" The voice
trembled plaintively.
"But how, Maman?"
"Ah! you are not like others; no fortune, no pleasure, no friend."
"Maman!"
"No, no;--I thank God for it; I am glad you are not; but you will be
lonely, lonely, all your poor life long. There is no place in this world
for us poor women. I wish that we were either white or black!"--and the
tears, two "shining ones," stood in the poor quadroon's eyes.
Tha daughter stood up, her eyes flashing.
"God made us, Maman," she said with a gentle, but stately smile.
"Ha!" said the mother, her keen glance darting through her tears, "Sin
made _me_, yes."
"No," said 'Tite Poulette, "God made us. He made us Just as we are; not
more white, not more black."
"He made you, truly!" said Zalli. "You are so beautiful; I believe it
well." She reached and drew the fair form to a kneeling posture. "My
sweet, white daughter!"
Now the tears were in the girl's eyes. "And could I be whiter than I
am?" she asked.
"Oh, no, no! 'Tite Poulette," cried the other; "but if we were only
_real white!_--both of us; so that some gentleman might come to see me
and say 'Madame John, I want your pretty little chick.
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