CHAPTER XXXIII.

BLEUS.

The Haviland party were not the only people alive to the necessities of

the contest. It was not seldom that in the Ontarian's walks during those

few days, the steady, inscrutable bust of Grandmoulin passed him, driven

in one direction or another by Libergent; and sometimes Picault

accompanied.

Grandmoulin, indeed, made herculean efforts. His grand _chefs d'oeuvre_

of oratory--soul stirring appeals, in the name of all that was sacred in

honor and religion, for his hypocritical and corrupt purposes, were

lifted in noble structures of eloquence before the people, till it

seemed as if the lavishness of his genius and labor could only be

explained by the desire of challenging the other great orator of the

race. The young energies of Haviland responded readily. Their speeches

were reported in full for the journals of the cities and watched for

everywhere. It was the battle of Cataline and Cicero.

The back parishes were not so soundly "Red" as Dormillière: they usually

polled a considerable Blue vote, and were very unstable. Here were

concentrated the efforts of Grandmoulin to cajole and Picault to buy.

Once thus Chrysler met Libergent driving Grandmoulin in a "buck-board,"

while another person sat in the back seat.

"Chrysler! Chrysler!--Listen!" exclaimed the person in the back seat.

Chrysler recognized an Ottawa acquaintance.

"De Bleury! how do you do!"

De Bleury put his hand on the reins to stop the vehicle:

"Come up here, Chrysler, we go past the Manoir."

"Thank you, I enjoy walking."

"Come along, come along; we don't hear excuses in the country. Come,

Chrysler, the road is long."

In order not to offend, Chrysler, in spite of his objection to the

company, took the unoccupied place behind Grandmoulin.

With Libergent, Chrysler did not reap much in conversation. He was

conciliatory in his solitary-like way, and had indulged for once in too

much liquor.

"Right Hon'ble Premier,--Sec' State.--Hon'ble Mr. Grandm'lin--all my

fren's. You know dose gen'lmen? All my fren's. Da's all. My fren's goin'

make it all right, eh? I re'spect'ble 'nough." The half-seas-confidential

style.

Grandmoulin acknowledged the stranger but gravely, and was at once

immutable--oppressed with thought for the country's welfare! As he sat

before Chrysler, and the latter felt the nearness of his broad shoulders

and coarse black mass of hair, he could not but picture the man within

sinking into littleness and self-contempt at the debased uses of his

great talent.

The Young Seigneur Or, Nation-Making · 第 9 / 17 章