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1 2 3

32X

BEl
SO,

j\L Frdnrois Hiijot, the hitvudnnt.

)

HE SEATS OF
THE MIGHTY

BEING THE MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN ROBERT MORAY,
SOMET1MI-: AN OFFICER IN THE VIRGINIA REGI-
MENT, AND AFTERWARDS OF AMHERST's REGIMENT

GILBERT PARKER

AUTHOR OF I'lERRE AND HIS PEOPLE

WHEN VALMONDCAME TO PONTIAG

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

THE TRESPASSER

ETC

iL o JL o f\4

NEW YORK . . . D. APPLETON
AND COMPANY.. MDCCCXCVIl

'"".SKc^^uV^^r""-

/^ ^ ^ V <^ /'
/ ^ ^/

166933

By d. appleton and company.

do t\)e XHcmoru oi

bee

Jol

Cor

ada

the

to I

tiqu

Mr.

SUgc

Fair

tains

map;

sel, I

torie

and

are i

rrwEFxVTOlir NOTE.

This tale would never have been written had it not
been for the kindness of my distinguished friend Dr.
John George Bourinot, C. M. (1., of Ottawa, wliose studies
in parliamentary procedure, the English and Canadian
Constitutions, and the history and development of Can-
ada have been of singular benefit to the Dominion and to
the Empire. Through Dr. Bourinot's good offices I came
to know Mr. James Lemoine, of Quebec, the gifted an-
tiquarian, and President of the Koyal Society of Canada.
Mr. Lemoine placed in my hands certain historical facts
suggestive of romance. Subsequently, Mr. George ^I.
Fairchild, Jr., of Cap Ilouge, Quebec, whose library con-
tains a valuable collection of antifjue Canadian books,
maps, and prints, gave me generous assistance and coun-
sel, allowing me " the run" of all his cluirts, prints, his-
tories, and memoirs. Many of these jjrints, and a rare
and authentic map of Wolfe's operations against Quebec

are now reproduced in this novel, and may be considered

vii

nil

THE SEATS OF THE MTCIITV.

accurate illustrations of places, i)o«)|»l(', and ovonts. By
the insertion of tlicso fiiitliful historical oieincnts it is
hoped to give more vividness to the atmosphere of the
time, and to stren^^^then the verisimilitude of a })iece of
fiction which is not. 1 believe, out of harniony with fact.

OiLHKUT Pai{ki;u.

CONTENTS.

cnXPTER

— A.v i:s( oRT TO

II. — Tin: MASTKIl OF
III.— TlIK WAliKIl AN
IV.— Till: RAT IS Til

V. — Tin; DKVMK oi-

VI. — IMoKAY Ti:i,Ls T

VII. — "QroTii littm:
VIII. — As VAIN- AS An

IX. — A LITTLK CONCI

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX

XX.

XXI

XXII.

RANTK

— An offickr of

— Tin: COMING oi-

— "TlIF POINT FN
—"A LITTLF HO A
— AlKiANI) COURX

—In ti

IF CIlAMni

— Be SAINT OR n
— Through Tin:
— The stffp pat
A Dansfusf a
— Upon the ram
— La Jonoleuse
— The Lord of

PAnK

THE CITADEL

'.]

THE King's magazine .

1(1

D THE SWORD .

E TKAP . . . .

Tin: DORMorsF

•HE STOKV OF HIS LIFE

, G A It A INF " . . .

ISALOM . . . .

ERNIN(! THE ClIEVALIER I

E LA

I)A-

• • • • t

MARINES .

103

' DOLTAIRE

111)

.VENOM ED TOO I"

i:}0

ST" ....

147

'AL ....

. ir,2

:r of toktckf .

. 180

HP ... .

. 1!)0

BARS OF Tin: CACiE .

. 202

■H OF CONQUEST .

. 212

ND THE BaSTILE

. 218

PARTS.

. 2:56

• • • t •

. 25;]

Kamaraska . .

. 2G2

TIIK SKATS OP THK MIGHTY.

(IIAPTKn

XXIII.— With Wolii; at .Montm(»ki;n(.i

XXIV.— TlIK 8Ar|ti;i) ColNTKUSKiX

XXV.— In Tin; ('ATiiKDUAr

XXVI. — Tin; si:( hi;t ok tiii; tai-kstuy
XXVI I. — A sii»i;-\viM) (»K i{i:vi:n<ih
XXVIII.— "To (iiKAT Tin: I)i;vil vkt" .
XXIX.— "Mastkii 1)i;vii/' Doi/rAiiiK .
^■•^'\'.— " Wiii:ki; all Tin: lovi:rs can iiiuk" .

' AOB

277
311

y:)3

3G7
373

LIST OF ILLL'STUATKJNS.

M. Friin(;ois Bigot, the Ititcndaiit

Till' ChriU'iiu Siiiiil-r.diiis

Tlic liitcndaiit's I'uluct^

(Iciionil Moiitc'jiliii

The CitjuU'l .

Tlio Mimor-noiisc at Ucaupoil

(iciicral Wolfo

Ailiiiiral Sauiulci's

I'laii of the Siego uf (^iuIjcc

Th.'Old r.lltos of QlK'lu'C! .

Tilt' Calhc'dral, vvilli Market in llu." ivar
Tliu Convent of the Ursuliucs .

rAciN(»

I'AiiK

Front i

sjiifvr

SI
l!»t
'J 7 1
2!IT
3:20

The Chuteau Saint-Louis, lC^'0-ia34.

pest

hmj

had

ruin

you \

still

upon

(jcner

to hn

Data

made

other.

moise

and h

So 1 1

writti

or dis

treatii

could

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

rUEL UDE.

To Sir Edward Seafoutii, Bart., of Sangley Hope in
Berbi/sJiire, and Scafortli llun^e in Hanover Square.

Dear Ned: You icill have them written, or I .shall be
pestered to nit/ fjrave ! Is that the voice of a friend of so
Jo)r/ standing? And yet it seems hut yesterday since we
had good hours in Virginia together, or met among the
rui)is of Quebec. My memoirs — these o,tiy wiU content
you? And to flatter or cajole me you tell me Mr. Pitt
still urges on the matter. In truth, ichen he touched first
upon this, I thought it hut the courtesy of a great and
generous man. But indeed I am proud that he is curious
to know more of my long captivity at Quebec, of Monsieur
Ddtaire and all his decdings with me, and the motions he
made to serve La Pompadour on one hand, and, on the
other, to tvin from me that most j^crfcct of ladies. Made-

moiselle Alixe Duvar

ney.

Our bright conquest of Quebec is now heroic memory,
end honour and fame and reward have been parcelled out.
So I shall but briefly, in these memoirs {ay, they shall he
written, and with a good hettrt), travel the trail of history,
or discourse upon campaigns and sieges, diploi/iacies a?id
treaties. I shall keep close to my own story ; for that, it
would seem, yourself a/id the illustrious minister of the

THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY.

Klnf) most icish to hear. Yet you will find ffiuri)ig in it
(jrcdt men like our fiaming hero Gencrtd Wolfe^ and aho
General Mojilcalni^who, I slitdl crer keep on saijinfi^mifjht
have lield Quebec afjainst us, had he not been balked by the
vain Governor, tliG Marquis dc Vaudreuil ; toy ether wit ft
such )iotorious men as the Jntendant Biyot, civil yovernor
of Xcw France, and such noble yentlemen as the Seiyneur
Duvarney, father of Alixe.

1 sJiall never vieiu ayain the citadel on those tall
heiyhts ?vhere J u'((s detained so barbarously, nor the yra-
cious Manor House at lieauport, sacred to me because of
her trho dwelt therein — how hmy ayo, how lonyl Of all
the pictures that flash before my mind lohen tliinkiny on
those times, one is most with tne: that of the fine yuest-
room in the Manor House, where I see inoviny the beniyn
maid whose life and deeds alone can make this story worth
telliny. And with one scene therein, and it the most mo-
mcnto}(s in all my days, 1 shall beyin my tale.

I bey you convey to Mr. Pitt my most obedient com-
2)lime)its, a)id say that I take his polite wish as my com-
mand.

With every token of my reyard, f am, dear Xcd, affec-

tionately your friend,

Robert Moray.

ig in it

ml also
I, might
I by the
er witti
over nor
k'igneur

ose tall
the fjra-
'a use of
Of all
I king on
e guest-
e benign
ry icorth
nost mo-

nt coni-
my com-

:d, affec-
liA Y.

AX ESCORT TO THE CITADEL.

WifEN" Monsieur Doltaire entered the salon, and, drop-
ping lazily into a chair beside Madame Duvarney and her
daughter, drawled out, "England's Braddock — fool and
general — has gone to heaven, Captain ^[oray, and your
})apers send you there also," I did not shift a jot, but
looked over at him gravely — for, God knows, I was startled
— and I said,

"The General is dead?"

I did not dare to ask. Is he defeated ? though from
Doltaire's look I was sure it was so ; and a sickness crept
through me, for at the moment that seemed the end of
our cause. But I made as if I had not heard his words
about my papers.

" Dead as a last year's courtier, shifted from the
scene," he replied ; " and having little now to do, we'll go
play with the rat in our trap."

I would not have dared look towards Alixe, standing
beside her mother then, for the song in my blood was
pitched too high, were it not that a little sound broke
from her. At that I glanced, and saw that her face was
still and quiet, but her eyes were shining anxiously, and
her whole body seemed listening. I dared not give my
glance meaning, though I wished to do so. She had served
nie much, had been a good friend to me, since I was brought
a hostage to Quebec from Fort Necessity. There, at that

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

little post on the Ohio, Franco throw down the gauntlet,
which gave us tho*grcat Seven Years' AVar. And though
it may be thought I speak rashly, the lever to spring that
trouble had been within my grasp. Had France sat still
while Austria and Prussia quarrelled that long fighting
had never been. The game of war luid lain with the
Grande ^larquiso — or La Pompadour, as she was called —
and later it may be seen how I, unwillingly, moved her to
set it going.

Ausweriu": Monsieur Doltaire I said stoutlv, "I am
sure our general made a good fight ; he had gallant men."

" Truly gallant," he returned — "your own Virginians
among others" (I bowed); "but he was a blunderer, as
wore yuii also, monsieur, or you had not sent him i)lans
of our forts and letters of such candour. They have gone
to Franco, my captain."

Madame Duvarney seemed to stiffen in her chair, for
what did this mean but that I was a spy? and the young
lady behind them now put her haiulkcrchief to her mouth
as if to stop a word. To nuike light of the charges
against mvself was the onlv thing, and vet I liad little
heart to do so. There was that between Monsieur Dol-
taire and myself — a matter I shall come to by and by —
whicli well might nuiko me apprehensive.

" My sketch and my gossip with my friends," said I,
"can have little interest in France."

" ]\[y faith, the Grande ^Marquise will find a relish for
them," he said pointedly at me. He, the natural son of
King Louis, had played the part between La Pompadour
and myself in the grave matter of which I spoke. " She
loves deciding knotty points of morality," ho added.

" She has had will aiul chance enough," said I boldly,
" but what point of morality is here ?"

" The most vital — to you," he rejoined, fiicking his
handkerchief a little, and drawling so that I could have

AN ESCORT TO THE CITADEL.

stopped liis moiitli with my buiul. " Shall ii hostage on
parole make sketches of u fort and send them to liis
friends, who in turn pass them on to a foolish general?"

'" When one party to an Article of War wilfully breaks
his sworn i)roniise, sliall the other be held to his?" I
asked quietly.

1 was glad that at this moment the Seigneur I)u-
varney entered, for I could feel the air now growing
colder about Madame his wife. He at least was a good
friend ; but as 1 glanced at him I saw his face was trou-
bled and his manner distant. He looked at Monsieur
Doltaire a moment steadily, stooped to his wife's hand,
and then oifered me his own without a word. This done,
lie went to where his daughter stood. Siie kissed him,
and, as she did so, whispered something in his ear, to
which he nodded assent. 1 knew afterwards that she had
asked him to keep me to dinner with them.

Presently turning to Monsieur Doltaire, he said in-
quiringly, " You have a squad of men outside my house,
DoltaiW? "

Doltaire nodded in a languid way, and answered, "An
escort — for Captain ^[oray — to the citadel."

I knew now, as he had said, that I was in the trap ;
that he had begun the long s])()rt which came near giving
me the white shroud of death, as it turned white the hair
upon my head ere I was thirty-two. Do I not know that
the indignities, the miseries I suffered, I owed mostly to
him, and that at the last he well-nigh robbed England of
her greatest pride, the taking of New France? — For
chance sometimes lets humble men like me balance tiie
scales of fate ; and I was humble enough in rank, if in
spirit always something above my place.

I was standing as he sp(^ke these words, and I turned
to him and said, " Monsieur, I am at your service."

" I have sometimes wished," he said instantly, and with

II 'I'

THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY.

i;i

a courteous if irouicjil gesture, " that you were in my
service — tluit is, the King's."

I bowed as to a coinpliineut, for I would not see the
insolence, and I retorted, " Would I could offer you a
company in my Virginia regiment ! "

"Delightful! delightful!" he rejoined. "I should
make as good a Briton as you a Frenchman, every wdiit."

I suppose he would have kept leading on to such silly
play, had I not turned to Madame Diivarney and said, " I
am most sorry that this misliap falls here ; but it is not
of my doing, and in colder comfort, ]\l;idanio, I shall re-
call the good hours spent in your home."

I think I said it with a general courtesy, yet, feeling
the eyes of the young lady on me, perhaps a little extra
warmth came into my voice, and worked upon Madame,
or it may be she was glad of my removal from contact
with her daughter ; but kindness showed in her face, and
she replied gently, " I am sure it is only for a few days
till we see you again."

Yet I think in her heart she knew my life was perilled :
those were rough and hasty times, when the axe or the
rope was the surest way to deal with troubles. Three
years before, at Fort Necessity, I had handed my sword
to my lieutenant, bidding him make healthy use of it,
and, travelling to Quebec on parole, had come in and out
of this house with great freedom. Yet since Alixe had
grown towards womanliood there had been marked change
in Madame's manner.

" The days, however few, will be too long until I tax
your courtesy again," I said. " I bid you adieu, Madame."

" Nay, not so," spoke up my host ; " not one step :
dinner is nearly served, and you must both dine with us.
Nay, but I insist," he added, as he saw me shake my
head. "Monsieur Doltaire will grant you this courtesy,
and me the great kindness. Eh, Doltaire?"

AX ESCORT TO THE CITADEL. 7

Doltairo rose, glancini^ from Miuliuno to hor (laiighter.
Miidiime was smiling, iis if begging liis consent; for,
prolligiitc tlioiigli lie was, his })osili()n, and, more than all,
his personal distinction, made him a welcome guest at
most liomes in Quebec. Alixe met his look without a
yes or no in her eyes — so young, yet having such control
and wisdom, as I liave liad reason beyond all men to
know. Something, however, 'u\ the tem})er of the scene
had filled her with a kind of glow, which added to her
beauty and gave her dignity. The spirit of her look
caught the admiration of this expatriated courtier, and 1
knew that a deeper cause than all our past conflicts — and
they were great — would now, or soon, set him fatally
against me.

" I shall be happy to wait Captain ^loray's i)leasure,"
he said presently, " and to serve my own by sitting at
your table. I was to have dined with the Intendant this
afternoon, but a messenger shall tell him duty stays me.
... If you will excuse me I " he added, going to the
door to find a man of his company, lie looked back for
an instant, as if it struck him I might seek escape, for
he believed in no man's truth ; but he only said, " I
may fetch my men to your kitchen, Duvarney V 'Tis raw
outside."

" Surely. I shall see they have some comfort," was
the reply.

Doltaire then left the room, and Duvarney came to
me. "This is a bad business, Morav," he said sadlv
" There is some mistake, is there not?"

I looked him fair in the face. " There is a mistake,"
I answered. " I am no spy, and I do not fear that I shall
lose my life, my honour, or my friends by olTensive acts of

mine.

" I believe you," he responded, " as 1 have believed
since you came, thongh there has been gabble of your

■<«l /* .-w

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

doinffs. I do not for^^ot vou l)Oiif]:ht niv life bank from
thoso wild Moliiiwlvs liv(3 yours ago. Vou have my hand
in trouble or out of it."

Upon my soul, I could liave fallen on his neck, for
tlie blow to our eause and the shadow on my own fate
opj)ressed me for the moment!

At this point the ladies left the room to make some
little toilette before dinner, and as they passed me the
sleeve of Alixe's dress touched mv arm. J cauirht her
lingers for an iustant, and to tliis day 1 can feel that
warm, rieh current of life coursing from linger-tips to
heart. She did not look at me at all, hut ])assed on after
her mother. Never till that momeut had there been any
open show of heart between u^. When I lirst came to
Quebec (I own it with shame) 1 was inclined to use her
youthful friendship for private and ])atriotic ends ; but
that soon passed, and then I wished her companionship
for true love of her. Also, I had been held back be-
cause when I first knew her she seemed but a child.
Yet how quickly and how wisely did she grow out of her
childhood I She had a playful wit, and her talents were
far beyond her years. It auuized me often to hear her
sum up a thing in some pregnant sentence which, when
you came to think, was the one word to be said. She had
such a deep look out of her blue eyes tlnit you were hard-
ly drawn from them to see the warm sweet colour of her
face, the fair broad forehead, the brown hair, the delicate
richness of her lips, which ever were full of humour and
of seriousness — both running together, as you may see a
laughing brook steal into the quiet of a river.

Duvarnev and I were thus alone for a moment, and
he straightway drojiped a hand upon my shoulder. " Let
me advise vou," he said, "be friendlv with Doltaire. lie
has great influence at the Court and elsewhere. He can
make your bed hard or soft at the citadel."

AX ESCORT TO THE CITADML.

t, and
" Let
lie
Le ctiu

I sniilcd at him, and rojilicd, " 1 sluiU sleep no less
sound because of Monsieur Doltaire."

