 | CHAPTER VII.
THE CASTILIAN AND YOUNG COURREUR CHIEF. The quadroone, or, St. Michael's day |  |
7. CHAPTER VII.
THE CASTILIAN AND YOUNG COURREUR CHIEF.
Azelie had some moments disappeared through the
door that led into the corridor, and her faintest footfall
had for several seconds ceased to break the stillness
of the distant cloister along which she retreated,
ere the youthful Castilian turned away his gaze from
the doorway where he had last seen her form relieved
against the moonlight that filled the court. He then
who said, somewhat quickly,
“Thou wouldst know, signor, something of the
Quadroone.”
“Renault, forgive me, for my youth and for her
peerless beauty! I will not offend again,” said the
young man, observing his sensibility, and with difficulty
appreciating his quick emotions; but he had to
learn, what Renault too painfully knew, that his admiration
could be none other than guilty, and to herself
infamy; that in the cradle the mark of degradation is
placed upon the brow of the Quadroone, and that, in
the richness of her womanhood, no man can look upon
her with honourable love.
“Sit on the divan, signor, for the pain of thy wound
hath drawn the blood from thy cheek. I will stand
here beside thee.”
The young cavalier had, indeed, grown suddenly
pale on the departure of the fair creature, whose presence
had raised him, almost supernaturally, above his
physical weakness. The wound he had received had
been inflicted rather with the blow of the dagger's
hilt than the steel itself, which, glancing from its direction,
but slightly entered his side, against which the
handle struck with the full force of the creole's arm.
The effect of this, nevertheless, was nearly as severe
as if the blade had entered deeper into his body, and,
as has been seen, had instantly deprived him of consciousness.
He had awaked, after five hours' sleep, almost
entirely free from pain, and the sight of his lovely
watcher had caused him to forget his wound altogether;
but her absence restored him to the consciousness
of suffering; and he found, on placing his hand
instinctively upon his side, that the exertion he had
made in rising from the ottoman, with the subsequent
excitement, had opened his wound afresh. He gladly
availed himself, therefore, again of the downy pillows
of the ottoman. Reclining at length thereon, and supporting
his face in his hand, he looked up into the ingenuous
countenance of the quadroon as he leaned
against the casement, and said,
“Proceed, noble Renault! I am deeply interested
in thee—and, pardon me, thy gentle sister also; and I
fain would learn the mystery that seems to hang over
you both. Pray thee, go on!”
“I have no tale to fit the ear of pleasure or amuse
the idle, signor. Stern truths are told in few words.
I am a quadroon, the son of a bondwoman, and the
child of guilt. My father is the late Marquis de la Caronde,
once governor of this province; my mother a
Moorish slave, whom he freed at my birth. This is a
noble parentage, and a proud, signor!” he said, his
fine lip curling with an expression of mingled scorn
and shame.
“Caronde! Methinks I heard that name given to
the fierce youth who attacked our party.”
“You did, signor. We are brothers, save that he
was born under sanction of Holy Church.”
“Humph!” said the other, with a comprehensive
glance; “proceed, good Renault! Thou hast not spoken
of thy sister yet.”
“This impatience, signor, promises evil to her who
is the object of it,” said the quadroon, sternly; “but
I need not warn thee of the danger which menaces him
who dares give his thoughts to my sister. Think no
more of her, and you will find me a friend. Breathe
her name again, and we are foes; for she can never
be thy leman, and thy wife she may not be!”
“I will not be angry, Renault; for doubtless thou
hast excuse, in thy condition, for this hasty jealousy.”
“Listen, and thou shalt learn. The quadroon is
of the fifth generation in descent, from the European
on one side and the Ethiopian slave on the other,
supposing no African intermixture of blood after that
of the original progenitor. Each generation growing
fairer, in the fifth the African blood is nearly lost, and
quite so in some instances. Nevertheless, the existing
law of this province against the intermarriage of Europeans
with slaves extends to the descendants of slaves,
and are so wide as to embrace within its statute the
most remote descent from Ethiopian lineage, forbidding,
and declaring them unlawful. This refusal to
legalize marriages with the quadroones, who are especially
aimed at by this law, has loosed the hymeneal
ties, and the mistress everywhere usurps the place of
the wife. It has at length become a system. Quadroone
mothers, who have obtained their freedom at the
hand of their paramours, as naturally educate their
daughters to become like themselves, as do wedded
mothers theirs to become wives. The wealth that has
been lavished upon themselves they draw from its
hoarded coffers, to expend upon their daughters, in developing
the charms of their persons, and adorning
them with those light and luxurious accomplishments
which will best fit them for the condition for which they
are destined. For this purpose some are sent even to
Europe to receive the more elegant part of their tuition;
returning, in after years, rich with those charms
and graces of person that fascinate and bewilder, but
with minds wholly destitute of moral culture; and, if
religious, superstitious; in person fitted to adorn
thrones; in soul too lamentably adapted to the degrading
state for which they are so carefully educated.”
