bridesmaids; she has told it over to me a score of times. The wedding
was to be in the church; the same church that now stands on the east
side of the square. And on the south side of the square was the old
auberge. Claudis Beauvois said you could get as good wines at that
tavern as you could in New Orleans. But the court-house was not
built until 1795. The people did not need a court-house. They had no
quarrels among themselves which the priest could not settle, and
after the British conquest their only enemies were those Puants, the
Pottawattamie Indians, who took the English side, and paid no regard
when peace was declared, but still tormented the French because there
was no military power to check them. You see the common fields across
the rigolé. The Puants stole stock from the common fields, they
trampled down crops, and kidnaped children and even women, to be
ransomed for so many horses each. The French tried to be friendly, and
with presents and good words to induce the Puants to leave. But those
Puants--Oh, they were British Indians: nothing but whipping would take
the impudence out of them.

Celeste Barbeau's father and mother lived at Prairie du Pont, and
Alexis Barbeau was the richest man in this part of the American
Bottom. When Alexis Barbeau was down on his knees at mass, people used
to say he counted his money instead of his beads; it was at least as
dear to him as religion. And when he came au Caho',[1] he hadn't a
word for a poor man. At Prairie du Pont he had built himself a fine
brick house; the bricks were brought from Philadelphia by way of New
Orleans. You have yourself seen it many a time, and the crack down
the side made by the great earthquake of 1811. There he lived like an
estated gentleman, for Prairie du Pont was then nothing but a cluster
of tenants around his feet. It was after his death that the village
grew. Celeste did not stay at Prairie du Pont; she was always au