When the Bayou Overflows

by Alice Dunbar-Nelson

　　

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When the sun goes down behind the great oaks along the BayouTeche near Franklin, it throws red needles of light into the darkwoods, and leaves a great glow on the still bayou. Ma'am Moutonpaused at her gate and cast a contemplative look at the red sky."Hit will rain to-morrow, sho'. I mus' git in my t'ings."Ma'am Mouton's remark must have been addressed to herself or tothe lean dog, for no one else was visible. She moved brisklyabout the yard, taking things from the line, when Louisette'svoice called cheerily:"Ah, Ma'am Mouton, can I help?"Louisette was petite and plump and black-haired. Louisette'seyes danced, and her lips were red and tempting. Ma'am Mouton'sface relaxed as the small brown hands relieved hers of theirburden."Sylves', has he come yet?" asked the red mouth."Mais non, ma chere," said Ma'am Mouton, sadly, "I can' tell fo'w'y he no come home soon dese day. Ah me, I feel lak' somet'inggoin' happen. He so strange."Even as she spoke a quick nervous step was heard crunching up thebrick walk. Sylves' paused an instant without the kitchen door,his face turned to the setting sun. He was tall and slim andagile; a true 'cajan."Bon jour, Louisette," he laughed. "Eh, maman!""Ah, my son, you are ver' late."Sylves' frowned, but said nothing. It was a silent supper thatfollowed. Louisette was sad, Ma'am Mouton sighed now and then,Sylves' was constrained."Maman," he said at length, "I am goin' away."Ma'am Mouton dropped her fork and stared at him with unseeingeyes; then, as she comprehended his remark, she put her hand outto him with a pitiful gesture."Sylves'!" cried Louisette, springing to her feet."Maman, don't, don't!" he said weakly; then gathering strengthfrom the silence, he burst forth:"Yaas, I 'm goin' away to work. I 'm tired of dis, jus' dig,dig, work in de fiel', nothin' to see but de cloud, de tree, debayou. I don't lak' New Orleans; it too near here, dere no mo'money dere. I go up fo' Mardi Gras, an' de same people, de samestrit'. I'm goin' to Chicago!""Sylves'!" screamed both women at once.Chicago! That vast, far-off city that seemed in another world.Chicago! A name to conjure with for wickedness."W'y, yaas," continued Sylves', "lots of boys I know dere. Henrian' Joseph Lascaud an' Arthur, dey write me what money dey mek'in cigar. I can mek' a livin' too. I can mek' fine cigar. Seehow I do in New Orleans in de winter.""Oh, Sylves'," wailed Louisette, "den you'll forget me!""Non, non, ma chere," he answered tenderly. "I will come backwhen the bayou overflows again, an' maman an' Louisette will havefine present."Ma'am Mouton had bowed her head on her hands, and was rocking toand fro in an agony of dry-eyed misery.Sylves' went to her side and knelt. "Maman," he said softly,"maman, you mus' not cry. All de boys go 'way, an' I will comeback reech, an' you won't have fo' to work no mo'."But Ma'am Mouton was inconsolable.It was even as Sylves' had said. In the summer-time the boys ofthe Bayou Teche would work in the field or in the town ofFranklin, hack-driving and doing odd jobs. When winter came,there was a general exodus to New Orleans, a hundred miles away,where work was to be had as cigar-makers. There is money, plentyof it, in cigar-making, if one can get in the right place. Oflate, however, there had been a general slackness of the trade.Last winter oftentimes Sylves' had walked the streets out ofwork. Many were the Creole boys who had gone to Chicago to earna living, for the cigar-making trade flourishes therewonderfully. Friends of Sylves' had gone, and written homeglowing accounts of the money to be had almost for the asking.When one's blood leaps for new scenes, new adventures, and oneneeds money, what is the use of frittering away time alternatelybetween the Bayou Teche and New Orleans? Sylves' had brooded allsummer, and now that September had come, he was determined to go.Louisette, the orphan, the girl-lover, whom everyone in Franklinknew would some day be Ma'am Mouton's daughter-in-law, wept andpleaded in vain. Sylves' kissed her quivering lips."Ma chere," he would say, "t'ink, I will bring you one finediamon' ring, nex' spring, when de bayou overflows again."Louisette would fain be content with this promise. As for Ma'amMouton, she seemed to have grown ages older. Her Sylves' wasgoing from her; Sylves', whose trips to New Orleans had been ayearly source of heart-break, was going far away for months tothat mistily wicked city, a thousand miles away.October came, and Sylves' had gone. Ma'am Mouton had kept upbravely until the last, when with one final cry she