ONCE MORE THE SWORD
The widow Langlois was surprised to see her lodger return so soon to
Quebec. He saw quickly that she was dying of curiosity, and concluded
that he and his affairs had been the subject of town gossip since his
departure. He therefore contrived to give her an occasion to talk to
him.
"There are certain malicious stories going about," she said to him
tentatively, "which I have been thinking very ungracious on the part of
our people."
"Ah, yes, Quebec is always the same little hole. Do these stories relate
to me?"
"I admit it with shame, Monsieur, and our Quebec, as you say, is a
little hole. Quebec people have nothing to talk about but the
strangers."
"What can they invent about _me_? Have I scandalised your house or
ill-conducted myself at the Castle? God's-death! you promise me
entertainment. It will make this dull village amusing to hear the
product of their gigantic imaginations. Begin, I entreat you."
"Some say you are not a Bodyguard, sir."
"Ha, that is news; I shall have to tell that to Lady Dorchester. These
good judges know so much more of the Court of France than she does. What
else?"
"It is alleged that you are no noble, your father being the Merchant of
St. Elphège."
"Yes? My father's parchment titles would answer that. I will take the
occasion later on to show them to you."
"And that you carried in France the name of the Marquis de Répentigny."
"Who is the author of these tales, if you know him?" he said with
dignity. "What source first spread them among the people, for such
things have always an instigator?"
"I would prefer not to tell, Monsieur."
However, by a little flattery he won the point. She told him how her
brother-in-law, the Merchant Langlois, of Mountain Hill, had heard at
his own shop, from Madame de Léry herself, that a letter had been
received from Paris relating the doings of a young Canadian calling
himself de Répentigny, but who was identified by two other Canadians as
young Lecour of St. Elphège, and afterwards how he had fought with Louis
de Léry, of the Bodyguard, and nearly killed him, and had departed for
Canada in disgrace.
"And it is most maliciously reported," added Madame Langlois, "that you,
sir, are without doubt the person in question."
"Madame," exclaimed he, rising abruptly, as cold as an icicle, "I shall
see to this immediately."
The widow was frightened.
"I entreat you say nothing of this to Madame de Léry," she cried in
distress.
"On that point you have the word of honour of a French officer," he
replied.
As he hastily dressed himself he muttered, "Something radical now."
He went, without delaying, to the de Léry mansion and was admitted face
to face with the Councillor.
The house was a long, low, old-fashioned one, covered externally with
dark blue mortar in French provincial style, and internally presenting
every appearance of hospitality and comfort. The parlours in which
Germain was shown into the presence of the owner were hung about with
mellowed tapestry, and their doors and windows were open, leading out
upon a gallery and thence into a luxuriant garden. The old Councillor, a
fine-looking man, frank, hospitable, and perfectly bred, welcomed
Germain with a kindly manner just tinged with a shade of curiosity, and
awaited mention of his business.
Lecour lost no time in coming to the point, stating the story that had
been circulated about him and that report attributed it to the de Lérys.
"Nor is it, sir," concluded he, "the first time I have had in such
matters to complain of your family, for I have been given great trouble
in the Bodyguard by the reckless allegations of your son Louis, who was
unknown to me, but who circulated, of his own accord, the most injurious
accusations. Among other things he has stated that I was not noble,
because of my father being the Merchant of St. Elphège. Yet you knew
very well, sir, that my father is not a petty trader, and I have brought
here to-day documents by which I am ready to prove to you beyond
question that we are of good descent."
"I regret," the Councillor answered, much disturbed, "that there have
been such unfortunate occurrences as you say. I am sure that from your
appearance and frankness in thus coming to me, there must be some
mistake. My son Louis is a man of strict honour; he must have acted on
hasty information. To do you entire justice, I shall make it my duty to
look over these documents, which are doubtless entirely correct, and
will then do the best in my power to rectify this injury so painful and
regrettable. A moment, sir."
He went to the gallery and called out--
"Panet."
"Coming," a hearty voice returned from the garden.
"It is my friend the Judge," remarked the Councillor, returning to the
room; "he will serve you as an excellent witness of the evidence you are
producing."
"Upon my word, your grapes this year are divine," exclaimed the Judge
entering, holding up a large bunch in his hand. He stopped and bowed to
Germain.
