You may see such houses today in some
remote parts of the creole country of Louisiana.
As Rene passed along he spoke with a gay French freedom to the
dames and lasses who chanced to be visible. His air would be
regarded as violently brigandish in our day; we might even go so
far as to think his whole appearance comical. His jaunty cap with
a tail that wagged as he walked, his short trousers and leggins of
buckskin, and his loose shirt-like tunic, drawn in at the waist
with a broad belt, gave his strong figure just the dash of
wildness suited to the armament with which it was weighted. A
heavy gun lay in the hollow of his shoulder under which hung an
otter-skin bullet-pouch with its clear powder-horn and white bone
charger. In his belt were two huge flint-lock pistols and a long
case-knife.
"Bon jour, Ma'm'selle Adrienne," he cheerily called, waving his
free hand in greeting to a small, dark lass standing on the step
of a veranda and indolently swinging a broom. "Comment allez-vous
auj ourd'hui?"
"J'm'porte tres bien, merci, Mo'sieu Rene," was the quick
response; "et vous?"
"Oh, I'm as lively as a cricket."
"Going a hunting?"
"No, just up here a little way--just on business--up to Mo'sieu
Roussillon's for a moment."
"Yes," the girl responded in a tone indicative of something very
like spleen, "yes, undoubtedly, Mo'sieu de Ronville; your business
there seems quite pressing of late.
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