" Von are hitter in your lr(»ui)le," said lie.

I made iiastc to answer, " Xo, no, my own troubles do
not woi,i;]i so heavy — but our (JeneraPs death ! "

" Vou are a i)atriot, mv friend," he added waruilv.
"I couhl well have been content with our success airainst
your En,!,disii army without this deep danger to your
person."

I put out my hand to him, but I did not si)eak, for
just tiien Doltaire entered. Jle was smiling at something
in his though.t

"The fortunes are with the Intendant always," said
ho. " Wiien things are at their worst, and the King's
storehouse, the dear La Friponne, is to bo ripped by our
rebel peasants like a sawdust doll, here comes this gay
news of our success on the Oiiio; and in that Braddock's
death the whining beggars will forget their empty bellies,
and bless where they meant to curse. What fools, to be
sure! They liad better loot La Friponne. Lord, how we
love fighting, we French ! Aiul His so much easier to
dance, or drink, or love." lie stretched out his shapely
legs as he sat musijig.

Duvarney shrugged a shoidder, smiling. " l»ut you,
Doltaire — there's no m.an out of I^ranco that fights more."

He lifted an eyebrow. " One must be in the fashion ;
besides, it does need some skill to fight, 'i'he others — to
dance, drink, love : blind men's games ! " lie smiled cyn-
ically into the distance.

I have never known a man who interested me so
much — never one so original, so varied, and so uncom-
mon in his nature. I marvelled at the i)ith and depth
of his observations ; for though I agreed not with him
once in ten times, I loved his great reflective cleverness
and his fine j)enetration — singular gifts in a man of

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

action. But action to him was a i)laytirno; he liad that
irresponsibility of tlio Court from whicii ho came, its
scornful endurance of defeat or misery, its llippant look
upon the world, its scoundrel view of women. 'J'lien ho
and Duvarney talked, and 1 sat thinkin;,'. Perhaps the
I)assion of a cause grows in you as you sulTer for it, and 1
liad suffered, and sulTered most by a hitter inaction. (Jov-
crnor Dinwiddie, Mr. Washin<(ton (alas that, as 1 write
the fragment chapters of my life, among the hills where
Montrose my ancestor fought, (Jeorge leads the colonists
against the realm of England I), and the rest were sulfer-
ing, but they were fighting too. Jirought to their knees
they could rise again to battle ; and I thought then, J[ow
more glorious to bo with my gentlemen in blue from Vir-
ginia, holding back death from tlie General, and at hist
falling myself, than to spend good years a hostage at Que-
bec, knowing that Canada was for our taking, yet doing
nothing to advance the hour!

In the thick of these thoughts I was not conscious of
what the two were saying, but at last I caught ^fadamo
Cournal's name; by which I guessed Monsieur Doltairo
was talking of lier amours, of whicli the chief and final was
with Bigot the Intendant to whom the King had given
all civil government, all j^ower over commerce and finance
in the country. Tlie rivalry between the Governor and
the Intendant was keen and vital at this time, though it
changed later, as I will sliow. At her name I looked up
and caught ]\Ionsieur Doltaire's eye.

He read my thoughts. " You have had blithe hours
here, monsieur," he said — " you know the way to probe
us ; but of all the ladies who could be most useful to you,
you left out the greatest. There you erred. I say it as a
friend, not as an oflicer, tliere you erred. From Madame
Cournal to Bigot, from Bigot to Vaudreuil the Governor,
from the Governor to France. But now "

AX RsroUT To TIIH citadf:!..

IIo pansoil, for .MiidaJiio Duvanu'y ami lior daughter
had conio, and wo all rose.

'['he ladies had hoard oiioii^h to know Doltairo's mean-
ing. "Hut now — Captain Moray tliiu's witii us," said
Madame Duvarney (jiiietly and meaningly.

" Vet I dine witii Mathime Cournal,"' rejoined Dol-
taire, smiling.

"One nuiy use more option with enemies and prison-
ers," she said keeiUy, and the shot struck home, in so
small a place it was not easy to draw lines close and line,
and it was in the power of the Jnteiulant, hacked hy his
confederates, to ruin almost any family in the province if
he chose; and that he chose at times 1 knew well, as did
my hostess. Yet she was a woman of courage ami nobility
of thought, and 1 knew well where her daughter got her
good llavour of mind.

I could see sometliing devilish in the smile at J)ol-
taire's lips, but his look was wandering between Alixe and
me, and he replied urbanely, "I have ambition yet — to
connive at captivity"; and then he gazed full and mean-
ingly at her.

I can see her now, her hand on the high back of a great
oak chair, the lace of her wdiite sleeve falling away, and
her soft arm showin^]:, her eves nx his without wavoriuij.
They did not drop, nor turn aside; they held straight on,
calm, stroui? — aiul understand ini(. liv that look I saw
she read him ; she, who had seen so little of the world,
felt what lie was, and met his invading interest firmly,
yet sadly; for I knew long after that a smother was at
her heart then, foreshadowings of dangers that would try
her as few women are tried, 'riuink God that good
women are born w'itli greater souls for trial than men ;
that given once an anchor for their hearts they hold until
the cables break.

When we were about to enter the dining-room, I saw,

TFIK SEATS OF TIIK MTfillTV.

to my joy, Mii<ljitiio iiujliiie towards Doltairo, and I know
that Alixo was for myself— tlioii;,di hvv motlicr wislunl it
little, I am sun^ As alio took my arm, her lin;,^'r-ti|ts
pliiriLjed softly into the velvet of my sleeve, ^'iviii;,' me a
thrill of eoiira;(e. I felt my spirits rise, and 1 set myself
to carry thin<,rs oil gaily, to have this last hour with her
clear of gloom, for it seemed easy to think that wo should
meet no more.

As wo passed into the dining-room, I said, as I had
said the lirst time I went to dinner in her father's house,
"Shall we bo llippant, or grave':'"

1 guessed that it would t(Mich her. She raised her eves
to mine and answered, " We are grave ; let us seem flippant."

In those days I had Ji store of spirits. 1 was si'ldom
dismiiyed, for life liad been such a rough-aiul-tuni))lo
game that I held to cheerfuliu'ss and humour as a hills-
man to his broadsword, knowing it the greatest of weapons
with a foe, and the very stone aiul mortar of friendshi]).
So wo were cheerful, touching lightly on events around us,
laughing at gossip of the doorways (1 in my ])oor French),
casting small stones at whatever drew our notice, not for-
getting a throw or two at Chateau Uigot, the Intendant's
country house at Charlesbourg live miles away, where
base plots wore hatched, reputations soiled, and all clean
things dishonoured. Jiut Alixe, the sweetest soul Fraiu^e
ever gave the world, could not know all 1 knew ; guessing
only at lieavy carousals, cards, song, and raillery, with far-
oil hints of feet smaller than lit in cavalrv boots danciii":
among the glasses on the table. 1 was never before so
charmed with her swift intelligence, for I liaveover lacked
great nimbleness of thought and power to make nice play
with the tongue.

" You have been three years with us," suddenly said
her father, ])assing me the wine. " How time has flown !
How much has happened ! "

AX ESroiiT TO TllK tITADKL.

l.T

lor-

illlt's

k'jiu

aiice

sing

far-

(Mllg

" Mudamo ('oiiriiar.s lnisl)antl lia^ math^ ihrco million
francs," said Doltairc, wiih dry in/ny and trntli.

Duvariu'y .slirnggcij a slionldrr, stilViiicd ; foi-, ohlitpio
as tlui Hiigguslion was, lie did imt caro lu luivu liis daugh-
ter hear it.

" And VaiidriMiil has sent to W-rsailli's hecs buzzing
of Jiigot and Company, " addled tiu- impish satirist.

Madame l)uvarnry resj)ond«Ml with a look of interest,
and the Seiirnenr's o\oa sti'adied to his plate. All at
onoo 1 divined that the Seigneur had knowji of the
(Jovernor's aetion, ami njay))o liad eonnselK'd with him,
siding against Iligot. If that wero so — as it proved to
bo — he was in a nest of scorpions; for who among them
would Sparc him : Marin, Cournal, Iiigand, the Intendant
himself? Sueh as ho wero thwarted right and left in
this career of knavery and pnltlie evils.

"And our people have turned beggai's; poor and
starved, thoy bog at the door of the King's storehouKf —
it is well called La Friponne," said Madamo Dnvarnov,
with some boat ; for she was over liberal to the poor, and
sho had seen manor after manor robbed, aiid peasant
farmers made to sell their corn for a song, to be sold to
them again at famine ])rices by La Friponno. Even now
Quebec was full of pilgrim poor begging against the hard
winter and execrating their spoilers.

Doltaire was too fond of diirc:in^' at the heart of
things not to admit she s})oke truth.

" La Pompadour ot La Friponno 1
Qu'cst quo cela, men |)ctit hoinnio?"

'• Les (It'ux torril)l('s, )ua vhCrc luignonno,
Mais, c'est cela —
La pompadour ot La friponne 1 "

He said this with cool drollery and point, in the })atois
of the native, so that ho set ns all laughing, in spite of
our mutual apprehensions.

THE SKATS OF TIIK MIGHTY.

Then he continued, " And the King has sent a chorus
to the play, with eyes for the preposterous make-believe,
and more, no purse to lill."

We all knew he meant himself, and we knew also that
so far as money went he spoke true ; tluit thougii hand-
in-glove with P)igot, he was poor sive for what he
made at the gaming-table and got from France. There
was tlie thing to have clinched me to him, had matters
been other than they were ; for all my life I have loathed
the sordid soul, and I would rather, in these my ripe years,
eat with a highwayman who takes his life in his hands
than with the civilian who robs his king and the king's
poor, and has no better trick than false accounts nor
better friend than the pettifogging knave. Doltaire had
no burning love for France, and little faith in anything;
for he was of those Versailles water-flies who recked
not if the world blackened to cinders when their lights
went out. As will be seen by and by, he had come here
to seek me and through me to serve the Grande Marquise.

The evening was well forward when Doltaire, rising
from his seat in the drawing-room, bowed to me, and
said, " If it pleases you, monsieur ? "

I rose also, and prepared to go. There was little talk,
yet we all kept np a play of cheerfulness. When I came
to take the Seigneur's hand, Doltaire was a distance off,
talking to ]\Iadame. " Moray," said the Seigneur quickly
and quietly, " trials portend for both of us." lie nodded
towards Doltaire.

" But we shall come safe through," said I.

" Be of good courage, and adieu," he answered, as
Doltaire turned towards ns.

]\Iy last words were to Alixe. The great moment of
my life was come. If 1 could but say one thing to her
out of earshot, I would stake all on the hazard. She was
standing beside a cabinet, very still, a strange glow in her

AN ESCORT TO THE CITADEL.

liere
uise.

and

'd, as
lit of

eyes, a new, fine firmness at tlie lips. I felt I dared not
look as I woid 1 ; I feared tliero was no chance now to
speak wliat I would. But I came slowly up the room
with her mother. As we did so Doltaire exclaimed aud
started to the window, and the Seigneur and Madame
followed. A red light was showing on the panes.

I caught Alixe's eye, and held it, couiing (piickly to
her. All backs were on us. I took her hand and
pressed it to my lips suddenly. She gave a little gasp,
aud I saw her bosom heave.

" I am going from prison to prison,'' said I, " and 1
leave a loved jailer behind."

She understood. '' Vour jailer goes also," she an-
swered, with a sad smile.

" I love you, Alixe, I love you ! " I urged.

She was very pale. " Oh, Robert ! " she whispered
timidly ; and then, " I will be brave, I will help you, and
I will not forget. CJod guard you."

That was all, for Doltaire turned to me and said,
" They've made of La Friponne a torch to liglit you to
the citadel, monsieur."

A moment afterwards we were outside in the keen
October air, a squad of soldiers attending, our faces to-
wards the citadel heights. I looked back, dofiing my cap.
The Seigneur and ]Madame stood at the door, but my
eyes were for a window where stood Alixe. The refiec-
tion of the far-off fire bathed the glass, and her face had
a glow, the eyes shining through, intense and most seri-
ous. Yet she was brave, for she lifted her handkerchief,
shook it a little, and smiled.

As though the salute were meant for him, Doltaire
bowed twice impressively, and then we stepped forward,
the great fire over against the Heights lighting us and

LJurrving us on.

We scarcely spoke as we went, though Doltaire hummed

THE SEATS OF THE MIGnTY.

now and tlicn the air La Powpadour ct La Friponne.
As we ciime nearer I said, " Are you bure it is La Fri])onne,
monsieur ? "

" It is not," lie said, pointing. " See ! "

The sky was full of shaking sparks, and a smell of
burning grain came down the wind.

" One of the granaries, then," I added, " not La Fri-
ponne itself? "

To this he nodded assent, and we pushed on.

II.

THE MASTER OF THE KIXG S MAGAZINE.

" What fools," said Doltaire presently, " to burn the
bread and oven too ! If only they were less honest in a
world of rogues, poor moles ! "

C'oming nearer, we saw that La Friponne itself was
safe, but one warehouse was doomed and another threat-
ened. The streets were full of people, and thousands of
excited peasants, labourers, and sailors were shouting,
" Down with the palace I Down with Bigot ! "

We came upon the scene at the most critical moment.
Xone of the Governor's soldiers were in sight, but up the
Heights we could hear the steady tramp of General
Montcalm's infantry as they came on. Where were
liigot's men ? Tliere was a handful — one company — ■
drawn np before La Friponne, idly leaning on their
muskets, seeing the great granary burn, and watching
La Friponne threatened by the mad crowd and the fire.
There was not a soldier before the Inteudant's palace,
not a light in any window.

THE PIASTER OF THE KING'S MAGAZINE.

" Wliiit is this weird trick of Bigot's?" said Doltairo,

musing.

tjiny — ■

their

:chiiig

e fire.

The Governor, we knew, had been out of tlic city tliat
day. ]Uit where was liigot? At a word from Doitairo
we pushed forward towanls tlie pahice, tlie soldiers keep-
ins: me in tlieir midst. We were not a liundred feet from
tlie great steps when two gates at the right suddenly
swung open, and a carriage rolled out swiftly and dashed
down into the crowd. 1 recognised the coachman first —
Bigot's, an old one-eyed soldier of surpassing nerve, and
devoted to his master. The crowd parted right and left.
Suddenly the carriage stopped, and Bigot stood up, folding
his arms, and glancing round with a disdainful smile with-
out speaking a word. Jle carried a paper in one hand.

Here were at least two thousand armed and unarmed
peasants, sick with misery and oppression, in the presence
of their undefended tyrant. One shot, one blow of a stone,
one stroke of a knife — to the end of a shameless pillage.
But no hand was raised lo do the deed. The ro.ir of
voices subsided — he waited for it — and silence was broken
only by the crackle of the burning building, the tramp of
Montcalm's soldiers on Palace Hill, and the tolling of the
cathedral bell. I thourjlit it stran<]:e that almost as Bi<]^ot
issued forth the wild clanging gave place to a cheerful peal.

After standing for a moment, looking round him, his
eve restinsf on Doitairo and mvself (we were but a litllo
distance from him), Bigot said in a loud voice : " What
do von want with me? Do you think I mav be moved
bv threats? Do vou punish me bv burninj:: vour own
food, which, when the English are at our doors, is your
only hope? Fools! How easily cou]<l I turn my cannon
and my men u])on you I You think to frighten me. Who
do you think I am — a Bostonnais or an Englishman?
You — revolutionists ! T'sh ! You are wild dogs without
a leader. You want one that you can trust; you want

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

no coward, but one who feurs you not at your wildest.
Well, I will be your leader. I do not fear you, and I
do not love you, for how might you deserve love?
By ingratitude and aspersion? Who has the King's
favour? Franr'ois ]3igot. Who has the ear of the Grande
Marquise? .Frain/ois liigot. Who stands firm while
others tremble lest tiieir power pass to-morrow? Fran(;ois
Bigot. Who else dare invite revolution, this danger " —
his hand sweeping to the flames — " mIio but Fran(;ois
Bigot?" lie paused for a moment, and looking up to
the leader of Montcalnrs soldiers on the Heights, waved
him back ; then continued :

" And to-day, when I am ready to give you groat
news, you play the mad dog\s game ; you destroy what 1
had meant to give you in our hour of danger, when those
English came. I made you sulfer a little, that you might
live then. Only to-day, because of our great and glorious
victory ''

lie paused again. The peal of bells became louder.
Far up on the Heights we heiird the calling of bugles and
the beating of drums ; and now I saw the whole large
plan, the deep dramatic scheme, lie had withheld the
news of the victory that he might announce it when it
would most turn to his own glory. Perhaps he had not
counted on the burning of the warehouse, but this would
tell now in his favour. He was not a large man, but he
drew himself up with dignity, and continued in .a con-
temptuous tone :

" Because of our splendid victory, I designed to tell
you all my plans, and, pitying your trouble, divide among
you at the smallest price, that all might jiay, the corn
which now goes to feed, the stars.*"

At that moment some one from the Heights above
called out shrilly, " What lie is in that 2)apcr, Francois
Bigot?"

THE MASTEIl OF THE KING'S MAGAZINK.

great

corn

I looked up, as did the crowd. A woman stood upon
a point of the great rock, a red robe lumging on her, her
hair free over her shoulders, her finger pointing at the
Intendant. Bigot only glanced up, then smoothed out
the i)aper.

He said to the people in a clear but less steady voice,
for I could see that the woman had disturbed him, 'MJo
prav to be for^nven for vour insolence and foil v. His
most Christian ^[ajesty is triumphant upon the Ohio.
The English have been killed in thousands, and their
(Jeneral with them. Do you not hear the joy-bells in the
Church of Our Lady of the Victories? and more — listen I "

There burst from the lleiijhts on the other side n can-
non shot, and then another and anotlier. There was a
great commotion, and many ran to J)igot's carriage,
reached in to touch his hand, and called down blessings
on him.

