Parson Jones was disappointed.

“Well, now, Jools, you know, I don’t think that was right.  I reckon you must be a plum Catholic.”

M. St.-Ange shrugged.  He would not deny his faith.

“I am a Catholique, mais”—­brightening as he hoped to recommend himself anew—­“not a good one.”

“Well, you know,” said Jones—­“where’s Colossus?  Oh! all right.  Colossus strayed off a minute in Mobile, and I plum lost him for two days.  Here’s the place; come in.  Colossus and this boy can go to the kitchen.—­Now, Colossus, what air you a-beckonin’ at me faw?”

He let his servant draw him aside and address him in a whisper.

“Oh, go ‘way!” said the parson with a jerk.  “Who’s goin’ to throw me?  What?  Speak louder.  Why, Colossus, you shayn’t talk so, saw.  ’Pon my soul, you’re the mightiest fool I ever taken up with.  Jest you go down that alley-way with this yalla boy, and don’t show yo’ face untell yo’ called!”

The negro begged; the master wrathily insisted.

“Colossus, will you do ez I tell you, or shell I hev to strike you, saw?”

“O Mahs Jimmy, I—­I’s gwine; but”—­he ventured nearer—­“don’t on no account drink nothin’, Mahs Jimmy.”

Such was the negro’s earnestness that he put one foot in the gutter, and fell heavily against his master.  The parson threw him off angrily.

“Thar, now!  Why, Colossus, you most of been dosted with sumthin’; yo’ plum crazy.—­Humph, come on, Jools, let’s eat!  Humph! to tell me that when I never taken a drop, exceptin’ for chills, in my life—­which he knows so as well as me!”

The two masters began to ascend a stair.

“Mais, he is a sassy; I would sell him, me,” said the young Creole.

“No, I wouldn’t do that,” replied the parson; “though there is people in Bethesdy who says he is a rascal.  He’s a powerful smart fool.  Why, that boy’s got money, Jools; more money than religion, I reckon.  I’m shore he fallen into mighty bad company”—­they passed beyond earshot.

Baptiste and Colossus, instead of going to the tavern kitchen, passed to the next door and entered the dark rear corner of a low grocery, where, the law notwithstanding, liquor was covertly sold to slaves.  There, in the quiet company of Baptiste and the grocer, the colloquial powers of Colossus, which were simply prodigious, began very soon to show themselves.

“For whilst,” said he, “Mahs Jimmy has eddication, you know—­ whilst he has eddication, I has ’scretion.  He has eddication and I has ‘scretion, an’ so we gits along.”

He drew a black bottle down the counter, and, laying half his length upon the damp board, continued: 

“As a p’inciple I discredits de imbimin’ of awjus liquors.  De imbimin’ of awjus liquors, de wiolution of de Sabbaf, de playin’ of de fiddle, and de usin’ of by-words, dey is de fo’ sins of de conscience; an’ if any man sin de fo’ sins of de conscience, de debble done sharp his fork fo’ dat man.—­Ain’t that so, boss?”