The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories by Alice Ruth Moore Dunbar
page 37 of 109 (33%)
page 37 of 109 (33%)
|
peaceful, uneventful existence out on Bayou Road. When the opera
season was over in February, M'sieu went back to cigar-making, and the white cat purred none the less contentedly. It had been a benefit to-night for the leading tenor, and he had chosen "Roland a Ronceveaux," a favourite this season, for his farewell. And, mon Dieu, mused the little M'sieu, but how his voice had rung out bell-like, piercing above the chorus of the first act! Encore after encore was given, and the bravos of the troisiemes were enough to stir the most sluggish of pulses. "Superbes Pyrenees Qui dressez dans le ciel, Vos cimes couronnees D'un hiver eternelle, Pour nous livrer passage Ouvrez vos larges flancs, Faites faire l'orage, Voici, venir les Francs!" M'sieu quickened his pace down Bourbon Street as he sang the chorus to himself in a thin old voice, and then, before he could see in the thick fog, he had run into two young men. "I--I--beg your pardon,--messieurs," he stammered. "Most certainly," was the careless response; then the speaker, taking a second glance at the object of the rencontre, cried joyfully: |
|