" See that you save the other granaries," he urged,
adding, with a sneer, " and forget not to bless La Friponne
in your prayers ! "

It was a clever piece of acting. Presently from the
Heights above came the woman's voice again, so piercing
that the crowd turned to her.

" Fran(;ois J5igot is a liar and a traitor 1 " she cried.
" Beware of Fran(/ois IMgot ! CJod has cast him out."

A dark look came upon Bigot's face ; but presently he
turned, and gave a sign to some one near the palace. The
doors of the courtyard flew open, and out came squad
after squad of soldiers. In a moment, they, with the
people, were busy carrying water to pour u]ion the side
of the endangered warehouse. Fortunately the wind was
with them, else it and the palace also would have been
burned that night.

At last Bigot beckoned to Doltaire and to me and we
both came over.

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

"Doltairo, wo looked for y(jii ut dinner," he said.
"Was Captain Moray" — nodding towards nie — "lost
among the petticoats':' He knows the trick oi' cnp and
saucer. Jietween the sip and click he sucked in secrets
from our garrison — a s])y where had been a soldier, as we
thought. You once wore a sword. Captain Moray — eh ':'"

"If the (jlovernor would grant me leave, 1 would not
only wear, but use one, your excellency knows well where,"
said 1.

" Large speaking, Captain ^loray. They do that in
Virginia, I am told."

" in Cascony there's quiet, your excellency."

Doltaire laughed outriglit, for it was said that Bigot,
in his coltish days, had a shrewish Gascon wife, whom ho
took leave to send to heaven before her time. 1 saw the
Intendant's mouth twitch aufrrilv.

" Come," he said, " you have a tongue ; we'll see if
you have a stomach. Y'ou've languished with the girls ;
you shall have your chance to drink with Fran9ois Bigot.
Xow, if you dare, when we have drunk to the first cock-
crow, should vou be still on vour feet, vou'll liu'ht some
one among us, first giving ample cause."

" I hope, your excellency," I replied, with a touch of
vanity, " I have still some stomach and a wrist. I will
drink to cockcrow, if you will. And if my sword prove
the stronger, what?"

"There's the point," he said. "Your Englishman
loves not fighting for fighting's sake, Doltaire; he must
have bonbons for it. Well, see : if your sword and stom-
ach prove the stronger, you shall go your ways to where
vou will. Voila I "

If I could but have seen a bare portion of the crafti-
ness of this pair of devil's artisans! They both had ends
to serve in working ill to me, and neither was content
that I should be shut awav in the citadel, and no more.

V\\

fio

TIIK MASTEIl OF THE KING'S MAGAZINE.

iman
must
!tom-

There was a deoper game playing. I give thoiu their tliie :
the trap was skilful, and in IhoHe times, with great things
at stake, strategy took the place of open lighting here and
there. For Bigot I was to bo a weapon against another;
for Doltaire, against mvself.

What a gnJl they must h.ave thought nie ! I nught
have known that, with my lost papers on the way to
l''rance, they must hold me tight here till I had been
tried, nor permit mc to escape. JUit I was sick of doing
fiothing, thinking with horror on a long winter in the
citadel, and I caught at the least straw of freedom.

" Captain Moray will like to spend a couple of hours
at his lodgings before he joins us at the palace," the In-
lendant said, and with a nod to me he turned to his
coachman. The horses wheeled, and in a moment the
great doors opened, and he had passed inside to applause,
thougli here and there among the crowd was heard a hiss,
for the Scarlet Woman had made an impression. Tha
Intendant's men essayed to trace these noises, but found
no one. Looking again to the Heights, 1 saw that the
woman had gone. Doltaire noted my glance and the
inquiry in my face, and he said :

" Some bad fighting hours with the Intendant at
Chateau Bigot, and then a fever, l)ringing a kind of
madness : so the story creeps about, as told by Jiigot's
enemies."

Just at this point I felt a man hustle mo as he
passed. One of the soldiers made a thrust at him, aiul
lie turned round. I caught his eye, aiul it Hashed some-
thins: to me. It was Voban the barber, who had shaved
me every day for months when I first came, while my
arm was stilf from a wound got fighting the French on
tlie Ohio. It was quite a year since I had met him, and
I was struck by the change in his face. It had grown
nnich older ; its roundness was gone. We had had many
3

TIIV: SEATS OF THE MKIIITY.

a talk togctlicr, lie li('l[)inf,' u\v witli I'^reiicli, 1 listening
to the tales of liis early life in France, and to the later tale
of a liiunble love, and of the lioine whieh ho was fitting
lip for his Mathilde, a peasant girl of nineh beauty I was
told, but whom I had never seen. I remembered at tluit
moment, as lie stood in the crowd looking at me, the
piles of linen whieh he had bought at Ste. Anne do
Beaupre, and the silver pitcher which his grandfather
had got from tlic Due do Valois for an act of merit.
Many a time we had discussed the i)itcher and the deed
and fingered the linen, now talking in French, now in
Englisli ; for in France, years before, he had been a valet
to an Kn<j:lish otlicer at Kin<>: I.ouis's court. But my
suri)rise had been great when I learned that this Eng-
lish jrentleman was no other than the best friend I over
had, next to my parents and my grandfather. Voban was
bound to Sir John (Jodric by as strong ties of alfection
as I. What was more, by a secret letter I had sent to
j\[r. George Washington, who was then as good a Briton
as myself, I had been able to have my barber's young
brother, a prisoner of war, set free.

I felt that he had something to say to me now ; but
he turned away and disappeared among the crowd. I
might have had some clew if I had known that ho had
been crouched behind the In^endant's carriage while I
was being bidden to the supper. I did not guess then
that there was anytliing between him and the Scarlet
Woman who railed at liii^ot.

In a little while I was at my lodgings, soldiers posted
at mv door and one in my room. Doltaire had cfone to
his own quarters promihing to call for me within two
hours. There was little for me to do but to put in a
bag the fewest necessaries, to roll up my heavy cloak, to
stow safely my pipes and two goodly packets of tobacco,
which were to bo my cliiefest solace for many a long

TIIK MASTKU OF TIIK K IXC'S MACAZIN'K.

stoning
,tor tale

fitting
y I wjis
at that
no, tlio
nne do
(ll'atlier

merit,
le dood
now in

a valot
lUit my
id Kng-
l I ever
ban was
.lYoctiou
sent to

Briton

young

iw ; but
wd. I
ho had
rt-hile I
Iss then
Scarlet

posted
!;one to
lin two
it in a
|oak, to

)bacco,
la long

day, and to write som;- lotters — one to (iovornor Dinwid-
dle, one to Major W asliington, one to my partner in
Virginia, telling them my fresh misfortunes, aiul begging
them to send mo money, which, however useless in my
captivity, would be important in my fight for life and
freedom. 1 did not write intimately of my state, for 1
was not sure my letters would ever pass outside Quebec.
There were only two men I could trust to do the thing.
One was a fellow-countryman, Clark, a ship-carpenter,
and something of a rullian, who, lo save his neck and to
sptire his wife and child, had turned Catholic, but who
hated all Frenchmen barbarously at heart, renuMnbering
two of his bairns butchered before his eyes. The other
was Voban. 1 knew that though \'oban might not act he
would not betray me. But how to reach either of them?
It was clear that 1 must bide my chances.

One other letter I wrote, brief but vital, in which I
begged the sweetest girl in the world not to have un-
easiness because of me ; that I trusted to my star and to
my innocence to convince my judges ; and begging lier,
if she could, to send me a line at the citadel. I told her
I knew well how hard it all would be, for her mother and
her father would not now look u})on my love with favour.
But I trusted everything to time and Providence.

I sealed my letters, put them iii my ])ocket, and sat
down to smoke and think while T waited for Doltaire.
To the soldier on duty whom I did not notice at first
I now ofTered a pipe and a glass of wine, whicdi he ac-
cepted rather gruffly, but enjoyed, if I might judge by
his devotion to them.

By-and-bye, without imy relevancy at all, he said
abruptly, " If a little sooner she had come — aho ! "

For a moment I could not think what he meant ; but
soon I saw.

" The palace would have been burned if the girl in

THE SEATS OF THE MKJIITV.

Hcarlot Imd ('(>mv sooiior — clj ? '' I ankccl. " Slio would
Imve ur<,'('(l tlio pcoplo on ? "

" And Ki^n)t l)iiriit too, iiiaybi'," 1h' Jiiisworcd.

" Firu and dcatli— oh ? "

I olTcivd liiiM aiiotlicr pipeful of tobacco. TTo looked
doul)tful, hut accc})tL'd.

"Aho! And that Vo))an, he woidd ha.V(! had hi.s
hand in," lie <^n'o\vdc(l.

I hcf^uii to get inoro lii:;ht.

" Siic was shut up jit Chateau Bigot — hand of iron
and lock of steel — who knows the rest? Hut \'oban
was for always," no added presently.

'J'he thing was clear. 'I'he Scarlet Woman was ^^a-
thilde. So here was the end of N'ohan's little romance —
of the fine linen from Ste. Anne de lieaupre aiul the
silver pitcher for the wedding wine. 1 saw, or felt, that
in Voban 1 might lind now a confederate, if I ]»ut my
hard case on Bigot's shoulders.

" I can't see why she stayed with l)igot," I said ten-
tatively.

" Break the dog's leg, it can't go hunting bones
— inais, )io)i ! Holy, how stupid are you English ! "

"Why doesn't the Intendant lock her up now?
She's dangerous to him ! You remember what she
said ? "

" Toinierre, you shall see to-morrow," he answered ;
" now all the shec}) go bleating with the bell, liigot —
Bigot — Bigot — there is iiothing but Bigot ! J^ut, })isli !
Vaudreuil the (Jovernor is the great man, and .Montcalm,
aho ! son oi Mahomet I You shall see. Now they dance
to l^igot's whistling; he will lock her safe enough to-
morrow, 'less some one steps in to help her. Before
ta-night she never spoke of him before the world — but
a poor daft thing, going about all sad and wild. She
missed her chance to-night — aho ! "

TlIK MASTEIl OF TIIK KIN'(J'S MACAZIXE.

hones

•ercd ;
igot—

" Wliynro you not with Montculin's sol(li(>rsV" I uskcd.
♦' You liki? l»iiM Ix'ttcr."

" I was with liiiii, Imt my time was out, and I left hiiu
for Hiirot. Pish! I h-ft liirn for Hi^jot, for the luilitia!"
lie raisi'd Ids thumb to Ins nose, and spread out his lln-
^WA. Again ligiit dawned on mo. He was slill with tht*
(lovornor in all fact, though soldiering for iiigot — a soi't
of watch upon the Inteiulaiit.

I saw my chaiu-e. If I coidd hut induce this fellow to
fetch mu Vohan I Thei-e was yet an hour Ix'fore I was to
go to the intendaiu;o. «

I called up what looks of candour I could and told
him hluntly that I wdshed \'ohan to heai' a letter for me
to the Scigiu'ur Duvarney's. At that he cocked his ear
and shook his bushy heail, liercely stroking his mustaches.

I kiu'w that r should stake something if I said it was
a letter for Mademoiselle Duvarney, but I knew also that
if he was still the (Jovernor's nuin in Higot's pay he would
undoi'stand the Seigneur's relations with the (Jovernor.
And a woman in the case with a soldier — that would
count for sonu'thing. So I said it was for her. Besidiss,
I had no other resource but to make a friend among my
euenues if I could, while yet there was a (duiuce.

It was like a load lifted from nu^ when I saw his mouth
aii.l eyes open wide in a big soundless laugh, which cjime
to an end with a voiceless (i/tn ! I gave him another tum-
hU'r of wine, liefore he took it, he made a wide mouth
at me again, and slai)ped his leg. After drink'ng, he
said, '''Poom — what good ? They'i-e going to hang you
for a spy."

" That rope's not ready yet," I answered. " Til tie a
l)retty knot in another string first, I trust."

"Damned if you haven't spirit I " said he. "That
Seigneur Duvarney, I know him; and I know his son the
ensign — ^uhiing, what saltpetre is he I And the nui'm'selle

TIIH SKATS OK TIIK MKIIITY

— cxcollcjit, excellent ; aiul ii fiice, huc'm a fju-e, aiul a seat
like Iceehi'M in the saddle. And you a Hiitish ofT.eer
mewed up to kick your heels till ;;all(»\VH day! So droll,

inv dear

» "

((

Hut will you fetch Vohan?" I a.ske(l.

To trim your hair against the 8Ui)pcr to-iiiglit— eh,

like that?"

As lie spoko lie pufTed out his red cheeks with wido
boylike eyes, hurst his lips in another soundless laugh,
and laid a tinger hesido his nose. His marvellous inno-
cence of look and his ])easa!it openness hid, I siiw, gretit
shrewdjiess and intelligence — an admirable man for \'au-
dreuiPs ])>irp()se, as admirable for mine. I knew well
that if I had tried to bribe him he would have scouted
me, or if I had made ii motion for escape he would have
shot me olT-hand. But a lady — that appealed to him;
and that she was the Seigneur Duvarr.ev's dau<ditcr did
the rest.

" Yes, yes," said I, " one must bo well appointed in
soul and body when one sups with his excellency und
!RIonsi(!ur Doltaire."

"Limed inside ano chalked outside," he retorted glee-
fully. " But M'sieu' Doltaire needs no lime, for he has
no soul. Xo, by Sainte Heloise! The good (Jod didn't
make him. 'JMie devil laughed, and that laugh grew into
!N['sieu' Doltaire. 13ut brave ! — no kicking pulse is in his
body."

" You will send for Voban — now?" I asked softly.

lie Avas leaning against the door as he spoke. He
reached and put the tumbler on ji shelf, then turned
and opened the door, his face all altered to a grimness.

"Attend here, Fiabrouk !" he called ; and on the soldier
coming, he blurted out in scorn, " Here's this English
captain can't go to supper without Voban's shears to snip
him. Go fetch him, for I'd rather hear a calf in a

TIIK MASTr.Il nK TIIK KINti'S M VCi A/.IN'K. 27

gloe-

c llJlS

icln't

into

11 his

irned

»klior

glish

snip

in a

burn-yiinl than this \vhiii,L,'-\vh;ifigiii;; for ' M'sicu' N'o-
ban ! ' "

lie niockod my accnit in tlic hist two words, so tliat
the HoMicr ^^rinncd, iind at once startcil away. Tlii'ii lie
sluit the (hior, and tiii-iicd to iiii' ai^iiin, and said more
scrionsly , " IIow hm^ havt^ we before Master Devil
eomes V" — nu'iiniii;^' Doltaire.

" At least an hour," sai«l I.

"(iood," he rejoined, and then he smoktMl while I sat
thinking.

It was near an hour b(>fore we heartl footsteps outside;
then came a knoek, and X'oban was shown in.

"(^uiek, m'sieu'," hi; said. '' M'sieu' is almost at our
heels."

"This k'tter," said [, " to :\rademoiselle Duvarney,"
and I handi'd four: hers, and those to (Jovernor Din-
widdie, to Mr. Washington, and to my })artner.

lie quiekly \n\t tliem in his coat, nodding. The
soldier — I have not vet mentioned his name — (Jabord,
know not that more than one passed into Voban's
hands.

" OtT with your coat, m'sieu\" said \'^ol)an, whipping
out his shears, tossing liis cap aside, and rolling down his
apron. " M'sieu' is here."

I had olT my coat, was in a chair in a twinkling, and
he was clipj)ing softly at me as Doltaire's h ind turned the
handle of the door.

" Beware — to-night ! " \'oban whispered.

" Come to me in the prison," said I. " Hemend)er
your brother ! "

His lips twitched. " M'sieu', I will if I can." This
he said in my ear as Doltaire entered and came for-
ward.

" Upon my life I" Doltaire broke out. " These Eng-
lish gallants ! They go to prison curled and musked by

SCARBOROUGH TOWNSHIP
PUBLIC LIBRARY

THE SEATS OF THE MIGnTY.

Voban. Vohan — a name from the court of tlie King, and
it garnishes a barber ! Who culled yoii, Voban ? "

" My mother, with the cure's help, m'sieu'."

Doltaire paused, with a pinch of snutT at his nose, and
replied lazily, " I did not say ' Who called you Vuban? '
Voban, but who called you here, Voban ? "

I spoke up testily then of })urpose : " What would
you have, monsieur ? The citadel has better butchers
than barbers. I sent for him,"

lie shrugged his shoulders and came over to Voban.
"Turn round, my Voban," he said. ^' Vuban — and such
a figure ! a knee, a back like that ! "

Then, while my heart stood still, he put forth a finger
and touched the barber on the chest. If he should touch
the letters ! I was ready to seize them — but would that
save them? Twice, thrice, the finger prodded Voban's
breast, as if to add an emphasis to his words. " In Quebec
you are misplaced. Monsieur le Voban. Once a wasp got
into a honeycomb and died."

I knew he was hinting at the barber's resentment of
the poor Mathilde's fate. Something strange and devilish
leaped into the man's eyes, and he broke out bitterly,

" A honey-bee got into a nest of wasps — and died."

I thought of the Scarlet Woman on the hill.

Voban looked for a moment as if he might do some
wild thing, llis spirit, his devilry, pleased Doltaire, and
he laughed. " Who would have thought our Voban had
such wit ? Tl;o trade of barber is double-edged, liazors
should be in fashion at Versailles."

Then he snt down, while Vobun made a pretty show
of touching oif my person. A few minutes passed so, in
which the pealing of bells, the shouting of the people,
the beating of drums, and the calling of bugles came lo
us clearly.

A half hour afterwards, on our way to the lutendant's

THE MASTER OF TITE KING'S :\rAGAZIXE.

•

some
5, iiml
II bad
tazors

I show
30, in
bple,
le io

ant's

palace, we heard the Bonediotiis clianted in the Church
of the Kecollets, as we passed — hundreds kneehng outsick^
and responding to tlie chant sung within :

" Thai ire s/ioidd be saved from our enemies, and from
the hands of all that hate us.'"'

