OB AND AZURE.
After that complete repulse of the Iroquois tribes the French found
themselves so weak as to be practically at the mercy of a foe. Another
resolute attack must have driven them from their position. But the
Iroquois bands were completely disorganised; the few English scattered
about the maritime provinces, including that remnant of Scots in the
east, who had settled Newfoundland and Nova Scotia only to see their
territories wrested from them, were entirely inadequate even in
combination to menace the supremacy of the House of Bourbon; and it may
be questioned whether, at that time, any Scotsman would have stood to
fight side by side with the English. Soon another ship would arrive
from Marseilles, bringing, not only provisions and ammunition, but a
reinforcement of men, prepared to till the ground as settlers should,
but far more ready to continue the French error of attempting to
colonise with the sword. On the heels of the discovery of two Dutch
bodies among the Indian slain, La Salle returned, and conveyed to
Roussilac the information that an English spy was escaping south.
Gaudriole also announced that Van Vuren and his company were bearing in
that same direction. Roussilac's hand was forced. If these men
escaped him the fortress might be called upon to resist, not only an
English, but possibly a Dutch invasion also. He sent out twenty men
immediately to cut off the Hollanders, leaving the garrison depleted to
no more than fifty men available for defence; and the commandant made
haste to reward Oskelano for his services as suitably as his resources
would permit, and sent him home, fearful lest the treacherous Algonquin
might discover, and take advantage of, his weakness.
When La Salle stood before him, and announced that the English spy was
the guest of one Madame Labroquerie, a widow living with her daughter
in the country to the south, the commandant refused to betray himself,
but replied that he would accompany the priest and be a witness to the
hanging of the Englishman. At the same time, he considered, he might
keep the oath which he had sworn to his dead cousin. Having given the
order for a troop of men to attend upon his person, he abandoned the
subject which awoke in him unpleasant memories, and bowing haughtily to
La Salle--for he and the priest were in a manner rivals--congratulated
him upon his appointment to the governorship of Acadie, the
confirmation of which, signed by the Cardinal himself, had lately been
delivered by the hand of the master of the _St. Wenceslas_.
"This fortress will be the weaker for your loss, Sir Priest," he said,
feigning a sorrow which he could not feel. "May I seek to know when
you propose to set forth to the undertaking of your new
responsibilities?"
"If my work here be finished what time the _St. Wenceslas_ sails
homeward I shall depart with her," La Salle replied, flashing a
disdainful glance upon Roussilac. "But I have yet to rid this land of
its English vermin."
With that implied scorn of the governor, and suggestion of his own
superiority, La Salle departed to make his preparations; and an hour
later a troop of horsemen rode forth, Roussilac at the head, and beside
him Gaudriole jesting for his chief's amusement; on the other side the
two priests--for Laroche accompanied his senior--and behind six
soldiers, riding two abreast on bright bay ponies, their weapons
flashing in the sunlight.
There had been war in the grove. An angry scene passed between mother
and daughter when Madeleine returned after seeing her lover upon his
way. For the first time in her life the girl lost her sweet patience,
and returned word for word so hotly that Madame at length became
afraid, and backed away, yet muttering:
"Men shall stay your pride, girl, if a weak woman may not."
"They also shall find that a resolute mind is not quickly broken,"
Madeleine returned.
"The law against heresy is still in being," Madame threatened, made
still more bitter by the knowledge that her daughter and Geoffrey had
together outwitted her. "I have borne with you, because you are my
child. Our Lady punishes me for my lack of devotion. I had speech but
recently with a holy priest. We shall see, when that priest returns.
We shall see!"
"Drive me from you with that bitter tongue, as you drove out
Jean-Marie," cried Madeleine, her fair throat swelling like a bird in
song. "So shall you die without son or daughter at your side, and none
but an Indian shall see you to your grave."
At that Madame put up her hand with a superstitious gesture, and limped
away, her yellow face wrinkled with rage; nor did she speak again to
her daughter until the Indian servant entered the cabin to announce the
coming of a warlike band. Then she croaked at Madeleine: "'Tis the
holy priest. Know you not, girl, how those are punished who conspire
to aid an enemy of their country?" Then she hasted away to don the cap
and gown which she had kept against the coming of a change of fortune.
There came a sound of voices, the troop rode into the grove, and
Madeleine, as she stood trembling at the door, was greeted by
Gaudriole, who bowed and grinned as he announced his Excellency the
Commandant to visit the Madame Labroquerie and the fair lady her
daughter.
"I am Madeleine Labroquerie," stammered the girl, frightened for a
moment by the brave show of mounted men.
"Cousin," cried a half-familiar voice, "hast put a friend and relative
out of memory?"
Dazzled by the sunlight after the gloom of the cabin, Madeleine shaded
her eyes. She saw before her a tall man, sallow and dark, his hair
falling in snaky lines to his shoulders, the golden fleur-de-lys worked
upon his blue surcoat making his face the more sickly by comparison.
Before she could return his salutation he had dropped to his knee and
kissed her hand.
"Years have passed since we parted, cousin," he said. "The present
finds me with position, and you with beauty. I knew not that you were
here until your brother told me."
"Arnaud!" she exclaimed, giddy with amazement at finding the boy who
had been the autocrat of childhood's games grown into a man of power.
Then, because her heart was so tender to all that breathed, she forgot
the character of the man who was looking down upon her with increasing
wonder to find how the plain child with the tangle of flaming hair had
blossomed into this lovely creature, and asked quickly:
"Jean-Marie--what of him?"
Roussilac was not a man to tell ill-news gently. Wasting neither words
nor sentiment, he replied: "Your brother died but recently of fever,
calling upon your name with his last breath."