"Monsieur LeCour de Lincy here has some papers to show us," de Léry
proceeded, "which refute that unfortunate report arising from the
letters of my son."
Lecour produced his papers, and on perusal of them for some time, both
Panet and de Léry pronounced them perfect.
"I owe you the sincerest formal apology, Monsieur de Lincy," de Léry
said.
"More than that, sir," Germain returned stiffly. "You minimise the
damage done. A written retraction is due me, to exhibit in those
quarters where I have been so deeply injured, and without which I can
never wholly regain my reputation."
"Not demurring, sir, I freely admit that we owe you this reparation. If
you will draw up and send me what will be useful to you, I shall gladly
sign it."
"Stop, gentlemen, let me say a word," Judge Panet interposed. "Such a
writing being so delicate a matter, to be just to both parties, ought to
be drawn by a third. I think I am in a position to do this; will you
leave the matter to me?"
"I am the person who was injured, and the only one who knows what will
effectively right me," Lecour answered;
"He is correct," said de Léry.
Panet did not push the point further but turned away, and the Chevalier
showed the young man out of the house.
By noon, the following letter was received to sign--
"AT QUEBEC, _the 2nd October, 1788_.
"MONSIEUR,--It is with much pleasure that I consent to grant you
the satisfaction you ask. I hereby confess that I have been wrong
in spreading the report that you have taken another name than that
of your family. I retract it publicly and I assure you in that
respect with the greatest frankness that I am fully convinced that
the story which led me to commit this indiscretion is absolutely
false and unworthy of you. I make you this reparation as being due
to your character, and I am sincerely mortified about the
misunderstanding which has caused you so much trouble.
"And I have the honour to be, sir, "Yours, etc.
"To M. LeCour de Lincy, officer of the Bodyguard of the company of
Noailles."
The old Councillor, one of the most respected men in the colony, grew
red with shame.
"It is impossible for me, as a man of honour, to sign such a paper," he
said to himself. After walking up and down in his parlours, therefore,
he wrote a reply.
The story of the Chevalier's life will help us to understand him in the
matter.
He had, in his youth, under the French _régime_, won distinction as a
Canadian officer by many important services, and was entitled by written
promises of the Government of France, to money rewards alone of nearly
a hundred thousand livres. On the fall of the colony, however, when the
Canadian officers proceeded to the home country, they found a cold
shoulder turned upon them in the departments of Versailles, so ready to
waste immense sums for those in power and to ignore the barest dues of
merit. Among the rest, de Léry, his bosom burning with the distress of
his family in Paris, paced the corridors of the Colonial Office for
nearly two years. Monsieur Accaron, the cold and procrastinative
ex-Jesuit deputy of the First Minister, would reply--
"I agree with you, sir, that these services are very distinguished;
still, Canada being no longer ours, it is to be admitted they have all
been useless."
"Monsieur," the soldier would return, "I have never understood that the
misfortunes of the brave lessen their rights."
"Well, well, if you will but wait----"
"I shall be enchanted to wait, and I beg of you to inform me of the
means of doing so. I have in Paris my wife and four children, and the
twenty louis to which his Majesty has reduced my allowance would not
support us in the most favoured province of France."
After making such fruitless attempts, he said boldly to them one day--
"I will return to Canada and try my fortune under a different Crown."
"Do not so easily abandon hope," remarked Accaron coolly.
De Léry, for reply, went to the British Ambassador, told him he had
heard high reports of the British nation and offered to become a subject
of the English King. In due time a man of so much sense and spirit was
received by George III. with satisfaction, as the first of the Canadian
gentry to enter his service, and as the Chevalier carried out his new
allegiance with the strictest sincerity, time only added to his esteem
and he became the favourite Councillor of Governor Dorchester.
The same principles of honour, dignity, and good sense marked his
feeling in the present difficulty with young Lecour. The reply ran: that
the terms of the proposed letter were a surprise to him, that he was
anxious to serve his young friend and especially to place in his hands
the means of rectifying any injury done to him by unfortunate remarks or
rumours, but that it was impossible to grant the letter requested, and
he offered the following substitute:--
"AT QUEBEC, _the 3rd October, 1788_.
