en avter told. Some
people said: 'Tha'z biccause she's so young; when she's grow' up you'll
see. And some say, 'When she get chil'ren they'll show it, those
chil'ren--an' some be even dark!'

"Any'ow some said she's child of monsieur, and madame want to keep her
out of sight that beneficent way. They would bet you any money if you
go on his plantation you find her slave mother by the likenezz. She
di'n' look like him but they insist' that also come later. Any'ow
she's rent' half-an'-half by those _grand-mere_' of Castanado and
Dubroca, at the firzt just to call 'shop'! at back door when a cuztomer
come in, and when growing older to make herseff many other way' uzeful.
And by consequence she was oft-en playmate with the chil'ren of all
that coterie there in Royal Street. Excep' my father; he was fo'teen
year' to her seven."

"Was she a handsome child?" Chester ventured.

"I think no. But in growing up she bic-came"--the craftsman handed out
a pocket flash-light and an old _carte-de-visite_ photograph of a
black-haired, black-eyed girl of twenty or possibly twenty-three years.
"You shall tell me," he said:

"And you'll trust me, my sincerity?"

"Sir! if I di'n' truzt you, _ab-so-lutely_, you shoul'n' touch that
with a finger."

"Well, then, I say yes, she's handsome, trusting you not to gild my
plain words with your imagination. She's handsome, but in a way easily
overlooked; a way altogether apart from the charms of color and
texture, I judge, or of any play of feeling; not floral, not startling,
not exquisite; but _statuesque_, almost heavily so, and replete with
the virtues of character."

"Well," said Beloiseau, putting away the picture, "sixteen year' she
rimain' rent' to mesdames that way, and come to look lag that. And all
of our parent'--gran'parent'--living that simple life like you see us,
their descendant', now, she biccame like one of those
familie'--Dubroca--Castanado--or of that coterie entire.

"So after while they want' to buy her, to put her free. But Mme.
Lefevre she rif-use' any price. She say, 'If Fortune'--that was her
name--'would be satisfi' to marry a nize black man like Ovide, who
would buy his friddom--ah, yes! But no! If I make her free without,
she'll right off want to be marrie' to a white man. Tha'z the only
arrengement she'll make with him; she's too piouz for any other
arrengement, while same time me I'm too piouz to let her _marry_ a
white man; my faith, that would