A Romance of the Republic. Lydia Maria Child

than when he told me that Madame Royal was a slave. I knew she was a quadroon, and I supposed she was a placés, as so many of the quadroons are. But now it seems that Mr. Royal bought her of her father; and he, good, easy man, neglected to manumit her. He of course knew that by law 'the child follows the condition of the mother,' but I suppose it did not occur to him that the daughters of so rich a man as he was could ever be slaves. At all events, he neglected to have manumission papers drawn till it was too late; for his property had become so much involved that he no longer had a legal right to convey any of it away from creditors."

      Madame swung back and forth in the vehemence of her agitation, exclaiming, "What is to be done? What is to be done?"

      The Italian strode up and down the room, clenching his fist, and talking rapidly. "To think of that Rosabella!" exclaimed he—"a girl that would grace any throne in Europe! To think of her on the auction-stand, with a crowd of low-bred rascals staring at her, and rich libertines, like that Mr. Bruteman—Pah! I can't endure to think of it. How like a satyr he looked while he was talking to me about their being slaves. It seems he got sight of them when they took an inventory of the furniture. And that handsome little witch, Floracita, whom her father loved so tenderly, to think of her being bid off to some such filthy wretch! But they sha'n't have 'em! They sha'n't have 'em! I swear I'll shoot any man that comes to take 'em." He wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and rushed round like a tiger in a cage.

      "My friend," replied Madame, "they have the law on their side; and if you try to resist, you will get yourself into trouble without doing the girls any good. I'll tell you what we must do. We must disguise them, and send them to the North."

      "Send them to the North!" exclaimed the Italian. "Why, they'd no more know how to get there than a couple of kittens."

      "Then I must go with them," replied Madame; "and they must be got out of this house before another day; for now that we know of it, we shall be watched."

      The impetuous Italian shook her hand cordially. "You have a brave heart, Madame," said he. "I should rather march up to the cannon's mouth than tell them such news as this."

      The bewildered Frenchwoman felt the same dread of the task before her; but she bravely said, "What must be done, can be done."

      After some further talk with the Signor concerning ways and means, she bade him good morning, and sat still for a moment to collect her thoughts. She then proceeded to the apartment assigned to the orphans. They were occupied with a piece of embroidery she had promised to sell for them. She looked at the work, praised the exactness of the stitches and the tasteful shading of the flowers; but while she pointed out the beauties of the pattern, her hand and voice trembled.

      Rosabella noticed it, and, looking up, said, "What troubles you, dear friend?"

      "O, this is a world of trouble," replied Madame, "and you have had such a storm beating on your young heads, that I wonder you keep your senses."

      "I don't know as we could," said Rosa, "if the good God had not given us such a friend as you."

      "If any new trouble should come, I trust you will try to keep up brave hearts, my children," rejoined Madame.

      "I don't know of any new trouble that can come to us now," said Rosa, "unless you should be taken from us, as our father was. It seems as if everything else had happened that could happen."

      "O, there are worse things than having me die," replied Madame.

      Floracita had paused with her thread half drawn through her work, and was looking earnestly at the troubled countenance of their friend. "Madame," exclaimed she, "something has happened. What is it?"

      "I will tell you," said Madame, "if you will promise not to scream or faint, and will try to keep your wits collected, so as to help me think what is best to be done."

      They promised; and, watching her countenance with an expression of wonder and anxiety, they waited to hear what she had to communicate. "My dear children," said she, "I have heard something that will distress you very much. Something neither you nor I ever suspected. Your mother was a slave."

      "Our mother a slave!" exclaimed Rosa, coloring vehemently. "Whose slave could she be, when she was Papasito's wife, and he loved her so? It is impossible, Madame."

      "Your father bought her when she was very young, my dear; but I know very well that no wife was ever loved better than she was."

      "But she always lived with her own father till she married papa," said

       Floracita. "How then could she be his slave?"

      "Her father got into trouble about money, my dear; and he sold her."

      "Our Grandpapa Gonsalez sold his daughter!" exclaimed Rosa. "How incredible! Dear friend, I wonder you can believe such things."

      "The world is full of strange things, my child—stranger than anything you ever read in story-books."

      "If she was only Papasito's slave," said Flora, "I don't think Mamita found that any great hardship."

      "She did not, my dear. I don't suppose she ever thought of it; but a great misfortune has grown out of it."

      "What is it?" they both asked at once.

      Their friend hesitated. "Remember, you have promised to be calm," said she. "I presume you don't know that, by the laws of Louisiana, 'the child follows the condition of the mother.' The consequence is, that you are slaves, and your father's creditors claim a right to sell you."

      Rosabella turned very pale, and the hand with which she clutched a chair trembled violently. But she held her head erect, and her look and tone were very proud, as she exclaimed, "We become slaves! I will die rather."

      Floracita, unable to comprehend this new misfortune, looked from one to the other in a bewildered way. Nature had written mirthfulness in the shape of her beautiful eyes, which now contrasted strangely with their startled and sad expression.

      The kind-hearted Frenchwoman bustled about the room, moving chairs, and passing her handkerchief over boxes, while she tried hard to swallow the emotions that choked her utterance. Having conquered in the struggle, she turned toward them, and said, almost cheerfully: "There's no need of dying, my children. Perhaps your old friend can help you out of this trouble. We must disguise ourselves as gentlemen, and start for the North this very evening."

      Floracita looked at her sister, and said, hesitatingly: "Couldn't you write to Mr. Fitzgerald, and ask him to come here? Perhaps he could help us."

      Rosa's cheeks glowed, as she answered proudly: "Do you think I would ask him to come? I wouldn't do such a thing if we were as rich and happy as we were a little while ago; and certainly I wouldn't do it now."

      "There spoke Grandpa Gonsalez!" said Madame. "How grand the old gentleman used to look, walking about so erect, with his gold-headed cane! But we must go to work in a hurry, my children. Signor Papanti has promised to send the disguises, and we must select and pack such things as it is absolutely necessary we should carry. I am sorry now that Tulee is let out in the city, for we need her help.

      "She must go with us," said Flora. "I can't leave Tulee."

      "We must do as we can," replied Madame. "In this emergency we can't do as we would. We are all white, and if we can get a few miles from here, we shall have no further trouble. But if we had a negro with us, it would lead to questions, perhaps. Besides, we haven't time to disguise her and instruct her how to perform her part. The Signor will be a good friend to her; and as soon as we can earn some money, we will send and buy her."

      "But where can we go when we get to the North?" asked Rosa.

      "I will tell you," said Floracita. "Don't you remember that Mr. King from Boston, who came to see us a year ago? His father was papa's best friend, you know; and when he went away, he told us if ever we were in trouble, to apply to him, as if he were our brother."

      "Did