NEWS FROM HOME.
Cazeneau had heard the guns, and had learned that the long-expected
frigate had arrived, together with a schooner that looked like a
prize. To him the matter afforded much gratification, since it
offered a quick and easy way of getting rid of Florian, and of making
the way easier towards the accomplishment of his own purposes. He did
not know that Florian had hurried aboard, nor, had he known, would he
have cared. For his own part he remained where he was, awaiting the
visit which the captain of the Vengeur would make, to report his
arrival. After more than two hours of waiting, it began to strike him
that the said captain was somewhat dilatory, and he began to meditate
a reprimand for such a neglect of his dignity.
All this time had been spent by Florian on board, where he had much
to say to De Brisset, and much to ask of him and also of Margot.
At length a boat came ashore. In the boat were Florian, De Brisset,
and Margot. On landing, these three went up to the citadel; and on
their way De Brisset was stopped by several of the officers, who were
old acquaintances, and were anxious to learn the latest news. Florian
also had much to tell them which he had just learned. While they were
talking, Margot hurried to the Residency, where she found Mimi, to
whom she gave information of a startling kind; so startling, indeed,
was it, that it acted like a powerful remedy, and roused Mimi from a
deep stupor of inconsolable grief up to life, and hope, and joy, and
strength.
The information which De Brisset gave the officers was of the same
startling kind, and Florian was able to corroborate it by a despatch
which he had received. The despatch was to the effect that he--the
Count de Florian--was hereby reinstated in his office as commandant
of Louisbourg, and conveyed to him the flattering intelligence that
his former administration was favorably regarded by the government,
who would reward him with some higher command. With this despatch
there came also to Florian, as commandant, a warrant to arrest
Cazeneau, the late commandant, on certain charges of fraud,
peculation, and malversation in office, under the late ministry. De
Brisset also had orders to bring Cazeneau back to France in the
Vengeur. These documents were shown to the officers, who were very
earnest in their congratulations to Florian.
There were also despatches to the Count de Montresor, the contents of
which were known to De Brisset, who also knew that he was now
laboring in the colonies as the missionary priest Pere Michel.
Florian at once took these to the prison where he was confined,
acquainted him with the change that had taken place, and set both him
and Claude free with his own hands. Then he presented the despatches.
Pere Michel, as we may still call him, tore open the despatch with a
trembling hand, and there read that, at last, after so many years,
the wrong done him had been remedied, as far as possible; that all
his dignities were restored, together with his estates. These last
had passed to other hands, but the strong arm of the government was
even now being put forth to reclaim them, so that they might be
rendered back to the deeply injured man to whom they rightly
belonged.
"There, my boy," said Pere Michel, as he showed it to his son, "all
is right at last; and now you can wear your name and dignity in the
face of the world, and not be ashamed."
"O, my father!" said Claude, in a voice which was broken with
emotion, "Heaven knows I never was ashamed. I believed your
innocence, and wept over your wrongs. I am glad now, not for myself,
but for you."
"Where is the Countess de Montresor?" said Pere Michel. "She should
not be kept in restraint any longer."
Cazeneau all this time sat in his apartment, awaiting the arrival of
the captain of the Vengeur and the despatches. The captain at length
appeared; but with him were others, the sight of whom awakened
strange sensations in his breast. For there was Florian, and with him
was Pere Michel; Claude was there also, and beyond he saw some
soldiers. The sight was to him most appalling, and something in the
face and bearing of De Brisset and Florian was more appalling still.
"Monsieur le Comte de Cazeneau," said Florian, "I have the honor to
present you with this commission, by which you will see that I am
reappointcd commandant of Louisbourg. I also have the honor to state
that I hold a warrant for your arrest, on certain charges specified
therein, and for sending you back to France for trial in the Vengeur,
on her return voyage."
Cazeneau listened to this with a pallid face.
"Impossible!" he faltered.
"It's quite true," said De Brisset; "I also have orders to the same
effect, which I have already shown to Monsieur le Commandant Florian.
There is no possibility of any mistake, or of any resistance. You
will therefore do well to submit."
Cazeneau had remained seated in the attitude which he had taken up,
when he expected to receive the respectful greeting of his
subordinate. The news was so sudden, and so appalling, that he
remained motionless. He sat staring, like one suddenly petrified. He
turned his eyes from one to another, but in all those faces he saw
nothing to reassure him. All were hostile except Pere Michel, who
alone looked at him without hate. The priest showed the same mild
serenity which had always distinguished him. He seemed like one who
had overcome the world, who had conquered worldly ambition and
worldly passion, and had passed beyond the reach of revenge.
