Scipio was not of secretive habit; and in less than half an hour I was the confidant of all he knew.
Eugénie Besançon was the daughter and only child of a Creole planter, who had died some two years before, as some thought wealthy, while others believed that his affairs were embarrassed. Monsieur Dominique Gayarre had been left joint-administrator of the estate with the steward Antoine, both being guardiums (sic Scipio) of the young lady. Gayarre had been the lawyer of Besançon, and Antoine his faithful servitor. Hence the trust reposed in the old steward, who in latter years stood in the relation of friend and companion rather than of servant to Besançon himself.
In a few months mademoiselle would be of age; but whether her inheritance was large, Scipio could not tell. He only knew that since her fathers death, Monsieur Dominique, the principal executor, had furnished her with ample funds whenever called upon; that she had not been restricted in any way; that she was generous; that she was profuse in her expenditure, or, as Scipio described it, berry wasteful, an flung about de shinin dollars as ef dey war donicks !
The black gave some glowing details of many a grand ball and fête champètre that had taken place on the plantation, and hinted at the expensive life which young missa led while in the city, where she usually resided during most part of the winter. All this I could easily credit. From what had occurred on the boat, and other circumstances, I was impressed with the belief that Eugénie Besançon was just the person to answer to the description of Scipio. Ardent of soul full of warm impulses generous to a fault reckless in expenditure living altogether in the present and not caring to make any calculation for the future. Just such an heiress as would exactly suit the purposes of an unprincipled administrator.
I could see that poor Scipio had a great regard for his young mistress; but, even ignorant as he was, he had some suspicion that all this profuse outlay boded no good. He shook his head as he talked of these matters, adding
Ise afeerd, young massr, itll nebber, nebber last. De Planters bank hisseff would be broke by such a constant drawin ob money.
When Scipio came to speak of Gayarre he shook his head still more significantly. He had evidently some strange suspicions about this individual, though he was unwilling, just then, to declare them.
I learnt enough to identify Monsieur Dominique Gayarre with my avocat of the Rue , New Orleans. No doubt remained on my mind that it was the same. A lawyer by profession, but more of a speculator in stocks a money-lender, in other words, usurer. In the country a planter, owning the plantation adjoining that of Besançon, with more than a hundred slaves, whom he treats with the utmost severity. All this is in correspondence with the calling and character of my Monsieur Dominique. They
are the same.
Scipio gives me some additional details of him. He was the law adviser and the companion of Monsieur Besançon Scipio says, Too often for ole massrs good, and believes that the latter suffered much from his acquaintance: or, as Scipio phrases it, Massr Gayarre humbug ole massr; he cheat im many an many a time, Ise certain.
Furthermore, I learn from my attendant, that Gayarre resides upon his plantation during the summer months; that he is a daily visitor at the big house the residence of Mademoiselle Besançon where he makes himself quite at home; acting, says Scipio, as ef de place longed to him, and he war de boss ob de plantation.
I fancied Scipio knew something more about this man some definite matter that he did not like to talk about. It was natural enough, considering our recent acquaintance. I could see that he had a strong dislike towards Gayarre. Did he found it on some actual knowledge of the latter, or was it instinct a principle strongly developed in these poor slaves, who are not permitted to reason ?
His information, however, comprised too many facts to be the product of mere instinct: it savoured of actual knowledge. He must have learnt these things from some quarter. Where could he have gathered them?
Who told you all this, Scipio?
Aurore, massr.
Aurore!
Chapter Sixteen Monsieur Dominique Gayarre
I was not allowed time to reflect, or question Scipio farther. At that moment the door was darkened by the entrance of two men; who, without saying a word, stepped inside the apartment.
Da doctor, massr, whispered Scipio, falling back, and permitting the gentlemen to approach.
Of the two it was not difficult to tell which was the doctor. The professional face was unmistakeable: and I knew that the tall pale man, who regarded me with interrogative glance, was a disciple of Esculapius, as certainly as if he had carried his diploma in one hand and his door-plate in the other.
He was a man of forty, not ill-featured, though the face was not one that would be termed handsome. It was, however, interesting, from a quiet intellectuality that characterised it, as well as an habitual expression of kind feeling. It had been a German face some two or three generations before, but an American climate, political, I mean, had tamed down the rude lines produced by ages of European despotism, and had almost restored it to its primitive nobility of feature. Afterwards, when better acquainted with American types, I should have known it as a Pennsylvanian face, and such in reality it was. I saw before me a graduate of one of the great medical schools of Philadelphia, Dr Edward Reigart. The name confirmed my suspicion of German origin.