"MONSIEUR,--It is with great pleasure that I consent to testify in
your favour against the injurious rumours concerning you which some
persons have assumed to base upon my authority and that of my
family. After conversing about your papers and yourself with Judge
Panet and other persons of position, I am, equally with them, of
opinion that you have proven the falsity of the said rumours, and
that you are not the person to whom they relate, your father being
of great possessions in the country about St. Elphège, and of
repute throughout the whole Province as an honourable man.
"J. G. C. DE LÉRY."
Germain tore the answer into pieces in a passion. "Not the person to
whom they relate!" he cried, "Who am I then, and what shelter would this
precious epistle give me against the son?" Stepping to his escritoir he
wrote back the following fiery note:---
"_To Monsieur de Léry, Chevalier of St. Louis, at Quebec._
"MONSIEUR,--After having employed all honourable means to induce
you to grant me that satisfaction which you owe to me, I hereby
notify you that you can avoid dishonour only by one of two
alternatives: either by signing the letter sent you by me,
unaltered in any particular; or by being present this day at four
of the clock at the place called Port St. Louis, to render account
on the spot of the reports which you have been purposely spreading
against my honour, and to accord to me in your person the
satisfaction they deserve. I shall expect your answer at once upon
your reading this, and if by mid-day I have not received it, I
shall prove to you my exactitude to my word.--I am, sir (if you
accept either proposal), your servant with all my heart,
"LECOUR DE LINCY."
While he was hotly engaged in penning this letter to the father, the
incidents of his duels with the son Louis crowded before him--the
counsels of his friends, the choosing of the weapons, the deadly tension
of the combat, the look of furious contempt in his adversary's eyes. It
was only after he had sent off Madame's man-of-all-work with it that the
incongruousness of challenging so old a man struck him.
The Chevalier, on receiving the challenge, perceived at once the gravity
of his own situation. The code of the time demanded his acceptance. He
knew that, however a duel might be laughed at by boasters, the sober
truth was that it brought a man face to face with death, and that the
present cause of quarrel was not worth any such sacrifice. In short the
thing seemed to him foolish and unreasonable.
No time was to be lost. He had therefore recourse for advice to his boon
companion Panet, who pronounced it a bad business.
"Really," he said, moving nervously, "you must recognise, my dear de
Léry, that men of our stiffness and weight can have no chance pitted
against a young fellow from the fencing schools of Versailles. He has a
wrist as limber as a fish no doubt. Try to end the affair some way."
De Léry, annoyed and disappointed that the judge did not rise to the
occasion, and thrown back on his own resources, went to Lord Dorchester
himself, requesting his mediation.
The Governor read over the letters which had passed, especially that
sent by LeCour for signature.
"Tut, what a young fool. Tell LaNaudiere there to send for him," he
exclaimed.
So in about half an hour Germain appeared.
Guessing the state of the matter, he began by complaining of his wrongs
on the part of the de Lérys. He was listened to to the end by
Dorchester, who then, with the greatest politeness, but firmly, pointed
out the impossibility of any man of honour signing the proposed
confession.
"Do you both agree, gentlemen, to leave the form of the letter with me?"
Germain could not do otherwise.
The Governor sat down at a writing-desk, laid the epistle before him,
and produced the following:--
"MONSIEUR,--It is with great pleasure that I consent to testify in
your favour against certain injurious rumours affecting your
reputation and family name, which have been circulated by
unauthorised persons in the name of my household. You have clearly
proven to me that the rumours in question are calumnies without any
foundation, and I am sincerely affected concerning the pain they
have given you."
Dorchester read what he had written.
"There is my award," he pronounced. "It is, in my opinion, all that one
gentleman ought to demand of another. Do you consider it fair each of
you?"
Each declared it satisfactory.
"Then sign it, Mr. de Léry," said the Governor promptly. De Léry signed
it.
Dorchester gave it to Germain.
"Are you satisfied?" he asked.
"Perfectly, your Excellency."
Germain thrust the letter in his breast and bowed himself out. On sober
thought he preferred it to his own. The same evening he sailed for
Europe. But not before he had secured the signature of the Bishop of
Quebec to a copy of his birth-certificate, altered according to the
judge's order procured at Montreal.
Onward, onward, he impatiently counted the leagues of the sea by day. A
ravishingly fair face beckoned in his dreams by night.