No!  The family would not come together on the first appointment; no, nor on the second; no, not if the grandpapa did express his wish; no, nor on the third—­nor on the fourth.

“Non, Messieurs!” cried both youth and reckless age; and, sometimes, also, the stronger heads of the family, the men of means, of force and of influence, urged on from behind by their proud and beautiful wives and daughters.

Arms, generally, rather than heads, ruled there in those days.  Sentiments (which are the real laws) took shape in accordance with the poetry, rather than the reason, of things, and the community recognized the supreme domination of “the gentleman” in questions of right and of “the ladies” in matters of sentiment.  Under such conditions strength establishes over weakness a showy protection which is the subtlest of tyrannies, yet which, in the very moment of extending its arm over woman, confers upon her a power which a truer freedom would only diminish; constitutes her in a large degree an autocrat of public sentiment and thus accepts her narrowest prejudices and most belated errors as veriest need-be’s of social life.

The clans classified easily into three groups; there were those who boiled, those who stewed, and those who merely steamed under a close cover.  The men in the first two groups were, for the most part, those who were holding office under old Spanish commissions, and were daily expecting themselves to be displaced and Louisiana thereby ruined.  The steaming ones were a goodly fraction of the family—­the timid, the apathetic, the “conservative.”  The conservatives found ease better than exactitude, the trouble of thinking great, the agony of deciding harrowing, and the alternative of smiling cynically and being liberal so much easier—­and the warm weather coming on with a rapidity-wearying to contemplate.

“The Yankee was an inferior animal.”

“Certainly.”

“But Honore had a right to his convictions.”

“Yes, that was so, too.”

“It looked very traitorous, however.”

“Yes, so it did.”

“Nevertheless, it might turn out that Honore was advancing the true interests of his people.”

“Very likely.”

“It would not do to accept office under the Yankee government.”

“Of course not.”

“Yet it would never do to let the Yankees get the offices, either.”

“That was true; nobody could deny that.”

“If Spain or France got the country back, they would certainly remember and reward those who had held out faithfully.”

“Certainly!  That was an old habit with France and Spain.”

“But if they did not get the country back—­”

“Yes, that is so; Honore is a very good fellow, and—­”

And, one after another, under the mild coolness of Honore’s amiable disregard, their indignation trickled back from steam to water, and they went on drawing their stipends, some in Honore’s counting-room, where they held positions, some from the provisional government, which had as yet made but few changes, and some, secretly, from the cunning Casa-Calvo; for, blow the wind east or blow the wind west, the affinity of the average Grandissime for a salary abideth forever.