The Quadroon: Adventures in the Far West. Майн Рид

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СКАЧАТЬ pens, and ornamental ink stand, stood by the wall, and over this last was a collection of books ranged upon shelves of red cedar-wood. A handsome clock adorned the mantelpiece; and in the open fireplace was a pair of small “andirons,” with silver knobs, cast after a fanciful device, and richly chased. Of course, there was no fire at that season of the year. Even the heat caused by the mosquito bar would have been annoying, but that the large glass-door on one side, and the window on the other, both standing open, gave passage to the breeze that penetrated through the nettings of my couch.

      Along with this breeze came the most delicious fragrance—the essence of flowers. Through both door and window I could see their thousand clustering corollas—roses, red, pink, and white—the rare camelia—azaleas, and jessamines—the sweet-scented China-tree—and farther off a little I could distinguish the waxen leaves and huge lily-like blossoms of the great American laurel—the Magnolia grandiflora. I could hear the voices of many singing-birds, and a low monotonous hum that I supposed to be the noise of falling water. These were the only sounds that reached my ears.

      Was I alone? I looked inquiringly around the chamber. It appeared so—no living thing met my glance.

      I was struck with a peculiarity in the apartment I occupied. It appeared to stand by itself, and did not communicate with any other! The only door I could see, opened directly to the outside. So did the window, reaching door-like to the ground. Both appeared to lead into a garden filled with shrubs and flowers. Excepting the chimney, I could perceive no other inlet or outlet to the apartment!

      This at first seemed odd; but a moment’s reflection explained it. It is not uncommon upon American plantations to have a kind of office or summer-house apart from the main building, and often fitted up in a style of comfort and luxuriance. This becomes upon occasions the “stranger’s room.” Perhaps I was in such an apartment.

      At all events, I was under an hospitable roof, and in good hands; that was evident. The manner in which I was encouched, along with certain preparations—the signs of a projected dejeuner that appeared upon the table, attested this. But who was my host? or was it a hostess? Was it Eugénie Besançon? Did she not say something of her house—“ma maison?” or did I only dream it?

      I lay guessing and reflecting over a mass of confused memories; but I could not from these arrive at any knowledge of whose guest I was. Nevertheless, I had a sort of belief that I was in the house of my last night’s companion.

      I became anxious, and in my weakness perhaps felt a little vexed at being left alone. I would have rung, but no bell was within reach. At that moment, however, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

      Romantic miss! you will fancy that those footsteps were light and soft, made by a small satin slipper, scarcely discomposing the loosest, tiniest pebble—stealthily drawing near lest their sound might awake the sleeping invalid—and then, in the midst of bird-music, and humming waters, and the sweet perfume of flowers, a fair form appeared in the doorway, and I saw a gentle face, with a pair of soft, lovely eyes, in a timid inquiring glance, gazing upon me. You will fancy all this, no doubt; but your fancy is entirely at fault, and not at all like the reality.

      The footsteps I heard were made by a pair of thick “brogans” of alligator leather, and full thirteen inches in length; which brogans the next moment rested upon the sill of the door directly before my eyes.

      On raising my glance a little higher, I perceived a pair of legs, in wide copper-coloured “jeans,” pantaloons; and carrying my eye still higher, I perceived a broad, heavy chest, covered with a striped cotton shirt; a pair of massive arms and huge shoulders, surmounted by the shining face and woolly head of a jet black negro!

      The face and head came under my observation last; but on these my eyes dwelt longest, scanning them over and over, until I at length, despite the pain I was suffering, burst out into a sonorous laugh! If I had been dying, I could not have helped it; there was something so comic, so irresistibly ludicrous, in the physiognomy of this sable intruder.

      He was a full-grown and rather large negro, as black as charcoal, with a splendid tier of “ivories;” and with eyeballs, pupil and irides excepted, as white as his teeth. But it was not these that had tickled my fancy. It was the peculiar contour of his head, and the set and size of his ears. The former was as round as a globe, and thickly covered with small kinky curlets of black wool, so closely set that they seemed to root at both ends, and form a “nap!” From the sides of this sable sphere stood out a pair of enormous ears, suggesting the idea of wings, and giving to the head a singularly ludicrous appearance.

      It was this peculiarity that had set me laughing; and, indecorous though it was, for the life of me I could not help it.

      My visitor, however, did not seem to take it amiss. On the contrary, he at once opened his thick lips, and displaying the splendid armature of his mouth in a broad and good-natured grin, began laughing as loudly as myself!

      Good-natured was he. His bat-like ears had infused nothing of the vampire into his character. No—the very type of jollity and fun was the broad black face of “Scipio Besançon,” for such was the cognomen of my visitor.

Chapter Fifteen.

       Table of Contents

      “Ole Zip.”

      Scipio opened the dialogue:—

      “Gollies, young mass’r! Ole Zip ’joiced to see um well ’gain—daat he be.”

      “Scipio is it?”

      “Ye’, mass’r—daat same ole nigger. Doctor told um to nuss de white genl’um. Won’t young missa be glad haself!—white folks, black folks—all be glad, Wugh!”

      The finishing exclamation was one of those thoracic efforts peculiar to the American negro, and bearing a strong resemblance to the snort of a hippopotamus. Its utterance signified that my companion had finished his sentence, and waited for me to speak.

      “And who is ‘young missa’?” I inquired.

      “Gorramighty! don’t mass’r know? Why, de young lady you fotch from de boat, when twar all ober a blaze. Lor! what a swum you make—half cross de riber! Wugh!”

      “And am I in her house?”

      “Ob sartin, mass’r—daat ar in de summer-house—for de big house am on oder side ob de garden—all de same, mass’r.”

      “And how did I get here?”

      “Golly! don’t mass’r ’member how? Why, ole Zip carried ’im in yar in dese berry arms. Mass’r an young missa come ’shore on de Lebee, down dar jes by de gate. Missa shout—black folks come out an find um—white genl’um all blood—he faint, an missa have him carried in yar.”

      “And after?”

      “Zip he mount fastest hoss—ole White Fox—an gallop for de doctor—gallop like de debil, too. Ob course de doctor he come back along and dress up mass’r’s arm.

      “But,” continued Scipio, turning upon me an inquiring look, “how’d young mass’r come by de big ugly cut? Dat’s jes wha de Doc wanted to know, an dat’s jes wha young missa didn’t know nuffin ’tall ’bout.”

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