Recovering, I found myself lying on a couch, in a large, well-lighted
room hung about with pictures and adorned with trophies of the hunt.
A wide window faced the foot of the bed where I lay, and through it I
could see--though the light hurt my eyes greatly--the Levis shore, on
the opposite side of the St. Lawrence. I lay and thought, trying to
discover where I was. It came to me at last that I was in a room of the
Chateau St. Louis. Presently I heard breathing near me, and, looking
over, I saw a soldier sitting just inside the door.
Then from another corner of the room came a surgeon with some cordial
in a tumbler, and, handing it to me, he bade me drink. He felt my pulse;
then stopped and put his ear to my chest, and listened long.
“Is there great danger?” asked I.
“The trouble would pass,” said he, “if you were stronger. Your life is
worth fighting for, but it will be a struggle. That dungeon was slow
poison. You must have a barber,” added he; “you are a ghost like this.”
I put my hand up, and I found my hair and beard were very long and
almost white. Held against the light, my hands seemed transparent. “What
means my coming here?” asked I.
He shook his head. “I am but a surgeon,” he answered shortly, meanwhile
writing with a flourish on a piece of paper. When he had finished, he
handed the paper to the soldier, with an order. Then he turned to go,
politely bowing to me, but turned again and said, “I would not, were
I you, trouble to plan escape these months yet. This is a comfortable
prison, but it is easier coming in than going out. Your mind and body
need quiet. You have, we know, a taste for adventure”--he smiled--“but
is it wise to fight a burning powder magazine?”
“Thank you, monsieur,” said I, “I am myself laying the fuse to that
magazine. It fights for me by-and-bye.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Drink,” said he, with a professional air which
almost set me laughing, “good milk and brandy, and think of nothing but
that you are a lucky man to have this sort of prison.”
He bustled out in an important way, shaking his head and talking to
himself. Tapping the chest of a bulky soldier who stood outside, he
said brusquely, “Too fat, too fat; you’ll come to apoplexy. Go fight the
English, lazy ruffian!”
The soldier gave a grunt, made a mocking gesture, and the door closed on
me and my attendant. This fellow would not speak at all, and I did not
urge him, but lay and watched the day decline and night come down. I was
taken to a small alcove which adjoined the room, where I slept soundly.
Early the next morning I waked, and there was Voban sitting just outside
the alcove, looking at me. I sat up in bed and spoke to him, and he
greeted me in an absent sort of way. He was changed as much as I; he
moved as one in a dream; yet there was the ceaseless activity of the
eye, the swift, stealthy motion of the hand. He began to attend me, and
I questioned him; but he said he had orders from mademoiselle that he
was to tell nothing--that she, as soon as she could, would visit me.
I felt at once a new spring of life. I gave him the letter I had
written, and bade him deliver it, which he promised to do; for though
there was much in it not vital now, it was a record of my thoughts and
feelings, and she would be glad of it, I knew. I pressed Voban’s hand
in leaving, and he looked at me as if he would say something; but
immediately he was abstracted, and left me like one forgetful of the
world.
About three hours after this, as I lay upon the couch in the large room,
clean and well shaven, the door opened, and some one entered, saying to
my guard, “You will remain outside. I have the Governor’s order.”
I knew the voice; an instant, and I saw the face shining with
expectancy, the eyes eager, yet timid, a small white hand pressed to a
pulsing breast--my one true friend, the jailer of my heart.
For a moment she was all trembling and excited, her hand softly
clutching at my shoulder, tears dripping from her eyes and falling on my
cheek, as hers lay pressed to mine; but presently she grew calm, and her
face was lifted with a smile, and, brushing back some flying locks of
hair, she said in a tone most quaint and touching too, “Poor gentleman!
poor English prisoner! poor hidden lover! I ought not, I ought not,” she
added, “show my feelings thus, nor excite you so.” My hand was trembling
on hers, for in truth I was very weak. “It was my purpose,” she
continued, “to come most quietly to you; but there are times when one
must cry out, or the heart will burst.”
I spoke then as a man may who has been delivered from bondage into the
arms of love. She became very quiet, looking at me in her grave, sweet
way, her deep eyes shining with a sincerity.
