I knew it was Doltaire’s life or mine, and I shrank from desecrating
this holy place; but our bitter case would warrant this, and more. As I
came quickly through the hall, and round the corner where stood Gabord,
I saw a soldier talking with the Mother Superior.
“He is not dead?” I heard her say.
“No, holy Mother,” was the answer, “but sorely wounded. He was testing
the fire-organs for the rafts, and one exploded too soon.”
At that moment the Mother turned to me, and seemed startled by my look.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“He would carry her off,” I replied.
“He shall never do so,” was her quick answer. “Her father, the good
Seigneur, has been wounded, and she must go to him.”
“I will take her,” said I at once, and I moved to open the door. At that
moment I caught Gabord’s eye. There I read what caused me to pause. If
I declared myself now, Gabord’s life would pay for his friendship to
me--even if I killed Doltaire; for the matter would be open to all then
just the same. That I could not do, for the man had done me kindnesses
dangerous to himself. Besides, he was a true soldier, and disgrace
itself would be to him as bad as the drum-head court-martial. I made up
my mind to another course even as the perturbed “aho” which followed our
glance fell from his puffing lips.
“But no, holy Mother,” said I, and I whispered in her ear. She opened
the door and went in, leaving it ajar. I could hear only a confused
murmur of voices, through which ran twice, “No, no, monsieur,” in
Alixe’s soft, clear voice. I could scarcely restrain myself, and I am
sure I should have gone in, in spite of all, had it not been for Gabord,
who withstood me.
He was right, and as I turned away I heard Alixe cry, “My father, my
poor father!”
Then came Doltaire’s voice, cold and angry: “Good Mother, this is a
trick.”
“Your Excellency should be a better judge of trickery,” she replied
quietly. “Will not your Excellency leave an unhappy lady to her trouble
and the Church’s care?”
“If the Seigneur is hurt, I will take mademoiselle to him,” was his
instant reply.
“It may not be, your Excellency,” she said. “I will furnish her with
other escort.”
“And I, as Governor of this province, as commander-in-chief of the army,
say that only with my escort shall the lady reach her father.”
At this Alixe spoke: “Dear Mere St. George, do not fear for me; God will
protect me--”
“And I also, mademoiselle, with my life,” interposed Doltaire.
“God will protect me,” Alixe repeated; “I have no fear.”
“I will send two of our Sisters with mademoiselle to nurse the poor
Seigneur,” said Mere St. George.
I am sure Doltaire saw the move. “A great kindness, holy Mother,” he
said politely, “and I will see they are well cared for. We will set
forth at once. The Seigneur shall be brought to the Intendance, and he
and his daughter shall have quarters there.”
He stepped towards the door where we were. I fell back into position
as he came. “Gabord,” said he, “send your trusted fellow here to the
General’s camp, and have him fetch to the Intendance the Seigneur
Duvarney, who has been wounded. Alive or dead, he must be brought,” he
added in a lower voice.
Then he turned back into the room. As he did so, Gabord looked at me
inquiringly.
“If you go, you put your neck into the gin,” said he; “some one in camp
will know you.”
“I will not leave my wife,” I answered in a whisper. Thus were all plans
altered on the instant. Gabord went to the outer door and called another
soldier, to whom he gave this commission.
A few moments afterwards, Alixe, Doltaire, and the Sisters of Mercy
were at the door ready to start. Doltaire turned and bowed with a
well-assumed reverence to the Mother Superior. “To-night’s affairs here
are sacred to ourselves, Mere St. George,” he said.
She bowed, but made no reply. Alixe turned and kissed her hand. But as
we stepped forth, the Mother said suddenly, pointing to me, “Let the
soldier come back in an hour, and mademoiselle’s luggage shall go to
her, your Excellency.”
Doltaire nodded, glancing at me. “Surely he shall attend you, Mere St.
George,” he said, and then stepped on with Alixe, Gabord and the other
soldier ahead, the two Sisters behind, and myself beside these. Going
quietly through the disordered Upper Town, we came down Palace Street to
the Intendance. Here Doltaire had kept his quarters despite his growing
quarrel with Bigot. As we entered he inquired of the servant where
Bigot was, and was told he was gone to the Chateau St. Louis. Doltaire
shrugged a shoulder and smiled--he knew that Bigot had had news of his
deposition through the Governor. He gave orders for rooms to be prepared
for the Seigneur and for the Sisters; mademoiselle meanwhile to be taken
to hers, which had, it appeared, been made ready. Then I heard him
ask in an undertone if the bishop had come, and he was answered that
Monseigneur was at Charlesbourg, and could not be expected till the
morning. I was in a most dangerous position, for, though I had escaped
notice, any moment might betray me; Doltaire himself might see through
my disguise.
We all accompanied Alixe to the door of her apartments, and there
Doltaire with courtesy took leave of her, saying that he would return in
a little time to see if she was comfortable, and to bring her any fresh
news of her father. The Sisters were given apartments next her own, and
they entered her room with her, at her own request.
When the door closed, Doltaire turned to Gabord, and said, “You shall
come with me to bear letters to General Montcalm, and you shall send one
of these fellows also for me to General Bougainville at Cap Rouge.” Then
he spoke directly to me, and said, “You shall guard this passage till
morning. No one but myself may pass into this room or out of it, save
the Sisters of Mercy, on pain of death.”