MISÉRICORDE.
Fiercely the election stirred the energies of Dormillière. For more than
a generation, enthusiasm for political contest had been a local
characteristic; but now the feelings of the village,--as pronounced and
hereditary a "Red" stronghold, as Vincennes across the river was
hereditarily "Blue,"--may be likened only to the feeling of the Trojans
at the famous siege of Troy. Their Seigneur was the Hector, and their
strand beheld debarking against it the boldest pirates of the
French-Canadian Hellas.
In Chrysler's walks he met signs of the excitement even where a long
stroll brought him far back into the country.
The one of such corners named Miséricorde from its wretchedness, was a
hamlet of thirty or forty cabins crowded together among some scrub trees
in the midst of a stony moor. The inhabitants, of whom a good share were
broken-down beggars and nondescript fishermen, varied their discouraged
existences by drinking, wood sawing and doing odd jobs for the
surrounding farmers, while their slatternly women idled at the doors and
the children grew up wild, trooping over the surrounding waste.
Politically, the place was noted for its unreliability. It was well
known that every suffrage in it was open to corruption. In ordinary
times the Rouges troubled themselves little about this, but the strong
combination they had now to fight might make the vote of La Miséricorde
of considerable importance; hence, there was some value in the trust
which had been placed, at the meeting, in Benoit and Spoon.
Here the latter, even more than at Dormillière, was in his element.
A drinking house, misnamed "hôtel," was the most prominent building in
Miséricorde. It would not have ornamented a more respectable locality
but, on the whole, possessed a certain picturesqueness, among these
hovels, and arrested the Ontarian's steps. Stained a dark grey by at
least fifty years of exposure, yet slightly tinted with the traces of a
by-gone coat of green, it lifted a high peaked roof in air, which in
descent, suddenly curving, was carried far out over a high-set front
gallery reached by very steep steps. On the stuck-out sign, which was in
the same faded condition as the rest of the building, were with
difficulty to be distinguished in a suggestion of yellow color the
shapes of a large and small French loaf, and the inscription "BOULONGÉ,"
but the baking had apparently passed away with the paint. While he was
curiously surveying this antique bit, a loud voice sounded through the
open door, and the heavy form of the "Yankee from Longueuil"
precipitated itself proudly, though a trifle unsteadily, forward down
the steps and along the middle of the street, swearing, boasting and
heading a swarm of men and boys, and loudly drawling a line of
Connecticut notions in blasphemy.
It could be seen that Spoon was some kind of a hero in the eyes of
Miséricorde. Rich,--for he had paid the drinks; travelled,--they had his
assertion for it; courageous,--he could anathematize the Archbishop;
Miséricorde had seldom such a novelty all to itself.
"Sacré! To blazes wit' you; set 'em up all roun', you blas' Canaydjin
nigger! Du gin, vite done! John Collins' pour le crowd! I'm a white man,
j'sht un homme blanc, j'sht Americain; I'm from the Unyted States, I am!
Sacré bleu! Health to all!"
"Health, monsieur!"
"Health, monsieur!"
"A thousand thanks."
"Set 'em up again, baptème, you blas' Canayjin nigger!"
"What does he say!" inquired the landlord, on the verge of being
offended.
"Shut up, Potdevin!" said the only man who understood English, fearful
lest the second treat should go astray.
"Take!" cried Spoon, in a at of reconciliation, throwing down a five
dollar bill; and at the sight of the money, Potdevin, true landlord,
proceeded with the pouring out of the beverages into very small glasses
with very thick bottoms.
It was funny, when he had precipitated himself from the door, as above
said, to contemplate the fellow with his low hat on one side and far
down on his nose, his swelling shirt-front, striped breeches, and mighty
brass chain, leading the trooping crowd like some travelling juggler.
All this, however, was election work.
Was it the kind of method Chamilly would approve? There was a short and
certain answer.
Which then of Haviland's friends supplied Spoon with money for these
only too obvious processes of vote-obtaining. It was not the Honorable,
it was not De La Lande, it would not be penurious Benoit?
"Ah, well," Chrysler thought, "I am here but to observe. Am I not under
obligations to Zotique, if it be he, which prevent my interfering?"
Another of Chrysler's theories too was exploded. He had long revolved a
suspicion that it was Cuiller who had stolen Francois' $750. "Where
else," thought he, "does he get these liberal sums to spend?" Once he had
ventured to ask Spoon himself about Le Brun's loss but was plumply faced
with the growl, "Do you suppose _I_ stole it?" and, ashamed of himself,
withdrew the theory almost from his own mind. How he could explain even
the American's expenditure.