Prisoners of Chance | Page 6

had I taken ten steps before I
saw that he was following, and as I wheeled to front him the fellow
made a painful effort to address me in English.
"Mornin', sah," he said, making a deep salutation with his entire body.
"Am you dat Englisher Massa Benteen from up de ribber?"
Leaning upon my rifle, I gazed directly at him in astonishment. How,
by all that was miraculous, did this strange black know my name and
nationality? His was a round face, filled with good humor; nothing in it

surely to mistrust, yet totally unknown to me.
"You speak correctly," I made reply, surprise evident in the tones of my
voice. "I have no reason to deny my name, which is held an honest one
here in New Orleans. How you learned it, however, remains a mystery,
for I never looked upon your face before."
"No, sah; I s'pects not, sah, 'cause I nebber yet hab been in dem dere
parts, sah. I was sent yere wid a most 'portant message fer Massa
Benteen, an' I done reckon as how dat am you, sah."
"An important message for me? Surely, boy, you either mistake, or are
crazy. Yet stay! Does it come from Nick Burton, the flatboat-man?"
"No, sah; it am a lady wat sent me yere."
He was excessively polite, exhibiting an earnestness which caused me
to suspect his mission a grave one.
"A lady?"
I echoed the unexpected word, scarcely capable of believing the
testimony of my own ears. Yet as I did so my heart almost ceased its
throbbing, while I felt the hot blood rush to my face. That was an age
of social gallantry; yet I was no gay courtier of the town, but a hunter
of the woods, attired in rough habiliments, little fitted to attract the
attention of womanly eyes amid the military glitter all about.
A lady! In the name of all the gods, what lady? Even in the old days I
enjoyed but a limited circle of acquaintance among women. Indeed, I
recalled only one in all the wide province of Louisiana who might
justly be accorded so high an appellation even by a negro slave, and
certainly she knew nothing of my presence in New Orleans, nor would
she dream of sending for me if she did. Convinced of this, I dismissed
the thought upon the instant, with a smile. The black must have made a
mistake, or else some old-time acquaintance of our family, a forgotten
friend of my mother perhaps, had chanced to hear of my return.
Meanwhile the negro stood gazing at me with open mouth, and the

sight of him partially restored my presence of mind.
"Is she English, boy?"
"No, sah, she am a French lady, sah, if ebber dar was one in dis hyar
province. She libs ober yonder in de Rue Dumaine, an' she said to me,
'Yah, Alphonse, you follow dat dar young feller wid de long rifle under
his arm an' de coon-skin cap, an' fotch him hyar to me!' Dem am de
bery words wat she done said, sah, when you went by our house a
half-hour ago."
"Is your mistress young or old?"
The black chuckled, his round face assuming a good-natured grin.
"Fo' de Lawd, Massa, but dat am jest de way wid all you white folks!"
he ejaculated. "If she was ol', an' wrinkled, an' fat, den dat settle de
whole ting. Jest don't want to know no mor'."
"Well," I interrupted impatiently, "keep your moralizing to yourself
until we become better acquainted, and answer my question--Is the
woman young?"
My tone was sufficiently stern to sober him, his black face
straightening out as if it had been ironed.
"Now, don't you go an' git cross, Massa Benteen, case a laugh don't
nebber do nobody no hurt," he cried, shrinking back as if expecting a
blow. "But dat's jest wat she am, sah, an' a heap sweeter dan de vi'lets
in de springtime, sah."
"And she actually told you my name?"
"Yas, sah, she did dat fer suah--'Massa Geoffrey Benteen, an Englisher
from up de ribber,' dem was her bery words; but somehow I done
disremember jest persactly de place."
For another moment I hesitated, scarcely daring to utter the one vital
question trembling on my lips.

"But who is the lady? What is her name?" As I put the simple query I
felt my voice tremble in spite of every effort to hold it firm.
"Madame de Noyan, sah; one ob de bery first famblies. Massa de
Noyan am one ob de Bienvilles, sah."
"De Noyan? De Noyan?" I repeated the unfamiliar name over slowly,
with a feeling of relief. "Most certainly I never before heard other."
"I dunno nothin' 'tall 'bout dat, Massa, but suah's you born