“Honest, honest eyes,” said I--“eyes that never deceive, and never were
deceived.”
“All this in spite of what you do not know,” she answered. For an
instant a look elfish and childlike came into her eyes, and she drew
back from me, stood in the middle of the floor, and caught her skirts in
her fingers.
“See,” she said, “is there no deceit here?”
Then she began to dance softly, her feet seeming hardly to touch the
ground, her body swaying like a tall flower in the wind, her face
all light and fire. I was charmed, fascinated. I felt my sleepy blood
stirring to the delicate rise and fall of her bosom, the light of her
eyes flashing a dozen colours. There was scarce a sound her steps could
not be heard across the room.
All at once she broke off from this, and stood still.
“Did my eyes seem all honest then?” she asked, with a strange, wistful
expression. Then she came to the couch where I was.
“Robert,” said she, “can you, do you trust me, even when you see me at
such witchery?”
“I trust you always,” answered I. “Such witcheries are no evils that I
can see.”
She put her finger upon my lips, with a kind of bashfulness. “Hush, till
I tell you where and when I danced like that, and then, and then--”
She settled down in a low chair. “I have at least an hour,” she
continued. “The Governor is busy with my father and General Montcalm,
and they will not be free for a long time. For your soldiers, I have
been bribing them to my service these weeks past, and they are safe
enough for to-day. Now I will tell you of that dancing.
“One night last autumn there was a grand dinner at the Intendance. Such
gentlemen as my father were not asked; only the roisterers and hard
drinkers, and gambling friends of the Intendant. You would know the sort
of upspring it would be. Well, I was sitting in my window, looking down
into the garden; for the moon was shining. Presently I saw a man appear
below, glance up towards me, and beckon. It was Voban. I hurried down to
him, and he told me that there had been a wild carousing at the palace,
and that ten gentlemen had determined, for a wicked sport, to mask
themselves, go to the citadel at midnight, fetch you forth, and make you
run the gauntlet in the yard of the Intendance, and afterwards set you
fighting for your life with another prisoner, a common criminal. To
this, Bigot, heated with wine, made no objection. Monsieur Doltaire
was not present; he had, it was said, taken a secret journey into the
English country. The Governor was in Montreal, where he had gone to
discuss matters of war with the Council.
“There was but one thing to do--get word to General Montcalm. He was
staying at the moment with the Seigneur Pipon at his manor by the
Montmorenci Falls. He must needs be sought there: he would never allow
this shameless thing. So I bade Voban go thither at once, getting a
horse from any quarter, and to ride as if for his life. He promised, and
left me, and I returned to my room to think. Voban had told me that his
news came from Bigot’s valet, who is his close friend. This I knew, and
I knew the valet too, for I had seen something of him when my brother
lay wounded at the palace. Under the best circumstances General Montcalm
could not arrive within two hours. Meanwhile, these miserable men might
go on their dreadful expedition. Something must be done to gain time.
I racked my brain for minutes, till the blood pounded at my temples.
Presently a plan came to me.
“There is in Quebec one Madame Jamond, a great Parisian dancer, who,
for reasons which none knows save perhaps Monsieur Doltaire, has been
banished from France. Since she came to Canada, some nine months ago,
she has lived most quietly and religiously, though many trials have been
made to bring her talents into service; and the Intendant has made many
efforts have her dance in the palace for his guests. But she would not.
“Madame Lotbiniere had come to know Jamond, and she arranged, after
much persuasion, for lessons in dancing to be given to Lucy, myself, and
Georgette. To me the dancing was a keen delight, a passion. As I danced
I saw and felt a thousand things, I can not tell you how. Now my feet
appeared light as air, like thistledown, my body to float. I was as a
lost soul flying home, flocks of birds singing me to come with them into
a pleasant land.
“Then all that changed, and I was passing through a bitter land, with
harsh shadows and tall cold mountains. From clefts and hollows figures
flew out and caught at me with filmy hands. These melancholy things
pursued me as I flew, till my wings drooped, and I felt that I must drop
into the dull marsh far beneath, round which travelled a lonely mist.