At tlie corner of a building which we passed, a little
away from the crowd, I saw a solitary cloaked figure.
The words of the chant, following us, I could hear dis-
tinctly :

" yyi((t ?ce, hein(j delivered out of the haiids of oar ene-
mies, miglit serve Him without fear. ''^

And then, from the sliadowcd corner came in a high,
melancholy voice the words :

" To (jive light to tliem that sit in darliicss and in tlie
shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the wag of
peace.''''

Looking closer, I saw it was Mathilde.

Doltaire smiled as I turned and begged a moment's
time to speak to her.

•■' To pray with the lost angel and sup with the In-
tendant, all in one night — a liberal taste, monsieur; but
who shall stay the good Samaritan I"

They stood a little distance away, and I went over to
her and said, " Mademoiselle — Mathilde, do you not know

V "

Her abstracted eye fired up, as there ran to her brain
some little sprite out of the House of Memory and told
her who I was.

" Tliere were two lovers in the world," she said ; " the
^[othor of God forgot them, and the devil came. I am
the Scarlet Woman," she went on ; " I made this red robe
from the curtains of Hell "

Poor soul! My'own trouble seeme<I then as a speck
among the stars to hers. I took her hand and held it,
saying again, " Do you not know me ? Think, Mathilde ! "

TnE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

I was not sure that slie had ever seen me, to know me,
but I tlionght it possible ; for, as a hostage, I had been
much noticed in (Quebec, and Voban had, no doubt, pointed
me out to her. Light leaped from her black eye, and then
she said, putting her finger on her lips, " Tell all the
lovers to hide. 1 have seen a hundred Fraiu;ois Biiiots."

I looked at her, saying nothing— I knew not what to
say. Presently her eye steadied to mine, and her intellect
rallied. " You are a prisoner, too," she said ; " but they
will not kill you : they will keep you till the ring of fire
grows in your head, and then you will mak your scarlet
robe, and go out, but you will never find It — never. God
hid first, and then It hides. ... It hides, that which you
lost — It hides, and you can not find It again. Y^ou go
hunting, hunting, but you can not find It."

My heart was pinched with pain. I understood her.
She dia not know her lover now at all. If Alixe and her
mother at the ]Manor could but care for her, I thought.
But, alas ! what could I do? It were useless to ask her to
go to the Manor; she would not understand.

Perhaps there come to the disordered mind flashes of
insight, illuminations and divinations, deeper than are
given to the sane, for she suddenly said in a whisper,
touching me with a nervous finger, " I will go and tell
her where to hide. They shall not find her. I know the
woodpath to the Manor. Hush ! she shall own all I have
— except the scarlet robe. She showed me where the
May-apples grew. Go"— she pushed me gently away —
"go to your prison, nnd pray to God. l^ut you can not
kill Francois Bigot — he is a devil." Then she thrust
into my hands a little wooden cross, which she took from
many others at her girdle. " If you wear that the ring of
fire will not grow," she said. " I will go by the wood-
path, and give her one, too. She shall live with me : I
will spread the balsam branches and stir the fire. She

ler.

THE \\AGER AND THE SWORD.

sliall 1)0 safe. IIusli I (!o, go softly, for tlu'ir wicked eyes
lire everywhere, the were-wolves I "

She i)iit lier lingers on my lips for an instant, and
then, turning, stole softly away towards the St. Charles
Kiver.

Doltaire's mockery brought me back to myself.

" So much for the beads of the addled ; now for the
bowls of sinful man," said he.

III.

THE WACiKR AND THE SWOIID.

As I entered the Intendant's palace with Doltairc I
had a singular feeling of elation, ^[y spirits rose unac-
countably, and I felt as though it were a fete night, and
the day's duty over, the hour of play was come. 1 must
needs have felt ashamecl of it then, aiul now, were I
not sure it was some unbidden operation of the senses.
;>[aybe a merciful Spirit sees how, left alone, we should
have stumbled and lost ourselves in oar own gloom, and
so gives us a new temper fitted to our needs. 1 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 people's bread ; that I saw old men
and women who could not be moved l)v news of victorv,
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 can-
dles, its flagous and pitchers of wine, and on the faces of

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

so many idlo, cureless gentleniou bid to a earou.so, with a
iiianiKT, J hclieve, as rocklcss and jaunty as their own.
And J kept it up, tliough I saw it was not what they
liad looked for. I did not at onco know wlu) was there,
but presently, at a dislaneo from me, I saw the faeo of
Juste Duvarncv, tlie hrotlicr of niv sweet Alixe, a man
of but twenty or so, wlio liad a name for wildness, for no
badness tluit I ever heard of, and for a llcM-y temper. He
was in tlie service of the (lovernor, an ensign. IIo had
been little at home since I had come to Quebec, having

beei

)](

of th

en employed u[) to tlio past year m tne service ol tlio
Governor of MontreaL We bowed, but lie made no mo-
tion to come to me, an<l the Intendant engaged me almost
at once in gossip of the town ; suddenly, however, diverg-
ing u})on some questions of public tactics and civic gov-
ernment. JIo 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 large 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, re-
pelling 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

light
^ked

THE WAGER AND THE SWORD.

round the room. Some present were of eoiirsc calibre —
biislirunging sons of seigneurs and petty nobles, chishing
and i)rofane, and sonietliing barbarous ; but most hail,
gifts of person and speech, and all seemed eaj)able.

My spirits continued high. I sprang alertly to meet
wit and gossip), my mind ran nimbly hvvo and there, I
Tilled the role of honoured guest. ]^)Ut when came the
table and wine, .a change befell me. From the lirst dro})
I drank, my >'j]>irits sulTered a decline. On one side the
Intendant rallied me, on the other Doltaire. 1 ate on,
drank on; but while smiling bv the force of will, I irrew
graver little by little. Yet it was a gravity whi(;h had no
ajiparent motive, for I was not thinking of my troubles,
not even of the night's stake and the jjossiblc end of it
all; simply a sort of gray coloia- of the mind, a stillness
in the nerves, a general seriousness of the senses. 1 dj-ank,
and the wine did not affect me, while voices got loud ami
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-olf way, but I was not
touched by the spirit of it, was not a part of it. 1 watched
the reddened cheeks and loose scorching mouths around
me with a sort of distant curiosity, and the ribald jests
flunsr riojht and left struck me not at all acutely. It was
as if I were reading a Book of Bacchus. I draidv on even-
ly, not doggedly, and ansv/ered 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. Xow 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 SEATS OF THE Mir.IITV.

— tlic talk turnctl on the events of the evening and on the
defeat of the JJritish. Then, too, I began to be myself
again, and a sense of my i)osition grew upon me. I had
been withdrawn from all real feeling and living for hours,
but 1 believe that same suspension was my salvation. For
wilh every man present deeply gone in li(|U()r round me
— every num save Doltaire — I was sane and steady, set-
tling into a state of great alertness, determined on escape,
it that could be, and bent on tiirning every chance to serve
my purposes.

^I'ow and again I caught my own name mentioned
with a sneer, then with remarks of surprise, then with in-
solent laughter. I saw it all. Uefore dinner some of the
revellers had been told of tlie new charge against me, and,
by instruction, had kept it till the inllamnuible moment.
Then the why and wherefore of my presence at this sup-
per being in the lui/.ard, the stake, as a wicked jest of
Bigot's, was mentioned. I couhi see the llame grow inch
by inch, fed by the Intendant and J)oltaire, whose hateful
final move I was yet to see. For one instant I had a sort
of fear, for I was now 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 jdl. Yet not all, for in one pale face, with dark,
brilliant eyes, I saw the looks of my ilower 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. lie was sitting in a Avindow
of the ^[anor, just after he had come from jlontreal, play-
ing a violin which had once belonged to I)e Casson, the
famous priest whose athletic power and sweet spirit en-
deared him to New France. I lis fresh cheek was bent to
the brown, delicate w^ood, and he was playing to his sister
the air of the undying chanson, " Je vais mourir pour ma

THE WAOER AXD THE SWOUD.

(J5

I on tlio

myself

I had

I' hours,

n. For

111(1 me

(iv, set-

esc{i])e,

to serve

iilioned
vith in-
I of the
le, and,
loment.
is sup-
jest of
w inch
hateful
a sort
t leave
r flow
ces of
dark,
rvorld :
brow,
light,
all to
ndow
play-
|i, the
t en-
nt to
ister
r ma

belle reinc." I loved the look of his fare, like that of a
young Apollo, oi)en, sweet, and l)old, all his body haviiig
the epic strength of life. I wished that I might have him
near mo 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 llexuous
the hard and ungenial.

1 went on talking to the Intendant, while some of the
guests rose and scattered about the rooms, at tables, to
play ])ic(piet, the jesting on our cause and the scorn of
myself abating not at all. 1 would not have it thought
that anything was opeidy coarse or brutal; it was all
by innuendo, and brow-lifting, and maddening, allusive
phrases such as it is thought tit for gentlefolk to use in-
stead of open charge. There was insult in a smile, con-
tempt in the turn of a shoulder, challenge in the llicking
of a handkerchief. A\'ith great pleasure 1 could have
wrung thoir noses one by one, and afterwards have met
them, tossing sword-})oints, 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 due
check, letting each move come from my enemies. There
was no reason whv I should have been at this wild feast
at all, I, a prisoner charged with being a spy, save be-
cause of some plot through which fresh suffering should
come to mc and some one else be benefited — though how
that miglit 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 Du-
varney hotly.

" But never with our ladies," was the biting answer.

TIIR SEATS OF TUK MIGHTY.

" Should prisoners make coiulitions?" was tlie sharp,
insolent retort.

The insult was conspicuous, and trouble might have
followed, but that Doltairo came between them, shifting
the attack.

" I'risoners, my dear Duvarm^v," said he, "are most
delicate and exactin<j^; they must be fed on wine and
milk. It is an easy life, and hearts grow soft for them.
— Indeed, it is most sad : so young aiul gal-

As thus

hint; in speech, too, so contiding! And if we babble jdl
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 simi)lo
gentlenuin, he is a clairuant 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 I my dear Duvarney and my LaiU'y I "

lie spoke in a clear, provoking tone, putting a hand
upon the shoulder of each young gentleman as he talked.
Ids eyes wandering over me idly, and beyond me. 1 saw
that he was now sharpening the sickle to his ollicc. 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 prisoiier 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 irui' -^i 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 Du-
varney'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

((

Till-: WAflMU AXn THK SWOKD.

[avours
wnV^'
me at
Shall
to the
atters
h Du-
vcd at

Itween
lad to
piracy
close

friendshi}) with the (Jovenior. If .Iiistc hiivanioy were
killed in the dud which they foresaw, so far as Doltaire
was concerned 1 was out of the countini,' in the y«»un«^
lady's si<jfht. In any ease my life was of no account, for
I was sure my death was already determined on. Vet it
seemed stran<,'e that Doltaire should wisl; me dead, for lie
had reasons for keepin;^' me alive, as shall he seen.

.Juste Duvarney liked nu^ once, I knew, but still he
had the Freiuilnnan's temper, and had always to ar<,Mie
down his bias against my race and to cherish a good
heart towards me; for ho was young, and sensitive to tin;
opinions of his eoinrades. I can not express what misery
possessed me when I saw liini leave Doltaire, and, eomin<j^
to me where I stood alone, say —

" What secrets found you at our seigneury, monsieur V"

I understood the taunt — as though J were the com-
mon interrogation mark, the abominable Paul J'ry. I>ut
I held my wits together.

" Monsieur," said I, " I found tlie 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
1 had been snared to this trap.

"The insolent," responded J)uvarney, "not the unfor-
tunate."

" Insolence is no crime, at least," I rejoined (piietly,
"else this room were a penitentiary."

There was a moment's ])ause, and presently, as 1 kept
my eye on him, he raised his handkerchief and llic.'ked me
across the face with it, saying, "Then this will be a vir-
tue, and you mav have more such virtues as often as you
will."

In spite of will, my blood pounded in my yeins, and

a devilish anger took hold of me. To be struck across the

face by a beardless Frenchman, scarce past his teens I — it
4

TIIK SKATS OF Till': MUillTV.

sliook mo more tlum now I oare to own. I felt my clicck
hum, my teeth clinduMl, and I know a kind of snarl camo
from me; l)nt n,i,'ain, all in ji moment, I ean^^dit a turn of
his head, a motion (d" the hand, wiiiidi hrou;^'ht hack Alixo
to um. 7\n<(er died a way, and I saw oidv a voutli Hushed
witii wine, stun<( hy su^'.i^'estions, with that foolish i)rid(i
tiic youn^^stiT feels— and l)o was tlic youngest of them all
— in hc'ingas good a man as the hest, and asdai'ing us tho
worst. I felt how useless it would he to try the straight-
ening of matters there, though had we two heen alone a
dozen words should have heen enough, liut to try was
my duty, and 1 tried with all my might ; almost, for Alixe's
sake, with all rny lu'art.

" Do not trouhle to illustrate your meaning," said I
2)atiently. " ^'our phrases are elear and to tho })oiut."

"You holt from my words," he retorted, 'Mike a sliy
mare on tlie curb; you take insult like a donkey on a
well-wheel. What lly will the Knglish lish rise to? Now
it no more idays to my hook than an August ehul)."

I could not help hut admire his spirit and the sharp-
ness of his speech, though it drew me into a deeper quan-
dary. It was elear that he would not be tempted 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 olTence in your words, my friend,
for in some good days gone you and I had good acquaint-
ance, and I can not forget that the last hours of a light
imprisonment before I entered oji a dark one were spent
in the homo 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

TIIK WAdKH AM) TIIK SWOUD.

\y clu'ck
;irl ciiino
I turn of
vk Alixo

ii lliislu'd
ish i)ritlo

tlu'iu all
iig us tlio

slrjii;,'lit-
i iiloiie a
I try WHS
ur Alixe'd

:," said I
)()int."
ike a sliy
key on a
to? Now

lie sharp-
ie!' qiian-
npted to
iKive said
sion and
|lmly, but

ly friend,

icqnaint-

u liglit

n'G spent

br whose

|s 111 any

myself
bg to do

— that I must bridj^o this afTuir, if at cost of some re]Mi-
tation.

It was not to bo. Doltain*, seeing that my words had
ijideed alTeeletl my op[»oiU'nt, said: "A double retreat I
lie swore to give a challenge to-night, and he cries otT
like a shee]) from a por('U[)ine; his courage is so slack he
dares not move a sti'j) to his liburty. it was a bet, a
hazard. He was to drink glass for glass with any and all
of us, and tight sword for sword with uny of us who gave
liini 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 bitlngly, yet with an air of
damnable nonchalance. I looked round me. Every man
j)rescnt was full-s[)rnng with wine, and a distaiu-e away,
a gentleman on either side of him, stood the Intendant,
smiling detesta))ly, a keen, houndlike look shooting out of
his small round eyes.

I had had enough ; I could bear no more. To bo
baited like a bear l)y these Frenchmen — it was aloes in
niv teeth ! I was not sorrv then that these words of
.Tu?' Duvarney's gave me no chance of escape from
tl'ditin":; thoufjli I wished it had been anv 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 flight Duvarnev. lint I did not, for I knew
that to carry that point farther might rouse a general
thought of Alixe, aiul 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 th:"i I : more friends, more years of

4:0

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

life, more hopes. I have avoided your bait, as you call it,
for your sake, not miiie own. ]S'()\v I take it, and you,
monsieur, show us what sort of lislierman vou 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 clieek,
though now and then a warm, pungent current passed
across the courtyard — the breath from the peo|)le's burnt
corn. Even yet upon the sky was the reflection of the
fire, and distant sounds of singing, shouting, and carousal
came to i.s from the Lower Town.

We stepped to a C( rner of the yard and took off our
coats . swords were handed us — both excellent, for we had
had our choice of manv. It was partial moonlight, but
there were flitting clouds. That we should have light
however pine torches had been brouglit, and these were
stuck in the wall. ]\Iy back Wiis 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 tl e courtyard, yet where he
could see Duvarney and myself at advantage.

Before we engaged, I looked intently into my op-
ponent's face, and measured him carefully with my eye,
that I might have his height and figure explicit and ex-
act ; 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
fiu'thest from my wishes, (lod knows. Xow the deadly
character of the event seemed to impress him, for he was
pale, and the liquor he had drunk had given him dark
lioUows round the eyes, and a gray shining sweat was on

THE WAG Ell AND THE SWORD.

u call it,
md you,

[1 to pass
>iijot was
s I could
was cold,
upon the
le check,
it passed
e's burnt
n of the
carousal

k off our

)r we had

lin-ht, but

ave light

Lcse were

11 of the

w of the

tie apart

rvhere he

my op-
inv eve,
and ex-
how the
I; for the
|tble him,
he thing
le deadly
ir he was
11 m dark
was on

his chock. But the eyes themselves were fiery and keen
and there was reckless daring in every turn of his body.

I was not long in finding his qiiahty, for he came at
me violeully from the start, .'ind 1 had chance to know
his strength and his weakness also, ills hand was quick,
his siglit clear and sure, his knowledge to a certain point
most definite and practical, his mastery of the sword de-
liglitful; but he had Utile imagination, 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 liad not that art of the true swordsman, the pre-
scient quality wliich foretells the opitonenfs action and
stands prepared. Tliere I had him at fatal advantage —
could, I felt, give him last reward of insult at my pleas-
ure. Yet a lust of fighting got into me, and it was diffi-
cult to hold myself in check at all, nor was it easy to n.oet
his brcatiiless 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. Xow and then, too, a ribald jest came from
some youiig roisterer near, and the fact that I stood .done
among sneerin^ 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 ha(" counted ten ; I would strike home when I said
" ten."

