THE CHOICE OF A HUSBAND
It was just before dark when Monsieur Cassion left us, and I watched
him go gladly enough, hidden behind the shade of my window. He had
been talking for an hour with Chevet in the room below; I could hear
the rattle of glasses, as though they drank, and the unpleasant
arrogance of his voice, although no words reached me clearly. I cared
little what he said, although I wondered at his purpose in being
there, and what object he might have in this long converse with my
uncle. Yet I was not sent for, and no doubt it was some conference
over furs, of no great interest. The two were in some scheme I knew to
gain advantage over Sieur de la Salle, and were much elated now that
La Barre held power; but that was nothing for a girl to understand, so
I worked on with busy fingers, my mind not forgetful of the young
Sieur de Artigny.
It was not that I already loved him, yet ever since girlhood the
memory of him had remained in my thought, and in those years since I
had met so few young men that the image left on my imagination had
never faded. Indeed, it had been kept alive by the very animosity
which my uncle cherished against Monsieur de la Salle. The real cause
of his bitterness, outside of trade rivalry, I never clearly
understood, but he was ever seeking every breath of gossip from that
distant camp of adventurers, and angrily commenting thereon. Again and
again I overheard him conspiring with others in a vain effort to
influence Frontenac to withdraw his support of that distant
expedition, and it was this mutual enmity which first brought Cassion
to our cabin.
With Frontenac's removal, and the appointment of La Barre as
Governor, the hopes of La Salle's enemies revived, and when
Cassion's smooth tongue won him a place as Commissaire, all concerned
became more bold and confident in their planning. I knew little of
it, yet sufficient to keep the remembrance of those adventures
fresh in my mind, and never did they recur to me without yielding me
vision of the ardent young face of De Artigny as he waved me adieu
from the canoe. Often in those years of silence did I dream of him
amid the far-off wilderness--the idle dreaming of a girl whose own
heart was yet a mystery--and many a night I sat at my window
gazing out upon the broad river shimmering in the moonlight,
wondering at those wilderness mysteries among which he lived.
Yet only once in all those years had I heard mention of his name.
'Twas but a rumor floating back to us of how La Salle had reached the
mouth of a great river flowing into the South Sea, and among the few
who accompanied him was De Artigny. I remember yet how strangely my
heart throbbed as I heard the brief tale retold, and someone read the
names from a slip of paper. Chevet sat by the open fire listening, his
pipe in his mouth, his eyes scowling at the news; suddenly he blurted
out: "De Artigny, say you? In the name of the fiend! 'tis not the old
captain?" "No, no, Chevet," a voice answered testily, "Sieur Louis de
Artigny has not stepped foot on ground these ten years; 'tis his brat
Rene who serves this freebooter, though 'tis like enough the father
hath money in the venture." And they fell to discussing, sneering at
the value of the discovery, while I slipped unnoticed from the room.
Chevet did not return to the house after Monsieur Cassion's canoe had
disappeared. I saw him walking back and forth along the river bank,
smoking, and seemingly thinking out some problem. Nor did he appear
until I had the evening meal ready, and called to him down the arbor.
He was always gruff and bearish enough when we were alone, seldom
speaking, indeed, except to give utterance to some order, but this
night he appeared even more morose and silent than his wont, not so
much as looking at me as he took seat, and began to eat. No doubt
Cassion had brought ill news, or else the appearance of De Artigny had
served to arouse all his old animosity toward La Salle. It was little
to me, however, and I had learned to ignore his moods, so I took my
own place silently, and paid no heed to the scowl with which he
surveyed me across the table. No doubt my very indifference fanned his
discontent, but I remained ignorant of it, until he burst out
savagely.
"And so you know this young cockerel, do you? You know him, and never
told me?"
I looked up in surprise, scarce comprehending the unexpected
outburst.
"You mean the Sieur de Artigny?"
"Ay! Don't play with me! I mean Louis de Artigny's brat. Bah! he may
fool Cassion with his soft words, but not Hugo Chevet. I know the lot
of them this many year, and no ward of mine will have aught to do with
the brood, either young or old. You hear that, Adele! When I hate, I
hate, and I have reason enough to hate that name, and all who bear it.