“But this too passed, and I came through a land all fire, so that, as I
flew swiftly, my wings were scorched, and I was blinded often, and often
missed my way, and must change my course of flight. It was all scarlet,
all that land--scarlet sky and scarlet sun, and scarlet flowers, and the
rivers running red, and men and women in long red robes, with eyes of
flame, and voices that kept crying, ‘The world is mad, and all life is a
fever!’”
She paused for a moment, seeming to come out of a dream, and then she
laughed a little. “Will you not go on?” I asked gently.
“Sometimes, too,” she continued, “I fancied I was before a king and his
court, dancing for my life or for another’s. Oh, how I scanned the faces
of my judges, as they sat there watching me; some meanwhile throwing
crumbs to fluttering birds that whirled round me, some stroking the ears
of hounds that gaped at me, while the king’s fool at first made mock at
me, and the face of a man behind the king’s chair smiled like Satan--or
Monsieur Doltaire! Ah, Robert, I know you think me fanciful and foolish,
as indeed I am; but you must bear with me.
“I danced constantly, practising hour upon hour with Jamond, who came
to be my good friend; and you shall hear from me some day her history--a
sad one indeed; a woman sinned against, not sinning. But these special
lessons went on secretly, for I was sure, if people knew how warmly I
followed this recreation, they would set it down to wilful desire to be
singular--or worse. It gave me new interest in lonely days. So the weeks
went on.
“Well, that wicked night I sent Voban to General Montcalm, and, as
I said, a thought came to me: I would find Jamond, beg her to mask
herself, go to the Intendance, and dance before the gentlemen there,
keeping them amused till the General came, as I was sure he would at
my suggestion, for he is a just man and a generous. All my people, even
Georgette, were abroad at a soiree, and would not be home till late. So
I sought Mathilde, and she hurried with me, my poor daft protector, to
Jamond’s, whose house is very near the bishop’s palace.
“We were at once admitted to Jamond, who was lying upon a couch.
I hurriedly told her what I wished her to do, what was at stake,
everything but that I loved you; laying my interest upon humanity and
to your having saved my father’s life. She looked troubled at once, then
took my face in her hands. ‘Dear child,’ she said, ‘I understand. You
have sorrow too young--too young.’ ‘But you will do this for me?’ I
cried. She shook her head sadly. ‘I can not. I am lame these two days,’
she answered. ‘I have had a sprain.’ I sank on the floor beside her,
sick and dazed. She put her hand pitifully on my head, then lifted up
my chin. Looking into her eyes, I read a thought there, and I got to my
feet with a spring. ‘I myself will go,’ said I; ‘I will dance there till
the General comes.’ She put out her hand in protest. ‘You must not,’ she
urged. ‘Think: you may be discovered, and then the ruin that must come!’
“‘I shall put my trust in God,’ said I. ‘I have no fear. I will do this
thing.’ She caught me to her breast. ‘Then God be with you, child,’ was
her answer; ‘you shall do it.’ In ten minutes I was dressed in a gown
of hers, which last had been worn when she danced before King Louis. It
fitted me well, and with a wig the colour of her hair, brought quickly
from her boxes, and use of paints which actors use, I was transformed.
Indeed, I could scarce recognize myself without the mask, and with it on
my mother would not have known me. ‘I will go with you,’ she said to me,
and she hurriedly put on an old woman’s wig and a long cloak, quickly
lined her face, and we were ready. She walked lame, and must use a
stick, and we issued forth towards the Intendance, Mathilde remaining
behind.
“When we got to the palace, and were admitted, I asked for the
Intendant’s valet, and we stood waiting in the cold hall until he was
brought. ‘We come from Voban, the barber,’ I whispered to him, for there
were servants near; and he led us at once to his private room. He did
not recognize me, but looked at us with sidelong curiosity. ‘I am,’ said
I, throwing back my cloak, ‘a dancer, and I have come to dance before
the Intendant and his guests.’ ‘His Excellency does not expect you?’
he asked. ‘His Excellency has many times asked Madame Jamond to dance
before him,’ I replied. He was at once all complaisance, but his
face was troubled. ‘You come from Monsieur Voban?’ he inquired. ‘From
Monsieur Voban,’ answered I. ‘He has gone to General Montcalm.’ His face
fell, and a kind of fear passed over it. ‘There is no peril to any one
save the English gentleman,’ I urged. A light dawned on him. ‘You dance
until the General comes?’ he asked, pleased at his own penetration. ‘You
will take me at once to the dining-hall,’ said I, nodding. ‘They are
in the Chambre de la Joie,’ he rejoined. ‘Then the Chambre de la Joie,’
said I; and he led the way. When we came near the chamber, I said to
him, ‘You will tell the Intendant that a lady of some gifts in dancing
would entertain his guests; but she must come and go without exchange of
individual courtesies, at her will.
