As I entered the Intendant's palace with Doltaire I had a singular
feeling of elation. My spirits rose unaccountably, and I felt as
though it were a fete night, and the day's duty over, the hour of
play was come. I must needs have felt ashamed of it then, and now,
were I not sure it was some unbidden operation of the senses. Maybe
a merciful Spirit sees how, left alone, we should have stumbled and
lost ourselves in our own gloom, and so gives us a new temper fitted
to our needs. I remember that at the great door I turned back and
smiled upon the ruined granary, and sniffed the air laden with the
scent of burnt corn--the peoples bread; that I saw old men and women
who could not be moved by news of victory, shaking with cold, even
beside this vast furnace, and peevishly babbling of their hunger,
and I did not say, "Poor souls!" that for a time the power to feel
my own misfortunes seemed gone, and a hard, light indifference came
on me.
For it is true I came into the great dining-hall, and looked upon
the long loaded table, with its hundred candles, its flagons and
pitchers of wine, and on the faces of so many idle, careless
gentlemen bid to a carouse, with a manner, I believe, as reckless
and jaunty as their own. And I kept it up, though I saw it was not
what they had looked for. I did not at once know who was there, but
presently, at a distance from me, I saw the face of Juste Duvarney,
the brother of my sweet Alixe, a man of but twenty or so, who had a
name for wildness, for no badness that I ever heard of, and for a
fiery temper. He was in the service of the Governor, an ensign. He
had been little at home since I had come to Quebec, having been
employed up to the past year in the service of the Governor of
Montreal. We bowed, but he made no motion to come to me, and the
Intendant engaged me almost at once in gossip of the town; suddenly,
however, diverging upon some questions of public tactics and civic
government. He much surprised me, for though I knew him brave and
able, I had never thought of him save as the adroit politician and
servant of the King, the tyrant and the libertine. I might have
known by that very scene a few hours before that he had a wide, deep
knowledge of human nature, and despised it; unlike Doltaire, who had
a keener mind, was more refined even in wickedness, and, knowing the
world, laughed at it more than he despised it, which was the sign of
the greater mind. And indeed, in spite of all the causes I had to
hate Doltaire, it is but just to say he had by nature all the great
gifts--misused and disordered as they were. He was the product of
his age; having no real moral sense, living life wantonly, making
his own law of right or wrong. As a lad, I was taught to think the
evil person carried evil in his face, repelling the healthy mind.
But long ago I found that this was error. I had no reason to admire
Doltaire, and yet to this hour his handsome face, with its shadows
and shifting lights, haunts me, charms me. The thought came to me
as I talked with the Intendant, and I looked round the room. Some
present were of coarse calibre--bushranging sons of seigneurs and
petty nobles, dashing and profane, and something barbarous; but
most had gifts of person and speech, and all seemed capable.
My spirits continued high. I sprang alertly to meet wit and gossip,
my mind ran nimbly here and there, I filled the role of honoured
guest. But when came the table and wine, a change befell me. From
the first drop I drank, my spirits suffered a decline. On one side
the Intendant rallied me, on the other Doltaire. I ate on, drank
on; but while smiling by the force of will, I grew graver little by
little. Yet it was a gravity which had no apparent motive, for I
was not thinking of my troubles, not even of the night's stake and
the possible end of it all; simply a sort of gray colour of the mind,
a stillness in the nerves, a general seriousness of the senses.
I drank, and the wine did not affect me, as voices got loud and
louder, and glasses rang, and spurs rattled on shuffling heels, and
a scabbard clanged on a chair. I seemed to feel and know it all in
some far-off way, but I was not touched by the spirit of it, was
not a part of it. I watched the reddened cheeks and loose scorching
mouths around me with a sort of distant curiosity, and the ribald
jests flung right and left struck me not at all acutely. It was
as if I were reading a Book of Bacchus. I drank on evenly, not
doggedly, and answered jest for jest without a hot breath of
drunkenness. I looked several times at Juste Duvarney, who sat not
far away, on the other side of the table, behind a grand piece
of silver filled with October roses. He was drinking hard, and
Doltaire, sitting beside him, kept him at it. At last the silver
piece was shifted, and he and I could see each other fairly. Now
and then Doltaire spoke across to me, but somehow no word passed
between Duvarney and myself.
