“I think you must be insane, Diane, I surely think you must be, to let all these common people know that a blanchisseuse de fin will not allow her child to come into our house, and that you are obliged to go on your knees and reach out of the window to embrace her. Oh, Diane, Diane, for the first time you’ve forgotten that you’re a d’Hautreve!”
CHAPTER XXIV
RASTE THE PRODIGAL
About this time, a noticeable change took place in Madame Jozain. She did not seem nearly so self-satisfied, nor so agreeable to her customers. They remarked among themselves that something had certainly gone wrong, for madame was very absent-minded and rather cross, and was always talking about business being poor, and the quarter growing duller every day, while the neighbors were a set of curious gossips and busybodies.
“As soon as they find out that one has had trouble, they blacken one all they can,” she said bitterly to Madame Fernandez, who was her only intimate friend.
She spoke cautiously and vaguely of her troubles, for she did not know whether the news of Raste’s escapade had reached Good Children Street or not. “I dare say they have seen it in the papers,” she thought angrily to herself. “Locked up for thirty days, as a suspicious character! If he had listened to me, and sold that watch at first, he wouldn’t have got into this trouble. I told him to be careful, but he was always so headstrong, and now, I don’t know what may happen any moment. The whole story may get out, through that watch being talked about in the papers, and perhaps the man that bought it was a detective. Raste didn’t even find out who bought it. I shall never feel easy now until Raste is out of the way. As soon as thirty days are ended, I shall advise him to leave New Orleans for a while. I’m disgusted with him, to disgrace me in this way, and I don’t want him here. I can hardly make enough to support myself and that child. If it wasn’t for the money I’ve hidden away, I should feel discouraged; but I’ve got that to fall back on. I’m thankful Raste don’t know anything about it, or he’d get it from me in some way. I’m glad I’ve got rid of all those things; I’d be afraid to have them by me now. There’s nothing of any consequence left but that silver jewel-box, and I’ll get that off my hands the first time I go out.”
Then she thought of the child. Suppose some one should recognize the child? She was becoming cowardly. A guilty conscience was an uncomfortable companion. Everything frightened her and made her suspicious. Madame Paichoux had asked some startling questions; and besides, she did not know what the child might tell. Children were so unreliable. One would think they had forgotten everything and did not see nor hear; then, suddenly, they would drop some word that would lead to wonderful revelations.
Lady Jane was an intelligent, thoughtful child, and such people as the d’Hautreves could find out many things from her. Then she congratulated herself that she had been clever enough to get her away from Mam’selle Diane, and the Paichoux, too. And that cunning little hunchback, Pepsie; and old Gex—he was a sly old villain, and no doubt her enemy, for all he was so affable and polite. Yes, she would keep the child away from them all as much as possible.
Sometimes she thought it would be best to move away from that quarter of the city; but then, her going might excite suspicion, so she waited for further developments with much anxiety.
When Raste’s thirty days were up he came to his mother, very sheepish, and, apparently, very penitent. To her angry reproaches, he replied that he had done nothing; that there was no crime in his having the watch. They didn’t steal the watch; they didn’t ask the poor woman into their house and rob her. She came there sick, and they took care of her; and instead of turning her child into the street, they had treated her as if she belonged to them. As for the watch, he had been keeping it only until the child was old enough to have it, or until her relatives turned up; he had never intended to sell it until he found that it was getting him into trouble, and then he was obliged to get rid of it.
Madame listened to the plausible arguments of her handsome scapegrace, and thought that perhaps, after all, there was no real cause for anxiety; and when he treated his thirty days with fine scorn, as a mere trifle, a mistake of which no one knew, she felt greatly comforted.