Manuela paused, her eyes blinking at the semi-obscurity within.
The Wizened One called in croaking tones:
"An' fo' w'y you come here? Assiez-la, ma'amzelle."
Timidly Manuela sat at the table facing the owner of the voice.
"I want," she began faintly; but the Mistress of the Cards
understood: she had had much experience. The cards were shuffled
in her long grimy talons and stacked before Manuela.
"Now you cut dem in t'ree part, so--un, deux, trois, bien! You
mek' you' weesh wid all you' heart, bien! Yaas, I see, I see!"
Breathlessly did Manuela learn that her lover was true, but "dat
light gal, yaas, she mek' nouvena in St. Rocque fo' hees love."
"I give you one lil' charm, yaas," said the Wizened One when the
seance was over, and Manuela, all white and nervous, leaned back
in the rickety chair. "I give you one lil' charm fo' to ween him
back, yaas. You wear h'it 'roun' you' wais', an' he come back.
Den you mek prayer at St. Rocque an' burn can'le. Den you come
back an' tell me, yaas. Cinquante sous, ma'amzelle. Merci.
Good luck go wid you."
Readjusting her veil, Manuela passed out the little wicket gate,
treading on air. Again the sun shone, and the breath of the
swamps came as healthful sea-breeze unto her nostrils. She
fairly flew in the direction of St. Rocque.
There were quite a number of persons entering the white gates of
the cemetery, for this was Friday, when all those who wish good
luck pray to the saint, and wash their steps promptly at twelve
o'clock with a wondrous mixture to guard the house.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25