ALIXE.

An hour after getting this good letter Gabord came again, and

with him breakfast--a word which I had almost dropped from my

language. True, it was only in a dungeon, on a pair of stools, by

the light of a torch, but how I relished it!--a bottle of good

wine, a piece of broiled fish, the half of a fowl, and some tender

vegetables.

When Gabord came for me with two soldiers, an hour later--I say

an hour, but I only guess so, for I had no way of noting time--I

was ready for new cares, and to see the world again. Before the

others Gabord was the rough, almost brutal soldier, and soon I

knew that I was to be driven out upon the St. Foye Road and on

into the town. My arms were well fastened down, and I was tied

about till I must have looked like a bale of living goods of no

great value. Indeed, my clothes were by no means handsome, and

save for my well-shaven face and clean handkerchief I was an

ill-favoured spectacle; but I tried to bear my shoulders up as

we marched through dark reeking corridors, and presently came

suddenly into well-lighted passages.

I had to pause, for the light blinded my eyes, and they hurt me

horribly, so delicate were the nerves. For some minutes I stood

there, my guards stolidly waiting, Gabord muttering a little and

stamping upon the floor as if in anger, though I knew he was

merely playing a small part to deceive his comrades. The pain in

my eyes grew less, and, though they kept filling with moisture

from the violence of the light, I soon could see without distress.

I was led into the yard of the citadel, where was drawn up a

company of soldiers. Gabord bade me stand still, and advanced

towards the officers' quarters. I asked him if I might not walk to

the ramparts and view the scene. He gruffly assented, bidding the

men watch me closely, and I walked over to a point where, standing

three hundred feet above the noble river, I could look out upon its

sweet expanse, across to the Levis shore, with its serried legions

of trees behind, and its bold settlement in front upon the Heights.

There, eastward lay the well-wooded Island of Orleans, and over all

the clear sun and sky, enlivened by a crisp and cheering air. Snow

had fallen, but none now lay upon the ground, and I saw a rare and

winning earth. I stood absorbed. I was recalling that first day

that I remember in my life, when at Balmore my grandfather made

prophecies upon me, and for the first time I was conscious of the

world.

As I stood lost to everything about me, I heard Doltaire's voice

behind, and presently he said over my shoulder, "To wish Captain

Moray a good-morning were superfluous!"

I smiled at him: the pleasure of that scene had given me an

impulse towards good nature even with my enemies.

"The best I ever had," I answered quietly.

"Contrasts are life's delights," he said. "You should thank us.

You have your best day because of our worst dungeon."

"But my thanks shall not be in words; you shall have the same

courtesy at our hands one day."

"I had the Bastile for a year," he rejoined, calling up a squad

of men with his finger as he spoke. "I have had my best day. Two

would be monotony. You think your English will take this some

time?" he asked, waving a finger towards the citadel. "It will need

good play to pluck that ribbon from its place." He glanced up, as

he spoke, at the white flag with its golden lilies.

"So much the better sport," I answered. "We will have the ribbon

and its heritage."

"You yourself shall furnish evidence to-day. Gabord here will

see you temptingly disposed--the wild bull led peaceably by the

nose!"

"But one day I will twist your nose, Monsieur Doltaire."

"That is fair enough, if rude," he responded. "When your turn

comes, you twist and I endure. You shall be nourished well like me,

and I shall look a battered hulk like you. But I shall never be the

fool that you are. If I had a way to slip the leash, I'd slip it.

You are a dolt." He was touching upon the letters again.

"I weigh it all," said I. "I am no fool--anything else you will."

"You'll be nothing soon, I fear--which is a pity."

What more he might have said I do not know, but there now

appeared in the yard a tall, reverend old gentleman, in the costume

of the coureur de bois, though his belt was richly chased, and he

wore an order on his breast. There was something more refined than

powerful in his appearance, but he had a keen, kindly eye, and a

manner unmistakably superior. His dress was a little barbarous,

unlike Doltaire's splendid white uniform, set off with violet and

gold, the lace of a fine handkerchief sticking from his belt, and

a gold-handled sword at his side; but the manner of both was

distinguished.

Seeing Doltaire, he came forward and they embraced. Then he turned

towards me, and as they walked off a little distance I could see

that he was curious concerning me. Presently he raised his hand,

and, as if something had excited him, said, "No, no, no; hang him

and have done with it, but I'll have nothing to do with it--not a

thing. 'Tis enough for me to rule at--"

I could hear no further, but I was now sure that he was some one

of note who had retired from any share in state affairs. He and

Doltaire then moved on to the doors of the citadel, and, pausing

there, Doltaire turned round and made a motion of his hand to

Gabord. I was at once surrounded by the squad of men, and the

order to march was given. A drum in front of me began to play a

well-known derisive air of the French army, The Fox and the Wolf.

We came out on the St. Foye Road and down towards the Chateau St.

