babe's despair. "No, we've tri' that." Her
smile was tearful. "Ah, _cherie_, you both muz' pardon. Laz' night we
was both so af-raid about that, an' of a so affegtionate curio-zitie,
that we was _compel_' to read that manuscrip' through! An' we are
convince'--though tha'z not ab-out clocks, neither angels, neither
lovers--yet same time tha'z a moz' marvellouz manuscrip'. Biccause, you
know, tha'z a true story, that 'Holy Crozz.' Tha'z concerning an
insurregtion of slave'--there in Santa Cruz. And 'a slave insurregtion,'
tha'z what they ought to call it, yes!--to prom-ote the sale. Already
laz' night Yvonne she say she's convince' that in those Northron citie',
where they are since lately _so fon_' of that subjec', there be people by
_dozen_'--will _devour_ that story!"

She tripped off to the house.

"Hector," said Aline, "you may sit down."

Cupid slid into the vacated seat. Chester dropped the document into his
pocket.

"For what?" the girl archly inquired.

"I want to take it to my quarters and judge it there. Why shouldn't I?"

"Yes, you may do that."

"And now tell me of your father, or his father--the one Beloiseau
knew--Theophile Chapdelaine."

"Both were Theophile. He knew them both."

"Then tell me of both."

"Mr. Chester, 'twould be to talk of myself!"

"I won't take it so. Tell the story purely as theirs. It must be fine.
They were set, in conscience, against the conscience of their day----"

"So is Mr. Chester."

"Never mind that, either. We're in a joint commercial enterprise; we
want a few good stories that will hang on one stem. Our business is
business; a primrose by the river's brim--nothing more! Although"--the
speaker reddened----

The girl blushed. "Mr. Chester, take away the 'although' and I'll tell
the story."

"I take it away. Although----"

XX

THE CHAPDELAINES

"A yellow primrose was to him----"

Yonder in the parlor with the Ducatels, ignorant of the poet's lines as
they, the two aunts--those two consciously irremovable, unadjustable,
incarnated interdictions to their niece's marriage--saw the primrose,
the "business," as the pair in the bower thought they saw it
themselves. Were not Aline and Chester immersed in that tale of
servile insurrection so destitute of angels, guiding stars, and lovers?
And was not Hector with them? And are not three as truly a crowd in
French as in American?

"Well, to begin," Chester urged, "your grandfather, T