The shrubbery in the yard was ragged and riotous.Fallen leaves from the grove littered the walks and porches.Turning down the lane at the side of the house, Grandemont rode on to the quarters of the plantation hands.He found the workers just streaming back from church, careless, happy, and bedecked in gay yellows, reds, and blues.
Yes, Andre was still there; his wool a little grayer; his mouth as wide; his laughter as ready as ever.Grandemont told him of his plan, and the old /chef/ swayed with pride and delight.With a sigh of relief, knowing that he need have no further concern until the serving of that dinner was announced, he placed in Andre's hands a liberal sum for the cost of it, giving /carte blanche/ for its creation.
Among the blacks were also a number of the old house servants.
Absalom, the former major domo, and a half-dozen of the younger men, once waiters and attaches of the kitchen, pantry, and other domestic departments crowded around to greet "M'shi Grande." Absalom guaranteed to marshal, of these, a corps of assistants that would perform with credit the serving of the dinner.
After distributing a liberal largesse among the faithful, Grandemont rode back to town well pleased.There were many other smaller details to think of and provide for, but eventually the scheme was complete, and now there remained only the issuance of the invitations to his guests.
Along the river within the scope of a score of miles dwelt some half-
dozen families with whose princely hospitality that of the Charleses had been contemporaneous.They were the proudest and most august of the old regime.Their small circle had been a brilliant one; their social relations close and warm; their houses full of rare welcome and discriminating bounty.Those friends, said Grandemont, should once more, if never again, sit at Charleroi on a nineteenth of January to celebrate the festal day of his house.
Grandemont had his cards of invitation engraved.They were expensive, but beautiful.In one particular their good taste might have been disputed; but the Creole allowed himself that one feather in the cap of his fugacious splendour.Might he not be allowed, for the one day of the /renaissance/, to be "Grandemont du Puy Charles, of Charleroi"?
He sent the invitations out early in January so that the guests might not fail to receive due notice.
At eight o'clock on the morning of the nineteenth, the lower coast steamboat /River Belle/ gingerly approached the long unused landing at Charleroi.The bridge was lowered, and a swarm of the plantation hands streamed along the rotting pier, bearing ashore a strange assortment of freight.Great shapeless bundles and bales and packets swathed in cloth and bound with ropes; tubs and urns of palms, evergreens, and tropical flowers; tables, mirrors, chairs, couches, carpets, and pictures--all carefully bound and padded against the dangers of transit.
Grandemont was among them, the busiest there.To the safe conveyance of certain large hampers eloquent with printed cautions to delicate handling he gave his superintendence, for they contained the fragile china and glassware.The dropping of one of those hampers would have cost him more than he could have saved in a year.
The last article unloaded, the /River Belle/ backed off and continued her course down stream.In less than an hour everything had been conveyed to the house.And came then Absalom's task, directing the placing of the furniture and wares.There was plenty of help, for that day was always a holiday at Charleroi, and the Negroes did not suffer the old traditions to lapse.Almost the entire population of the quarters volunteered their aid.A score of piccaninnies were sweeping at the leaves in the yard.In the big kitchen at the rear Andre was lording it with his old-time magnificence over his numerous sub-cooks and scullions.Shutters were flung wide; dust spun in clouds; the house echoed to voices and the tread of busy feet.The prince had come again, and Charleroi woke from its long sleep.
The full moon, as she rose across the river that night and peeped above the levee saw a sight that had long been missing from her orbit.
The old plantation house shed a soft and alluring radiance from every window.Of its two-score rooms only four had been refurnished--the larger reception chamber, the dining hall, and two smaller rooms for the convenience of the expected guests.But lighted wax candles were set in the windows of every room.
The dining-hall was the /chef d'oeuvre/.The long table, set with twenty-five covers, sparkled like a winter landscape with its snowy napery and china and the icy gleam of crystal.The chaste beauty of the room had required small adornment.The polished floor burned to a glowing ruby with the reflection of candle light.The rich wainscoting reached half way to the ceiling.Along and above this had been set the relieving lightness of a few water-colour sketches of fruit and flower.
The reception chamber was fitted in a ****** but elegant style.Its arrangement suggested nothing of the fact that on the morrow the room would again be cleared and abandoned to the dust and the spider.The entrance hall was imposing with palms and ferns and the light of an immense candelabrum.
At seven o'clock Grandemont, in evening dress, with pearls--a family passion--in his spotless linen, emerged from somewhere.The invitations had specified eight as the dining hour.He drew an armchair upon the porch, and sat there, smoking cigarettes and half dreaming.
