"Madame John"--bowing--"I am your neighbor, Kristian Koppig."
Madame John bows low, and smiles--a ball-room smile, but is frightened, and her escort,--the manager,--drops her hand and slips away.
"Ah! Monsieur," she whispers excitedly, "you will be killed if you stay here a moment. Are you armed? No. Take this." She tried to slip a dirk into his hands, but he would not have it.
"Oh, my dear young man, go! Go quickly!" she plead, glancing furtively down the hall.
"I wish you not to dance," said the young man.
"I have danced already; I am going home. Come; be quick! we will go together." She thrust her arm through his, and they hastened into the street. When a square had been pa.s.sed there came a sound of men running behind them.
"Run, Monsieur, run!" she cried, trying to drag him; but Monsieur Dutchman would not.
"_Run,_ Monsieur! Oh, my G.o.d! it is "Sieur"--
"_That_ for yesterday!" cried the manager, striking fiercely with his cane. Kristian Koppig"s fist rolled him in the dirt.
"_That_ for "t.i.te Poulette!" cried another man dealing the Dutchman a terrible blow from behind.
"And _that_ for me!" hissed a third, thrusting at him with something bright.
"_That_ for yesterday!" screamed the manager, bounding like a tiger; "That!" "THAT!" "Ha!"
Then Kristian Koppig knew that he was stabbed.
"That!" and "That!" and "That!" and the poor Dutchman struck wildly here and there, grasped the air, shut his eyes, staggered, reeled, fell, rose half up, fell again for good, and they were kicking him and jumping on him. All at once they scampered. Zalli had found the night-watch.
"Buz-z-z-z!" went a rattle. "Buz-z-z-z!" went another.
"Pick him up."
"Is he alive?"
"Can"t tell; hold him steady; lead the way, misses."
"He"s bleeding all over my breeches."
"This way--here--around this corner."
"This way now--only two squares more."
"Here we are."
"Rap-rap-rap!" on the old bra.s.s knocker. Curses on the narrow wicket, more on the dark archway, more still on the twisting stairs.
Up at last and into the room.
"Easy, easy, push this under his head: never mind his boots!"
So he lies--on "t.i.te Poulette"s own bed.
The watch are gone. They pause under the corner lamp to count profits;--a single bill--_Banque de la Louisiane_, fifty dollars.
Providence is kind--tolerably so. Break it at the "Guillaume Tell." "But did you ever hear any one scream like that girl did?"
And there lies the young Dutch neighbor. His money will not flutter back to him this time; nor will any voice behind a gate "beg Monsieur to go away." O, Woman!--that knows no enemy so terrible as man! Come nigh, poor Woman, you have nothing to fear. Lay your strange, electric touch upon the chilly flesh; it strikes no eager mischief along the fainting veins. Look your sweet looks upon the grimy face, and tenderly lay back the locks from the congested brows; no wicked misinterpretation lurks to bite your kindness. Be motherly, be sisterly, fear nought. Go, watch him by night; you may sleep at his feet and he will not stir. Yet he lives, and shall live--may live to forget you, who knows? But for all that, be gentle and watchful; be womanlike, we ask no more; and G.o.d reward you!
Even while it was taking all the two women"s strength to hold the door against Death, the sick man himself laid a grief upon them.
"Mother," he said to Madame John, quite a master of French in his delirium, "dear mother, fear not; trust your boy; fear nothing. I will not marry "t.i.te Poulette; I cannot. She is fair, dear mother, but ah!
she is not--don"t you know, mother? don"t you know? The race! the race!
Don"t you know that she is jet black. Isn"t it?"
The poor nurse nodded "Yes," and gave a sleeping draught; but before the patient quite slept he started once and stared.
"Take her away,"--waving his hand--"take your beauty away. She is jet white. Who could take a jet white wife? O, no, no, no, no!"
Next morning his brain was right.
"Madame," he weakly whispered, "I was delirious last night?"
Zalli shrugged. "Only a very, very, wee, wee trifle of a bit."
"And did I say something wrong or--foolish?"
"O, no, no," she replied; "you only clasped your hands, so, and prayed, prayed all the time to the dear Virgin."
"To the virgin?" asked the Dutchman, smiling incredulously.
"And St. Joseph--yes, indeed," she insisted; "you may strike me dead."
And so, for politeness" sake, he tried to credit the invention, but grew suspicions instead.
Hard was the battle against death. Nurses are sometimes amazons, and such were these. Through the long, enervating summer, the contest lasted; but when at last the cool airs of October came stealing in at the bedside like long-banished little children, Kristian Koppig rose upon his elbow and smiled them a welcome.
The physician, blessed man, was kind beyond measure; but said some inexplicable things, which Zalli tried in vain to make him speak in an undertone. "If I knew Monsieur John?" he said, "certainly! Why, we were chums at school. And he left you so much as that, Madame John? Ah! my old friend John, always n.o.ble! And you had it all in that naughty bank?
Ah, well, Madame John, it matters little. No, I shall not tell "t.i.te Poulette. Adieu."
And another time:--"If I will let you tell me something? With pleasure, Madame John. No, and not tell anybody, Madame John. No, Madame, not even "t.i.te Poulette. What?"--a long whistle--"is that pos-si-ble?--and Monsieur John knew it?--encouraged it?--eh, well, eh, well!--But--can I believe you, Madame John? Oh! you have Monsieur John"s sworn statement.
Ah! very good, truly, but--you _say_ you have it; but where is it? Ah!
to-morrow!" a sceptical shrug. "Pardon me, Madame John, I think perhaps, _perhaps_ you are telling the truth.
"If I think you did right? Certainly! What nature keeps back, accident sometimes gives, Madame John; either is G.o.d"s will. Don"t cry. "Stealing from the dead?" No! It was giving, yes! They are thanking you in heaven, Madame John."
Kristian Koppig, lying awake, but motionless and with closed eyes, hears in part, and, fancying he understands, rejoices with silent intensity.
When the doctor is gone he calls Zalli.
"I give you a great deal of trouble, eh, Madame John?"