His final words were intended to show her that he had been by the sick
man's side until the end.
Madeleine turned white and tottered. Then, as her strong heart
recovered, she said:
"Let me call my mother. My father has long been dead. We have
remained poor, Arnaud," she added defiantly. "But if you have
ascended, we have at least not descended."
"To what higher pinnacle can a woman wish to attain than that of
perfect beauty?" he replied gallantly; but he noticed that she left him
with a frown.
"Had I but known that she had grown so fair!" he muttered.
Gaudriole was grinning at his side. The dwarf put up his red hand and
showed his chief a dead butterfly, its bright plumage well-nigh worn
away, its wings crushed and wet.
"Short-lived beauty, Excellency," he leered, with the jester's
privilege. "Yesterday shining in the sun. To-day!" He laughed
hoarsely and dropped the ruined insect. "'Tis a world of change and
contrast," he chuckled. "Mark this philosophy, my captain. When old
age sends me white hairs and a reverend aspect you shall perchance call
me beautiful, if you look not too closely at my hump; but when the
bloom of yonder beauteous lady turns to seed----"
"Off, Bossu!" cried Roussilac angrily. "Learn to turn your jesting
with a better judgment, or your tongue shall be slit and your back
whipped."
"My faith!" the dwarf chuckled. "I have no back. I am like the frog,
but shoulders and legs."
Madame herself appeared in a fresh white cap and an antique gown. It
was not her way to be gracious, nor were her recollections of her
nephew's fidelity of the happiest; so she did but greet him coldly,
asking why he had now come since he had tarried so long.
"Good aunt," came the reply, "I would have sought you earlier, had I
known you were in this land. I have not long held command, and my
hands have been filled in crushing the strength of the Iroquois. I
entreat you both to return with me now and take up your abode at the
fortress, not indeed as my guests, but as an honoured mother and
sister."
"Pretty talk," sniffed Madame. "I said in the old days you would make
a courtier. So you, the governor of the land, knew nothing of this
home of your poor relations a paltry two days' journey beyond the
river. There is no man so blind as he who makes a living by that
infirmity. This girl tells me that my son is dead. Died he in the
faith of the Church?"
"Surely," said Roussilac. "But tell me I pray, good aunt, is it true,
as this Indian says, that the English spy has already escaped?"
"Yes, he has gone," cried Madeleine, flushing warmly. "He has gone,
Arnaud, to--to the west."
Her deceit was so transparent that even Roussilac could not restrain a
smile.
"And why, fair cousin," he asked, addressing her with marked deference,
"why should this Englishman seek the unknown west, where it is believed
none dwell save Indians? Would he not rather turn towards the south,
and seek New England and his own people?"
"Indeed I know not why he should seek the west," Madeleine replied,
between tears and laughter. "But I do assure you he has gone in that
direction----"
"Peace, girl," her mother cried. "The fool lies to you, Arnaud. She
is a heretic, shame though it be, and her master is the father of lies.
'Tis true the English spy escaped in the early morning, but he knows
not the land, and may yet be secured. I am surrounded all my life long
by wickedness," the bitter woman continued. "My husband was perverted
by the sin of science. Jean-Marie was but a knave. He left me here.
Madeleine is a heretic, and she has threatened to leave me also. Well,
I will come with you, Arnaud, but see that you give me a scented pillow
for my head and a cup of warm wine at evening. Stand not there,
nephew, like a wooden stock, but command one of yonder evil-faced
rogues to bring up a horse fitted for the age and dignity of the first
lady in this thrice-accursed land."
An evil smile curved the thin line of Roussilac's mouth. His aunt had
indeed not changed; but she had yet to learn that he had advanced. He
turned to where the priests were talking loudly in the shade of the
grove, noting La Salle's anger at the failure of his mission, and a few
paces beyond his troopers jesting in the sun. Then he looked upon the
fair face of Madeleine and smiled again.
"Tamalan," he called, dividing his attention between the soldier he was
addressing and his aunt, "prepare your pony for the use of the first
lady in this great colony of France--the lady Madeleine Labroquerie."
He bowed slightly towards the silent girl.
For one instant Madame appeared to stifle. Then she drew back her lips
and snarled at her nephew, yet without uttering a word.
"This is not Normandy, Madame," said Roussilac calmly. "And you have
not here the boy whose cheeks you would smite when the angry fit was on
you. This is the New World, and I am the Representative of his most
sacred Majesty, King Louis the Thirteenth."
Madame started forward, two passionate red spots upon her cheeks, her
bony hand uplifted; but Roussilac indicated the golden fleur-de-lys
upon his breast and said, in the quiet consciousness of power:
"Remember!"
The little woman stood for a moment motionless, grinding her teeth, her
black eyes starting from a ghastly countenance, then flung herself back
into the cabin, tearing at her hair and cap in the madness of her
anger. Roussilac watched with the same quiet smile, and when she had
gone turned to Madeleine and said:
"My aunt forgets that time may work a change."
"Pardon her," murmured the girl. "This solitude has touched her brain."
Then La Salle strode up with angry questionings: "Shall we tarry here
all the day, Sir Commandant, while the heretic escapes? Know you not
that New England swarms with Puritans, who, if they but hear of our
weakness, shall fill this land and compel us forth by their numbers?"
"You speak truly, Sir Priest," Roussilac answered. "We do but waste
our time."
Crossing to the men, he selected the five strongest ponies and the five
most trustworthy soldiers, and charged the latter to ride out, secure
the Englishman, and hang him out of hand. These men set forth
immediately, while Roussilac turned himself to the task of soothing La
Salle, and to the pleasure of flattering the fair lady his cousin.