“When my father he was yet a boy, fo’teen, fiv’teen, those Lefevre’ they rent’ to the grand-mere of both Castanado and Dubroca, turn ab-out, a li’l’ slave girl so near white you coul’n’ see she’s black!  You coul’n’ even suspec’ that, only seeing she’s rent’, that way, and knowing that once in a while, those time, that whitenezz coul’n’ be av-void’.  Myseff, me, I’ve seen a man, ex-slave, so white you woul’n’ think till they tell you; but then you’d see it—­black!  But that li’l’ girl of seven year’, nobody coul’n’ see that even 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 be a crime!  And also she coul’n’ never be ‘appy that way; she’s too good and high-mind’ to be marrie’ to any white man wha’z willin’ to marry a nigger.’