Where before did you ever meet this popinjay?"
"At the convent three years ago. La Salle rested there overnight, and
young De Artigny was of the party. He was but a boy then."
"He came here today to see you?"
"No, never," I protested. "I doubt if he even had the memory of me
until I told him who I was. Surely he explained clearly why he came."
He eyed me fiercely, his face full of suspicion, his great hand
gripping the knife.
"'Tis well for you if that be true," he said gruffly, "but I have no
faith in the lad's words. He is here as La Salle's spy, and so I
told Cassion, though the only honor he did me was to laugh at my
warning. 'Let him spy,' he said, 'and I will play at the same
game; 'tis little enough he will learn, and we shall need his
guidance.' Ay! and he may be right, but I want nothing to do with
the fellow. Cassion may give him place in his boats, if he will, but
never again shall he set foot on my land, nor have speech with
you. You mark my words, Mademoiselle?"
I felt the color flame into my cheeks, and knew my eyes darkened with
anger, yet made effort to control my speech.
"Yes, Monsieur; I am your ward and have always been obedient, yet this
Sieur de Artigny seems a pleasant spoken young man, and surely 'tis no
crime that he serves the Sieur de la Salle."
"Is it not!" he burst forth, striking the table with his fist. "Know
you not I would be rich, but for that fur stealer. By right those
should be my furs he sends here in trade. There will be another tale
to tell soon, now that La Barre hath the reins of power; and this De
Artigny--bah! What care I for that young cockerel--but I hate the
brood. Listen, girl, I pay my debts; it was this hand that broke Louis
de Artigny, and has kept him to his bed for ten years past. Yet even
that does not wipe out the score between us. 'Tis no odds to you what
was the cause, but while I live I hate. So you have my orders; you
will speak no more with this De Artigny."
"'Tis not like I shall have opportunity."
"I will see to that. The fool looked at you in a way that made me long
to grip his throat; nor do I like your answer, yet 'twill be well for
you to mark my words."
"Yes, Monsieur."
"Oh, you're sweet enough with words. I have heard you before, and
found you a sly minx--when my back was turned--but this time it is not
I alone who will watch your actions. I have pledged you a husband."
I got to my feet, staring at him, the indignant words stifled in my
throat. He laughed coarsely, and resumed his meal.
"A husband, Monsieur? You have pledged me?"
"Ay! why not? You are seventeen, and 'tis my place to see you well
settled."
"But I have no wish to marry, Monsieur," I protested. "There is no man
for whom I care."
He shrugged his shoulders indifferently, and laughed.
"Pooh! if I waited for that no doubt you would pick out some cockerel
without so much as a spur to his heel. 'Tis my choice, not yours, for
I know the world, and the man you need. Monsieur Cassion has asked me
to favor him, and I think well of it."
"Cassion! Surely, you would not wed me to that creature?"
He pushed back his chair, regarding me with scowling eyes.
"And where is there a better? _Sacre_! do you think yourself a queen
to choose? 'Tis rare luck you have such an offer. Monsieur Cassion is
going to be a great man in this New France; already he has the
Governor's ear, and a commission, with a tidy sum to his credit in
Quebec. What more could any girl desire in a husband?"
"But, Monsieur, I do not love him; I do not trust the man."
"Pah!" He burst into a laugh, rising from the table. Before I could
draw back he had gripped me by the arm. "Enough of that, young lady.
He is my choice, and that settles it. Love! who ever heard of love
nowadays? Ah, I see, you dream already of the young gallant De
Artigny. Well, little good that will do you. Why what is he? a mere
ragged adventurer, without a sou to his name, a prowling wolf of the
forest, the follower of a discredited fur thief. But enough of this; I
have told you my will, and you obey. Tomorrow we go to Quebec, to the
Governor's ball, and when Monsieur Cassion returns from his mission
you will marry him--you understand?"
The tears were in my eyes, blotting out his threatening face, yet
there was naught to do but answer.
"Yes, Monsieur."
"And this De Artigny; if the fellow ever dares come near you again
I'll crush his white throat between my fingers."
"Yes, Monsieur."
"To your room then, and think over all I have said. You have never
found me full of idle threats I warrant."
"No, Monsieur."
