The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1889-03-05

combat p questioned the artist, as if some
interesting thought had returned to him
| suddenly. ais that house your chateau
| de Rochon p
The Creole drew up his shoulders and
| spread out his hands half comically his
| pipe was gripped between his yellow
teeth and he spoke with his lips only as
he said:
Certainly, Mo'sieu, certainly that is
where the lily lives-the Lily of Rochon
and 1 tell you she is as beautiful as the
Virgin-as beautiful as -"
"TIl Judge of that myself, Victor, if ]
get the opportunity" Orion interrupted,
" but tell me, what flag is that futtering
among the trees?"
"That's the lily banner, the old mans
within. He keeps it there, old Gaspard
Rochon does. 1 suppose he likes it. That's
his boat lying in along shore there"
From the yellow flag that played like a
flame against the dark background of
magnolia foliage, Orton's eyes fell to the
trim little sloop-rigged craft that rocked
at her anchoring place near a small wharf.
The boat wa white with a yellow stern
board, upon which was a blue lily. The
young man saw at once that it was a fast
little vessel built by a cunning hand.
"That boat, she can fly like a bird, "
Victor remarked, in his soft patois, "and
the beautiful Ma'm'zelle, how she does
love to sail when the breeze is stiff!
Mo'sieu Rochon he likes it too, when the
wind blows big guns and the sea is on
heavy. Dieu but he's a bad one, that
Mo'sieu Gaspard Rochonl'
"Chie1y in what is he bad?" inquired
Orion, rather absently, his mind busted
with the picture of the girl in the boat as
suggested by Victor's words.
"Oh, they say, [ don't know if it's true
though, that he made his money by the
DEVILS own means, by all of viii
%lainies; but then one is not fool enough
t. tell old Gaspard that, if me values ones
life" Victor winked and smiled dryly as
he continued, "You going to get &C
quainted with him, Mo'sieu Orion? You
think he'd be very good acquaintance,
eh2'
Probably, why not?"
Certainly, why not? say that, too,"
but there was an undermeaning to Vic
tors fexibility. The shrug of his shout
ders and the expression of his eyes were
full of reservations and conditions. "You
are a gentleman and he's a gentleman" he
went on, and / suppose you'll like each
other, certainly. That's all right, you
know, Mo'sicu, certainly; but the Nam
zelle, you'd better be careful about -"
The young man turned suddenly upon
the Creole at this point and almost scowled
at him. Something in the fellows voice
soft and musical as it was, grated harshly
on Orton's ear, probably because it broke
in upon the beautiful vision he had been
imagining. 1t was his habit to turn all his
thoughts into pictures and he had been
sketching in his mind a most enchanting
bit of life and color.
eyes, Mo'sieu," insisted Victor, you'll
have to let the beautiful Ma'm'zelle quite
alone, I tell you, for the old man won't
bear anybody looking soft looks at her."
Nonsense" exclaimed Orion, "you
are talking perfect nonsense" then feel
ing the improperly of the discussion, he
changed the subject of conversation by
ordering his breakfast to be fetched up
that he might eat it in the open air.
He had chartered the little schooner
Zozo with her crew, and since setting sail
for Bay st. Louis had heard a great deal
of the history, or at leaat the so-called
history, of Gaspard Rochon the rich and
eccentric owner of Chateau de Rochon, as
the sailors had named the mansion. There
was enough of mystery in the story to
stimulate curiosity and at the same time
the Creole %narrators had not failed to dash
into ii a great deal of glow and color
which ADDED a peculiar charm for a tenn
permanent like Orton's. Now as he ate
his fish and biscuit and sipp I'd the excel
lent black coffee prepared for him, his
imagination made the most of the pic
turesque mansion; the breezy grove and
the legend-like stories he had been hear
ing. Already he was planning the details
of a picture he would make, of which the
central figures were to be Gaspard Ro-
chon, the rough and bloodthirsty retired
pirate Tor fugitive from the vengeance of
outraged society on account of other
criminal pursuits) and his lovely niece,
the lily so extravagantly praised by the
Creole sailors. He was in love with his
art, and therefore was not nursing any
youthful fancy, or hope, of any tender
adventure with the maiden, or of any
chivalrous bout with her doughty uncle
who guarded her with such fierce jealousy
and proves. Sketches, sketches, some
thing new and striking for his pencil,
something upon which he could wreak
his love of color, nothing else interested
him deeply.
Victor, a typical Creole coaster, knew
everybody from the Rigolets to Biloxi,
and with the love of romance common to
his race had absorbed, SO to speak, all the
legends, stories, anecdotes and folklore
generally current in the region. He
knew well how to embellish these and
there was nothing dearer to him than to
have a pipe of Cuban tobacco, a bottle of
claret and a good listener while he Piled
his gift of storytelling. In Orion he
had found a charming subject for his ex-
periments in romance and he had filed
the young mans Imagination with all
manner of wild and picturesque glimpses
of a new and very strange life.