So I began, and I was rot then aware that I was
counting aloud. " One — two — three ! " It was weird to
the onlookers, for the yard grew still, and you could hear
nothing save perhaps a shifting foot or a hard breathing.
" Four — five — six ! " There was a tenseness in the air,
and J isle Duvarney, as if he felt a menace in the words,
seemed to lose all sense of wariness, and came at me lung-

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

ing, lunging with great swiftness and heat. I was in-
censed now, and he must take wliat fortune might send ;
one can not guide one's sword to do 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 oa 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 be-
fore the rest. It was the Governor, the Marquis do Vau-
dreuil. lie 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.

IV.

THE RAT IX TIIH TRAP.

'W'lTEX I waked I was alone. At first nothing was clear
to me ; my brain was dancing in my head, my sight was
obscured, my body painful, my senses were blunted. I
was in darkness, yet through an open door there showed
a light, which, from the smell and flickering, I knew to
be a torch. This, creeping into my senses, helped me to
remember that the last thing I saw in the Intendant's
courtyard was a burning torch, which suddenly multi-

11
s|

t
t

THE RAT IN TIIR TRAP.

was m-

"lit send ;
fighting

longer,
le ! " I
3 matter,
with our
r myself
hough I
it there,
us lunge
nge, and
ng gasp,

opened,
ard be-
de Vau-
for the
before
II back

as clear
^ht was
ted. I

ho wed
new to

me to
idant's
multi-

plied to dancing hundreds and then went out. I now
stretched forth a hand, and it touched a stone wall ; I
moved, and felt straw under me. Then I fixed my eyes
steadily on the open door and the shaking light, and
presently it all came to me : the events of the nighi, rnd
that I was now in a cell of the citadel. Stirring, I founl
that the wound in my body had been bound and cared for.
A loosely tied scarf round my arm showed that some on<^
had lately left me, and would return to finish the band-
aging. I raised myself with difficulty, and saw a basi-.i of
water, a sponge, bits of cloth, and a pocket-knife. Stupid
and dazed though I was, the instinct of self-preservation
lived, and I picked up tlie knife and hid it in my coat.
I did it, I believe, mechanically, for a hundred things
were going through my mind at the time.

All at once there rushed in on me the thought of
Juste Duvarney as I saw him last — how long ago was it ?
— his white face turned to the sky, his arms stretched
out, his body dabbled in blood. I groaned aloud. Fool,
fool ! to be trapped by these lying French ! To be tricked
into playing their shameless games for them, to have a
broken body, to have killed the brother of the mistress of
my heart, and so cut myself otf from her and ruined my
life for nothing— for worse than nothini; ! I had swasr-
gered, boasted, had taken a challenge for a bout and a
quarrel like any hanger-on of a tavern.

Suddenly I heard footsteps and voices outside, then
one voice, louder than the other, saying, " lie hasn't stirred
a peg— lies like a log ! " It was Gabord.

Doltaire's voice replied, " You will not need a surgeon
— no ? " His ' ne, as it seemed to me, was less careless
than usual.

Gabord answered, " I know tlie trick of it all— what
can a surgeon do? This brandy will fetch him to his in-
tellects. And by-and-bye crack'U go his spine — alio ! "

Hl'n !|f'i
I J, ■ I

THE SEATS OF THE ^riGHTY.

You have heard a lion ffrowlinff on a bone. That

how Gabord's voice sounded to me tlien — a brutal raw-
ness; but it came to my mind also that tliis was the man
who iiad brou<,dit Voban to do me service !

" Come, come, Gabord, crack your jaws less, and see
you fetch him on his feet again," said Doltaire. " From
tlie seats of tlie mighty they have said that he must live —
to die another day; and see to it, or the mighty foliv will
say that you must die to live another day — in a better
world, my Gabord

7 55

Thci

•Inch th(

'ly

was a moment
that of tearing linen, and I could see the shadows of the
two upon the stone wall of the corridor wavering to the
light of the torch ; then the shadows shifted entirely,
and their footsteps came on towards my door. I was
lying on my back as when I came to, and, therefore,
probiibly as Gabord had left me, and I determined to
appear still in a faint. Through nearly closed eyelids
however I saw Gabord enter. Doltaire stood in the
doorway watching as the soldier knelt and lifted my arm
to take off the bloody scarf. His manner was imperturba-
ble as ever. Even then I wondered what his thoughts were,
what pungent phrase he was suiting to the time and to
me. I do not know to this day which more interested
him — that very pungency of phrase, or the critical events
which inspired his reflections. lie had no sense of re-
sponsibility ; but his mind loved talent, skill, and clever-
ness, and though it was scathing of all usual ethics, for
the crude, honest life of the poor it had sympathy. I
remember remarks of his in the market-place a year be-
fore, as he and I watched the peasant in his sabots and
the good-wife in her homespun cloth.

" These are they," said he, " who will save the earth
one day, for they are like it, kin to it. "When they are
born they lie close to it, and when they die they fall no

That is
itul raw-
tlic man

and see
" From
st live —
[oliv will
a better

Lind was
s of the
^ to the
311 ti rely,

I was

ere fore,

iiied to

eyelids

in the

nv arm

rturba-

s were,

and to

erested

events

of re-
clever-
ics, for
hy. I
ar be-
:s and

earth
^y are
ill no

THE RAT IX THE TRAP.

height to reach their graves. The rest — the world — arc
like ourselves in dreams: wo do not walk ; we think we
fly, over houses, over trees, over mountains; and then
one blessed instant the spring breaks, or the dream gets
twisted, and we go falling, falling, in a sickening fear,
and, waking up, we find wo are and have been on the
earth all the while, and yet can make no claim upon it, and
have no kin with it, and no ri^ht to ask anvthimi: of it —
quelle vie — quelle vie ! "

Sick as I was, I thought of that as he stoud there,
looking in at me ; and though I knew 1 ought to hate
him I admired him in spite of all.

Presently he said to (Jabord, " You'll come to me at
noon to-morrow, and see you bi'ing good news, lie
breathes ? "

Gabord put a hand on my chest and at my neck, and
said at once, " I^reath for balloons — alio ! "

Doltaire threw a cloak over his shoulder and walked
away, his footsteps sounding loud in the passages. Gabord
began humming to himself as he tied the bandages, and
then he reached down for the knife to cut the ilying
strings. I could see this out of a little corner of my
eye. When he did not find it, he settled back on his
haunches arid looked at me. I could feel his lips pulling
out, and I was ready for the ^'- Poom ! '" that came from
him. Then I could feel him stooping over me, and his
hot stroncr breath in mv face. I was so near to uncon-
sciousness at that moment by a sudden anxiety that per-
haps my feigning had the look of reality. \\\ any case,
he thought me unconscious and fancied that he had taken
the knife away with him ; for he tucked in the strings of
the bandajre. Then, liftino^ mv head, he held the llask to
my lips ; for which I was most grateful — I was dizzy and
miserably faint.

I think I came to with rather more alacrity than was

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

•wise, l)nt lio whs deceived, and his first words wore, " IIo,
lio ! the devil's kiiockino: ; who's for lionie, un'ails?"

'o »

It was Ills way to put all thiii^^^s allusively, using strange
figures and metaphors. Yet, when one was used to him
and to them, their potency seemed greater than polislied
speech and ordinary phrase.

lie olTered me more brandy, and then, without preface,
I asked him the one question which sank l)ack on my
heart like a load of ice even as 1 sent it forth. " Is he
alive ? " I inquired. " Is Monsieur Juste Duvarney alive ?"

"With exasi)erating coolness he winked an eye, to con-
nect the event with what he knew of the letter 1 had sent
to Alixe, and, cocking his head, he blew out his lips with
a soundless laugh, and said :

" To whisk the brother off to heaven is to say good-bye
to sister and pack yourself to Father Peter."

" For (Jod's sake, tell me, is the boy dead ? " I asked,
my voice cracking in my throat.

" lie's not mounted for the journey yet," he answered,
with a shrug, " but the Beast is at the door."

I plied my man with questions, and learned that they
had carried Juste into the palace for dead, but found life
in him, and straightway used all means to save him. A
surgeon came, his father and mother were sent for, and
when Doltaire had left there was hope that he would
live.

I learned also that Voban had carried word to the
Governor of the deed to be done that night ; had for a
long time failed to get admittance to him, but was at last
permitted to tell his story; and Vaudreuil had gone to
Bigot's palace to have me hurried to the citadel, and had
come just too late.

After answering my first questions, Gabord would say
nothing more, and presently he took the torch from the
wall and with a gruff good-night prepared to go. When

THE RAT TX THE TRAP.

0, " Ho,

•

strange

to him

)olislied

preface,
on my
" Is he
alive?"
to con-
ad sent
ps with

3od-bye

'. asked,

5\vered,

at they

nd life

m. A

)r, and

would

to the

for a

at last

)ne to

id had

Id say

n the

Wheu

I asked that a light be loft he shook his head and said ho
had no orders. Whereupon he left me, the heavy door
clanging to, tlio bolts were shot, and I was alone in dark-
ness with mv wounds and miserv. Mvclnak had been ])ut
into the cell beside my couch, and this I now drew over me,
and I lay and tliougiit \\\)n\\ my condition aiid my })r()s-
pects, which, as nuiy be seen, were not cheei-ing. I did
not suiTer great pain from my wounds — only a stilTness
tiuit troubled me not Jit all if I lay still. After an hour
or so had })assed — for it is hard to keep count of time
when one's thoughts a.e tlie only timekeeper — I fell
asleep.

J know iu)t how long I slept, but I awoke refreshed. I
stretched forth my uninjured arm, moving it about. In
spite of will a sort of ho})elessness went through nu^ for
1 could feel long blades of corn grown up about my
couch, au unnatural nu'adow, spi'ingiug from tiie earth
floor of my dungeon. 1 drew the blades between my
lingers, feeling towards them as if tliey were tilings of
life out of i^lacc like myself. I wondered what colour
they were. Surely, said I to myself, they can not be
green, but rather a yellowish white, bloodless, having
only fibre, the heart all i)inched to death. T^ast night I
had not noted them, yet now, looking back, I saw, as in a
picture, Gabord the soldier feeling among tliem for the
knife that I had takcMi. So mav we see tliiuLCs, and vet
not be conscious of them at the cime, waking to their
knowledire afterwards. So mav we for veai's look upon a
face without understanding, and then, suddenly, one day
it comes Hashing out, and we read its hidden story like
a ])ook.

I put my hand out farther, then brought it back near
to my couch, feeling towards its foot mechani(^ally, and
now I touched an earthen pan. A small board lay across
i^'s top, and moving my fingers along it I found a piece

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTV

of bread. Tlicn I felt the jar, and knew it was filled
with water. Sitiiiig back I thon<,^lit hard for a moment.
Of this 1 was sure : tiie pan and bread were not there
when I went to sleep, for tliis was the si)()t where my
eyes fell natiu.tlly wliile I lay in ])ed looking towards
Dojtaire; and I should have remembered it now, even
if I had not noted it then. My jailer had brought these
while I slept. B;it it was still dark. I waked again jis
though out of sleep, startled: I was in a dungeon that
had no window !

Here I was, paeked away in the fjirthest corner of
the citadel, in a decj) hole that maybe had not been used
for years, to he, no doubt, denied all contact with the
outer wotld — I was going to say fric /ids, Init whom could
I name amoiK^ them save that dear soul who, by last
night's madness, should her brother be dead, was forever
made duinb and blind to me? Whom had I but her
and Voban ! — and Voban was yet to be i)roved. The
Seigneur Duvarney had paid all debts lie may have
owed me, and he now might, because of th..- injury to his
son, leave me to my fate. On Gabord the soldier I could
not count at all.

There I was, as Doltairc had said, like a rat in a trap.
But I would not let panic seize me. So I sat and ate the
stab but sweet bread, took a long drink of the good water
from the earthen jar, and then, =5tretching myself out,
drew my cloak up to m} ciiin, and settled myself for sleep
again. And that I might keep up a kind delusion that I
was not quite alone in the bowels of the earth I reached
out my hand and affectionately drew the blades of corn
between my fingers.

Presently I drew my ciiin down to my slioulder, and let
myself drift out of painful consciousness almost as easily
as a sort of woman can call up tears at will. When I
waked again, it was without a start or moving, without

THE RAT IN THE TKAP.

trap.

the
water

out,
sleep
lat I
(.'bed
corn

(! let
■asily
en I
ho lit

confusion, and 1 wu.s bitterly buii;::ry. IJeside my coucli,
with bis bauds on bis bips and bis feet thrust out, stood
(labord, looking down at nu) in a r|uizzical and unsatisfied
way. A torch was burning near him.

" Wake, my dickey-bird," said be in Ids rough, mock-
ing voice, " and we'll snuggle you into tbo pot. You've
been long biding ; come out of the bujb — alio I "

1 drew myself up painfully. "• Wbat is the bour?" I
askcfl, and meanwhile 1 looked for tlic earthen jar and
the bi'ead.

" Hour since when ? " said be.

" Since it was twelve o'clock last night," I answered.

" Fourteen bours since ///r;/," said be.

Tbe emphasis arrested my attention. " I mean," I
added, " since tbe fighting in tbe courtyard."

" Thirty-six Iiours and more since then, m'sieu' tbe
dormouse," was bis reply.

1 bad slept a day and a lialf since the doors of tbis
cell closed on me. It was Friday then, now it was Sun-
day afternoon, (labord bad come to me three times, and
seeing bow sound asleep I was had not disturbed me, but
bad broug'it bread and water~-my prescribed diet.

[id stood there, bis feet buricfl in tbe blancbed corn —
I could see tbe long yellowisb-white blades — tbe tondi
throwing sbadows about him, bis back against tbe wall.
I looked carefully round my dungeon. There was no
sign of a window ; I was to live in darkness. Yet if I
were but allowed candles, or a lantern, or a torch, some
books, pa])er, pencil, and tobacco, and tbe knowledge that
I liad not killed Juste Duvarney, I could abide the worst
witb some sort of calmness. How nuicb might bave hap-
pened, must liave bappened, in all those bours of sleep !
My letter to Alixe sbould bave been delivered long ere
this; my trial, no doubt, bad been decided on. AVbat
liad Voban done? Had be any word for me? Dear

TIIK SEATS OF TIIH MUJUTV

Lord! hero was ji muss of questions tunibiing one upon
the otlier in my heiu], while my heart thumped behind
my waistf'ojit liivo u ruhl)er ball to a j)rize-fi^hter's fist.
Misfortu'.'.cs may be so great and many that one may iind
grim liumour and grotesqueness in tiu'ir impossible con-
jiin('ti(^n and multiidicity. I remembered at that moment
u friend of mine in N'irginia, the most unfortuiuite num I
ever 1 lev Deatli, desertion, money k)sses, political de-
feat, Hood, came one upon the other all in two years, and
coupled with this was loss of liealth. One day he said
to me :

" Robert, I liavc a perforated lung, my liver is a swell-
ing sponge, eating crowds my waistband like a balloon, I
have a swimming in my head aiul a sinking at my heart,
and I ca!i not say litany for ha})py release from these for
my knees creak with rheunuitisni. 'I'he devil has done
his worst, liobert, for these are his — plague and i»esti-
lencc, being final, arc the will of (Jod — and, u})on my soul,
it is an absurd comedy of ills !" At that he had a fit of
coughing, and I gave him a glass of spirits, which eased
him.

" That's bettor," said I cheerily to him.

" It's robbing Peter to pay Paul," he answered; "for
T owed it to my head to put tlie quid rvfart there, and
here it's gone to my lungs to hurry up my breathing.
Did you ever think, Pobert," he added, "that this breath-
ing of ours is a labour, and that we have to work every
second to keep ourselves alive? We have to pump air in
and out like a blacksmilli's boy." lie said it so drolly,
though he was deadly ill, that I laughed for half an hour
at the stretch, wiping away my tears as I did it ; for his
pale gray face looked so sorry, with its quaint smile and
that odd, dry voice of his.

As I sat there in my dungeon, with CJabord cocking
his head and his eyes rolling, that scene Hashed on me,

ail

oil

ling.

:ing
nio,

J'JIK HA'l IN TIIK TKAI».

aiul I 1iui;x1h'(1 freely — so niucli tluit (iiibonl sulkily pulTeil
out his lips, jind iljimud like buiiliiig on a eoast-f,'uar(rs
hut. 'i'lie more ho scowKmI anil spluttered, the more 1
laughed, till my wouiuled side hurt mo and my arm had
twinges, lint my mood changed suddenly, and 1 politely
hegged his pardon, telling him frankly then and there
what had made me laugh, and how I had come to think
of it. The (lame passed out of his cheeks, the revolving
lire of his eyes dimnu'd, his lips broke into a souiulless
laugh, and then, in his big voice, he said :

" You've got your knees to pray on yet, and erac.'k my
bones, hut you'll have need to con your })enitentials if
tattle in the town be true."

" Before you tell of that," said I, "how is young Mon-
sieur Duvariu^y? Is — is he alive?" I added, as I saw his
look lower.

"The Ik'ast was at door again last night, wild to he
off, and foot of young Seigneur was in the stirrup, when
along comes sister with drug got from an Indian s<juaw
who nursed lier when a child. She gives it him, and he
drinks; they carry him back, sleeping, and Ik'ast must
s^ind there tugging at the leathers yet."

"Ills sister — it was his sister," said I, "that brought
him back tolife?"

" Like that — alio ! They said she must not come, but
she will have her way. Straight she goes to tliL palace at
iiiglit, no one knowing but — guess who? You can't —
but no ! "

A light broke in on me. " With the Scarlet Woman
— with Mathilde," I said, lio])ing in my heart that it was
so, for somehow I felt even then tluit she, poor vagrant,
would play a part in the history of Alixe's life and
mine.