“Truly, that lovely angel who watched by my pillow—”
“Heaven has given her a brother!” said the quadroon,
in a voice that spoke volumes to the heart of the
young Spaniard.
“Renault!” he repeated, and grasped his hand impressively,
as if to show his sympathy with him. Renault
acknowledged it with a grateful look, and then
continued:
“The number of quadroones in this city and province
is large for the population: they are beautiful,
attractive, and fascinating—”
“That I will asseverate, on my honour,” said the
Spaniard, with youthful enthusiasm, as he recalled the
beauty of Azèlie.
“They are also rich, with few exceptions,” continued
Renault, without noticing his words, save by a
mothers! But there have been exceptions
to this universal licentiousness. Quadroone maidens,
in whose breasts dwelt native purity of principle—for,
degraded as our race is, we are of mankind, signor,
and virtue may dwell with us—have risen above their
state of degradation, and, with virtuous indignation,
spurned the criminal proffers of licentious paramours.
But these exceptions are few, and sudden and violent
death has often been the reward of their virtue. What
had they to do with virtue? The honour of a quadroone!
Ha! ha! would it not be a rare jest for gallants
to make merry with over their midnight cups!”
Renault clinched his hand, and laughed with ironical
bitterness as he said this; then, leaving the casement,
he made two or three rapid strides before it ere
he resumed his attitude.
“You speak not of the male quadroons—of the
brother—of yourself, Renault,” said the Spaniard, after
waiting until he had recovered his composure.
“The brothers are accounted useless; we can administer
to no mother's vanity—to no ruler's passion.
We remain slaves, while our sisters become free; and
if we are free in our mothers' rights, or are made so
from a father's pride, who will not let his own blood
remain in bondage, we are suffered to grow up like
noxious plants by the road side, without culture and
without care. Signor, often does the brother present,
on his bended knee, the winecup of his lord, while he
is luxuriously reclining his head in the lap of his beautiful
sister.”
“Heavens! is this thing so, Renault?” cried the
youth, half rising from the divan, and looking earnestly
in his face.
“Had I the slavish spirit of bondage that becomes
my birth, I should, ere this, have done what I have now
named.”
“Explain, Renault!”
“Hear me, Spaniard! I have told thee that I am
the illegitimate son of the venerated Marquis of Caronde.
gave my mother her freedom, and with it followed
mine; for, by our laws, the fate of the offspring follows
that of the mother. From childhood I was his
idol. He cherished me, educated me, spoiled me with
indulgence. The wealth and luxury around me I owe
to his munificence. He is now dead. Scarce had the
marble covered him ere his legitimate son, who had
ever hated me for our father's partiality, exhibited the
books of franchise, and challenged the judges to point
to the records of my mother's manumission.
“It was there?” asked the youth, eagerly.
“The marquis had forgotten to record it.”
“And you became—”
“On the instant, with ill-concealed exultation, he
proclaimed my mother, with her offspring, slaves!”
“His own blood! It could not be.”
“You shall hear. He produced proof that his father
had paid one thousand dollars in Spanish gold to
a Cuban slaver for her, and that she became his property;
but that he manumitted her afterward he defied
proof.”
“Well,” interjected the deeply-interested Spaniard,
on observing him to pause, as if he could proceed no
farther.
“Well, signor, she was adjudged to be his slave.”
“Wherefore should he wish this?”
“He cared not for the mother for her value—there
was a deeper aim.”
“What motive so base that could lead him to desire
her return to bondage?”
“Hatred towards myself was the least.”
“But he surely hated not thy sister?”
“No, Spaniard, no, no! he did not hate her.”
“Ha! what? you do not mean to say that he—”
“Loved her.”
“I did mean to speak these words, but could not.”
“I have spoken them. He loved her, Spaniard.
Intensely as he hated the brother, loved he the sister.”
“Not with a guilty love?”
“How else?”
“And his sister, too?”
“The Marquis de la Caronde is not the father of
Azèlie. This I have discovered by accident. Jules, by
some means, knew it also. To all save ourselves it is
a secret; the marquis ever acknowledged her as his
child. There is a mystery about her birth and her
father, known only to the marquis (if indeed to him)
and my mother.”
“'Tis strange he should have lived with her, believing
her to be false.”
