The Purchase Price Part 41

The st.u.r.dy speech of the fresh-looking, good-hearted fellow, touched the heart of a woman so world weary. For a time she said nothing of plans, even to herself. It was not long before the baby of Jeanne found a place upon her knee, and Jeanne herself, though jealous, was willing to surrender her dearest rights, at least for a time.

But always the eyes of this world weary woman were lifted up to the hills. She found herself gazing out beyond the street of St.

Genevieve, toward the Ozarks, where once she had traveled--true, against her will, but yet through scenes which she now remembered.

And always there came up in her mind a question which she found no way to ask. It was Jeanne herself who, either by divination or by blunder, brought up the matter.

"Madame remembers that man yonder, that savage, Dunwodee?" she began, apropos of nothing. "That savage most execrable, who was so unkind to madame and myself--but who made love so fiercely? I declare, Madame, I believe it was Monsieur Dunwodee set me listening to Hector! _Eh, bien_!"

They were sitting near the window, looking out upon the bleak prospect of the winter woods. For the time Josephine made no comment, and Jeanne went on.

"He has at last, thank heavens, come to justice. Is it not true that human beings find ever their deserts?"

"What do you mean, Jeanne?"

"Of the Congress of this state, where he is so long a member, he is now not a member. He has fail', he has been defeat'."

"I thought he was sure of reelection so long as he chose,"

commented Josephine, with feigned indifference.

"There is talk--I do not understand these matters--that he has change' his coat, as one says, and gone over to the side of that man Benton. Yet one says that Benton was always his enemy! Me, I do not understand. I have the baby."

"What is that you tell me?" suddenly demanded Josephine. "That Mr.

Dunwody has _changed_ his political beliefs--that he has become Free Soiler?"

Jeanne nodded. "I think it is so name'. I know little of such matters, naturally. To me, my infant here is of much more importance than any question of free soil. It is possible in this country that one day this infant--were it of opposite s.e.x--might arrive to be governor of this state--who knows? It is possible, in the belief of Hector, that this infant, were it a boy, might even become president of this great republic. Ah, well, there are hopes. Who shall set bounds to the achievement of a child well born in this country of America? Is it established that Hector and I may not, at a later time, be blessed with a son? Is it established that that son shall not be president? Is it not necessary that _some_ boy shall grow up to be a president? Very well! Then who shall say that a child of ours, if of a proper s.e.x, Madame, should not one day be president of this republic?"

"Yes, yes, Jeanne! I do not doubt that. But now you were speaking of Mr. Dunwody--"

"Yes, that is true. I was rejoicing that at last he has been defeat', that he has fail', that he has met with that fate which should be his. Now he has few friends. It is charge' against him--well, Madame, perhaps it were as well not to repeat all of that."

"I can understand," said Josephine slowly. "I can guess. Yes, I know."

Jeanne nodded. "Yes, they bring up stories that at one time you and I--well, that we were there at Tallwoods. But these wild people here, who shoot, and fight with knives, they are of all peoples in the world the most strict and the most moral, the most abhorrent of what is not their own custom of life. Behold, that droll Mr. Bill Jones, in jest perhaps, expressed to others his belief that at one time there was a woman conceal' about this place of Tallwoods! Yes! Madame knows with what ground of justice this was said. Very well! The people took it up. There was comment.

There was criticism. These charges became public. It was rumored thus and so in all the district of Mr. Dunwodee. He has fought the duel--oh, la, la!

"Ah, well, as for madame, by this time she was far away. None knew her name. None doubted regarding her. But as for Mr. Dunwodee, he was here,--he was discover'! Behold it all! At the election he was defeat'. Most easily did this happen, because, as I have said, he no longer was of the same political party which formerly had chosen him. There you have him. That has come to him which he has deserve'!"

The eyes of Josephine St. Auban flashed with interest over this intelligence. "He has changed his belief, his party! But no, it is not possible that he should come out for _our_ party, _our_ cause, Jeanne,--_our_ cause, for the people of the world--for liberty! I wish I might believe it. No. It can not be true."

"Yet it is true, Madame. A turncoat! Bah!"

"No, Jeanne! Not in the least should you feel contempt tempt for a man who honestly changes a belief. To turn from error, is not that always wisdom?"