"At the first shot," he said. " 'Twas the crimson one,
as quiet as a baby chick, not hanging to ma'm'selle's skirts,

TIIR SEATS OF THE MKUITY.

but watching and whispfriii;,' a littlu now ami tlion — and
sho thei'o in lii;^'()t's palace, and lie not knowing'! And
maids do not tell liirn, for tlicy l\new poor wunch in better
days — alio ! "

I {^'ot up witli efTort and pain, and made to rrragj) Ida
liand in gratitude, but ho drew back, putlin;^' ins arms
beidiul iiiiii.

'^ No, no," said iu', '• I am your jinlcr. Tljoy've put
you here to break your hi;,di spirits, anil I'm to help tho
breaking,'."

" Hut I thank you just tlie same," I answered him;
"and J pronnse to <;ive you as little troulde as nuiy be
while you ai" my jailer — which, witli all my heart, 1 liope
may be as lon<^ as I'm a prisoner."

He waved vMit his hands to the dungeon walls, and
lifted his shoulders as if to say that I might as well bo
docile, for tho ])rison was safe enough. '''•Pooni ! " said
lie, as if in genial disdain of my suggestion.

I smiled, aiul then, after })utting my hands on tho
walls here and there to see if they were, as they seemed,
quite dry, I drew back to my couch and sat down. Pres-
ently I stooi)"ed to tip the earthen jar of water to my lips,
for I could not lift it with oiu^ hand, but mv humane
jailer took it from me and held it to my mouth. When
I had drunk, "J)o you know," asked 1 as cahnly as I
could, " if our barber gave tho letter to Mademoiselle?"

"M'sieu', you've travelled far to rcaoli that question,"
said he, jangling his keys as if ho enjoyed it. "And if
ho had —

V "

1 caught at his vague suggestion, and my heart
leaped.

" A reply," said I, " a message or a letter," though I
had not dared to let myself even think of that.

lie whipped a tiny packet from his coat. " 'Tis a
sparrow's pecking — uo great matter hero, eh?" — he

III)
sai
if

TIIK RAT IN TIIK T\l\\\

»j

leart

ghl

wci»,niotl it up and down (tii his fingers — " ii little piping
wrcirs p((r />/7/V."

1 ivaclk'd .(lit, for il. " I should I'l-ad it," said hv.
'' 'I'hcre must be no inui'e of tliis. liut new orders eaino
(tf/rr I'd got her dainty a tn\sin(\' Yes, I must read it,"
said he—" hut mayhe not at lirst," he athletl, '' not at lirst,
if you'll give word of honour not to tear it."

"On my sacred honour," said I, reaching out still.

He looked it all over again provokingly, and then
lifted it to his nose, foi- it had a delicate perfume. 'I'hen
he gave a liule grunt of wonder and pleasure, an<l handed
it over.

1 broke the seal, and my eyes ran swiftly through the
lines, traced in a llrm, delicate haiul. 1 could see through
it all the line, sound nature, by its healthy sinij)lieity
mustering anxiety, care, and fear.

" Robert," she wrote, " by CJod's help my brother will
live, to repent with you, I trust, of Friday night's ill
work. He was near f^one, vet we have held him back
from that rougli-rider, hi'ath.

" Vou will thank (Jod, will you not, tliat my brother
(lid not die? Indeed, I feel you have. J do not blame;
you ; I know — I need not tell you how — the heart of the
alTair ; and even my mother can see through tla; wretched
thing. My father says little, and he has not spoken
harshlv ; for whicli I ufave thanks<dvinGj this nu)rning in
the chapel of the T'rsulines. Yet you are in a <lungeon,
covered with wounds of my brother's making, both of you
victims of others' villainv, aiul vou are vet to bear worse
things, for they are to try you for your life. lint nev* r
shall I believe that they will lind you guilty of dishonour.
I have watched you these three years ; I do not, nor ever
will, doubt you, dear friend of my heart.

" You would not believe it, liobert, and you may
5

THE SEATS OP TITE MTOnTY.

think it fanciful, but as I got np from my prayers at the
chapel I looked toward.^ a window, and it being a little
open, for it is a sunny day, there sat a bird on the sill, a
little brown bird that jieeped and nodded. I was so won
by it that I came softly over to it. It did not fly away,
but hopped a little here and there. I stretched out my
hand gently on the stone, and putting its head now this
side, now that, at last it tripped into it, and chirped most
sweetly. After! had kissed it I placed it back on the
window-sill, that it n. ight fly away again. Yet no, it
would not go, but stayed there, tipping its gold-brown
head at me as though it would invite me to guess why
it came. Again I reached out my hand, and once more
it tripped into it. I stood wondering and holding it
to my bosom, when I heard a voice behind me say,
' The bird would bo with thee, my child. God hath
many signs.' I turned and saw the good Mere St.
George looking at me, she of wliom I was always afraid,
so distant is she. I did not speak, but oidy looked at
her, and she nodded kindly at me and passed on.

" And, Ivobert, as 1 write to you here in the Intend-
ant's palace (wha^ a great, wonderful place it is ! I fear
I do not hate it and its luxury as I ought !), the bird is
beside me in a cage upon the table, with a little window
open, so that it may come out if it will. My brother lies
in the bed asleep ; I can touch him if I but put out my
hand, and I am alone save for one person. You sent two
messenijers : can vou not f^^uess the one that will be with
me ? Poor ]\Iatliilde, she sits and gazes at me till I
almost fall weeping, l^ut she seldom speaks, she is so
quiet — as if she know that she must keep a secret. For,
Robert, though T know you did not tell her, she knows
— she knows that you love me, and she has given me a
little wooden cross which she says will make us happy.

" My motlie" 1 not drive her away, as I half feared

THE DEVICE OF THE DORMOUSE.

5 at the
a little
e sill, a
so won
f away,
out my
ow this
1(1 most
on the

no, it
-brown
3SS why
le more
ding it
ne say,
>d hatli
ure St.

afraid ,
)ked at

[ntend-
I fear
iird is
vindow
ler lies
out my
nt two
)e with
till I
ID is so
For,
knows
me a

feared

she would, and at last she said that I miglit house her
with one of our peasants. ^Meanwhile she is with me
here. She is not so mad but that she has wisdom too,
and she shall have my care and friendship.

" I bid thee to God's care, Kobert. I need not tell
thee to be not dismayed. Thou hast two jails, and one
wherein 1 lock thee safe is warm and full of liglit. If the
hours drag by, think of all thou wouldst do if thou wert
free to go to thine own country — yet alas that thought !
— and of what thou wouldst say if thou couldst speak
• to thy Alixe.

^''Postscript. — I trust that they have cared for thy
wounds, and that thou hast light and food and wine.
Voban hath promised to discover this for me. The
soldier Oabord, at the citadel, he hatli a good heart.
Thougli thou canst expect no helj) from him, yet he will
not be rougher than his orders, lie did me a good
service once, and he likes me, and I him. And so fare
thee well, Kobert. I will not languish ; I will act, and
not be weary. Dost thou really love me ? "

THE DEVICE OF THE DORMOUSE.

When I had read the letter, I handed it up to Cabord
without a word. A show of trust in him was tho only
tiling, for he had knowledge enough of our secret to ruin
us, if he chose. He took the letter, turned it over, look-
ing at it curiously, and at last, with a shrug of the shoul-
ders, passed it back.

" 'Tis a long tune on a dot of a fiddle," said he, for
indeed the letter was but a small alTair in bulk. " I'd
need two pairs of eyes and telescope ! Is it all llcart-o'-

TIIK SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

my-heart, n,iul Come-trip-iii-dowy-grass — alio ? Or is
tliere knave at window to hear nTsieu' away V "

I took the letter from him. "• I^i.sten," .said I, " to
what the lady says of you." And then 1 read him that
part of her postseript which had to do with himself.

lie put his head on one side like a great wise mag})ie,
and " li'ni — ha!" said he whimsieallv, "alio! (iabord
the soldier, Gabord, tliou hast a good heart — and the birds
fed the beast with })lums and froth of comfits till he died,
and on his sugar tombstone they carved the words, ' Ga-

1 1)

■U

bord had a good heart.

" It was spoken out of a true spirit," said I petulantly,
for I could not bear from a common soldier even a tone of
disparagement, though I saw the exact meaning of his
words. 8o I added, " You shall read llie whole letter, or
I will read it to vou and vou shall iudge. On the honour
of a gentlenum, I will read all of it ! "

'•'' Poon} ! "" said he, "English fire-eater! corn-cracker!
Show me the ' good heart ' sentence, for Fd si-e how it is
written — how (uihuvd looks with a woman's whimsies
round it,"

I traced the words with my fingers, holding the letter
near the torch. " ' Yet he will not be rougher than his
orders,' " said he after me, and "' lie did me a good serv-
ice once.' "

" Comfits," he continued ; " well, thou shalt have com-
fits, too," and he fished from his pocket a 2>iii'cel. It was
my tobacco and my pipe.

Truly, my state might have l)een vastly worse. Little
more was said between ({abord and myself, but he refused
bluntly to carry message or letter to anybody, and bade
me not vex him with petitions. liut he left me the torch
and a flint and steel, so I had light for a space, aud I had
my blessed tobacco and pipe. When the doors clanged
shut and the bolts were shot I lay back oii mj couch.

THE DEVICE OF THE DORMOUSE.

Or is

I, "to
111 tliiit
f.

tnagi)i(\
(iabonl
le birds
10 died,
Is, 'Gia-

Lilantly,
tone of
of his
)ttor, or
honour

racdvor !
jw it is
hinisics

letter

an liis

)d serv-

'0 c om-
it was

Li I lie
'efused
I bade
) toreh
I I had
hinged

I was not all unhappy. Thunl< (Jod, they had not put
chains on nie, as (lovernor Dinwiddle had done with a
French prisoner at WilHanisburg, for whom I had vainly
sought to bo exchanged two years before, though he was
my erpial in all ways and importance. Doltairo was tiie
cause of that, as you shall know. Well, there was one
more item to add to his indebtedness. Mv face Hushed
and my lingers tingled at thought of him, and so I reso-
lutely turned my meditations elsewhere, and again in a
little while I seemed to think of nothing, but lay and
bathed in the silence, aiul indulged my eyes with the good
red light of the torch, inhaling its pitciiy scent. I was
conscious, yet for a time I had no thought: I wjis like
something half animal, half vegetable, whi(3h feeds, yet
has no mouth, nor sees, nor hears, nor has sense, but only
lives. I seemed hung in space, as one feels when going
from sleep to waking— a long lane of half-numb life, be-
fore the open road of full consciousness is reached.

At last I was aroused by the sudden cracking of a knot
in the torch. I saw that it would last but a few hours
more. I determined to ])ut it out, for I might be allowed
uo more light, and oven a few minutes of this torch every
day would be a great boon. So I took it from its place,
and was about to rpicnch it in the moist earth at the foot
of the wall, when I remembered my tol)acco and my pipe.
Can vou think how ioyfuUv I i)acked full the good brown
bowl, delicately filling in every little corner, and at last
held it to the flame, and saw it ligiit? 'JMiat lirst long
whitf was like the indrawn breath of the cold, starved
hunter, when, stepping into his house, he sees food, fire,
and wife on his heartlistone. I'resently I put out the
torchlight, iind then went back to my couch and sat down,
the bowl shining like a star Ijefore me.

There and then a })urpose came to mo — something
which would keep my brain from wandering, my nerves

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

from fretting and wearing, for a time at least. I deter-
mined to write to my dear Alixe the true history of my
life, even to the point — and after — of this thing which was
bringing me to so ill a pass. But I was in darkness, I had
no paper, pens, nor ink. After a deal of thinking I came
at last to the solution. I would compose the story, and
learn it by heart, sentence by sentence as I so comi)osed it.

So there and then I began to run back over the
•years of my life, even to my first remembrances, that 1
might see it from first to last in a sort of whole and with
a kind of measurement. But when I began to dwell upon
my childhood, one little tiling gave birth to another
swiftly, as you may see one flicker in the heaven multiply
and break upon the mystery of the dark, filling the night
with clusters of stars. As I thought, I kept drawing
spears of the dungeon corn between my fingers softly (they
had come to be like comrades to me), and presently there
flashed upon me the very first memory of my life. It
had never come to me before, and I knew now that it was
the beginning of conscious knowledge : for we can never
know till we can remember. Wlien a child remembers
what it sees or feels it has beo-un life.

I put that recollection into the letter which I wrote
Alixe, and it shall be set down forthwith and in little
space, though it took me so very many days and weeks to
think it out, to give each word a fixed place, so that it
should go from my mind no more. Every phrase of tliat
story as I told it is as fixed as stone in my memory. Yet
it must not be thought I can give all here. I shall set
down only a few things, but you shall find in them the
spirit of the whole. I will come at once to the body of
the letter.

w
w

MORAY TELLS THE STOllY OF HIS LIFE.

I deter-
^ of my
lich was
is, I had

I came
)ry, and
losed it.
i^er the

, that I
id with

II upon
mother
I 111 ti ply
B night
rawing
y (they
Y there
fe. It

it was

never

3mbers

wrote
little
ieks to
hat it
if that
Yet
ill set
Xi the
)dvof

MORAY TELLS THE STOIJV OF HIS LIFE.

((

. . I WOULD have vou know of what I ain and
whence I came, though I have given you glimpses in the
past. That done, I will nuiko plain why 1 am charged
with this that puts my life in danger, which would make
you blush that you ever knew me if it were true. And I
will show yo- first a picture as it runs before mo, sitting
here, the corn of my dungeon garden twining in my
fingers : —

"A multiplying width of green grass spotted with
white llowers, an upland where sheep browsed on a carpet
of purple and gold and green, a tall rock on a hill where
birds perched and fiuttered, a blue sky arching over all.
There, sprawling in a garden, a child pulled at long
blades of grass, as he watched the birds Hitting about the
rocks, and heard a low voice coming down the Avind.
Here in my dungeon I can hear the voice as I have not
heard it since that day in the year IToO — that voice stilled
so long ago. The air and the words come floating down
(for the words I knew years afterwards) :

'Did yc see the while cloud in the ^^litit o' tlio sun?

That's the brow and the eye o' my bairnie.
Did ye ken the red bloom at the bend o' the crag ?

That's the rose in the cheek o' my bainiie.
Did ye hear the j;'ay lilt o' the lark by the burn ?

That's the voice of my bairnie, my dearie.
Did ye smell the wild scent in the u^reen o' the wood?

That's the breath o' my !iin, o' my bairnie.
Sae I'll gang awa' hanie, to the shine o' the fire,

To the cot where I lie \vi' my bairnie.'

" These words came crooning over the grass of that
little garden at Balmore which was by my mother's home.

TnE SEATS OF THE MTGRTY.

Tliore I was born one day in Juno, though I was reared
in the busy streets oi (ihisgow, where my father was
a prosperous merchant and famous for his parts and
honesty.

" I see myself, a little child of no great strength, for I
was, indeed, the only one of my family who lived j)ast in-
fancy, and my mother feared she should never bring me
lip. She, too, is in that picture, tall, delicate, kind yet
iirm of face, but with a strong brow, under which shone
grave gray eyes, and a manner so distinguished thj'.c none
might dispute her kinship to the renowned ]\I,jntrose,
who was lifted so high in dying, though his gallows was
but thirty feet, that all the world has seen hi.n there.
There was one other in tliat picture, standing near my
mother, and looking at me, who often used to s])eak of
our great ancestor — my grandfather, John Mitohell, the
Gentleman of J^almore, as he was called, out of regard for
his ancestry and his rare merits.

"I have him well in mind: his black silk breeclies
and white stockings and gold seals, and two eyes that
twinkled with great humour when, ns he stooped over me,
I ran my head between his calves and held him tight. I
recall how my mother stiid, ' I doubt that I shall ever
bring him up,' and how he replied (the words seem to
come through great distances to me), ' He'll live to be
^Montrose the second, rascal laddie ! Four sensons at the
breast? Tut, tut! what o' that! 'Tis but his foolery,
his scampishness ! Nae, nae ! his epitaph's no for writ-
ing till yon and I are tucked i' the sod, my Jeanie. Then,
like Montrose's, it will be—

C(
Cil

til

' Tull Edinburrow thov led him tluiir,
And on ii ij^allcnvs houg ;
Thoy hong liiin liigli ubono the rest,
He was so trim a boy.'

I^rORAY TELLS THE STORY OF HIS LIFE. CI

"I can hear his hui<!:li tliis minute, as he gave an ac-
cent to the words by stirring nie witli his stick, and I
caught tlie gohl liead of it and carried it oiY, trailing it
through the garden, till I heard my motlier calling, ard
then forced her to give me chase, as I pushed open a little
gate and posted away into that wide world of green, com-
ing quickly to the river, where I ]);.iused and stood at bay.
I can sec my mother's anxious face now, as she caught me
to her arms ; and yet I know slie had a kind of pride, too,
when my grandfather siud, on our return, ' The rascal's at
it early. Next time he'll foid the stream and skirl at ye,
Jeanie, from vonner bank.'

"This is the first of my life that I remember. It may
seem strange to you that I thus suddeidy recall not only
it, but the words then s})oken too. It is strange to me,
also. But here it comes to me all on a sudden in this
silence, as if another self of me were speaking from far
places. At first all is in patches and confused, and then
it folds out — if not clearlv, still so I can understand — and
the words I repeat come as if filtered through many brains
to mine. I do not say that it is true — it may be dreams ;
and yet, as I say, it is firmly in my mind.

"The next that I remember was clindjing upon a
chair to reach for my grandfather's musket, which hung
across the chimney. I got at last ujion the mantelshelf,
and my hands were on the weapon, when the door 0})ened,
and mv grandfather and mv father entered. I was so
busv I did not hear them till I was caught bv the legs
and swung to a shoulder, where I sat kicking. ' You see
his tastes, William,' said mv cfrandfather to mv father ;
'he's white o' face and slim o' body, but he'll no carry on
your hopes.' And more he said to the point, though
what it was I knew not. But I think it to have been
suggestion (I heard him say it later) that I would bring
Glasgow up to London by the sword (good doting soul !)