Cazeneau saw this. He rose from his seat, and fell at the feet of
Pere Michel.
"Pardon," he faltered; "Comte de Montresor, do not pursue a fallen
man with your vengeance."
At this unexpected exhibition, all present looked with scorn. They
had known Cazeneau to be cruel and unscrupulous; they had not
suspected that he was cowardly as well. Pere Michel also preserved an
unchanged demeanor.
"You are mistaken, Cazeneau," he said. "I feel no desire for
vengeance. I seek none. Moreover, I have no influence or authority.
You must direct your prayers elsewhere."
Upon this the wretched man turned to Florian.
"Come, come," said Florian, impatiently. "This will never do. Rise,
monsieur. Remember that you are a Frenchman. Bear up like a man. For
my part, I can do nothing for you, and have to obey orders."
Cazeneau's break down was utter, and effectually destroyed all
sympathy. His present weakness was compared with his late
vindictiveness, and he who had just refused mercy to others could
hardly gain pity on himself. He only succeeded in utterly disgracing
himself, without inspiring a particle of commiseration. Still Florian
was not cruel, and contented himself with keeping his prisoner in a
room in the Residency, satisfied that there was no possibility of
escape. Some of the officers, however, were loud in their
condemnation of Florian's mildness, and asserted that the dungeon and
the chains, which had been inflicted by him on the Montresors, should
be his doom also. But Florian thought otherwise, and held him thus a
prisoner until the Vengeur returned. Then Cazeneau was sent back to
be tried and convicted. His life was spared; but he was cast down to
hopeless degradation and want, in which state his existence
ultimately terminated.
Before the scene with Cazeneau was over, Claude had gone away and
found his wife. Already Mimi's strength had begun to return, and her
new-born hope, and the rush of her great happiness, coming, as it
did, after so much misery and despair, served to restore her rapidly.
"I should have died if this had lasted one day more," said she.
"But now it is all over, Mimi, dearest," said Claude, "and you must
live for me. This moment repays me for all my sufferings."
"And for mine," sighed Mimi.
Margot saw that her mistress had for the present an attendant who was
more serviceable than herself, and now all her thoughts turned to
that faithful friend whom she had been compelled for the time to
leave, but whom she had not for one moment forgotten. She waited
patiently till she could get a chance to speak to Claude, and then
told him what he did not know yet--that Zac was still a prisoner. At
that intelligence, his own happiness did not allow him to delay to
serve his friend. He at once hurried forth to see De Brisset. To him
he explained Zac's position in such forcible language, that De
Brisset at once issued an order for the release of himself and his
schooner, without any conditions, and the recall of his seamen. To
make the act more complete, the order was committed to Margot, who
was sent in the ship's boat to the schooner.
On the arrival of this boat, Zac seemed quite indifferent to the
safety of the schooner, and only aware of the presence of Margot. He
held her hand, and stood looking at her with moistened eyes, until
after the seamen of the Vengeur had gone. Terry looked away; Jericho
vanished below, with vague plans about a great supper. Biler gazed
upon Louisbourg with a pensive eye and a half-eaten turnip.
"I knowed you'd be back, little un," said Zac; "I felt it; an', now
you've come, don't go away agin."
"O, but I haf to go to ze comtesse," said Margot; "zat ees--to-day--"
"Go back to the countess! Why, you ain't goin' to give me up--air
you?" said Zac, dolefully.
"O, no, not eef you don't want me to," said Margot. "But to-day I
moos go to ze comtesse, an' afterward you sall ask her, eef you want
me."
At this, which was spoken in a timid, hesitating way, Zac took her in
his arms, and gave her a tremendous smack, which Terry tried hard not
to hear.
"Wal," said he, "thar's Pere Michel, that's a Moosoo an' a Roman
Catholic; but he'll do."
"O, but you moos not talk of Pere Michel till you see ze comtesse,"
said Margot; "an' now I sall tank you to take me back to her, or send
me back by one of de men."
Zac did not send her back, but took her back to the shore himself.
