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VOL. I.
[For tho Banner of the South.]
Evening.
BY EBPERANZA.
Softly sighs the sunset breeze;
Vesper bells are ringing;
O’er the earth, on bended knees,
Night her veil is flinging.
Oh I how wt&ry feels my soul,
Now, within her prison;
Hush! be still, ye thoughts of dole l
Whence have ye arisen ?
Homeward yearns the captive heart,
Yonder, where so brightly
Gleam the stars ; it longs to part
From this earth unsightly.
Gently fades the evening red;
Vesper chimes are dying;
Nature thrills with holy dread—
Hushed is e’en her sighing.
Lone, I stand upon the lea,
Night has closed around me;
Still as deatli is main and sea—
God! their spell has bound me 1
Fainter beat my pulses all;
Dreamy visions haunt me;
Would that from this blessed thrall
Naught could disenchant me!
Pensacola, Feb., 1808.
j [FOB THE BASSE® OF THE SOUTH.]
THE GOUORET MILL,
Translated from Le Correspondant.”
BY R. D. TA NARUS,, OF SOUTH CAROLINA.
[continued.]
VIII.
LIKE THIEVES AT A FAIR.
This evening, when the quaint old
lamp was lighted, which hung suspended
from the ceiling by a light copper chain,
one could see on the large mill dresser,
which they used as a table, iu addition to
the usual number of plates, set for the
family just assembled, two glasses, on a
small waiter, by the large jug, which
were left but half emptied, by. an old man
and his son, whom Xavier was just ac
companying to the gate. Leaning upon
the table, which was covered with bright
looking china, was the sweetest, freshest,
saueiest-lookiug young girl ever seen un
der a rustic root. Tall, easily, and grace
fully formed, the white and red of her
cheeks mellowed by the sun into a rich,
warm glow; her forehead ample, and
shaded by two heavy and massive waves
of golden hair ; her dark blue eyes, half
hiding, half revealing themselves, be
neath the dark silken lashes, indicating,
alternately, sprightliness or reserve ; her
nose, straight at first, then slightly turned
up ; her lips, too firm, perhaps, but beau
tifully cut ; the soft, velvet cheeks almost
losing themselves in the slight double
chin; the fair white throat shaded, but
not, concealed, by the spotless lace that
covered it.
Some time after the old man and his
guests went out, the young girl rose from
the table, and, finding a distaff in the cor
ner of tlie room, she fastened it to the
boh ot her pretty cotton apron, and, by a
ound, pinned it to her body of light grey
cloth, whose short and open sleeve showed
to advantage the fair, plump arm. She
began quietly to spin, and while her
slender fingers drew' out the hemp, or
turned the spindle, her glance, sometimes
ought, sometimes dreamy, fell first upon
one, then another, of the inmates of the
hall. Sometimes it rested on the servant,
who was busy about the table, then upon
Lucks great hairy head, who, with his
back turned to her, leaned over his large
plate, picking up mechanically with the
cud of his finger some crumbs scattered
on the table, which, as mechanically, fie
P’d into his mouth; then her glance
would rest lingeringly on the manly and
honest face of a line, healthy-looking
y >udi of twenty-five years, who, sitting
in front of Luc, and keeping his head
steadily bent down, seemed to have no
other thought, at the moment, beyond the
large slice of brown bread and piece of
cheese, that he cut up with the point of
his knife.
Had it not been for the mill, which
worked along so merrily, under the same
roof, the silence in the hall would have
been perfect; and would, also, apparently
have been of long duration ; because,
none of the occupants of the room seemed
inclined to break it. But the latch, just
then, clicked, the door opened, and Xavier
came in. After slamming the door
quickly after him, he pushed up to the
very top of his forehead the large worsted
cap which he usually wore drawn down
over his brow—this was a peculiar move
ment which always indicated vexation
wit l '* him—striding over one of the
benches near the table, and giving a blow 7
with his great fist on the edge of the
dresser, which made all the cups and
saucers rattle.
“This makes nine, 5 ’ he cried, “because
I have kept count of them, and, mordieu ,
this is positively the‘ninth !”