extended herarms to the pitiless train bearing him northward. Then she andLouisette went home drearily, the one leaning upon the other.Ah, that was a great day when the first letter came from Chicago!Louisette came running in breathlessly from the post-office, andtogether they read it again and again. Chicago was such awonderful city, said Sylves'. Why, it was always like NewOrleans at Mardi Gras with the people. He had seen JosephLascaud, and he had a place to work promised him. He was well,but he wanted, oh, so much, to see maman and Louisette. Butthen, he could wait.Was ever such a wonderful letter? Louisette sat for an hourafterwards building gorgeous air-castles, while Ma'am Moutonfingered the paper and murmured prayers to the Virgin forSylves'. When the bayou overflowed again? That would be inApril. Then Louisette caught herself looking critically at herslender brown fingers, and blushed furiously, though Ma'am Moutoncould not see her in the gathering twilight.Next week there was another letter, even more wonderful than thefirst. Sylves' had found work. He was making cigars, and wasearning two dollars a day. Such wages! Ma'am Mouton andLouisette began to plan pretty things for the brown cottage onthe Teche.That was a pleasant winter, after all. True, there was noSylves', but then he was always in New Orleans for a few monthsany way. There were his letters, full of wondrous tales of thegreat queer city, where cars went by ropes underground, and wherethere was no Mardi Gras and the people did not mind Lent. Nowand then there would be a present, a keepsake for Louisette, andsome money for maman. They would plan improvements for thecottage, and Louisette began to do sewing and dainty crochet,which she would hide with a blush if anyone hinted at atrousseau.It was March now, and Spring-time. The bayou began to sweep downbetween its banks less sluggishly than before; it was rising, andsoon would spread over its tiny levees. The doors could be leftopen now, though the trees were not yet green; but then down herethe trees do not swell and bud slowly and tease you for weekswith promises of greenness. Dear no, they simply lookmysterious, and their twigs shake against each other and tellsecrets of the leaves that will soon be born. Then one morningyou awake, and lo, it is a green world! The boughs have suddenlyclothed themselves all in a wondrous garment, and you feel theblood run riot in your veins out of pure sympathy.One day in March, it was warm and sweet. Underfoot were violets,and wee white star flowers peering through the baby-grass. Thesky was blue, with flecks of white clouds reflecting themselvesin the brown bayou. Louisette tripped up the red brick walk withthe Chicago letter in her hand, and paused a minute at the doorto look upon the leaping waters, her eyes dancing."I know the bayou must be ready to overflow," went the letter inthe carefully phrased French that the brothers taught at theparochial school, "and I am glad, for I want to see the dearmaman and my Louisette. I am not so well, and Monsieur ledocteur says it is well for me to go to the South again."Monsieur le docteur! Sylves' not well! The thought struck achill to the hearts of Ma'am Mouton and Louisette, but not forlong. Of course, Sylves' was not well, he needed some of maman'stisanes. Then he was homesick; it was to be expected.At last the great day came, Sylves' would be home. The brownwaters of the bayou had spread until they were seemingly tryingto rival the Mississippi in width. The little house was scrubbedand cleaned until it shone again. Louisette had looked herdainty little dress over and over to be sure that there was not aflaw to be found wherein Sylves' could compare her unfavourablyto the stylish Chicago girls.The train rumbled in on the platform, and two pair of eyes openedwide for the first glimpse of Sylves'. The porter, allofficiousness and brass buttons, bustled up to Ma'am Mouton."This is Mrs. Mouton?" he inquired deferentially.Ma'am Mouton nodded, her heart sinking. "Where is Sylves'?""He is here, madam."There appeared Joseph Lascaud, then some men bearing Something.Louisette put her hands up to her eyes to hide the sight, butMa'am Mouton was rigid."It was too cold for him," Joseph was saying to almost deaf ears,"and he took the consumption. He thought he could get well whenhe come home. He talk all the way down about the bayou, andabout you and Louisette. Just three hours ago he had a badhemorrhage, and he died from weakness. Just three hours ago. Hesaid he wanted to get home and give Louisette her diamond ring,when the bayou overflowed."

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