I go (run) here--there--I cannot find it," she gesticulated.
"I am going there myself," said he; "but why do you want to see Jean
Thompson, Madame Delphine?"
"I _'blige'_ to see 'im!" she replied, jerking herself half around away,
one foot planted forward with an air of excited pre-occupation; "I godd
some' to tell 'im wad I _'blige'_ to tell 'im!"
"Madame Delphine"--
"Oh! Pere Jerome, fo' de love of de good God, show me dad way to de
'ouse of Jean Tomkin!"
Her distressed smile implored pardon for her rudeness.
"What are you going to tell him?" asked the priest.
"Oh, Pere Jerome,"--in the Creole _patois_ again,--"I am going to put an
end to all this trouble--only I pray you do not ask me about it now;
every minute is precious!"
He could not withstand her look of entreaty.
"Come," he said, and they went.
* * * * *
Jean Thompson and Doctor Varrillat lived opposite each other on the
Bayou road, a little way beyond the town limits as then prescribed. Each
had his large, white-columned, four-sided house among the magnolias,
--his huge live-oak overshadowing either corner of the darkly shaded
garden, his broad, brick walk leading down to the tall, brick-pillared
gate, his square of bright, red pavement on the turf-covered sidewalk,
and his railed platform spanning the draining-ditch, with a pair of
green benches, one on each edge, facing each other crosswise of the
gutter.
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