WHAT THE SHIP HENRI IV BRINGS TO QUEBEC
The ship Henri IV dropped anchor before Quebec on the seventh day of
August. This being the Company's vessel, hundreds of Canadians flocked
to the wharves. And again flags decked the château and town, and
cannon roared. The Henri IV was part merchantman and part man-of-war.
Her ports bristled with cannon, her marines wore formidable cutlasses,
and the law on board was military in the strictest sense. Stores and
ammunition filled her hull; carpenters' tools, tea-chests, bags of
plaster, uniforms, cannon, small arms, beads and trinkets of no value
save to the Indian, silk and wool and a beautiful window for the
cathedral. And in return she was to carry away mink, otter and beaver
skins.
Breton had been left behind by the Chevalier, who had joined a scouting
party up the river. Love and anxiety had made the lad thin. Any night
might bring disastrous news from Three Rivers, the burning of the
settlement and the massacre. Such speculation counteracted his usually
good appetite. So Breton mooned about the wharves day by day, always
looking up the river instead of down.
To-day he lingered to witness the debarkation. Besides, the Henri IV
was a great ship, bringing with her a vague perfume from France.
Listlessly he watched the seamen empty the hold of its treasures;
carelessly he observed the meeting of sweethearts and lovers, wives and
husbands. Two women in masks meant nothing to him. . . Holy Virgin!
it was not possible! Was his brain fooling him? He grew faint. Did
he really see these two old men climbing down the ship's ladder to the
boats? He choked; tears blinded him. He dashed aside the tears and
looked once more. Oh! there could be no doubt; his eyes had not
deceived him. There was only one face like that in the world; only one
face like that, with its wrinkles, its haughty chin, its domineering
nose. He had seen that lean, erect figure, crowned with silver-white
hair, too many times to mistake it. It was the marquis, the grim and
terrible marquis, the ogre of his dreams. The lad had always hated the
marquis, taking his master's side; but at the sight of that familiar
face, he felt his heart swell with joy and love and veneration. For
intuition told him why Monsieur le Marquis was in Quebec. It was to
seek Monsieur le Chevalier. And together they would all go back to
France, beautiful France. He burst into hysterical tears, regardless
of the wonder which he created. And there was the kindly Jehan, who
had dandled him on his knee, long years ago before trouble had cast its
blighting shadow over the House of Périgny. Blessed day!
Very slowly and with infinite pains the marquis climbed from the boat
to the wharf. It was evident to Breton that the long voyage at sea had
sapped his vitality and undermined his vigor. He was still erect, but,
ah! how lean and frail! But his eye was still the eye of the proud
eagle, and it swept the crowd, searching for a familiar face. Breton
dared not make himself known because of that eye. An officer who had
formerly resided in Rochelle recognized the marquis instantly, and he
pressed forward.
"Monsieur le Marquis in Quebec?" he cried.
"You are of the fort?" replied the marquis. His voice was thin and
high, like that of old men whose blood is turning to water.
"Yes, Monsieur," answered the officer.
"Will you lead me to his Excellency the governor? I have letters to
present from her Majesty the queen."
"Follow me, Monsieur;" and the officer conducted the marquis through
the crowd, politely but firmly brushing aside those who blocked his
path. He found the governor quickly. "Your Excellency, the Marquis de
Périgny wishes to present to you letters from her august Majesty."
"Monsieur le Marquis here?" exclaimed the governor. He embraced the
old nobleman, whom he held in genuine regard.
"So your Excellency remembers me?" said the marquis, pleased.
"One does not forget a man such as you are, Monsieur. And I see you
here in Quebec? What twist of fortune brings you to my household?"
"I have come in search of a prodigal son, Monsieur," smiling. "Know
you one who calls himself the Chevalier du Cévennes?"
"The Chevalier du Cévennes?" The governor was nonplussed. The marquis
here in search of the Chevalier?
"I see that he is here," said the marquis, with a note of satisfaction.
"No, Monsieur; not here, but has been."
"He can be found?"
"Within sixty hours."
"That is well. I am very fortunate."
"You will be my guest during your stay?" suggested the governor.
"Her Majesty asks that good favor of you."
"A great honor, Monsieur, truly;" and the governor was elated at the
thought of having so distinguished a guest at his table.
The marquis turned to the patient Jehan. "Jehan, you will see to the
portmanteaus."
"Yes, Monsieur."
A priest elbowed his way toward them. On seeing him, the marquis
raised and lowered his bushy white brows. It was the handsome Jesuit
whose face had stolen into many a dream of late. Brother Jacques was
greatly astonished. The marquis greeted him, but without marked
cordiality. At a sign from the governor the quartet moved up the path
toward the cliffs, which the marquis measured with the eye of one who
understood thoroughly the art and value of military strategy.
"Superb!" he murmured. "With a few men and plenty of ammunition, I
could hold even England at bay."
"I am proud of it," acknowledged the governor; but there was a twinge
of envy when it occurred to him that a handful of savages had worried
him more than once. And here was a man who would defy the whole world.
Jehan felt a pressure on his arm. Turning, he beheld the shining face
of Breton. He caught the lad in his arms and kissed him on the cheek.