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

as my father brought it by niuiiufuctiircs, gaining lionour
tlierebv.

"However tluit niiiy be, I would not re ■. Mil my
griiiulfather had put the nuusket into my arms', I could
scarcely lift it, but from tiie lirst it had a chi>'. i foi mo,
and now and then, in spite of mv TuotherV })rotests, 1
w,\s 1 it to hnudle it, to h'uvu its ])arts, to burnish it, and
i.*-a id-bye — I couitl not have been more than six years

oi.j — to rest it on a roeI<: and fire it olT. It kicked my
siioi. r roughly in firing, but I know 1 did not wink as
I pulled the trigger. Then I got a wild hunger to fire it
at all times ; so much so, indeed, that powder and shot
were locked up, and the musket was put away in my
grandfather's chest. But now and again it was taken
out, and I made war upon the unresisting hillside, to
the dismay of our neiirhljours in Balmore. Feeding the
fever i.i my veins, my grandfather taught me soldiers'
exercises and the handling of arms : to my dear mother's
sorrow, f> she ever fancied me as leading a merchant's
quiet life like my father's, hugging the hearthstone, and
finding joy in small civic duties, while she and my dear
father sat peacefully watching me in their decline of
years.

" I have told you of that river which liowed near my
father's house. At this time most of my hours were
spent by it in good weather, for at last my mother came
to trust me alone there, having found her alert fears of
little use. But she would very often com with me and
watch me as I played there. I loved to fancy myself a
miller, and my little mill-wheel, made by my own hands,
did duty here and there on the stream, and many drives
of logs did I, in fancy, saw into piles of lumber, and loads
of flour sent away to the City of Desire. Then, again, I
made bridges, and drove mimic armies across them ; and
if they were enemies, craftily let them partly cross, to

MORAY TELLS THE STORY UF HIS LiFE.

xr mj
were
came
ars of
and
self a
ands,
1 rives
loads
ain, I
; and
ss, to

tumble tlieni in at the moment when part of th forces
were on one side ol' the stream and 2)art on the <>'i: r, and
at the ' iercy of my men.

" Ay grandfather tauglit me how to build forts and
breastworks, and I lay in ambusli fur the h^'adle, who was
my good friend, for my grandfather, and f(;r half a do/eti
other village folk, who took no olTenee at my sport, but
made believe to be bitterly afraid when I surrounded
them and drove them, shackled, to my fort by the river.
Little by little the fort grew .t. 'il it was a gooilly pile ;
for now and then a village yout) lelpcd me, or again an
old man, whose heart, ma.b. , njc.iced to play at being
child again with me. Yeuis '^.' *:er, whenever 1 went back
to Balmore, there stood tl > fort, for no one ever meddled
with it, or tore it down.

"And I will tell you one reason why this was, and
you will think it strange that it should have })layed such
a part in the history of the village, as in my own life.
You must know that people living in secluded i)laces are
mostly superstitious. Well, when my fort was built to
such proportions that a small ladder must be used to fix
new mud and mortar in place upon it, something hap-
pened.

" Once a vear there came to Balmore — and he had
done so fo. a generation — one of those beings;" called The
Men, who are given to prayer, fasting, and prophesying,
who preach the word of warning ever, calling even the
ministers of the Lord sharply to ac^count. One day this
Man came past my fort, folk with him, looking for preach-
ing or prophecy from him. Suddenly turning he came
inside my fort, and, standing upon the ladder against the
wall, spoke to them fervently. Ills last words became a
legend in Balmore, and spread even to Glasgow and be-
yond.

" ' Hear me 1 ' cried he. ' As I stand looking at ye

G4r

THE SKATS OF TIIK MKJllTV.

from tliis wall, calling; on yu in your niitural bodies to takii
rt'fii^^o in tin; Fort of Ciod, the An<(t'l of Dcnlii is look-
ing owcr the battlements of heaven, choosing ye out, the
sheep frae tlie goats; ealiing the one to burning llames,
and the other into peaeeal)ie habitatious. 1 hear the
voice now,' cried he, ' and sonu^ soul among us goetli
forth. Flee ye to the i^'ort of Refuge!' I can see him
now, his j)ale face sliining, his eyes burning, his beard
blowing in the wiml, his grizzled hair shaking on his
forehead. 1 had stood witiiin the fort watching him.
At last he turned, and, seeing me intent, stooped, caught
me by the arms, and lifted me upon the wall. 'See yoii,'
said ho, 'yesterday's babe a warrior to-day. Have done,
have done, ye quarrelsome hearts. Ye that build forts
here shall lie in darksome prisons ; there is no fort but
the Fort of (Jod. The call comes frae the white ram-
parts. Hush!' he added solemidv, raisinsr a fiuirer.
' One of us goeth hence this day ; are ye ready to walk i'
the fearsome valley?'

" I have heard my mother speak these words over
often, and they were, as I said, like an old song in Jial-
moro and (rlasgow. lie set mo down, and then walked
away, waving the frightened people back; and there was
none of them that slept that night.

" Xow comes the stranger thing. In the morning
'j'he ]\ran was found dead in my little fort, at the foot of
the wall. Henceforth the si)ot was sacred, and I am sure
it stands there as Avhen last I saw it twelve years ago, but
worn awav bv rains and winds.

Again and again my mother said over to me liis words,
'Ye that build forts here shall lie in darksome prisons';
for always she had fear of the soldier's life, and she was
moved bv signs and dreams.

But this is how the thing came to shape my life :

" About a year after The Man died, there came to my

)r(ls,

lis' ;

was

MORAY TELLS TIIK STOUY OF HIS LIFi:.

grand fiitlicM''s house, my motlicr and 1 bciii^jf present, h
gentleman, by name Sir Jolm ({((drie, and lie would have
mv mother tell the whoir -torv of 'i'he Man. That being
done, ho said that 'i'he Man was his !)rothei', who had
been bad and wild in youth, a s(jldier; but repenting had
gone as far the other way, giving up [»laee and property,
und cutting ol! IVuui all his kin.

''This irentleiuaii Look much notieo of me and said
thiit he slu-uld be glad to see more of lue. Aud so he
did, for in the years that folhiwed he would visit iit our
home in (Ihisgow when I was at school, or at IJalmore
until my grandfather died.

"My father liked Sir John greatly, and ihey grew
exceeding friendly, walking forth in the streets of (ilas-
gow, Sir John's hand upon my father's arm. One day
they came to the seho(d in High Street, where I learned
Latin and othi-r accomplishments, together with fencing
from an excellent master. Sergeant JJowie of the One
Hundredth Foot. They found me with my regiment at
drill ; for I had got full thirty of my school-fellows under
arms, and spent all leisure liours in mustering, marching,
and drum-beating, and practising all numner of discipline
and evolution which I had been taught by my grandfather
and Sergeant Dowie.

" Those were the days soon after which came Dettin-
gen and Fontenoy and Charles Edward the Pretender, .and
the ardour of arms ran high. Sir John was a follower of
the Stuarts, and this was the one point at which he and
my father paused in their good friendship. When Sir
John saw me with mv thirtv lads marchin2: in tine or-
der, all tired with the little sport of battle — for to me it
was all real, and our sham lights often saw broken heads
and bruised shoulders — ho stamped his cane upon the
ground, and said in a big voice, ' Well done ! well done !
For that you shall have a hundred pounds next birthday,

THE SEATS OF THE MTCnTY.

and as fino a suit of scarlet as you please, ami a sword
from Loiulttu, too.'

" 'I'lieu he came to me and oauf:^lit mo by both sliou!-
deiN. ' Hut alack, alack I then; needs some blood and
llesii here, liolicrt Moray,' .said he. ' Vou have more
heart than muscle.'

U'his was true. T had over been more ea,i,'er than my
strength — thank (lod, lliat day is <(onu I — and sometimos,
after Jiatin and tlu; diill of my Iii;,'htfoots, as 1 called
them, I could have erieil for weakness ami weariness liad
J been a <{ii'l and not a {)roud lad. And Sir John kept his
word, likiii",' me better fi'om that day forth, ajid coming
now and a^Min to see nie at the school, — thouji^h he was
much abroad in l^'rance — givin<:f nuiiiy a jxumd to my
Jjghtfoots, who were no worse scddiers for that. His eye
ran us over shar]»ly, and his head nodded, as we nuirehed
l)ast him; and once I heard him say, 'If they had had
but ten years eacli on their heads, my I'rince ! '

" About this time my father died — tluit is, when I wan
fourteen years old. Sir .John became one of tlie execu-
tors with my mother, and at my wish, a year jifterwards, I
was sent to the university, where at least fifteen of my
Lightfoots went also; and tliere 1 formed a new battalion
of them, thou<xh we were watched at first, and even lield
in suspicion, because of the known friendship of Sir John
forme; and he liimself had twice been under arrest for
his friendsliip to the Stuart cause. '^I'hat he helped Prince
Charles was clear: his estates were mortgaged to the
hilt.

"He died suddenly on that day of January when Cul-
loden was fought, before he knew of the defeat of the
Prince. 1 was with him at the last. After some seri-
ous business, which I shall come to by-and-bye, ' Kobcrt,'
sjiid he, ' I wish thou hadst been witli my Prince. AVhen
thou becomest a soldier, fight where thou liast heart to

a
fo
\
\

MORAY THIJ . TIIF. STORY oV HIS \AVK.

fi^'lit; ))iit if tliou liast <'(>ns(;i(.'no(^ for it, K't it 1k' witli
II Stuart. I tlKMi^'lit to k'lvvo tliec ii j^ood moit'ty of my
fortiini', UolxTt, Init little tluit's fret! is K-ft for ^Mviu;^'.
Vut thou hast something' from thy fatiicr, and down in
Vir^nrua, where my friend Dinwiddie is (lovernor, there's
a plantation for tiiee, and a })urse of ^'old, which was
for me in case I sh(>uld have cause to llee this troul)lc(l
realm. Hut I need it not ; I ;;o for refu<^e to my Father's
house.. Tlie lilth; viiu'varil and the purse of ^^)ld are for
thee, Uohert. If thou thinkest well of it, leave this sick
land for that new one. Uuild thyself a nanu! in that
grea't young country, wear thy sword honourahly and
bravely, use thy gifts in council and dchate — for DiFi-
widdie will be thy fi'iend — and think of me as one who
would have been a father to thee if he could. Ciivo'thy
good mother my loving farewells. . . . Forget not to
wear my sword — it has come from the first King Cli.irles
liimsclf, IJobert.'

After which he raised himself upon his elbow and said,
'Life — life, is it so luird to untie the knot?* Then a
twinge of agony crossed over his face, and afterwards
came a great clearing and pea(;e, and he was gone.

" King CJeorgc's soldiers entered with a warrant for
him even as he died and the same moment dropped their
hands upon my sliouhler. I was kef^t in durance for
many days, and was not even at the funeral of my bene-
factor ; but through the elTorts of the provost of the uni-
versity and some good friends wlio could vouch for my
loyid principles I was released. Vn\t my pride had got a
setback, and I listened with ])atier.((^ lo my mother's
prayers that I would not join th/' King's nu-n. With the
anger of a youth, I now blame' his ^lajest v /or the acts
of Sir John Godric's enemies. And though [ was a good
soldier of the King at heart, I w ould lujt serve him hence-
forth. AVe threshed matters back and fortji, and pres-

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

ently it was tlionf^lit I sliould sail to A'irginia to take
over my estate. My mother urged it, too, for she be-
lieved if I were weaned from my old comrades, military
fame would no longer charm. So she urged me, and go 1
did, with a commission from some merchants of Glasgow,
to give my visit to the colony more weight.

" It was great pain to leave my mother, but she bore
the parting bravely, and away I set in a good ship. Ar-
rived in \'irginia, I was treated with great courtesy in
Williamsburg, and the (iovernor gave me welcome to his
home for the sake of his old friend ; aiul yet a little for
my o\v ■',, 1 think, for we weio of one temper, though he
was old and I young. We were both full of impulse
and proud and given to daring hard things, and my mili-
tary spirit suited him.

" In Virginia I spent a gay and busy year, and came oil
very well with the rough but gentlemanly cavaliers, who
rode through the wide, sandy streets of the capital on ex-
cellent horses, or in Eng''.sli coaches, with a rusty sort of
show and splendour, but always with great gallantry.
The freedom of the life charmed nu', and with rumours
of war with the French there seemed enough to do,
whether with the sword or in the House of Burgesses,
wliere Governor Dinwiddle said his sav with more force
than com})lai.sance. So taken was I witli the life — my first
excursion into tlie wide workinij: world — that I delaved
my going back to (Jlasgow, tiie more so that some matters
touching my property called for action by the House of
Burgesses, ami I had to drive the alfair to the end. Sir
John had done better bv me than he thoujrht, and I
thanked him over and over again for his good gifts.

*' Presently I got a letter from my father's old partner
to say that my dear mother was ill. I got back to Glas-
gow only in time — but how^ glad I was of that ! — to hear
her last words. When my mother was gone I turned

agi

pai
P.u

MORAY TELLS THE STORY OF IlIS LIFE. 09

towards Virginia witli longing, for I could not so soon go
afjainst lior wishes and join the King's arniv on tiio Conti-
neiit, and less desire had 1 to be a (ilasgow merchant.
(Jentlenien merchants had bettor times in X'irginia. So
there was a winding-up of the estate, not greatly to my pleas-
ure; for it was found that by unwise ventures my father's
])artner had perilled the whole and lost part of the property.
P)Ut as it was, 1 hail a competence and several houses in
(ilasgow, and 1 set forth to V'ii'giui.i witli a goodly sum of
money and a shipload of merchandise, which 1 should sell
to merchants, if it chanced 1 should become a planter
oidv. 1 was warndv welcomed bv old friends and bv the
(lovernor and his family, and I soon set up an establish-
ment of n^y own in Williamsburg, joining with a merchant;
tliere in business, while my land was worked by a neigh-
bouring planter,

" Those were hearty days, wherein I made little money,
but had much pleasure in the giving and taking of civili-
ties, iu throwing my doors open to acrpuiintances, and
with mv vounir friend, Mr. ^\'a.-hini:ton, lavins: the foun-
dation for a Virginian arniv, ])v drill and vearlv duty in
camp, with occasional excursions against the Indians. I
saw very well what the end f>f our troubles with the
French would be, and I waited for the time when I
should put to keen use the sword Sir John Oodric had
given me. Life beat high then, for I was iu the first flush
of manhood, and the spii'it of a rich new land was waking
iri us all, while in our vanity we held to and cherished forms
and customs that one would have thought to see left be-
hind in London streets and drawing-rooms. These tilings,
these functions in a small ]>lace, kept us a little vain and
proud, but, I also hope, it gave us some sense of civic duty.

" And now I conu' to that w hich will, comrade of my
heart, bri?ig home to your uutlcrstanding what lies behind
the charges against nie :

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

" Trouble came between Cuiiiulu aiul \'irginia. Major
Washington, one Captain Mackaye, and myself marched
out to the Great Meadows, where at Fort ^'ecessity we
surrendered, after hard figlitinp^, to a force three times our
number. J, with one Captain \'au Braam, became a host-
age. Monsieur Coulon \'illiers, tlie French conmiander,
gave his bond that we should be delivered uj) when an
otlicer and two cadets, who were prisoners with us, should
be sent on. It was a choice between ^Ir. ^Nfackaye of the
Kegulars and ]\[r. Washington, or ]\Ir. \'an Braam and
myself. I thought of what would be best for the country ;
and besides. Monsieur Coulon Villiers pitched upon my
name at once, and held to it. So I gave up my sword to
Charles Bedford, my lieutenant, with more regret than I
can tell, for it was sheathed in memories, charging him to
keep it safe — that he would use it worthily 1 knew. And
so, sorrowfully bidding my friends good-by, away we went
upon the sorry trail of captivity, arriving in due time at
Fort Du Quesne, at the junction of the Ohio and the
]\Ionongahela, where I was courteously treated. There I
bettered my French and made the acquaintance of some
ladies from Quebec city, avIio took pains to help me with
their language.

" Now, there was one lady to whom I talked with some
freedom of my early life and of Sir John Godric. She
was interested in all, but when I named Sir John she be-
came at once impressed, and I told her of his great attach-
ment to Prince Charles, ^lore than once she returned to
the subject, begging me to tell her more; and so I did,
still, however, saying lu^thing of certain papevs Sir John
had placed in my care. A few weeks after the first occa-
sion of my speaking, there was a new arrival at the fort.
It was — can you guess? — Monsieur Doltaire. The night
after his coming lie visited me in my cpuirters, and after
courteous passages, of which I need not sjieak, he sud-

MORAY TELLS THE STORY OF HIS LIFE.

denly said, ' You liiivo the papers of Sir Jolin CJodric —
those bearing on Prince Charles's invasion of Enghuid ? '

" I was stunned by the question, for I could not guess
his drift or purpose, though presently it dawned upon
me. — Among the papers were many letters from a great
lady in France, a growing rival with La I'ompadour in
the counsels and favour of the King. She it was who
had a secret passion for Prince Charles, and these letters
to Sir John, who had been with the Pretender at \'er-
sailles, must prove her ruin if produced. 1 had promised
Sir John most solemnly that no one should ever have
them while I lived, except the great lady herself, that I
would give them to iier some time, or destroy them. It
was Doltaire's mission to get these letters, and he had
projected a visit to AVilliainsburg to see me, having just
arrived in Canada, after a search for me in Scotland,
when word came from the lady gossip at Fort Du
Quesnc (with whom he had been on most familiar terms
in Quebec) that I was there.

" When I said I had the papers, he asked me lightly
for ' those compromising letters,' remarking that a good
price would be paid, and adding my liberty as a pleasant
gift. I ".nstantly refused, and told him I would not be
the weapon of La Pompadour against her rival. With
cool persistence he begged me to think again, for much
depended on my answer.