But Jeanne only shrugged her shoulders, and held out her hands for the baby. "It is naught to me," said she. "We are happy here under this roof, are we not?"

"Precisely. We are safe here. That child yonder is safe here.

But how long shall we be safe if there are not those to keep this roof protected? The law, Jeanne,--the Justice, back of the law,--are these things of no interest to you?"

"At least, when it comes to roofs," reiterated Jeanne. "Monsieur Dunwodee has pulled down his roof about his ear."

"Yes! Yes! Thank G.o.d! And so did Samson pull down the pillars about him when he had back his strength!"

"Madame has given me occasion to disappear," rejoined Jeanne, with a resigned shrug. "I do not always find myself able to follow the lofty thought of madame. But, at least, for these people of St.

Genevieve there is no doubt. They have argue' among theirself.

The vote here is against Monsieur Dunwodee. He is what one calls depose'.

"But then, Madame," she added presently, as she turned at the door, with the baby on her arm, "if madame should wish to explore the matter for herself, that is quite possible. This night, perhaps to-morrow, Monsieur Dunwodee himself comes to St. Genevieve. He is to meet the voters of this place. He wishes to speak, to explain.

I may say that, even, he will have the audacity to come here to advocate the cause of freedom, and the restriction of those slavery for which hitherto he has labor' so valiant. Perhaps there will be those who care to listen to the address of a man of no more principle. For me and for my husband Hector--we do not argue.

Hector, he is for Monsieur Dunwodee. Save as a maker of love, Madame, I am not!"

Josephine made no immediate reply. A tall mirror with pretentious golden frame hung opposite to her across the room. A few moments later, with a start, she suddenly pulled herself together, discovering that she had been gazing steadfastly into the gla.s.s.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Gazing steadfastly into the gla.s.s.]

CHAPTER x.x.x

THE TURNCOAT

It was late in the sunlit afternoon when there rode into the head of the street of old St. Genevieve a weary and mud-stained horseman, who presently dismounted at the hitching rail in front of the little inn which he favored with his company. He was a tall man who, as he turned down the street, walked with just the slightest trace of a limp.

This traveler did not turn into the inn, did not pause, indeed, at any of the points of greater interest, but sought out the little cooper shop of Hector Fournier. That worthy greeted him, wiping his hands upon his leathern ap.r.o.n.

"Eh, bien, then, it is Monsieur Dunwodee! Come in! Come in! I'll been glad for see you. There was those talk you'll would not came."

"Yes, I have come, Hector," said Dunwody, "and naturally, I have come to see you first. You are one of the few political allies that I have left. At least, if you don't believe the way I do, you are generous enough to listen!"

"But, Monsieur, believe me, the situation here is difficult. I had a list here of twelve citizen of St. Genevieve who were willing for listen to Monsieur Dunwodee to-night in a grand ma.s.s meeting; but now talk has gone out. There is much indignation. In fact, it is plan'--"

"What do you mean? What is going on?" demanded Dunwody.

"Alas! Monsieur, it is with regret I announce that the majority of our citizen, who so dislike Monsieur Benton and his views, are much in favor of riding upon a rail, after due treatment of the tar and the feather, him who lately was their idol; that is to say, yourself, Monsieur!"

Dunwody, his face grim, leaned against the door of the little shop.

"So that is the news?" said he. "It seems hardly generous, this reception of St. Genevieve to myself! It is too bad that my friend, Mr. Benton, is not here to share this hospitality of yours!"

"As I have said, alas! Monsieur!"

"But, now, as to that, Hector, listen!" said Dunwody sharply. "We will hold the meeting here just the same. We do not run away!

To-night, in front of the hall there.

"But why trouble about that?" he added, almost lightly. "What comes, comes. Now, as to yourself and your mother--and your wife?"

"And those baby!" exclaimed Hector. "a.s.suredly monsieur does not forget the finest baby of St. Genevieve? Come, you shall see Josephine St. Auban Jeanne Marie Fournier--at once, _tout de suite_. _Voila_!" Hector was rolling down his sleeves and loosening the string of his leathern ap.r.o.n. Suddenly he turned.

"But, Monsieur," he said, "come, I have news! It is a situation _un peu difficile_; but it can not be concealed, and what can not be concealed may best be revealed."

"What news?" asked Dunwody. "More bad news?"