And with an angry look, he shook his
head at the young girl, who, softly smiling,
said :
“Very well, when we reach
papa, we will mark it with a cross; voila
tout /”
This answer, accompanied by a merry
laugh, seemed no light aggravation to
the old man, because, shrugging his
shoulders, and stretching cut his "arm ;
“ Voila lout /” he repeated in a hitter,
sarcastic tone. “ Voila toutrt is it so ?
and you think you have said something
smart there, perhaps—you Hatter your
self, something sensible 1”
“I, grandfather ?” she replied, laugh
ing again ; “I do not Hatter myself in
any way, pot even oil finding out that this
Jean-Marie Nivard—who, very certainly,
you take for a man of sense, is nothing
short of a blockhead !”
“A what?” interrupted the old man.
“Yes,” replied the young girl, “I said
a blockhead, and 1 will not unsay it
much more than blockhead, because he
pretends to be so knowing, but, never
theless, all his cunning airs are but
foolish pretences, and vain laudations of
his own disagreeable self!’ 7
“Oh, oh! not so disagreeable as you
appear to think, 77 cried Xavier; “at the
proper time, you will hear everybody ad
mire his fine bearing and handsome
figure.”
“That may be, grandpapa ; but, on the
present occasion, 1 think it quite enough
that 1 do not agree with ‘ everybody. 7 ”
“You think him pretentious ; well, that
may be true, but who is there, after all,
who has not some little fault ?”
“Oh ! little, did you say ? I say great
fault; but let us stop here.”
“Well, great fault, if you insist, but
this fault does not take from him the good
name he inherits from his family. The
Nivards are spoken of every where, as—.”
“Oh ! certainly, it is only their good
name that saves them. It is with your
permission, then, that the boy comes to
the Coudret Mill, to try and make him
self acceptable to me ?”
“The X ivards are people of prudence
and management. 77
“Oh, yes! ol such prudence, they have
never been known to give a sou to the
poor. Everybody knows that.’ 7
“It is not a good rule to be too rash
in giving aims. The Nivards have fine
possessions in lands.”
“And the Coudrets have fine estates
in the water.”
This reply provoked from Luc, who
still sat there, a slig’ht tremulous move
ment of the shoulders, which was the onlv
external sign with him of a grim, interior
kind of enjoyment.
The young man who was opposite to
him, continued eating, apparently blind
and deaf to what was going on about him.
As to Xavier, far from relinquishing
his position, he hastened to avail himself
of the pleasant humor of his grandchild.
“Very well! 77 he said, “all the better
leason for making a joint estate of the
AUGUSTA, GA, JULY 11, 1868.
land possessions of the one, and the
water-works of the other.”
“Bah! let it alone, grandfather; the
property of the Coudrets can get along
without the property of the Nivards, and
as it was altogether from interest that
this Jean-Marie came here—”
“I assure you,” interrupted the grand
father, “you are by no means disagreea
ble to him.”
“Is it possible that I stand so good a
chance ?” cried Margaret.
“I mean to say that he admires your
fine qualities, your beauty; he spoke at
length to me on the subject.”
“And you believed all that! grand
papa ?—you did ? Well, it is said that
only faith can save. As for me, I believe
nothing. Yet !—”
“let!” quickly responded Xavier—
“yet—all this goes to prove that you posi
tively refuse Jean-Marie Nivard, as you
have refused all the others before him.
This is your last word.”
“Pardon me, grandpapa—not my last—
it was my first word.”
“All! good heaven ! Let it be first or
last, then ; what does it signify ?—they
all mean the same tiling, namely, if the
King of France was proposed to you,
you would find some reason for refusing
him !”
“All! if the King would only come,
then you would see—”
“Bah! you know well enough the King
will not come, and that you will never
have the proposal to make me. But who
has not come ? and what have I not seen ?
What excuses have you not made, for
turning away so many? You thought
one too quick, another too slow; one too
young, another too old ; one too conceited,
another too indifferent. Just see ! It
all signified nothing. The conclusion of
this affair to-day. shows me, to my great
dissatisfaction, that you are resolved to
remain unmarried!”