I drew my arm from his grasp, feeling it tingle with pain where his
fingers had crushed the flesh, and crept up the narrow stairs, glad
enough to get away and be alone. I had never loved Chevet, but he had
taught me to fear him, for more than once had I experienced his
brutality and physical power. To him I was but a chattel, an
incumbrance. He had assumed charge of me because the law so ordained,
but I had found nothing in his nature on which I could rely for
sympathy. I was his sister's child, yet no more to him than some
Indian waif. More, he was honest about it. To his mind he did well by
me in thus finding me a husband. I sank on my knees, and hid my face,
shuddering at the thought of the sacrifice demanded. Cassion! never
before had the man appeared so despicable. His face, his manner, swept
through my memory in review. I had scarcely considered him before,
except as a disagreeable presence to be avoided as much as possible.
But now, in the silence, the growing darkness of that little chamber,
with Chevet's threat echoing in my ears, he came to me in clear
vision--I saw his dull-blue, cowardly eyes, his little waxed mustache,
his insolent swagger, and heard his harsh, bragging voice.
Ay! he would get on; there was no doubt of that, for he would worm his
way through where only a snake could crawl. A snake! that was what he
was, and I shuddered at thought of the slimy touch of his hand. I
despised, hated him; yet what could I do? It was useless to appeal to
Chevet, and the Governor, La Barre, would give small heed to a girl
objecting to one of his henchmen. De Artigny! The name was on my lips
before I realized I had spoken it, and brought a throb of hope. I
arose to my feet, and stared out of the window into the dark night. My
pulses throbbed. If he cared; if I only knew he cared, I would fly
with him anywhere, into the wilderness depths, to escape Cassion. I
could think of no other way, no other hope. If he cared! It seemed to
me my very breath stopped as this daring conception, this mad
possibility, swept across my mind.
I was a girl, inexperienced, innocent of coquetry, and yet I possessed
all the instincts of a woman. I had seen that in his eyes which gave
me faith--he remembered the past; he had found me attractive; he felt
a desire to meet me again. I knew all this--but was that all? Was it a
mere passing fervor, a fleeting admiration, to be forgotten in the
presence of the next pretty face? Would he dare danger to serve me? to
save me from the clutches of Cassion? A smile, a flash of the eyes, is
small foundation to build upon, yet it was all I had. Perchance he
gave the same encouragement to others, with no serious thought. The
doubt assailed me, yet there was no one else in all New France to whom
I could appeal.
But how could I reach him with my tale? There was but one opportunity--the
Governor's ball. He would be there; he had said so, laughingly glancing
toward me as he spoke the words, the flash of his eyes a challenge. But it
would be difficult. Chevet, Cassion, not for a moment would they take
eyes from me, and if I failed to treat him coldly an open quarrel must
result. Chevet would be glad of an excuse, and Cassion's jealousy would
spur him on. Yet I must try, and, in truth, I trusted not so much in
Monsieur de Artigny's interest in me, as in his reckless love of
adventure. 'Twould please him to play an audacious trick on La Salle's
enemies, and make Cassion the butt of laughter.
Once he understood, the game would prove much to his liking, and I
could count on his aid, while the greater the danger the stronger it
would appeal to such a nature as his. Even though he cared little for
me he was a gallant to respond gladly to a maid in distress. Ay, if I
might once bring him word, I could rely on his response; but how could
that be done? I must trust fortune, attend the ball, and be ready;
there was no other choice.
'Tis strange how this vague plan heartened me, and gave new courage.
Scarce more than a dream, yet I dwelt upon it, imagining what I would
say, and how escape surveillance long enough to make my plea for
assistance. Today, as I write, it seems strange that I should ever
have dared such a project, yet at the time not a thought of its
immodesty ever assailed me. To my mind Rene de Artigny was no
stranger; as a memory he had lived, and been portion of my life for
three lonely years. To appeal to him now, to trust him, appeared the
most natural thing in the world. The desperation of my situation
obscured all else, and I turned to him as the only friend I knew in
time of need. And my confidence in his fidelity, his careless
audacity, brought instantly a measure of peace. I crept back and lay
down upon the bed. The tears dried upon my lashes, and I fell asleep
as quietly as a tired child.