligent silence. The six
coloured waiters, in their white jackets, paced, cat-footed, about
the table, pretending to arrange where all was beyond betterment.
Absalom, in black and shining pumps posed, superior, here and there
where the lights set off his grandeur. And Grandemont rested in his
chair, waiting for