Suddenly, as if by magic--I know it was preconcerted--the talk
turned on the events of the evening and on the defeat of the
British. Then, too, as strangely I began to be myself again, amid
a sense of my position grew upon me. I had been withdrawn from
all real feeling and living for hours, but I believe that same
suspension was my salvation. For with every man present deeply gone
in liquor round me--every man save Doltaire--I was sane and steady,
and settling into a state of great alertness, determined on escape,
if that could be, and bent on turning every chance to serve my
purposes.
Now and again I caught my own name mentioned with a sneer, then with
remarks of surprise, then with insolent laughter. I saw it all.
Before dinner some of the revellers had been told of the new charge
against me, and, by instruction, had kept it till the inflammable
moment. Then, when the why and wherefore of my being at this supper
were in the hazard, the stake, as a wicked jest of Bigot's, was
mentioned. I could see the flame grow inch by inch, fed by the
Intendant and Doltaire, whose hateful final move I was yet to see.
For one instant I had a sort of fear, for I was sure they meant I
should not leave the room alive; but anon I felt a river of fiery
anger flow through me, rousing me, making me loathe the faces of
them all. Yet not all, for in one pale face, with dark, brilliant
eyes, I saw the looks of my flower of the world: the colour of her
hair in his, the clearness of the brow, the poise of the head--how
handsome he was!--the light, springing step, like a deer on the sod
of June. I call to mind when I first saw him. He was sitting in a
window of the Manor, just after he had come from Montreal, playing a
violin which had once belonged to De Casson, the famous priest whose
athletic power and sweet spirit endeared him to New France. His
fresh cheek was bent to the brown, delicate wood, and he was playing
to his sister the air of the undying chanson, "Je vais mourir pour
ma belle reine." I loved the look of his face, like that of a young
Apollo, open, sweet, and bold, all his body having the epic strength
of life. I wished that I might have him near me as a comrade, for
out of my hard experience I could teach him much, and out of his
youth he could soften my blunt nature, by comradeship making
flexuous the hard and ungenial.
I went on talking to the Intendant, while some of the guests
rose and scattered about the rooms, at tables, to play picquet,
the jesting on our cause and the scorn of myself abating not at
all. I would not have it thought that anything was openly coarse or
brutal; it was all by innuendo, and brow-lifting, and maddening,
allusive phrases such as it is thought fit for gentlefolk to use
instead of open charge. There was insult in a smile, contempt
in the turn of a shoulder, challenge in the flicking of a
handkerchief. With great pleasure I could have wrung their noses
one by one, and afterwards have met them tossing sword-points in
the same order. I wonder now that I did not tell them so, for I was
ever hasty; but my brain was clear that night, and I held myself
in proper check, letting each move come from my enemies. There was
no reason why I should have been at this wild feast at all, I a
prisoner, accused falsely of being a spy, save because of some
plot by which I was to have fresh suffering and some one else be
benefited--though how that could be I could not guess at first.
But soon I understood everything. Presently I heard a young
gentleman say to Duvarney over my shoulder:
"Eating comfits and holding yarn--that was his doing at your
manor when Doltaire came hunting him."
"He has dined at your table, Lancy," broke out Duvarney hotly.
"But never with our ladies," was the biting answer.
"Should prisoners make conditions?" was the sharp, insolent retort.
The insult was conspicuous, and trouble might have followed, but
that Doltaire came between them, shifting the attack.
"Prisoners, my dear Duvarney," said he, "are most delicate and
exacting; they must be fed on wine and milk. It is an easy life, and
hearts grow soft for them. As thus-- Indeed, it is most sad: so young
and gallant; in speech, too, so confiding! And if we babble all our
doings to him, think you he takes it seriously? No, no--so gay and
thoughtless, there is a thoroughfare from ear to ear, and all's lost
on the other side. Poor simple gentleman, he is a claimant on our
courtesy, a knight without a sword, a guest without the power to
leave us--he shall make conditions, he shall have his caprice. La,
la! my dear Duvarney and my Lancy!"
He spoke in a clear, provoking tone, putting a hand upon the
shoulder of each young gentleman as he talked, his eyes wandering
over me idly, and beyond me. I saw that he was now sharpening the
sickle to his office. His next words made this more plain to me:
"And if a lady gives a farewell sign to one she favours for the
moment, shall not the prisoner take it as his own?" (I knew he was
recalling Alixe's farewell gesture to me at the manor.) "Who shall
gainsay our peacock? Shall the guinea cock? The golden crumb was
thrown to the guinea cock, but that's no matter. The peacock
clatters of the crumb." At that he spoke an instant in Duvarney's
ear. I saw the lad's face flush, and he looked at me angrily.
