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The
company
now
collected
to
welcome
the
advent
of
Woodley
Poindexter
on
his
Texan
estate
,
could
also
boast
of
this
last
distinction
.
They
were
the
élite
of
the
Settlements
--
not
only
of
the
Leona
,
but
of
others
more
distant
.
There
were
guests
from
Gonzales
,
from
Castroville
,
and
even
from
San
Antonio
--
old
friends
of
the
planter
,
who
,
like
him
,
had
sought
a
home
in
South-Western
Texas
,
and
who
had
ridden
--
some
of
them
over
a
hundred
miles
--
to
be
present
at
this
,
his
first
grand
"
reception
.
"
The
planter
had
spared
neither
pains
nor
expense
to
give
it
éclat
.
What
with
the
sprinkling
of
uniforms
and
epaulettes
,
supplied
by
the
Fort
--
what
with
the
brass
band
borrowed
from
the
same
convenient
repository
--
what
with
the
choice
wines
found
in
the
cellars
of
Casa
del
Corvo
,
and
which
had
formed
part
of
the
purchase
--
there
could
be
little
lacking
to
make
Poindexter
's
party
the
most
brilliant
ever
given
upon
the
banks
of
the
Leona
.
And
to
insure
this
effect
,
his
lovely
daughter
Louise
,
late
belle
of
Louisiana
--
the
fame
of
whose
beauty
had
been
before
her
,
even
in
Texas
--
acted
as
mistress
of
the
ceremonies
--
moving
about
among
the
admiring
guests
with
the
smile
of
a
queen
,
and
the
grace
of
a
goddess
.
On
that
occasion
was
she
the
cynosure
of
a
hundred
pairs
of
eyes
,
the
happiness
of
a
score
of
hearts
,
and
perhaps
the
torture
of
as
many
more
:
for
not
all
were
blessed
who
beheld
her
beauty
.
Was
she
herself
happy
?
The
interrogatory
may
appear
singular
--
almost
absurd
.
Surrounded
by
friends
--
admirers
--
one
,
at
least
,
who
adored
her
--
a
dozen
whose
incipient
love
could
but
end
in
adoration
--
young
planters
,
lawyers
,
embryo
statesmen
,
and
some
with
reputation
already
achieved
--
sons
of
Mars
in
armour
,
or
with
armour
late
laid
aside
--
how
could
she
be
otherwise
than
proudly
,
supremely
happy
?
A
stranger
might
have
asked
the
question
;
one
superficially
acquainted
with
Creole
character
--
more
especially
the
character
of
the
lady
in
question
.
But
mingling
in
that
splendid
throng
was
a
man
who
was
no
stranger
to
either
;
and
who
,
perhaps
,
more
than
any
one
present
,
watched
her
every
movement
;
and
endeavoured
more
than
any
other
to
interpret
its
meaning
.
Cassius
Calhoun
was
the
individual
thus
occupied
.
She
went
not
hither
,
nor
thither
,
without
his
following
her
--
not
close
,
like
a
shadow
;
but
by
stealth
,
flitting
from
place
to
place
;
upstairs
,
and
downstairs
;
standing
in
corners
,
with
an
air
of
apparent
abstraction
;
but
all
the
while
with
eyes
turned
askant
upon
his
cousin
's
face
,
like
a
plain-clothes
policeman
employed
on
detective
duty
.