“He opened the door of the chamber, and we followed him; for there was
just inside a large oak screen, and from its shadow we could see the
room and all therein. At the first glance I shrank back, for, apart from
the noise and the clattering of tongues, such a riot of carousal I have
never seen. I was shocked to note gentlemen whom I had met in society,
with the show of decorum about them, loosed now from all restraint, and
swaggering like woodsmen at a fair. I felt a sudden fear, and drew back
sick; but that was for an instant, for even as the valet came to the
Intendant’s chair a dozen or more men, who were sitting near together in
noisy yet half-secret conference, rose to their feet, each with a mask
in his hand, and started towards the door. I felt my blood fly back
and forth in my heart with great violence, and I leaned against the oak
screen for support. ‘Courage,’ said the voice of Jamond in my ear, and I
ruled myself to quietness.
“Just then the Intendant’s voice stopped the men in their movement
towards the great entrance door, and drew the attention of the whole
company. ‘Messieurs,’ said he, ‘a lady has come to dance for us. She
makes conditions which must be respected. She must be let come and
go without individual courtesies. Messieurs,’ he added, ‘I grant her
request in your name and my own.’
“There was a murmur of ‘Jamond! Jamond!’ and every man stood looking
towards the great entrance door. The Intendant, however, was gazing
towards the door where I was, and I saw he was about to come, as if to
welcome me. Welcome from Francois Bigot to a dancing-woman! I slipped
off the cloak, looked at Jamond, who murmured once again, ‘Courage,’ and
then I stepped out swiftly, and made for a low, large dais at one side
of the room. I was so nervous that I knew not how I went. The faces and
forms of the company were blurred before me, and the lights shook and
multiplied distractedly. The room shone brilliantly, yet just under the
great canopy, over the dais; there were shadows, and they seemed to me,
as I stepped under the red velvet, a relief, a sort of hiding-place from
innumerable candles and hot unnatural eyes.
“Once there I was changed. I did not think of the applause that greeted
me, the murmurs of surprise, approbation, questioning, rising round me.
Suddenly, as I paused and faced them all, nervousness passed out of me,
and I saw nothing--nothing but a sort of far-off picture. My mind
was caught away into that world which I had created for myself when
I danced, and these rude gentlemen were but visions. All sense of
indignity passed from me. I was only a woman fighting for a life and for
her own and her another’s happiness.
“As I danced I did not know how time passed--only that I must keep those
men where they were till General Montcalm came. After a while, when the
first dazed feeling had passed, I could see their faces plainly through
my mask, and I knew that I could hold them; for they ceased to lift
their glasses, and stood watching me, sometimes so silent that I could
hear their breathing only, sometimes making a great applause, which
passed into silence again quickly. Once, as I wheeled, I caught the
eyes of Jamond watching me closely. The Intendant never stirred from
his seat, and scarcely moved, but kept his eyes fixed on me. Nor did he
applaud. There was something painful in his immovability.
“I saw it all as in a dream, yet I did see it, and I was resolute to
triumph over the wicked designs of base and abandoned men. I feared that
my knowledge and power to hold them might stop before help came. Once,
in a slight pause, when a great noise of their hands and a rattling of
scabbards on the table gave me a short respite, some one--Captain Lancy,
I think--snatched up a glass, and called on all to drink my health.
“‘Jamond! Jamond!’ was the cry, and they drank; the Intendant himself
standing up, and touching the glass to his lips, then sitting down
again, silent and immovable as before. One gentleman, a nephew of the
Chevalier de la Darante, came swaying towards me with a glass of wine,
begging me in a flippant courtesy to drink; but I waved him back, and
the Intendant said most curtly, ‘Monsieur de la Darante will remember my
injunction.’
