Bonaventure: A Prose Pastoral of Acadian LouisianaCable, George Washington
General
Bonaventure: A Prose Pastoral of Acadian Louisiana
Cable, George Washington
Country life -- Fiction; Louisiana -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction
He found her a haven a good half-day's ride out across the prairies
north-westward, in the home of his long-time acquaintance, Sosthene
Gradnego, who had no more heart than his wife had to say No to either
their eminent friend or a houseless widow; and, as to children, had so
many already, that one more was nothing. They did not feel the burden
of her, she died so soon; but they soon found she had left with them a
positive quantity in her little prattling, restless, high-tempered
Bonaventure. Bonaventure Deschamps: he was just two years younger than
their own little Zosephine.
Sosthene was already a man of some note in this region,--a region
named after a bird. Why would it not often be well so to name
places,--for the bird that most frequents the surrounding woods or
fields? How pleasant to have one's hamlet called Nightingale, or
Whippoorwill, or Goldfinch, or Oriole! The home of Zosephine and
Bonaventure's childhood was in the district known as Carancro; in
bluff English, Carrion Crow.
CHAPTER II.
BONAVENTURE AND ZOSEPHINE.
They did not live _a la chapelle_; that is, in the village of six or
eight houses clustered about the small wooden spire and cross of the
mission chapel. Sosthene's small ground-story cottage, with garret
stairs outside in front on the veranda and its five-acre farm behind,
was not even on a highway nor on the edge of any rich _bas
fond_,--creek-bottom. It was _au large_,--far out across the smooth,
unscarred turf of the immense prairie, conveniently near one of the
clear circular ponds--_maraises_--which one sees of every size and in
every direction on the seemingly level land. Here it sat, as still as
a picture, within its hollow square of China-trees, which every third
year yielded their limbs for fuel; as easy to overlook the first
time--as easy to see the next time--as a bird sitting on her eggs.
Only the practised eye could read aright the infrequent obscure signs
of previous travel that showed the way to it,--sometimes no more than
the occasional soilure of the short turf by a few wheels or hoofs
where the route led into or across the _coolees_--rivulets--that from
_marais_ to _marais_ slipped southward toward the great marshes of the
distant, unseen Gulf.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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