“He was a weak man, and she had over him a wonderful
influence. My earliest recollection of Azèlie is
when she was in her third year. Up to that time my
mother says she was with a foster-mother. I alone
am related to the young noble.”
“He loved her, then? and she—”
“Returned it not; nay, met his guilty love with
scorn, as a maiden should do. He gave me, rather
than her virtue, credit for it; and his hatred grew, till,
to avenge himself on both at one blow, he devised the
plan of reclaiming us to servitude, that, as the master,
he might obtain what was denied to the paramour.”
“Base ingrate! foul and fiendish!” cried the Spaniard,
with indignation flashing his pale cheek. “When
was this judgment given?”
“But yesterday morning. The arrival within the
hour of your fleet only prevented him from dragging
my sister to his couch of lust.”
“And would you have seen him do it?” asked the
youth, the fire flashing from his dark eyes.
“Seen him do it!” he repeated, clinching his dagger's
hilt like a vice, articulating each word slowly
and with terrible emphasis through his shut teeth,
which glared with rage, while his eyes blazed in their
sockets; “Seen him do it!”
He smiled, too, as he spoke, and such a smile has
seldom gleamed on the human countenance! The
young man was awed, and singularly impressed by the
terrific effect of his looks and manner; he remained
and admiration, showing, by the expression of his features,
that he fully appreciated his nobleness of soul
and the lofty sternness of his character. At length,
after taking a few rapid turns through the apartment,
Renault said, with composure,
“Now, signor, thou knowest if I have cause to guard
my sister as if she were the jewel of my own honour!
Thou knowest now what it is to be a quadroone! that
it is another name for degradation, both moral and
physical. We must have no feelings, no honour, no
purity! Slaves, mere slaves, are only so in the bondage
of the body; the quadroone is a slave both in
body and soul! What a fate is before the delicate
and sensitive maidens of our race! Their young love,
if it rise, and it must and will rise, for noble youths,
must be crushed in the bud in the heart, or be cherished
only to ripen into sensuality. Our young men
may not look, but at the peril of their lives, upon the
blue-eyed maidens of their hearts' choice; and our
love, too, must wither and decay within the bosom,
while we see the object that awakened it lost to us
for ever in the love of another.”
He spoke these words with a sadness and tenderness,
that conveyed to the young Spaniard the impression
that he himself was the victim of such a hopeless
passion as he had described.
“Renault, upon my honour, you have my warmest
sympathy,” said the youth, in a tone that won confidence,
and bore witness to the truth of the words he
uttered. “If in my power, the evil you dread shall
not come upon you; nor, so help me Heaven! upon
your sister. Spain now holds the province, and her
laws shall govern. This young Marquis of Caronde
hath no claim on thee or thine from this hour.”
“Nay, signor! to change our laws could not be
done with safety. The whole city would rise as one
man. The judgment has gone forth. I am his slave—
I am my brother's bondman. Were I not so, I should
not feel the spirit within me that I do. It is because
me! As his slave, I have flung defiance into his
teeth; and as his brother, did yesterday mock and
laugh at his power in the gate of the Place d'Armes,
when, aided by his minions, he would have seized and
made me captive.”
“Ha! did he dare this!”
“He knew that he must do this ere he could possess
my sister, signor! The coward feared a brother's
protecting arm! He knew me well.”
“What did you?”
“I struck down the base villains, and, leaping upon
a horse near by, reached my house in time to bar my
doors against a party that were crossing my threshold!
They then stormed the house.”
“Did she know of this claim?”
“Not the truth. She knew not he claimed her as
his slave. I have kept it from her.”
“Bless you for it, Renault. And did you alone
withstand them?”
“Ay, for full ten minutes; when their leader, my
nobly-born brother, joined them, and bade them, in a
savage voice, bring brands and set fire to the lintel.
On hearing this, I bore my sister to the battlements,
in sight of all, suspended my dagger above her bosom,
and swore by Heaven, if a single spark were
borne against the house, even by the winds, I would
strike it to her heart. This would not have suited my
brother's purpose, and he bade them hold, and, instead,
batter down the grand porte leading from the street to
the inner court. I placed myself before it, and gave
Azèlie the dagger. She kissed it, and stood beside
me. Suddenly, amid the thunder of their assault, we
heard the Cathedral bells tolling out warlike alarm, and
the cry of `The Spaniard!' flew wildly along the
street.”
“And this, noble Renault, created a diversion in thy
favour?”
“It did; for the bars were giving way at every
stroke, and in five minutes more my sister would have
their retiring footsteps ceased, the heroic girl cast herself
upon my bosom and wept. It was a grateful moment
to me, signor, and in my heart I thanked Heaven
that the Spaniard had been sent to rule our province.”
