Paul sat at the stern of the boat leaning against the side, and his eyes were on New Orleans, where he saw the formless shapes of buildings and twinkling lights here and there.  The city, in a way, attracted him and, in another way, it repelled him.  It interested him, but he had no desire to live there.  It was a port, a gate, as it were, opening into the vast old world, to which belonged the centuries, and of which he had read and thought so much, but the single taste of it turned Paul’s heart with a stronger affection than ever toward the New World to which he belonged.  The great forests of the north seemed clean and fresh to him as they had seemed to Jim.  There, at least, a man could know who were his friends and who were his enemies.

He saw boats passing on the turbid, brown current of the Mississippi and he heard snatches of strange, foreign songs.  The night had fully come and heavy darkness hung over land and water, but New Orleans did not sleep.  The smugglers, the adventurers, the former galley slaves, the riff-raff of Europe, and the mixed bloods of the West Indies were abroad in pursuit of either business or pleasure, each equally favored by the dusk.

Shif’less Sol and Long Jim were already asleep, but Paul was restless and slumber would not come.  Henry, too, was wakeful, and Paul at last suggested that they walk in the city.  Henry accepted, and with a word to Tom Ross they sprang ashore.

New Orleans was even more interesting to them by night than by day, as it had now a peculiarly uncanny look added to its other qualities.  The night was close, heavy, and warm, and the brown current of the river showed but dismally through it.  Lights were still moving on the Mississippi, but the boats that bore them were invisible.  From the side of the river pleasant odors came to their nostrils, the clean, sweet scents of vast, undefiled woods and prairies, the flavor of a wind blowing over wild flowers, but from the side of the city the smells were as variegated and repellent as ever.

Nevertheless the two youths turned into the city, lit faintly by the flaring oil lanterns, and walked along through one street and another seeing what they could see.  The night life was active and much of it was sodden.  Oaths played a great part in the talk they heard and intoxication was a prevalent note.  Sounds of strife, either without or within, arose now and then, but Henry and Paul, wishing to keep clear of all trouble, never stayed to see the result.  They more than suspected that knives shone too often in these orgies.

They stopped a few moments by the old church in front of the Place d’Armes.  The church was flanked on one side by a low brick building, very white with roof of red and yellow tiles, while to the left of the church stood a villa-like house half hidden among the trees.  They admired the effect of the moonlight on the tiles, and then, passing through the wooden fence that enclosed it, they entered the deserted Place d’Armes.