Then the fortifications of Louisbourg--the dread and bugbear of all
New England--closed him in; but Zac noticed nothing of these. It was
only Margot whom he saw; and he took her to the citadel, to the
Residency. On his arrival, Claude came forth to greet him, with
beaming eyes and open arms. Pere Michel greeted him, also, with
affectionate cordiality. For the simple Yankee had won the priest's
heart, as well on account of his own virtues as for his son's sake.
He also took enough interest in him to note his dealings with Margot,
and to suggest to him, in a sly way, that, under the circumstances,
although Zac was a bigoted Protestant, a Roman Catholic priest could
do just as well as a Protestant parson. Whereupon Zac went off with a
broad grin, that lasted for weeks.
The postponement of Florian's departure caused some disappointment to
that worthy gentleman, which, however, was alleviated by the thought
that he had been able to benefit his injured friend, and bring a
villain to punishment; and also by the thought that his departure to
France would not be long delayed. To those friends he devoted
himself, and sought by every means in his power to make their
recollections of Louisbourg more pleasant than they had thus far
been. Claude, and his bride, and his father were honored guests at
the Residency, where they were urged to remain as long as they could
content themselves, and until they could decide about their future
movements.
For now, though the name of Montresor had been redeemed, and justice
had at last been done, it was not easy for them to decide about their
future movements. Pere Michel, after some thought, had at length made
up his mind, and had given Claude the benefit of his opinion and his
advice.
"I have made up my mind," said he. "I will never go back to France.
What can I do in France? As a French noble, I should be powerless; as
a priest, useless. France is corrupt to the heart's core. The
government is corrupt. The whole head is sick, the whole heart faint.
Ministry succeeds to ministry, not by means of ability, not from
patriotism or a public spirit, but simply through corrupt favoritism.
There are no statesmen in France. They are all courtiers. In that
court every man is ready to sell himself for money. There is no sense
of honor. At the head of all is the worst of all, the king himself,
who sets an example of sin and iniquity, which is followed by all the
nation. The peasantry are slaves, trodden in the dust, without hope
and without spirit. The nobles are obsequious time-servers and
place-hunters. The old sentiment of chivalry is dead. I will never go
to such a country. Here, in this land, where I have lived the best
part of my life, I intend to remain, to labor among these simple
Acadians, and these children of the forest, and to die among them.
"As for you, my son, France is no place for you. The proper place for
you, if you wish to lead a virtuous and honorable life, is among the
people who look upon you as one of themselves, with whom you have
been brought up. Your religion, my son, is different from mine; but
we worship the same God, believe in the same Bible, put our trust in
the same Saviour, and hope for the same heaven. What can France give
you that can be equal to what you have in New England? She can give
you simply honors, but with these the deadly poison of her own
corruption, and a future full of awful peril. But in New England you
have a virgin country. There all men are free. There you have no
nobility. There are no down-trodden peasants, but free farmers. Every
man has his own rights, and knows how to maintain them. You have been
brought up to be the free citizen of a free country. Enough. Why wish
to be a noble in a nation of slaves? Take your name of Montresor, if
you wish. It is yours now, and free from stain. Remember, also, if
you wish, the glory of your ancestors, and let that memory inspire
you to noble actions. But remain in New England, and cast in your lot
with the citizens of your own free, adopted land."
Such were the words of the priest, and Claude's training had been
such that they chimed in altogether with his own tastes. He did not
feel himself entirely capable of playing the part of a noble in such
a country as that France which his father described; of associating
with such a society, or of courting the favor of such a king.
Besides, his religion was the religion of his mother: and her fate
was a sufficient warning. And so it was that Claude resolved to give
up all thoughts of France, and return to the humble New England farm.
If from the wreck of the Montresor fortunes anything should be
restored, he felt that he could employ it better in his own home than
in the home of his fathers; while the estate of Laborde, which Mimi
would inherit, would double his own means, and give him new
resources.
This, then, was his final decision; and, though it caused much
surprise to Florian, he did not attempt to oppose it. Mimi raised no
objection. She had no ties in France; and wherever her husband might
be was welcome to her. And so Zac was informed that Claude would hire
his schooner once more, to convey himself and his wife back to
Boston, together with his father, who, at their urgent solicitation,
consented to pay them a visit.
But Zac had purposes of his own, which had to be accomplished before
setting forth on his return. He wished to secure the services of Pere
Michel, which services were readily offered; and Zac and Margot were
made one in the very chapel which had witnessed the marriage of
Claude and Mimi.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Lily and the Cross, by James De Mille