Castanado had the grippe, and the manuscript was yet unread?

A voice spoke his name and he found himself facing the very black
dealer in second-hand books.

"I was yonder at Toulouse Street," said Ovide Landry, "coming up-town,
when I saw you at Conti coming down. I have another map of the old
city for you. At that rate, Mr. Chester, you'll soon have as good a
collection as the best."

The young man was pleased: "Does it show exactly where Maspero's
Exchange stood?" he asked.

Ovide said come to the shop and see.

"I will, to-day; at six." Another man came up, "Ah, Mr. Castanado!
How--how is your patient?"

"Madame"--the costumer smiled happily--"is once more well. I was
looking for you. You didn't pass in Royal Street this morning."

[Ah, those eyes behind those windows behind those balconies!]

"No, I--oh! going, Landry? Good day. No, Mr. Castanado, I----"

"Madame hopes Mr. Chezter can at last, this evening, come at home for
that reading."

"Mr. Castanado, I can't! I'm mighty sorry! My whole evening's
engaged. So is to-morrow's. May I come the next evening after? . . .
Thank you. . . . Yes, at seven. Just the three of us, of course?
Yes."

III

Six o'clock found Chester in Ovide's bookshop.

Had its shelves borne law-books, or had he not needed for law-books all
he dared spend, he might have known the surprisingly informed and refined
shopman better. Ovide had long been a celebrity. Lately a brief summary
of his career had appeared incidentally in a book, a book chiefly about
others, white people. "You can't write a Southern book and keep us out,"
Ovide himself explained.

Even as it was, Chester had allowed himself that odd freedom with Landry
which Southerners feel safe in under the plate armor of their race
distinctions. Receiving his map he asked, as he looked along a shelf or
two: "Have you that book that tells of you--as a slave? your master
letting you educate yourself; your once refusing your freedom, and your
being private secretary to two or three black lieutenant-governors?"

"I had a copy," Landry said, "but I've sold it. Where did you hear of
it? From Rene Ducatel, in his antique-shop, whose folks 'tis mostly
about?"

"Yes. An antique himself, in spirit, eh? Yet modern enough to praise
you highly."

"H'mm! but only for the virtues of a slave."

Chester smiled round from the shelves: "I noticed that! I'm afraid we
white folks, the world over, are prone