New Orleans (La.) -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Physicians -- Fiction
Richling dressed himself hurriedly and went out. Everywhere drums were
beating to arms. Couriers and aides-de-camp were galloping here and
there. Men in uniform were hurrying on foot to this and that rendezvous.
Crowds of the idle and poor were streaming out toward the levee.
Carriages and cabs rattled frantically from place to place; men ran
out-of-doors and leaped into them and leaped out of them and sprang up
stair-ways; hundreds of all manner of vehicles, fit and unfit to carry
passengers and goods, crowded toward the railroad depots and steam-boat
landings; women ran into the streets wringing their hands and holding
their brows; and children stood in the door-ways and gate-ways and
trembled and called and cried.
Richling took the new Dauphine street-car. Far down in the Third
district, where there was a silence like that of a village lane, he
approached a little cottage painted with Venetian red, setting in its
garden of oranges, pomegranates, and bananas, and marigolds, and
coxcombs behind its white paling fence and green gate.
The gate was open. In it stood a tall, strong woman, good-looking, rosy,
and neatly dressed. That she was tall you could prove by the gate, and
that she was strong, by the graceful muscularity with which she held
two infants,--pretty, swarthy little fellows, with joyous black eyes,
and evidently of one age and parentage,--each in the hollow of a fine,
round arm. There was just a hint of emotional disorder in her shining
hair and a trace of tears about her eyes. As the visitor drew near, a
fresh show of distressed exaltation was visible in the slight play of
her form.
"Ah! Mr. Richlin'," she cried, the moment he came within hearing, "'the
dispot's heels is on our shores!'" Tears filled her eyes again. Mike,
the bruiser, in his sixth year, who had been leaning backward against
her knees and covering his legs with her skirts, ran forward and clasped
the visitor's lower limbs with the nerve and intention of a wrestler.
Kate followed with the cherubs. They were Raphael's.
"Yes, it's terrible," said Richling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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