“Again I danced, and I can not tell you with what anxiety and
desperation--for there must be an end to it before long, and your peril,
Robert, come again, unless these rough fellows changed their minds.
Moment after moment went, and though I had danced beyond reasonable
limits, I still seemed to get new strength, as I have heard men say, in
fighting, they ‘come to their second wind.’ At last, at the end of the
most famous step that Jamond had taught me, I stood still for a moment
to renewed applause; and I must have wound these men up to excitement
beyond all sense, for they would not be dissuaded, but swarmed towards
the dais where I was, and some called for me to remove my mask.
“Then the Intendant came down among them, bidding them stand back, and
himself stepped towards me. I felt affrighted, for I liked not the look
in his eyes, and so, without a word, I stepped down from the dais--I did
not dare to speak, lest they should recognize my voice--and made for the
door with as much dignity as I might. But the Intendant came to me with
a mannered courtesy, and said in my ear, ‘Madame, you have won all our
hearts; I would you might accept some hospitality--a glass of wine, a
wing of partridge, in a room where none shall disturb you?’ I shuddered,
and passed on. ‘Nay, nay, madame, not even myself with you, unless you
would have it otherwise,’ he added.
“Still I did not speak, but put out my hand in protest, and moved on
towards the screen, we two alone, for the others had fallen back with
whisperings and side-speeches. Oh, how I longed to take the mask from
my face and spurn them! The hand that I put out in protest the Intendant
caught within his own, and would have held it, but that I drew it back
with indignation, and kept on towards the screen. Then I realized that a
new-corner had seen the matter, and I stopped short, dumfounded--for it
was Monsieur Doltaire! He was standing beside the screen, just within
the room, and he sent at the Intendant and myself a keen, piercing
glance.
“Now he came forward quickly, for the Intendant also half stopped at
sight of him, and a malignant look shot from his eyes; hatred showed
in the profane word that was chopped off at his teeth. When Monsieur
Doltaire reached us, he said, his eyes resting on me with intense
scrutiny, ‘His Excellency will present me to his distinguished
entertainer?’ He seemed to read behind my mask. I knew he had discovered
me, and my heart stood still. But I raised my eyes and met his gaze
steadily. The worst had come. Well, I would face it now. I could endure
defeat with courage. He paused an instant, a strange look passed over
his face, his eyes got hard and very brilliant, and he continued (oh,
what suspense that was!): ‘Ah yes, I see--Jamond, the perfect and
wonderful Jamond, who set us all a-kneeling at Versailles. If Madame
will permit me?’ He made to take my hand. Here the Intendant interposed,
putting out his hand also. ‘I have promised to protect Madame from
individual courtesy while here,’ he said. Monsieur Doltaire looked
at him keenly. ‘Then your Excellency must build stone walls about
yourself,’ he rejoined, with cold emphasis. ‘Sometimes great men are
foolish. To-night your Excellency would have let’--here he raised his
voice so that all could hear--‘your Excellency would have let a dozen
cowardly gentlemen drag a dying prisoner from his prison, forcing back
his Majesty’s officers at the dungeon doors, and, after baiting, have
matched him against a common criminal. That was unseemly in a great
man and a King’s chief officer, the trick of a low law-breaker. Your
Excellency promised a lady to protect her from individual courtesy, if
she gave pleasure--a pleasure beyond price--to you and your guests, and
you would have broken your word without remorse. General Montcalm has
sent a company of men to set your Excellency right in one direction, and
I am come to set you right in the other.’
“The Intendant was white with rage. He muttered something between his
teeth, then said aloud, ‘Presently we will talk more of this, monsieur.
You measure strength with Francois Bigot: we will see which proves the
stronger in the end.’ ‘In the end the unjust steward kneels for mercy
to his master,’ was Monsieur Doltaire’s quiet answer; and then he made
a courteous gesture towards the door, and I went to it with him slowly,
wondering what the end would be. Once at the other side of the screen,
he peered into Jamond’s face for an instant, then he gave a low whistle.