“It was this feeling of gratitude, then, that led thee
to shelter me?”
“Nay; I was swiftly returning home, after the dispersion
of the populace, to see if my dwelling was secure
from the assaults of lawless ruffians, when a tall
person, wrapped from the feet to the eyes in a long
gray cloak, bade me, in a voice of irresistible command,
`Fly to the succour of the Spanish cavaliers if
I were a Christian man!' Ere I could speak, the figure
had disappeared in the shadows of the wall of the
Ursuline convent. I instantly drew my sword and
hastened to the Place d'Armes, whither the clash of
arms directed me. I saw you hard pressed, and, by
the plume and bearing, recognised Jules and his free
band. My bosom burned to meet him in fair battle,
and I bounded forward. Before I could reach the
scene of contest, I saw you struck down, and left for
dead beside the fountain. As I was passing the spot,
with my eye fixed on my brother, I saw your companion,
the noble Spaniard, in great jeopardy from the
dagger of Jules. I bounded forward to save him,
with an uplifted battle-axe which I caught up from the
ground. My brother and I met; and, at a blow, I
severed his right hand at the wrist, to save the life of
a poor idiot, who, before I could reach the spot, had
himself arrested Jules's arm, at his own imminent peril.
This event put a period to the contest; and, hastily
retreating to the fountain, I raised you from the cold
marble, bore you in my arms to this place, dressed
your wounds, administered to you a healing draught,
and left you to the careful watching of my gentle
sister.”
“I cannot thank thee in words that will express my
feelings, dear Renault,” said the youth, rising and embracing
this mysterious individual who has manifested such interest
in me and Don Garcilaso? Perhaps some partisan
of the Spanish party in the town!”
“It was a woman by the voice, and I know no female
of her stature in the province. I cannot account
for the extraordinary power of her words over
me, that I should obey them so readily. If I were superstitious,
signor,” he added, solemnly, “I should
think the appearance was not of earth.”
“It was mysterious, certainly. It hath done me a
kindness, whether it be of flesh or spirit. If supernatural,
it is at least a spirit of good.”
“It may be so,” said Renault, musingly.
The young men for a few moments seemed to be
wrapped in their own reflections in reference to the
subject of their conversation, when the quadroon,
drawing his belt tighter, and bringing round the handle
of his sword so as to be readily grasped, said
quickly,
“Sir Spaniard, I must now crave your indulgence.
The night wears apace, and your-pillow invites repose.
I have duties that call me forth until the day break.”
“Nay, Renault, let me not detain thee. My wound
is something more painful than it hath been, for your
discourse hath driven the indignant blood through my
veins till it hath got the fever heat. I will remain
quiet. But first I would ask thee if the brave Signor
Garcilaso be living, and if the city hath quietly submitted
to the Spanish arms?”
“The Spaniards, led by their commander, landed in
force shortly after you fell, signor, and have occupied
all the gates and posts with their detachments, while
the main body is encamped in the Place d'Armes!”
“And have you heard nothing from them that showed
anxiety at my absence?”
“Nothing, signor.”
“'Tis strange! Hath Ramarez hoped that I have
been slain?” he said, half audibly. “So, Renault, it
is well! Let it not be known that I live or that I am
This jealous Condé,” he added, to himself, “shall have
an eye over his actions that he little suspects. I know
his temper well; and he is scarce likely to change
slavish laws and systems of licentiousness like these
I have heard unfolded! No! no! not Ramarez! they
chime too well with his free manners! Brave Renault,
I honour and esteem you. Let us hereafter be
friends. Count on my protection if thou shouldst ever
need it, and, I pray thee, count on my honour in reference
to one who is most dear to thee.”
“How mean you, signor?”
“Thy sister.”
“Speak not of her, signor; thou knowest thou
mayst not.”
“Nay, Renault, I would share with thee in thy
brotherly task of protecting her.”
“It were setting the hawk to guard the dovecote!”
said the quadroon, with a slight smile.
“We will speak of this more anon, Renault. The
knight of the red plume will have cause to cross blades
with me if I e'er get the better of this wound. Now I
think of it, there were many of the assailants bore the
scarlet badge that distinguished him.”
“He is a leader of a party of some fifty young creoles,”
said Renault, turning back at his remarks;
“most of them are of good families, who voluntarily
took up arms three years ago in defence of the city,
when Spain made her first demand of surrender.”
“And when Ramarez got the worst of it. He is
yet sore upon it.”
