lurking on the edge of the settlement, bearing our French gentlewoman's
own new name, and being mentioned in Monsieur's will.

And the new Comptesse--she tarried but a twelvemonth, left Monsieur a
lovely son, and departed, led out of this vain world by the swamp-fever.

From this son sprang the proud Creole family of De Charleu. It rose
straight up, up, up, generation after generation, tall, branchless,
slender, palm-like; and finally, in the time of which I am to tell,
flowered with all the rare beauty of a century-plant, in Artemise,
Innocente, Felicité, the twins Marie and Martha, Leontine and little
Septima; the seven beautiful daughters for whom their home had been
fitly named Belles Demoiselles.

The Count's grant had once been a long Pointe, round which the
Mississippi used to whirl, and seethe, and foam, that it was horrid to
behold. Big whirlpools would open and wheel about in the savage eddies
under the low bank, and close up again, and others open, and spin, and
disappear. Great circles of muddy surface would boil up from hundreds of
feet below, and gloss over, and seem to float away,--sink, come back
again under water, and with only a soft hiss surge up again, and again
drift off, and vanish. Every few minutes the loamy bank would tip down a
great load of earth upon its besieger, and fall back a foot,--sometimes
a yard,--and the writhing river would press after, until at last the
Pointe was quite swallowed up, and the great river glided by in a
majestic curve, and asked no more; the bank stood fast, the "caving"
became a forgotten misfortune, and the diminished grant was a long,
sweeping, willowy bend, rustling with miles of sugar-cane.

Coming up the Mississippi in the sailing craft of those early days,