"I expected to find you, lad. Ah, but you have done wrong. You should
have told us. You should not have run away with Monsieur le
Comte . . . ."
"Monsieur le Comte?" bewildered.
"Yes; you should not have run away with him as you did."
"Had I told you, you would have prevented my coming," Breton confessed.
"You would have saved Monsieur le Marquis and myself a great deal of
trouble."
"But Monsieur le Chevalier was in trouble, too. I could not leave him."
"Which speaks well for your heart, lad, but not for your reason. Where
is Monsieur le Comte?"
"At Three Rivers; a day and a night's ride from here, with good
paddlers."
"Good. We shall start out in the morning."
"To bring him back to France?"
"Nothing less, lad. The count has been greatly wronged by Monsieur le
Marquis, and it is to be set to rights forthwith. Can you read?"
"Yes."
"Here is a letter which Monsieur le Curé wrote at Périgny. It was from
old Martin's daughter."
"God bless you, Monsieur," cried the happy Breton. He would have
shouted for joy had not the quiet dignity of the old lackey put a
damper on his enthusiasm.
"Monsieur le Comte was well when last you saw him?"
"Yes; physically."
"He is troubled?"
"Who would not be?" burst forth Breton, indignantly. "But why do you
call Monsieur le Chevalier the count?"
"Is not that his title?" quietly.
"But . . ."
"Would Monsieur le Marquis take all this trouble if Monsieur le
Chevalier was anything but Monsieur le Comte?"
"I shall offer a dozen candles!" cried Breton, joyously.
Meantime the governor conducted the marquis around the fortress and the
château; and together they stood upon the highest balcony and looked
down upon the river, which was dotted with canoes and small boats.
"Magnificent!" repeated the marquis time and again.
"And not even in the Cévennes, Monsieur, will you see such sunsets,"
said De Lauson.
"This should not be managed by speculators," unconsciously pricking the
governor's quick, "nor by the priest's cold hand. It should be wholly
the king's. It would be France's salvation. What are they doing there
in Paris?"
"Spending money on lace for the Swiss and giving masks at the Palais
Royal."
"Richelieu died too soon; here would have been his fame." The marquis
never underestimated an enemy. "If your Excellency will excuse me now,
I will sleep. I am an old man, and sleep calls to me often. I will
join you at supper."
"The ladies will be delighted. There is but little here of the life of
the court. When we are not guarding against Indians, we are
celebrating religious fêtes."
"Till supper, then, your Excellency."
And the governor departed to read the messages from the queen. She had
placed all Quebec at the disposal of the marquis in the search for his
son. The governor was greatly mystified. That the marquis should
still call the Chevalier by his former title of count added to this
mystery. Since when did fathers set out for sons of the left hand? He
soon gave up the riddle, confident that the marquis himself would solve
it for him.
The marquis rose before sundown and with the assistance of his aged
valet made his toilet. He was dressed in black satin, with white lace
ruffles, and across his breast he flung the ribbon of the Chevalier of
the Order, in honor of the governor's attentions. Presently, from his
window he saw the figure of a woman--young and slender; doubtless some
relative of the governor's. Patiently he waited for her to turn. When
she did so, a subdued exclamation fell from his lips. He had seen that
face before, once or twice on board the Henri IV. It was the woman in
the grey mask. He stared hard and long. Where else had he seen this
face? He was growing old, and sometimes his memory failed him.
Without being conscious of the act, he readjusted his wristbands and
the ruffles at his throat. A handsome young woman at the table would
be a recompense for the dullness of the hour. But he waited in vain at
supper for the appearance of the exquisite face. Like the true
courtier he was, he made no inquiries.
When they were at last alone, the governor said: "I am truly glad you
have come to make the Chevalier return to France. He will never be at
peace here."
"Why?" asked the marquis, weakening his burgundy with water.
"The . . . That is . . ." But the governor foundered.
"Why?" repeated the marquis. "Has he made a fool of himself here as in
France?"
"No, Monsieur," warmly. "He has proved himself to be a gentleman and a
brave soldier."
"He drinks?"
"Only as a gentleman might; neither does he gamble."
"Ah!"
The governor drew figures on the dusty bottle at the side of his plate.
"If he does none of these things," said the marquis, "why can not he
live in peace here?"
"His . . . unfortunate history has followed him here."
"What?" The marquis's glass crashed upon the table and the wine crept
among the plates, soaking the marquis's sleeves and crimsoning his
elegant wristbands.
"What did you say?"
"Why," began the governor, startled and confused, "the history of his
birth is known." He looked at the walls, at the wine running about, at
the floor, at everything save the flashing eyes opposite.
"So the fool has told it here?" harshly. "Bah! let him rot here, then;
fool!"
"But he has said nothing; no one knew till . . ."
"Oh! then it was not Monsieur le Comte who spoke?"
"Monsieur le Comte?"
"That is the title which my son bears."
"Good God, Monsieur, then what is all this about?"
"It will take some time to tell it, Monsieur," said the marquis,
shaking his sleeves and throwing salt upon the table. "First, I wish
to know the name of the man who started the story."