Louis, between crowds of shouting people who beat drums, kettles,

pans, and made all manner of mocking noises. It was meant not only

against myself, but against the British people. The women were not

behind the men in violence; from them at first came handfuls of

gravel and dust which struck me in the face; but Gabord put a

stop to that.

It was a shameful ordeal, which might have vexed me sorely if I

had not had greater trials and expected worse. Now and again

appeared a face I knew--some lady who turned her head away, or

some gentleman who watched me curiously, but made no sign.

When we came to the Chateau, I looked up as if casually, and there

in the little round window I saw Alixe's face--for an instant only.

I stopped in my tracks, was prodded by a soldier from behind, and

I then stepped on. Entering, we were taken to the rear of the

building, where, in an open courtyard, were a company of soldiers,

some seats, and a table. On my right was the St. Lawrence swelling

on its course, hundreds of feet beneath, little boats passing

hither and thither on its flood.

We were waiting about half an hour, the noises of the clamoring

crowd coming to us, as they carried me aloft in effigy, and,

burning me at the cliff edge, fired guns and threw stones at me,

till, rags, ashes, and flame, I was tumbled into the river far

below. At last, from the Chateau came the Marquis de Vaudreuil,

Bigot, and a number of officers. The Governor looked gravely at

me, but did not bow; Bigot gave me a sneering smile, eying me

curiously the while, and (I could feel) remarking on my poor

appearance to Cournal beside him--Cournal, who winked at his

wife's dishonour for the favour of her lover, who gave him means

for public robbery.

Presently the Governor was seated, and he said, looking round,

"Monsieur Doltaire--he is not here?"

Bigot shook his head, and answered, "No doubt he is detained at

the citadel."

"And the Seigneur Duvarney?" the Governor added.

At that moment the Governor's secretary handed him a letter. The

Governor opened it. "Listen," said he. He read to the effect that

the Seigneur Duvarney felt he was hardly fitted to be a just judge

in this case, remembering the conflict between his son and the

notorious Captain Moray. And from another standpoint, though the

prisoner merited any fate reserved for him, if guilty of spying,

he could not forget that his life had been saved by this British

captain--an obligation which, unfortunately, he could neither repay

nor wipe out. After much thought, he must disobey the Governor's

summons, and he prayed that his Excellency would grant his

consideration thereupon.

I saw the Governor frown, but he made no remark, while Bigot

said something in his ear which did not improve his humour, for

he replied curtly, and turned to his secretary. "We must have

two gentlemen more," he said.

At that moment Doltaire entered with the old gentleman of whom

I have written. The Governor instantly brightened, and gave the

stranger a warm greeting, calling him his "dear Chevalier;" and,

after a deal of urging, the Chevalier de la Darante was seated as

one of my judges: which did not at all displease me, for I liked

his face.

I do not need to dwell upon the trial here. I have set down the

facts before. I had no counsel and no witnesses. There seemed no

reason why the trial should have dragged on all day, for I soon saw

it was intended to find me guilty. Yet I was surprised to see how

Doltaire brought up a point here and a question there in my favour,

which served to lengthen out the trial; and all the time he sat

near the Chevalier de la Darante, now and again talking with him.

It was late evening before the trial came to a close. The one

point to be established was that the letters taken from General

Braddock were mine, and that I had made the plans while a hostage.

I acknowledged nothing, and would not do so unless I was allowed

to speak freely. This was not permitted until just before I was

sentenced.

Then Doltaire's look was fixed on me, and I knew he waited to

see if I would divulge the matter private between us. However, I

stood by my compact with him. Besides, it could not serve me to

speak of it here, or use it as an argument, and it would only

hasten an end which I felt he could prevent if he chose.

So when I was asked if I had aught to say, I pleaded only that

they had not kept the Articles of War signed at Fort Necessity,

which provided I should be free within two months and a half--that

is, when prisoners in our hands should be delivered up to them,

as they were. They had broken their bond, though we had fulfilled

ours, and I held myself justified in doing what I had done for

our cause and for my own life.

I was not heard patiently, though I could see that the Governor

and the Chevalier were impressed; but Bigot instantly urged the

case hotly against me, and the end came very soon. It was now dark;

a single light had been brought and placed beside the Governor,

while a soldier held a torch at a distance. Suddenly there was a

silence; then, in response to a signal, the sharp ringing of a

hundred bayonets as they were drawn and fastened to the muskets,

and I could see them gleaming in the feeble torchlight. Presently,

out of the stillness, the Governor's voice was heard condemning me

to death by hanging, thirty days hence, at sunrise. Silence fell

again instantly, and then a thing occurred which sent a thrill

through us all. From the dark balcony above us came a voice, weird,

high, and wailing:

"Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! He is guilty, and shall die! Francois

Bigot shall die!"

The voice was Mathilde's, and I saw Doltaire shrug a shoulder

and look with malicious amusement at the Intendant. Bigot himself

sat pale and furious. "Discover the intruder," he said to Gabord,

who was standing near, "and have--him--jailed."

But the Governor interfered. "It is some drunken creature," he

urged quietly. "Take no account of it."

X