‘You have an apt pupil, Jamond, one who might be your rival one day,’
said he. Still there was a puzzled look on his face, which did not leave
it till he saw Jamond walking. ‘Ah yes,’ he added, ‘I see now. You are
lame. This was a desperate yet successful expedient.’
“He did not speak to me, but led the way to where, at the great door,
was the Intendant’s valet standing with my cloak. Taking it from him, he
put it round my shoulders. ‘The sleigh by which I came is at the door,’
he said, ‘and I will take you home.’ I knew not what to do, for I feared
some desperate act on his part to possess me. I determined that I would
not leave Jamond, in any case, and I felt for a weapon which I had
hidden in my dress. We had not, however, gone a half dozen paces in the
entrance hall when there were quick steps behind, and four soldiers came
towards us, with an officer at their head--an officer whom I had seen in
the chamber, but did not recognize.
“‘Monsieur Doltaire,’ the officer said; and monsieur stopped. Then he
cried in surprise, ‘Legrand, you here!’ To this the officer replied by
handing monsieur a paper. Monsieur’s hand dropped to his sword, but in a
moment he gave a short, sharp laugh, and opened up the packet. ‘H’m,’
he said, ‘the Bastile! The Grande Marquise is fretful--eh, Legrand?
You will permit me some moments with these ladies?’ he added. ‘A moment
only,’ answered the officer. ‘In another room?’ monsieur again asked. ‘A
moment where you are, monsieur,’ was the reply. Making a polite gesture
for me to step aside, Monsieur Doltaire said, in a voice which was
perfectly controlled and courteous, though I could hear behind all a
deadly emphasis, ‘I know everything now. You have foiled me, blindfolded
me and all others, these three years past. You have intrigued against
the captains of intrigue, you have matched yourself against practised
astuteness. On one side, I resent being made a fool and tool of; on the
other, I am lost in admiration of your talent. But henceforth there is
no such thing as quarter between us. Your lover shall die, and I will
come again. This whim of the Grande Marquise will last but till I see
her; then I will return to you--forever. Your lover shall die, your
love’s labour for him shall be lost. I shall reap where I did not
sow--his harvest and my own. I am as ice to you, mademoiselle, at this
moment; I have murder in my heart. Yet warmth will come again. I admire
you so much that I will have you for my own, or die. You are the high
priestess of diplomacy; your brain is a statesman’s, your heart is
a vagrant; it goes covertly from the sweet meadows of France to the
marshes of England, a taste unworthy of you. You shall be redeemed from
that by Tinoir Doltaire. Now thank me for all I have done for you, and
let me say adieu.’ He stooped and kissed my hand. ‘I can not thank you
for what I myself achieved,’ I said. ‘We are, as in the past, to be at
war, you threaten, and I have no gratitude.’ ‘Well, well, adieu and
au revoir, sweetheart,’ he answered. ‘If I should go to the Bastile, I
shall have food for thought; and I am your hunter to the end. In this
good orchard I pick sweet fruit one day.’ His look fell on me in such a
way that shame and anger were at equal height in me. Then he bowed again
to me and to Jamond, and, with a sedate gesture, walked away with the
soldiers and the officer.
“You can guess what were my feelings. You were safe for the moment--that
was the great thing. The terror I had felt when I saw Monsieur Doltaire
in the Chambre de la Joie had passed, for I felt he would not betray me.
He is your foe, and he would kill you; but I was sure he would not put
me in danger while he was absent in France--if he expected to return--by
making public my love for you and my adventure at the palace. There is
something of the noble fighter in him, after all, though he is so evil a
man. A prisoner himself now, he would have no immediate means to hasten
your death. But I can never forget his searching, cruel look when he
recognized me! Of Jamond I was sure. Her own past had been full of
sorrow, and her life was now so secluded and religious that I could not
doubt her. Indeed, we have been blessed with good, true friends, Robert,
though they are not of those who are powerful, save in their loyalty.”
Alixe then told me that the officer Legrand had arrived from France but
two days before the eventful night of which I have just written,
armed with an order from the Grande Marquise for Doltaire’s arrest
and transportation. He had landed at Gaspe, and had come on to Quebec
overland. Arriving at the Intendance, he had awaited Doltaire’s coming.