“Most of these being wild and free in their habits,”
continued the quadroon, “they soon became lawless,
and grew overbearing among the townsmen, going
through the streets in bands with swords drawn, browbeating
and threatening, and even attacking all who
murmured or opposed them; till, at length, goaded beyond
endurance, the citizens rose in arms against them
and drove them from the town, when they retreated to
a small tower, situated on the shore of a lagoon about
under the name of chasseurs, bade the citizens defiance.
Occasionally they were permitted to enter the city in
small parties, being first deprived of their arms at the
gates, to visit their families or friends, on condition of
departing before night. On the rumour of the approach
of the Spaniards they appeared, sixty in number, on
horseback, before the Pontchartrain gate, and offered to
aid in defending the town under the direction of the
councillors. After much hesitation, they were admitted
without arms; but, instead of presenting themselves
to the disposal of the rulers at the government-house,
they dispersed by twos and threes throughout different
streets, and met at a preconcerted rendezvous, from
whence they appeared in the Place d'Armes, armed
with those long, sharp, two-edged swords, which made
their attack so formidable. Their assault upon your
party was wholly unexpected by the town's-people,
who, as you must have seen, fled in consternation from
the consequences. After the attack, they mounted
their horses, which were held in waiting by some of
their band, and galloped out to their stronghold.”
“They fought for the keys, then, methinks, if such
is their character, rather that they might obtain access
to the treasury and armory, than from shame at
their being in our possession!” observed Don Henrique.
“This might have been partly the cause. Their
patriotism, when it first showed itself three years ago,
was pure, but it is now corrupted by licentiousness.
They wish to make a republic of the province. There
were seven among them, called, from their friendship
to each other, the Seven Brothers, who once distinguished
themselves by their virtue and patriotism,
one only of whom has escaped the contagion. It is to
him the city has looked for a champion.”
“Was he present in the council-chamber yesterday?”
“He was more surely employed in the service of the
country. When a man cannot breast the tumult of the
waves, he must patiently wait until they subside.”
“You speak ambiguously, Renault.”
“I can speak no plainer to the ear of a Spaniard,
signor.”
“Methinks there is something like conspiracy hidden
beneath your words, Renault. Ha! that dress you
wear is the studied costume of a band, and that myrtle
sprig is like a badge and token of brotherhood.
'Tis worked in silk also on your breast. That bugle,
too, at thy belt! Thy absence this night, Renault, on
my life, hath something to do with recovering the city.”
The quadroon smiled as if the other had divined the
truth, and then, waving his hand, was about to leave
him, when his eye rested on the signet the Spaniard
still wore on his finger. He half extended his hand,
and seemed as if he was about to demand it; then,
suddenly drawing it back, said, beneath his voice,
“'Twill do as well another time and by another hand.
Signor Cavalier,” he added, aloud, “I leave thee a
pleasant repose and healthful waking.”
“Stay, good Renault. Bid one of thy slaves leave
this message with the captain of Count Osma's guard,
lest he be disposed to make my absence an excuse for
doing mischief to the town's-people.”
As he spoke, he pencilled the following note and
gave it to the quadroon:
“Give thyself no trouble about my absence.
“Henrique.”
“Now,” he continued, “as you have been so kind
to me, I will, in gratitude, give you the countersign decided
on, for the first night's possession of the province,
by Osma himself. You may wish to go beyond the
barriers, which you tell me our troops now occupy, and
it will, perhaps, be of service to you.” Thus saying,
he placed a folded paper in his hand, and bade him
good-night.
Renault accepted it with thanks, pressed his hat low
over his brows, and strode, with the firm and manly
step of a freeman rather than a slave, from the apartment.
He had been absent about a quarter of an hour,
when the ear of Don Henrique, who was once more reclining
upon the divan and thinking of Azèlie, was invaded
surprise and rapture. It came from a great distance,
and approached nearer and nearer till it filled the court,
when it died away until almost lost in silence; then
swelling, clear, strong, and near, it would rise, wave
on wave, and flow onward, a flood of ravishing melody
filling the whole apartment, and melting his very soul
with ecstasy. It would then sink gradually away, retiring
farther and farther from the ear, till distance and
silence gave back no sound save the dashing of the
falling fountain in its marble basin. He continued
still to listen like one bewildered, and again rose the
same sweet, wild strain, floating and undulating, ascending
and descending, as if the sport of a fitful
zephyr, that now wafted its volume of sound triumphantly
along with invisible power, now soared with them
on indolent wings into upper air, or now bore them
swiftly into infinite distance. Insensibly, while he listened,
his senses yielded to the spell of the unseen minstrel,
and he fell into a deep and quiet slumber.
| CHAPTER VII.
THE CASTILIAN AND YOUNG COURREUR CHIEF. The quadroone, or, St. Michael's day | |