i gasped and fought for breath like a winded swimmer coming from the water, but the half-recaptured breath seemed suddenly to catch itself unbidden in my throat, and a tingling chill went rippling up my spine. the girl had dropped down to her knees, staring at the door which let into the house, and as i looked i saw a shadow writhe across the little pool of moonlight which lay upon the sill. three feet or so in length it was, thick through as a man's wrist, the faint light shining dully on its scaly armor and disclosing the forked lightning of its darting tongue. it was a cottonmouth—a water moccasin—deadly as a rattlesnake, but more dangerous, for it sounds no warning before striking, and can strike when only half coiled. how it came there on the second-story gallery of a house so far from any swampland i had no means of knowing, but there it lay, bent in the design of a double s, its wedge-shaped head swaying on up-reared neck a scant six inches from the girl's soft bosom, its forked tongue darting deathly menace. half paralyzed with fear and loathing, i stood there in a perfect ecstasy of horror, not daring to move hand or foot lest i aggravate the reptile into striking. but my terror changed to stark amazement as my senses slowly registered the scene. the girl was talking to the snake and—it listened as a person might have done!
"'non, non, grand'tante; halte là!' she whispered. 'cela est à moi—il est dévoué!'
"the serpent seemed to pause uncertainly, grudgingly, as though but half convinced, then shook its head from side to side, much as an aged person might when only half persuaded by a youngster's argument. finally, silently as a shadow, it slithered back again into the darkness of the house.
"julie bounded to her feet and put her hands upon my shoulders.
"'you mus' go, my friend,' she whispered fiercely. 'quickly, ere she comes again. it was not easy to convince her; she is old and very doubting. o, i am afraid—afraid!'
"she hid her face against my arm, and i could feel the throbbing of her heart against me. her hands stole upward to my cheeks and pressed them between palms as cold as graveyard clay as she whispered, 'look at me, mon beau.' her eyes were closed, her lips were slightly parted, and beneath the arc of her long lashes i could see the glimmer of fast-forming tears. 'embrasse moi', she commanded in a trembling breath. 'kiss me and go quickly, but o mon chèr, do not forget poor little foolish julie d'ayen who has put her trust in you. come to me again tomorrow night!'
"i was reeling as from vertigo as i walked back to the greenwald, and the bartender looked at me suspiciously when i ordered a sazarac. they've a strict rule against serving drunken men at that hotel. the liquor stung my lips like liquid flame, and i put the cocktail down half finished. when i set the fan to going and switched the light on in my room i looked into the mirror and saw two little beads of fresh, bright blood upon my lips. 'good lord!' i murmured stupidly as i brushed the blood away; 'she bit me!'
"it all seemed so incredible that if i had not seen the blood upon my mouth i'd have thought i suffered from some lunatic hallucination, or one too many frappés at the absinthe house. julie was as quaint and out of time as a directoire print, even in a city where time stands still as it does in old new orleans. her costume, her half-shy boldness, her—this was simply madness, nothing less!—her conversation with that snake!
"what was it she had said? my french was none too good, and in the circumstances it was hardly possible to pay attention to her words, but if i'd understood her, she'd declared, 'he's mine; he has dedicated himself to me!' and she'd addressed that crawling horror as 'grand'tante—great-aunt!'
"'feller, you're as crazy as a cockroach!' i admonished my reflection in the mirror. 'but i know what'll cure you. you're taking the first train north tomorrow morning, and if i ever catch you in the vieux carré again, i'll——'
"a sibilating hiss, no louder than the noise made by steam escaping from a kettle-spout, sounded close beside my foot. there on the rug, coiled in readiness to strike, was a three-foot cottonmouth, head swaying viciously from side to side, wicked eyes shining in the bright light from the chandelier. i saw the muscles in the creature's fore-part swell, and in a sort of horror-trance i watched its head dart forward, but, miraculously, it stopped its stroke half-way, and drew its head back, turning to glance menacingly at me first from one eye, then the other. somehow, it seemed to me, the thing was playing with me as a cat might play a mouse, threatening, intimidating, letting me know it was master of the situation and could kill me any time it wished, but deliberately refraining from the death-stroke.
"with one leap i was in the middle of my bed, and when a squad of bellboys came running in response to the frantic call for help i telephoned, they found me crouched against the headboard, almost wild with fear.
"they turned the room completely inside out, rolling back the rugs, probing into chairs and sofa, emptying the bureau drawers, even taking down the towels from the bathroom rack, but nowhere was there any sign of the water moccasin that had terrified me. at the end of fifteen minutes' search they accepted half a dollar each and went grinning from the room. i knew it would be useless to appeal for help again, for i heard one whisper to another as they paused outside my door: 'it ain't right to let them yankees loose in n'orleans; they don't know how to hold their licker.'