“What! to comb St. Catherine’s tresses!
oh, no !” cried Margaret, throwing back
her head with a most bewitching smile.
“Well, what am you waiting for ?”
“Just exactly, until there will come
along someone to my taste, and I have
always said so.”
“Eh! I know well enough you have al
ways said so—this is the burden of the
song—it never changes.”
“Is it my fault?' 7
“Yes, if you do not change it, it is be
cause you will not; it is an idea, stubborn
ly, foolishly taken up and adhered to”
“Well, I am foolish, then! But, grand
papa, do not publish your opinion, be
cause, then, no more suitors would come
to the Coudret Mill, and I will be left on
your hands after all.”
“Yes, you are foolish,” cried Xavier,
without heeding the inference the young
girl had drawn from that assertion; “yes’,
foolish, beyond measure; because, is it
not part of folly, not to do as everybody
else does, above all, when such fine oppor
tunities present themselves ? Just see
how foolish all your excuses are—once or
twice you pleaded that you were too
young—too young ! Will you not be
full twenty-one, to-morrow ? Do you not
know that, on the next market day, yon
must go with me to the Notary to sign
my discharge as your guardian ? The
accounts are all ready. Do you know
that, from the moment you sign that
paper, I will have no more to do with
your private property ? I mean, of
course, the inheritance that comes to you
from your mother.”
“Nothing to do with it ?—nothing, at
all?” asked Margaret, with perfect can
dor.
“No, nothing at all. You know it very
well. You will find, at the Notary’s,
sixteen thousand fine francs, when the
last interest will be paid, of which you
will be full mistress, and which you can
either place at interest, or invest in some
advantageous purchase.”
“Some purchase !” repeated the young
girl, with a most animated expression ;
“stop, stop, I have an idea, such a good
idea, grandpapa ! You may he sure I
will not come home from the parish, with
out buying one of those beautiful shawls
with long silk fringes, which everybody is
now wearing; I will even buy the most
expensive one. because you told me it
cost too much money, when I asked you
to give me one.”
“I do not remember your asking me.”
“Nevermind, / remember it, and you
shall see that—”
“Very well! very well ! let the shawl
alone,” petulantly said Xavier, “this is
only one of your tricks to keep me from
returning to my subject. Do not be
angry if I take it up again. I say. then,
most emphatically, you cannot make your
age any longer an excuse, because you
are now free, not obliged to ask my con
sent about anything— except about your
marriage.”
“Bo satisfied, grandpapa, I do not ex
pect to marry without your consent,” said
his mischievous tormentor.
ou laugh, hut I sec nothing so
amusing in it. If you can no longer ex
ctise yourself on the score of age, and if
it can be possible that amongst all the
young men who have offered themselves
to you, not one has been acceptable,
what is it then ? what is it, if not your
determination never to marry ? And if
this be tho case, is there any sense in a
young girl of twenty years, handsome, 1
rich, fine-looking, and who has not a bad
temper—quite the contrary, indeed—
is there any sense, I say, in her having
such thoughts?”
“But I have not such thoughts, and
you must believe it, grandpapa,” said
Margaret; but this time she was much
more in earnest, and added, in the same
serious tone—“and perhaps I may be
married much sooner than you now
think.”
Luc, raising his chin from his hand,
on which lie had leaned for more than a
half hour, quickly turned ,his head, and
gazed intently upon , Jtargaret .and tire
young man, who his meal,
evidently availed the pretext
of rising from the table, to glance in the
same direction.
.Neither movement escaped Margaret’s
attention.
“What do you Xavier hastily
asked, who saw, with in tensest satisfac
tion, that Margaret had herself changed
the frivolous tone of the conversation.
“I mean to say, what I have said; no
more, no less.”
“More than I will believe. When will
it be ?” insisted Xavier.
“Oh ! whenever the proper suitor pre
sents himself, and it may bo that ho will
soon appear. Voila
“Oh, yes ! always the same song,”
said Xavier, who again found himself
tripping over his stumbling block.
Lue had resumed his former position,
and the young man was walking slowly
toward the door, which opened upon the
mill.