Then I knew his object: to provoke a quarrel between this young
gentleman and myself, which might lead to evil ends; and the
Intendant's share in the conspiracy was to revenge himself upon
the Seigneur for his close friendship with the Governor. If Juste
Duvarney were killed in the duel which they foresaw, so far as
Doltaire was concerned I was out of the counting in the young lady's
sight. In any case my life was of no account, for I was sure my
death was already determined on. Yet it seemed strange that Doltaire
should wish me dead, for he had reasons for keeping me alive, as
shall be seen.
Juste Duvarney liked me once, I knew, but still he had the
Frenchman's temper, and had always to argue down his bias against my
race, and to cherish a good heart towards me; for he was young, and
most sensitive to the opinions of his comrades. I can not express
what misery possessed me when I saw him leave Doltaire, and, coming
to me where I stood alone, say--
"What secrets found you at our seigneury, monsieur?"
I understood the taunt--as though I were the common interrogation
mark, the abuser of hospitality, the abominable Paul Pry. But I held
my wits together.
"Monsieur," said I, "I found the secret of all good life: a noble
kindness to the unfortunate."
There was a general laugh, led by Doltaire, a concerted influence on
the young gentleman. I cursed myself that I had been snared to this
trap.
"The insolent," responded Duvarney, "not the unfortunate."
"Insolence is no crime, at least," I rejoined quietly, "else this
room were a penitentiary."
There was a moment's pause, and presently, as I kept my eye on
him, he raised his handkerchief and flicked me across the face with
it, saying, "Then this will be a virtue, and you may have more such
virtues as often as you will."
In spite of will, my blood pounded in my veins, and a devilish
anger took hold of me. To be struck across the face by a beardless
Frenchman, scarce past his teens!--it shook me more than now I care
to own. I felt my cheek burn, my teeth clinched, and I know a kind
of snarl came from me; but again, all in a moment, I caught a turn
of his head, a motion of the hand, which brought back Alixe to me.
Anger died away, and I saw only a youth flushed with wine, stung by
suggestions, with that foolish pride the youngster feels--and he was
the youngest of them all--in being as good a man as the best, and
as daring as the worst. I felt how useless it would be to try the
straightening of matters there, though had we two been alone a dozen
words would have been enough. But to try was my duty, and I tried
with all my might; almost, for Alixe's sake, with all my heart.
"Do not trouble to illustrate your meaning," said I patiently.
"Your phrases are clear and to the point."
"You bolt from my words," he retorted, "like a shy mare on the
curb; you take insult like a donkey on a well-wheel. What fly will
the English fish rise to? Now it no more plays to my hook than an
August chub."
I could not help but admire his spirit and the sharpness of his
speech, though it drew me into a deeper quandary. It was clear that
he would not be tempered to friendliness; for, as is often so, when
men have said things fiercely, their eloquence feeds their passion
and convinces them of holiness in their cause. Calmly, but with a
heavy heart, I answered:
"I wish not to find offense in your words, my friend, for in some
good days gone you and I had good acquaintance, and I can not forget
that the last hours of a light imprisonment before I entered on a
dark one were spent in the home of your father--of the brave
Seigneur whose life I once saved."
I am sure I should not have mentioned this in any other
situation--it seemed as if I were throwing myself on his mercy;
but yet I felt it was the only thing to do--that I must bridge
this affair, if at cost of some reputation.
It was not to be. Here Doltaire, seeing that my words had indeed
affected my opponent, said: "A double retreat! He swore to give a
challenge to-night, and he cries off like a sheep from a porcupine;
his courage is so slack, he dares not move a step to his liberty.
It was a bet, a hazard. He was to drink glass for glass with any
and all of us, and fight sword for sword with any of us who gave
him cause. Having drunk his courage to death, he'd now browse at
the feet of those who give him chance to win his stake."
His words came slowly and bitingly, yet with an air of damnable
nonchalance. I looked round me. Every man present was full-sprung
with wine; and a distance away, a gentleman on either side of him,
stood the Intendant, smiling detestably, a keen, houndlike look
shooting out of his small round eyes.
I had had enough; I could bear no more. To be baited like a bear
by these Frenchmen--it was aloes in my teeth! I was not sorry then
that these words of Juste Duvarney's gave me no chance of escape
from fighting; though I would it had been any other man in the room
than he. It was on my tongue to say that if some gentleman would
take up his quarrel I should be glad to drive mine home, though
for reasons I cared not myself to fight Duvarney. But I did not,
for I knew that to carry that point farther might rouse a general
thought of Alixe, and I had no wish to make matters hard for her.