"Monsieur de Leviston, of Montreal, prompted by I know not whom."
"De Leviston. I shall remember that name."
"There was a duel fought."
"A duel? Who were the participants?"
"The Vicomte d'Halluys against the Comte d'Hérouville, and Monsieur de
Saumaise against De Leviston. D'Hérouville and De Leviston are both in
hospital."
"D'Hérouville? What had he to do with the affair?"
"He laughed," said the governor; "he laughed when De Leviston accused
your son of not knowing who his mother was."
"Thank you, Monsieur. I see that you are in great puzzle. Let me
solve the puzzle for you. I have always been a man of quick and
violent temper, and sometimes this temper has been that of the fool.
The wisest of us make mistakes. I have made a grievous one. In a
moment of anger . . ." He ceased, taking up the stem of the broken
glass and twirling it. "In a moment of anger, then, I did Monsieur le
Comte a most grievous wrong, a wrong for which I can never fully atone.
We have never been on friendly terms since his refusal to wed a young
woman of my choice, Mademoiselle de Montbazon. I had never seen this
daughter, nor had my son. Paris life, Monsieur, as doubtless you know,
is ruinous to youth. Monsieur le Comte was much in wine; he gambled
recklessly. It was my desire to change his course, but I went at it
either too late or bunglingly. In February he was exiled from court in
disgrace. I have never ascertained the character of this disgrace.
One night in March we had an exchange of opinions. My faith, your
Excellency, but that boy has a terrible tongue. There was not a place
in my armor that he did not pierce. I shall not repeat to you the
subject of our conversation. Suffice it to say that he roused the
devil and the fool in me, and I told him that he had no right to his
name. I am here to correct that wrong as much as lies within my power.
He did not give me an opportunity at home. It is not sentiment; it is
my sense of justice that brings me here. And I truly admire the lad's
spirit. To plunge into the wilderness without calculation; ah, well,
it is only the fool who stops to weigh the hazards of fortune. The boy
is my son, lawfully; and I want him to know it. I am growing old, and
this voyage has written a shorter term for me."
"Monsieur," said De Lauson, "what you tell me makes me truly happy.
But I am afraid that you have destroyed the Chevalier's trust in
humanity. If you ask me to judge you, I shall be severe. You have
committed a terrible sin, unnatural and brutal, unheard of till now by
me."
"I bow to all that," said the marquis. "It was brutal, cruel; it was
all you say. But the fact remains that it is done and that a part of
it must be undone."
"Your sense of justice does credit to a great noble like yourself.
Worldly reparation you may make, but you have wounded his heart and
soul beyond all earthly reparation."
"The worldly reparation quite satisfies me," replied the marquis,
fumbling with his lips. "As I observed, sentiment is out of the
question. Monsieur le Comte would not let me love him if I would,"
lightly. "I wish to undo as much as possible the evil I have done. If
he refuses to return to France, that is his affair, not mine. I shall
be the last to urge him. This Monsieur de Saumaise is a poet, I
understand."
"Who writes equally well with his sword."
"I should like to meet him. How long before De Leviston and
D'Hérouville will be out of hospital?"
"D'Hérouville, any day; De Leviston has a bad fever, having taken cold."
The marquis had not acquired the habit of smoking, so the governor lit
his pipe and smoked alone.
"Your Excellency, who is this handsome young priest who goes by the
name of Brother Jacques; of what family?"
"That I do not know; no one knows; not even Father Chaumonot, who is
his sponsor. The good Father picked him up somewhere in Italy and
placed him in a convent."
"Monsieur le Comte, then, is at Three Rivers?"
"Yes; and to-morrow we shall set out for him; though he may return at
any hour."
"I thank your Excellency. The Henri IV sails by next week, so I
understand. I daresay that we both shall be on it. At any rate, I
shall wait."
The door opened and Jehan, expressing as much excitement as his
weather-beaten face made possible, stood before them.
"Well?" said the marquis.
"Monsieur le Comte is returned from Three Rivers, and is about to dine
in the citadel."
"Tell a trooper that the presence of Monsieur le Chevalier is requested
here at once. Do not let the Chevalier see you," and the governor rose
and laid down his pipe. "I will leave the room at your service,
Monsieur."
"It is very kind of you." If the marquis was excited, or nervous,
there was nothing on his face to indicate it.
Jehan and the governor made their exits through opposite doors; and
Monsieur le Marquis sat alone. Several minutes passed. Once or twice
the marquis turned his attention to his wine-soaked sleeve. Steps were
heard in the corridor, but these died away in the distance. From time
to time the old man's hand wandered to his throat, as if something was
bothering him there. Time marked off a quarter of an hour. Then the
door opened, and a man entered; a man bronzed of countenance, tall, and
deep of chest. He wore the trapper's blouse and fringed leggings.
From where he stood he could not see who sat at the table.
"Come toward the light, Monsieur," said the marquis, "where I may see
you to better advantage." The marquis rose and stood with the fingers
of his right band pressing lightly on the table.
At the sound of that voice, the Chevalier's heart leaped. He strode
forward quickly, and, leaning across the table, stared into his
father's eyes.