“And to think,” cried Xavier, striking
the dresser again with his great fist; “to
think that there is no one here with any
sense”—here the young man suddenly
stood still, and seemed to listen, though
he did not return—“no one with any
sense, I say, to help me argue against
you, who can only listen to nonsense!’’
The young man again slowly sauntered
towards the door.
“It is not this hard-headed Luc that
will help me,” continued Xavier; “he
would not give up his stupid ideas for all
the bright dreams in the world.”
“Humph! I say nothing,” growled
Luc, the cross old creature not even turn
ing round.
“No, you say nothing now, but you
think none the less, and, when opportu
nity offers, you do not hesitate to say
just what you do think, 77 testily replied the
old miller; then added, in a more gentle
tone, “I think, perhaps—Etienne.”
The young man, whose hand was just
upon the latch, turned resolutely round
to Xavier, looking at him with marked
curiosity.
“ Yes,’’ continued the grandfather,
“Etienne is an honest youth, as quiet as
he is brave; doing his work steadily,
without intruding his ideas where he
thinks he is not called upon to meddle,
particularly in matters like the one under
discussion, where he thinks his youth,
and his short sojourn amongst us, are
sufficient reasons for his reserve. It is
just this—he has only been one year
with us; lie has not, like Luc, known you
from childhood, and he only sees you
grown up ; hence his diffidence, hence
the reason he is always careful to show
you every respect. But lam very sure,
if he would but for once speak freely, as
if he had been long at the mill, and, par
ticularly, as if lie were not bound to you
by all kinds of considerations, I am very
certain, I say, that he would admit he
thought you in the wrong in being so
obstinate in an intention which, after all,
is no secret. Is it not so, Etienne ?”
“Listen, master,” said the young man,
with the most respectful air; “it is not my
place to advise, or to dissuade Mademoi
selle, and—•”
“Oh, yes, I know; I know well it is
just as I said,” interrupted the old man,
“and I understand that you will not give
up your habitual reserve; hut let us
change the question, although it may be
the same at last. Here you are, a simple
wagon-boy at the mill; you have no
other riches hut your own strong arm and
brave heart; you think, some day, you
will take a wife; that you will have a
family; but you are a prudent, thought
ful youth, so the idea of your future can
not come without care, and you must re
flect well before you act. But Margaret’s
position is very different. Now, tell me,
honestly, have you ever thought of act
ing differently from your father before
you, who, after all, was no better off than
you are, or of being different from any
body else? This is what I ask you.”
“Ah, if this be all that you want to
know, master,” said Etienne, with a smile
of relief, his look lingering upon Margaret,
who cast down her eyes, though seeming
to regret that she could not watch the
young man’s face—
“ Yes, that is all I want to know; put
your hand upon your heart and tell me. ”
“With my hand upon my heart,
master, I declare to you that that is just
exactly my own idea, my own determina
tion.”
“What idea ? what determination ?
never to marry ?”
“Yes, master, never to marry.”
“What! never to marry !” said the old
man, who could not suppress his disap
pointment.
“Never !” gravely, aud almost solemn
ly, said the young man, who, then, for the
first time, looking up, set Margaret
free from the restraint she had been im
patient under, and who now, in turn,
looked at him with a lively expression of
curiosity. Deeply disconcerted as he was,
Xavier contented himself with shaking
his head in silence, and shrugging his
shoulders, line could be distinctly heard
smothering a laugh in his beard, and,
strange to say, Margaret did not seem to
join in his mirth, although at any other
time, she would naturally have been the
first to rejoice in grandpapa’s discom
fiture ; but she seemed now entirely ab
sorbed by this new feeling of curiosity.
Then suddenly she laughed out, but not
so heartily as to quiet the suspicion that
there was some pre-occupation of her
thoughts foreign to this gaiety.
“Oh, that is a fine thing,” said Xavier,
“you think you impose upon me, as if I
did not know, from the first, there was a
good reason for your decision.”
■'A good reason?” queried Margaret,
who had suddenly become quiet; and
Etienne, himself, looked at Xavier in
astonishment.
“Yes, yes, and a very good reason at
that. You are not ignorant of the fact,
that Etienne, like an honest, good boy, as
ISTo. 17.