Everything in its own good time, and when I should be free! So,
without more ado, I said to him:
"Monsieur, the quarrel was of your choosing, not mine. There was no
need for strife between us, and you have more to lose than I: more
friends, more years of life, more hopes. I have avoided your bait,
as you call it, for your sake, not mine own. Now I take it, and you,
monsieur, show us what sort of fisherman you are."
All was arranged in a moment. As we turned to pass from the room
to the courtyard, I noted that Bigot was gone. When we came
outside, it was just one, as I could tell by a clock striking in a
chamber near. It was cold, and some of the company shivered as we
stepped upon the white, frosty stones. The late October air bit the
cheek, though now and then a warm, pungent current passed across
the courtyard--the breath from the people's burnt corn. Even yet
upon the sky was the reflection of the fire, and distant sounds of
singing, shouting, and carousal came to us from the Lower Town.
We stepped to a corner of the yard and took off our coats; swords
were handed us--both excellent, for we had had our choice of many.
It was partial moonlight, but there were flitting clouds. That we
should have light, however, pine torches had been brought, and
these were stuck in the wall. My back was to the outer wall of the
courtyard, and I saw the Intendant at a window of the palace looking
down at us. Doltaire stood a little apart from the other gentlemen
in the courtyard, yet where he could see Duvarney and myself at
advantage.
Before we engaged, I looked intently into my opponent's face, and
measured him carefully with my eye, that I might have his height
and figure explicit and exact; for I know how moonlight and fire
distort, how the eye may be deceived. I looked for every button; for
the spot in his lean, healthy body where I could disable him, spit
him, and yet not kill him--for this was the thing furthest from my
wishes, God knows. Now the deadly character of the event seemed to
impress him, for he was pale, and the liquor he had drunk had given
him dark hollows round the eyes, and a gray shining sweat was on his
cheek. But his eyes themselves were fiery and keen and there was
reckless daring in every turn of his body.
I was not long in finding his quality, for he came at me violently
from the start, and I had chance to know his strength and weakness
also. His hand was quick, his sight clear and sure, his knowledge
to a certain point most definite and practical, his mastery of the
sword delightful; but he had little imagination, he did not divine,
he was merely a brilliant performer, he did not conceive. I saw that
if I put him on the defensive I should have him at advantage, for he
had not that art of the true swordsman, the prescient quality which
foretells the opponents action and stands prepared. There I had him
at fatal advantage--could, I felt, give him last reward of insult
at my pleasure. Yet a lust of fighting got into me, and it was
difficult to hold myself in check at all, nor was it easy to meet
his breathless and adroit advances.
Then, too, remarks from the bystanders worked me up to a deep sort
of anger, and I could feel Doltaire looking at me with that still,
cold face of his, an ironical smile at his lips. Now and then, too,
a ribald jest came from some young roisterer near, and the fact
that I stood alone among sneering enemies wound me up to a point
where pride was more active than aught else. I began to press him a
little, and I pricked him once. Then a singular feeling possessed
me. I would bring this to an end when I had counted ten; I would
strike home when I said "ten."
So I began, and I was not aware then that I was counting aloud.
"One--two--three!" It was weird to the onlookers, for the yard grew
still, and you could hear nothing but maybe a shifting foot or a
hard breathing. "Four--five--six!" There was a tenseness in the air,
and Juste Duvarney, as if he felt a menace in the words, seemed to
lose all sense of wariness, and came at me lunging, lunging with
great swiftness and heat. I was incensed now, and he must take what
fortune might send; one can not guide one's sword to do the least
harm fighting as did we.
I had lost blood, and the game could go on no longer. "Eight!" I
pressed him sharply now. "Nine!" I was preparing for the trick
which would end the matter, when I slipped on the frosty stones,
now glazed with our tramping back and forth, and, trying to recover
myself, left my side open to his sword. It came home, though I
partly diverted it. I was forced to my knees, but there, mad,
unpardonable youth, he made another furious lunge at me. I threw
myself back, deftly avoided the lunge, and he came plump on my
upstretched sword, gave a long gasp, and sank down.
At that moment the doors of the courtyard opened, and men stepped
inside, one coming quickly forward before the rest. It was the
Governor, the Marquis de Vaudreuil. He spoke, but what he said I
knew not, for the stark upturned face of Juste Duvarney was there
before me, there was a great buzzing in my ears, and I fell back
into darkness.