CHAPTER XII.
“Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand, That you, yet, know not of.–”
Merchant of Venice Notwithstanding the active movements which had taken place in and around the buildings of the Lust in Rust, during the night which ended with our last chapter, none but the initiated were in the smallest degree aware of their existence. Oloff Van Staats was early afoot; and when he appeared on the lawn, to scent the morning air, there was nothing visible, to give rise to a suspicion that aught extraordinary had occurred during his slumbers. La Cour des Fées was still closed, but the person of the faithful Francois was seen, near the abode of his young mistress, busied in some of those pretty little offices, that can easily be imagined would be agreeable to a maiden of her years and station. Van Staats of Kinderhook had as little of romance in his composition, as could well be in a youth of five-and-twenty, who was commonly thought to be enamoured, and who was not altogether ignorant of the conventional sympathies of the passion. The man was mortal, and as the personal attractions of la belle Barbérie were sufficiently obvious, he had not entirely escaped the fate, which seems nearly inseparable from young fancy, when excited by beauty. He drew nigh to the pavilion, and, by a guarded but decisive manœuvre, he managed to come so close to the valet, as to render a verbal communication not only natural, but nearly unavoidable.
“A fair morning and a healthful air, Monsieur François;” commenced the young Patroon, acknowledging the low salute of the domestic, by gravely lifting his own beaver. “This is a comfortable abode for the warm months, and one it might be well to visit oftener.”
“When Monsieur le Patteron shall be de lor’ of ce manoir, aussi, he shall come when he shall have la volonté,” returned François, who knew that a pleasantry of his ought not to be construed into an engagement on the part of her he served, while it could not fail to be agreeable to him who heard it. “Monsieur de Van Staats, est grand propriétaire sur la rivière, and one day, peut-être, he shall be propriétaire sur la mèr!”
“I have thought of imitating the example of the Alderman, honest Francis, and of building a villa on the coast; but there will be time for that, when I shall find myself more established in life! Your young mistress is not yet moving, Francis?”
“Ma foi, non–Mam’selle Alide sleep!–’tis good symptôme, Monsieur Patteron, pour les jeunes personnes, to tres bien sleep. Monsieur, et toute la famille de Barbérie sleep à merveille! Oui, c’est toujours une famille remarquable, pour le sommeil!”
“Yet one would wish to breathe this fresh and invigorating air, which comes from off the sea, like a balm, in the early hours of the day.”
“Sans doute, Monsieur. C’est un miracle, how Mam’selle love de air! Personne do not love air more, as Mam’selle Alide. Bah!–It was grand plaisir to see how Monsieur de Barbérie love de air!”
“Perhaps, Mr. Francis, your young lady is ignorant of the hour. It might be well to knock at the door, or perhaps at the window. I confess, I should much admire to see her bright face, smiling from that window, on this soft morning scene.”
It is not probable that the imagination of the Patroon of Kinderhook ever before took so high a flight; and there was reason to suspect, by the wavering and alarmed glance that he cast around him after so unequivocal an expression of weakness, that he already repented his temerity. François, who would not willingly disoblige a man that was known to possess a hundred thousand acres of land, with manorial rights, besides personals of no mean amount, felt embarrassed by the request; but was enabled to recollect in time, that the heiress was known to possess a decision of character that might choose to control her own pleasures.
“Well, I shall be too happy to knock; mais, Monsieur sais, dat sleep est si agréable, pour les jeunes personnes! On n’a jamais knock, dans la famille de Monsieur de Barbérie, and je suis sûr, que Mam’selle Alide, do not love to hear de knock–pourtant, si Monsieur le Patteron le veut, I shall consult ses– Voila! Monsieur Bevre, qui vient sans knock à la fenêtre. J’ai l’honneur de vous laisser avec Monsieur Al’erman.”
And so the complaisant but still considerate valet bowed himself out of a dilemma, that he found, as he muttered to himself, while retiring, ‘tant soit peu ennuyant.’
The air and manner of the Alderman, as he approached his guest, were, like the character of the man, hale, hearty, and a little occupied with his own enjoyments and feelings. He hemmed thrice, ere he was near enough to speak; and each of the strong expirations seemed to invite the admiration of the Patroon, for the strength of his lungs, and for the purity of the atmosphere around a villa which acknowledged him for its owner.
“Zephyrs and Spas! but this is the abode of health, Patroon!” cried the burgher, as soon as these demonstrations of his own bodily condition had been sufficiently repeated. “One sometimes feels in this air equal to holding a discourse, across the Atlantic, with his friends at Scheveling, or the Helder. A broad and deep chest, air like this from the sea, with a clear conscience, and a lucky hit in the way of trade, cause the lungs of a man to play as easily and as imperceptibly as the wings of a humming-bird.–Let me see; there are few four-score men in thy stock. The last Patroon closed the books at sixty-six; and his father went but a little beyond seventy. I wonder, there has never been an inter-marriage, among you, with the Van Courtlandts; that blood is as good as an insurance to four-score and ten, of itself.”
“I find the air of your villa, Mr. Van Beverout, a cordial that one could wish to take often,” returned the other, who had far less of the brusque manner of the trader, than his companion. “It is a pity that all who have the choice, do not profit by their opportunities to breathe it.”
“You allude to the lazy mariners in you vessel! Her Majesty’s servants are seldom in a hurry; and as for this brigantine in the Cove, the fellow seems to have gotten in by magic! I warrant me, now, the rogue is there for no good, and that the Queen’s Exchequer will be none the richer for his visit. Harkee, you Brom,” calling to an aged black, who was working at no great distance from the dwelling, and who was deep in his master’s confidence, “hast seen any boats plying between yonder roguish-looking brigantine and the land?”
The negro shook his head, like the earthen image of a mandarin, and laughed loud and heartily.
“I b’rieve he do all he mischief among a Yankee, an’ he only come here to take he breat’,” said the wily slave. “Well, I wish, wid all a heart, dere would come free-trader, some time, along our shore. Dat gib a chance to poor black man, to make an Lonest penny!”
“You see, Patroon, human nature itself rises against monopoly! That was the voice of instinct, speaking with the tongue of Brom; and it is no easy task, for a merchant, to keep his dependants obedient to laws, which, in themselves, create so constant a temptation to break them. Well, well; we will always hope for the best, and endeavor to act like dutiful subjects. The boat is not amiss, as to form and rig, let her come from where she will.–Dost think the wind will be off the land this morning?”
“There are signs of a change in the clouds. One could wish that all should be out in the air, to taste this pleasant sea-breeze while it lasts.”
“Come, come,” cried the Alderman, who had for a moment studied the state of the heavens with a solicitude, that he feared might attract his companion’s attention. “We will taste our breakfast. This is the spot to show the use of teeth! The negroes have not been idle during the night, Mr. Van Staats –he-e-em–I say, Sir, they have not been idle:– and we shall have a choice among the dainties of the river and bay.–That cloud above the mouth of the Raritan appears to rise, and we may yet have a breeze at west!”
“Yonder comes a boat in the direction of the city,” observed the other, reluctantly obeying a motion of the Alderman to retire to the apartment where they were accustomed to break their fasts. “To me, it seems to approach with more than ordinary speed.”
“There are stout arms at its oars! Can it be a messenger for the cruiser? no–it rather steers more for our own landing. These Jersey-men are often overtaken by the night, between York and their own doors. And now, Patroon, we will to our knives and forks, like men who have taken the best stomachics.”