Doltaire had stopped to visit General Montcalm at Montmorenci Falls,
on his way back from an expedition to the English country, and had thus
himself brought my protection and hurried to his own undoing. I was
thankful for his downfall, though I believed it was but for a moment.
I was curious to know how it chanced I was set free of my dungeon, and I
had the story from Alixe’s lips; but not till after I had urged her,
for she was sure her tale had wearied me, and she was eager to do little
offices of comfort about me; telling me gaily, while she shaded the
light, freshened my pillow, and gave me a cordial to drink, that she
would secretly convey me wines and preserves and jellies and such
kickshaws, that I should better get my strength.
“For you must know,” she said, “that though this gray hair and
transparency of flesh become you, making your eyes look like two jets of
flame and your face to have shadows most theatrical, a ruddy cheek and
a stout hand are more suited to a soldier. When you are young again in
body, these gray hairs shall render you distinguished.”
Then she sat down beside me, and clasped my hand, now looking out into
the clear light of afternoon to the farther shores of Levis, showing
green here and there from a sudden March rain, the boundless forests
beyond, and near us the ample St. Lawrence still covered with its vast
bridge of ice; anon into my face, while I gazed into those deeps of her
blue eyes that I had drowned my heart in. I loved to watch her, for with
me she was ever her own absolute self, free from all artifice, lost
in her perfect naturalness: a healthy, perfect soundness, a primitive
simplicity beneath the artifice of usual life. She had a beautiful hand,
long, warm, and firm, and the fingers, when they clasped, seemed to
possess and inclose your own--the tenderness of the maidenly, the
protectiveness of the maternal. She carried with her a wholesome
fragrance and beauty as of an orchard, and while she sat there I thought
of the engaging words:
“Thou art to me like a basket of summer fruit, and I seek thee in thy
cottage by the vineyard, fenced about with good commendable trees.”
Of my release she spoke thus: “Monsieur Doltaire is to be conveyed
overland to the coast en route for France, and he sent me by his valet a
small arrow studded with emeralds and pearls, and a skull all polished,
with a message that the arrow was for myself, and the skull for
another--remembrances of the past, and earnests of the future--truly an
insolent and wicked man. When he was gone I went to the Governor, and,
with great show of interest in many things pertaining to the government
(for he has ever been flattered by my attentions--me, poor little bee in
the buzzing hive!), came to the question of the English prisoner. I
told him it was I that prevented the disgrace to his good government by
sending to General Montcalm to ask for your protection.
“He was deeply impressed, and he opened out his vain heart in divers
ways. But I may not tell you of these--only what concerns yourself; the
rest belongs to his honour. When he was in his most pliable mood, I grew
deeply serious, and told him there was a danger which perhaps he did not
see. Here was this English prisoner, who, they said abroad in the town,
was dying. There was no doubt that the King would approve the sentence
of death, and if it were duly and with some display enforced, it would
but add to the Governor’s reputation in France. But should the prisoner
die in captivity, or should he go an invalid to the scaffold, there
would only be pity excited in the world for him. For his own honour,
it were better the Governor should hang a robust prisoner, who in full
blood should expiate his sins upon the scaffold. The advice went down
like wine; and when he knew not what to do, I urged your being brought
here, put under guard, and fed and nourished for your end. And so it
was.
“The Governor’s counsellor in the matter will remain a secret, for
by now he will be sure that he himself had the sparkling inspiration.
There, dear Robert, is the present climax to many months of suspense and
persecution, the like of which I hope I may never see again. Some time
I will tell you all: those meetings with Monsieur Doltaire, his designs
and approaches, his pleadings and veiled threats, his numberless small
seductions of words, manners, and deeds, his singular changes of mood,
when I was uncertain what would happen next; the part I had to play to
know all that was going on in the Chateau St. Louis, in the Intendance,
and with General Montcalm; the difficulties with my own people; the
despair of my poor father, who does not know that it is I who have
kept him from trouble by my influence with the Governor. For since the
Governor and the Intendant are reconciled, he takes sides with General
Montcalm, the one sound gentleman in office in this poor country--alas!”
Soon afterwards we parted. As she passed out she told me I might at any
hour expect a visit from the Governor.