'"See, monsieur le cat)itaine,' said he, 'this little
affair at Fort Xecessity, at which you became a hostnge,
shall or shall not be a war between Fjigland and France
as you shall dispose.' When I asked him how that was,
he said, ' First, will you swear tliat y<»u will not, to .aid
yourself, disclose what I tell you ? You can see that
matters will be where they were an hour ;igo in any case.'

"I agreed, for I could act even if I might not spcik.
So I gave my word. Then he told me that if those letters

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY

wore not put into liis liaiids, La Ponip.'idonr would be
enraged, and fretrul and hesitating; now would join Aus-
tria against England, since in this pi'ovincial war was
convenient cue for batlle. If I gave up the; letters, she
would not stir, and the disputed territory between us
should be by articles seded by the French.

" 1 thought much and long, during which he sat smok-
ing and humming, and seeming to care little how my
answer went. At last 1 turned on him, and told him 1
would not give up the letters, and if a war must hang
on a whim of malice, tiien, by (Jod's help, the right ness
of our cause would be (nir strong weapon to bring France
to her knees.

"'That is vour final answer?' asked lie, risinir, fin-
gering his lace, ind viewing himself in a looking-glass
upon the wall.

" ' I will not change it now or ever,' answered I.

" ' Ever is a long time,' retorted he, as one might
speak to a wilful child. ' Von shall have time to
thiik and space for reverie. For if you do not grant this
trifle vou shall no more see vour dear \'irginia ; and
when the time is ripe you shall go forth to a better land
as the Grande ^farcpiise shall give you carriage.'

" ' The Articles of Caj)itulation I ' I broke out pro-
test! ngly.

" lie waved his fingers at me. * Ah, that,' he rejoined
— ' tliat is a matter for conning. You are a hostnge.
Well, we need not take any wastrel or nobody the English
offer in exchange for you. Inde mI, why should we be
content with less than a royal duke? F\>r you are worth
more to us just now than any prince we have ; at least so
says the CJrande ^Marquise. Is your mind quite firm to
refuse?' he added, nodding his head in a bored sort of
way.

" ' Entirely,' said I. ' I will not part with those letters.'

MORAY THLLS THE STORY OF HIS \AVE

()-

" ' liiit tliiiik oiino again,' lie urged ; the gain of terri-
tory to Virginia, tlie jieace between our countries ! '

" ' Folly ! ' returned I. ' I know well you overstate
the case. You turn a small intrigue into a game of na-
tions. Yours is a schoolboy's tale. Monsieur Doltaire.'

" ' You are something of an ass,' he mused, and took
a pinch of siiulT.

"' And you — you have no name,' retorted I.

" I did not know, when I spoke, how this might strike
home in two ways or I should not have said it. I had
not meant, of course, that he was King Louis's illegiti-
mate son.

" ' TIkm'c is some truth in that,' he replied patiently,
though a red siiot tlamcd hiirh on his cheeks. ' Jiut
some men need no chiistening for their distinction, and
others win their iiam(\s with proper we;i])ons. I am not
here to quarrel with you. 1 am acting in a large atTair
not in a small intri<rue ; a century of fate ma\ hang
on this. Come with me,' iie added. 'You dor'jt my
power, maybe.'

" He opened the door of the cell, and I followed him
out, past the storehouse and the olhcers' ajiartmcTits, to
the drawbi'idge. Standing ' the shad )W l)y the gate he
took keys from liis pocket ' Here,' said he, ' are what
will set ycMi free. This fort is all mine : I act for France.
"Will you care to free your if? You shall have escort to
your own jieople. You s I am most serious,' he added,
laughing lightly. ' It is not my way to sweat or worry.
You and I hold war and peace in our hands. Which
shall it be? In this trouble France or Fngland will be
manirled. It tires one to think of it when life can be so
easy. \ow, for the hist time,' he urged, holding out the
keys. ' "^"^our word of ho!; <ur that, the letters shall be
mine — eh ? '

"' Never,' I concluded. 'England and France are in

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

groator linndH tlmii yours or mine. 'The God of battles
still stands beside the balances.'

u 7

le siinigs^ed a shoulder. ' Oh, well,' said he, ' that
ends it. It will he interesting to watch tiie way of the
God of battles. j\[eanwhile you travel to Quebec. He-
member that however free you may appear you will h ive
watchers, titat when vou seem safe you will be in most
danger, that in the end we will have those letters or your
life; that meanwhile tlie war will go on, that you shall
liave no sliare in it, and that the whole power of Ktigland
will not be enough to set her hostage free. That is all
there is to say, I tliiuk. . . . Will you lift a glass of wine
with me?' he added courteously, waving a hand towards
the commander's (juarters.

"I assented, for wliy, thought T, sliould there be a
personal quarrel between us? We talked on many things
for an hour or more, and his I found tlie keenest mind
that ever I liave met. There was in him a diopassionate-
ness, a breadth, whicli seemed most strange in a trifler of
the Court, in an exq'usite — for such he was. I sometimes
think that his elegance and flippancy were deliberate, lest
he should be taking himself or life too seriouslv. His in-
telligenco charmed me, held me, and, later, as we travelled
up to Quebec, I found my journey one long feast of inter-
est, lie was never duil, and his cynicism had an admirable
grace and cordiality. A born intriguer, he still was above
intrigue, justifying it on the basis that life was all sport.
In logic a leveller, praising the moles, as he called them,
the champion of the peasant, the apologist for the bour-
geois — who always, he said, had civic virtues — he never-
theless held that what was was best, that it could not be
altered, . ,nd that it Avas all interc'-.ting. ' I never repent,'
he said to me one day. ' 1 have done after my nature, in
the sway and impulse of our time, and as the King lias
said, After us the deluge. What a pity it is we shall see

MORAY TELLS THE SToRY OF HIS LIFE.

est
in-
k'd
er-
bio
)ve
ort.
pni,
nr-

h.as
Isee

neither tlie flood nor tlie ark I And so, when all is done,
wc shall niis.s the most intcivstinu; tliiiiir of all : ourselves
dead and the i:ap and ruin avc leave hcliiiul us. I'y that,
from my staiulpuint,' he would add, Mile is a failure as a
speetaele.'

"Talkins: in this fashion and in a hundred other ways,
we came to (^nebee. Ami yon ktiow iti general what
ha])}>ened. 1 met your honoured father, whose life I had
saved on the Ohio some years befo-re, and he worked for
my comfort in my bond;ii;v. You know how exchange
after exehaugo was refused, and that for near three years
1 have been here, fretting my soul out, eager to be fight-
ing in our cause, yet tied hand and foot, wasting time
and losing heart, idli' in an enemv's eountrv. As Doltaire
said, war was declareiL '"it not till he had maih^ here in
Quebec last elforts to _^' those letters. I do not complain
so bitterlv of these lost vears, since they have brought
me the best gift of my life, your love and friendship; but
my enemies here, commanded from France, have bided
their time, till an accident has given them a cue to dis-
pose of me without openly breaking the accepted law of
nations. Thev could not decent Iv hang a lujstage, for
wdiom they had signed iirticles; but they have got their
chance, as they think, to try me for a spy.

"Here is the case. When I found that they were de-
termined and liad ever di'termined to violate their articles,
that thev never intended to set me free, I felt absolved
from my duty as an ofTicer on ])Mroh\ and I therefore se-
cretly sent to Mr. Washington in A'irginia a plan of Fort
]>uQuesne and one of (Quebec. I knew that I ^vis risking
my life by so doing, but that did not deWr hm-. ]?y my
promise to Doltaire, I could not Tell of tJue mat r Iwtween
ns, and whatever he has done in other ways, he has p^e-
served my life; for it would have Ikh'U easy to havi' me
dropped off by a stray bullet, or to have accidentally

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

(Irowiiod mo in tlio St. Luwrciico. I Ijclicve tliis matter of

the letters to be between myself and him and P)i<'ot

and periiaps not oven I>igot, thongli surely ho must know
that La J'ompadour has some peenlijir roasoji for interest-
ing herself in a poor captain of jjrovincials. Wm uow ean
sec another motive for the duel which was brou'dit about
between your brother and myself.

^[y plans aiul letters were given by Mr. Washington to
General liraddock, <nd the sofiuel vou knew: thcv have
fallen into the haiuls of my enemies, coj)ios have <rono to
France, and J am to bo tried for ru» lilV. Preserving
faith with my enemy Doltairo, I (.-an not plead the real
cause of my long detention ; I can only urge that ilwx had
not kept to tlieir articles, and that I, therefore, was free
from the obligations of parole. I am sure thev have no
intention of giving me the benefit of any doubt. M v real
hope lies in escape and the intervention of Kngland, though
my country, alas! lias not concerned herself about me, as
if indeed she resented the non-delivery of those letters to
Doltairo, since they were addressed to one she looked on
as a traitor, and held by one whom she had un justlv ])ut
under suspicion.

" So, dear Alixe, from that little fort on the banks of
the river Kelvin liave come those strange twistings of my
life, and I can date this dismal fortune of a dungeon from
the day The ]\Ian made his prophecy from the wall of my
mud fort,

" Whatever comes now, if you have tliis record, you
will know the private history of my life. ... I have told
all, with unpractised tongue, but with a wish to be under-
stood, and to set forth a story of which the letter should
be as true as the spirit. Friend beyond all price to me,
some day this tale will reach: your hands, and I ask vou to
liouse it in your heart, and, wliatever comes, lot it be for
my rc' 'embrance. God be with you, and farewell ! "

"QUOTH LITTLE GvVRALNE."

VIL

" QT'OTTT T.TTTLK OAnAIXE.

I TTAVE rrivon tlio story hero a.'? thoui^li it liad boon
tlionglit out ami written thai Sunday afternoon wh'wh
brought me good news of .lusto Di'vanicy. IJiit il was
not so. I did not choose to break tlie run of the tab)
to tell of other things ami of the passing of time. The
making took mo many, numy wi'eks, and in aU that
time 1 had seen no faee but (labord's, and heard no
voice but his as he came twice a, day to bring me bread
and water. He would answer no (juostions concerning
Juste Duvarney, or \'(jban, or Monsieur Doltaire, nor tell
me anythinir of what was forward in tlie town. lie liad
had his orders precise enough he said. At the end of
all my hints and turnings and approaches, stretching
himself up, and turning the corn about with his foot
(but not crushing it, for he saw that I prized the poor
little comrades), he would say :

" Snug, snug, quiet a!id warm I The cosiest nest in
the world — alio ! "

There was no coaxing him, and at last I desisted. I
had no light. With resolution I set tuv mind to see in
spite of the dark, and at the end of a month T was able
to note the outlines of my dungeon ; nay, more, T war-
able to see my little field of corn ; and at last what jo /
I had when, hearing a little rustle near me, I looked
closely and beheld a mouse runiduij: across the floor ! I
straightway began to scatter crumbs of bread, that it might,
perhaps, come near mo — as at last it did.

I have not spoken at all of my wounds, though they
gave me many ])ainful hours, and 1 had no attendance
but my own and (lal)ord's. I'he wound in my side was
long healing, for it was more easily disturbed as I turned

>«3B!<Sf*S4«

y^^

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

in my slcop, wliile I could ease my arm Jit all tirnos, and
it came on slowly. My sulTcrin^^^s drew on my Ik-sh, m}'
blood, and my spirits, and to this was added tiiat dist-aso
inaction, the corn)si(.!i nf soliLiidc, and the fever of sus-
pense and uncertainty as to Alix" and Juste Duvarney.
Every iiour, every rnoinenL that 1 had ever i)assed in Aiixe'a
presence, with nuiiiy little incidents and scenes in which
we shared, passed before me— vi\idaml cherished i)icturcs
of tlu! mind. One of tiiose incidents 1 will set down hero.

A year or so before, soon after Juste Duvarney camo
from Montreal, he brouijiit in one dav from huntinir a
youuLi: live hawk, and put it in a ca,i;e. When 1 came
the next morning, Alixe met me, and asked nu' to see
what ho had brought. There, ^wside the kitchen door,
overhung with morning-glories and llankcd by holly-
hocks, was a largo green cage, and in it the gray-brown
hawk. "Poor thing, poor prisoned thing!" she said.
" Look how strange and hunted it seems ! See how its
feathers stir! And those Hashing, watchful eyes, they
seem to read through you, and to say, ' Who are you ?
What do you want with nu^ ? Your world is not my
world; your air is not my air; your homes are holes,
and mine hansfs high u]) between you and God. Who
are you ? Why do you ])en me ? You have shut me in
that I may not travel not even die out in the open
worhh All the world is mine; yours is oidy a stolen
field. Who are vou ? What do you want with me?
There is a fire within my head, it eats to my eyes, and
I burn away. What do yon want with me?'"

She did not speak these words all at once as I liave
written them here, but little by little, as we s<-ood there
talking beside the cage. Yet, as she talked with me, her
mind was on the bird, her lingers running up and down
the cage bars soothingly, her voice now and again inter-
jecting soft reflections aTul exclamations.

"(iUOTII LITTLK (lAKAINK."

"SlKill I set it five?" I asked Ikm'.

She tunu'tl upon tiio and rt'|)lic(l, '' Ah, inonsiciir, I
hoped you Would— wiihout my askiuir. Von arc a pris-
onor too," slio added; '* uiie captive sliculd feel for an-
other."

"And the freeman for both," J answered meainn_L:ly,
us 1 sofily 0})eiied tiie caixe.

She did not drop her eyes, l)ut raised them shinini,'
honestly and frankly to mine, and said, '' I wished you to
tliink tliat."

Opening the ca^i^e di.or wi(h", I eallrd the little eap-
tive to freedom, Ihit wliiU- we stood (dose hv it would
not stir, and the look in its eyes hecame wihh-r. I moved
away, and Alixe followed me. Sfandiui: ln'side an old
well we waited and watched. Pi-esently the hawk dropped
from the ]ter(di, hop[)ed to the (htor, tlu'U with a wild
.sprinu^ was "j^one, up, up, up, ami v.as away over the nui}»le
woods beyond, lost in the sun and the u'ood air.

I know not quite why 1 dwell (»n this scene, save that
it throws some little li^uht upon her nature, and shows
how simple and yet deep she was in soul, and what was
the fashion of our friendship, ihit 1 can perhaps <:ive a
clearer insiirht of her (diaracter if I here set down the sub-
stance of a letter written about that time, whieh came into
my possession loni^ afterwards. It was her custom to
write her letters first in a ])ook, and afterwards to copy
them for postinnc. This she did that they mio-lit be an
impulse to her friendships and a record of her feelings.

AlIXK DcVAKNKV to Lr(IK lX)TIU.Nlf;KK.

(,)ri;i>.i:c ("rrv, /lie Inth <if Mm/, nin.

My "DEAR LrriH : T wish I knew how to tell you all
I have been thiid^ing since we parted at the (h:)or of the
Ursulines a year ago. Then we were going to meet again
in a few weeks, and now twelve months have gone I How

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

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(716) 872-4503

TnE SKATS OF THE MICIITY.

have I ppont them ? Not wickedly, I hope, and yet some-
times I wonder if ^fere TSt. CJeorge would quite approve
of me ; for I have wild spirits now and then, and I
shout and sing in the woods and along the river as if I
were a mad youngster home from school. Jiut iiuleed,
that is the way 1 feel at times, though again I am so quiet
that I am frightened of myself. I am a hawk to-day and
a mouse to-morrow, and fond of pleasure all the time. Ah,
what good days I have had with Juste ! You remember
him before he went to ^lontreal ? He is gay, full of
fancies, as brave as can be, and plays and sings well, but he
is very hot-headed, and likes to play the tyrant. We have
some bad encounters now and then. But we love each
other better for it ; he respects me, and he does not be-
come spoiled, as you will see when you come to us,

I have had no society yet. My mother thinks seventeen
years too few to warrant my going into the gay woi'ld. I
wonder will my wings be any stronger, will there be less
danjrer of scorching them at twentv-six? Years do not
make us wise ; one may be as wise at twenty as at fifty.
And they do not save us from the scorching. I know
more than they guess how cruel the world may be to the
innocent as to— the other. One can not live within sight
of the Intendant's palace and the Chateau St. Louis with-
out learning numy things ; and, for myself, though I
hunger for all the joys of life, I do not fret because my
mother holds me back from the gay doings in the town.
1 have my long walks, my fishing and rowing, and some-
times shooting, with Juste and my sister CJeorgette, my
drawing, painting, music, needlework, and my housework.

Yet I am not entirely happy, I do not know quite
why. Do you ever feel as if there were some sorrow far
back in von, which now and then rushed in and flooded
your spirits, and then drew back, and you could not give
it a name? Well, that is the way with me. Yesterday,

"QUOTH LITTLE GAUAIXK."

; some-
p])rovo
and I
as if I
iiideod,
quiet
lav and
c/ All,
nembor
full of
, but be
t'e bave
re each
not be-

ventecn
)rld. I
be less
do not
at fifty,
know
to tbe
n sight
is with-
:)ngh I
se my
town,
some-
tte, my
ework.
V quite
ow far
flooded
ot give
terday,

as I stood in the kitchen beside our old cook Jovin, she
said a kind word to me, and my eyes lilled, and I ran up
to my room, and burst into tears as 1 lay U]ion my bed.
I could not hel}) it. 1 tliought at first it was because of
the poor hawk that Captain Moray and I set free yester-
day morning; but it could not have been that, for it was
free when 1 cried, you see. You know, of course, that he
saved my father's life, some years ago ? That is one reason
why he has been used so well in Quebec, for otherwise no
one would have lessened the rigours of his captivity. lUit
there are tales that he is too curious about our jrovern-
nient and state, and so he may be kept close jailed, though
he only came here as a hostage. He is much at our home,
and sometimes walks with Juste and me and (Jeorgette,
and accompanies my mother in the streets. This is not
to the liking of the Intendant who loves not my father
because he is such a friend of our cousin the (iovernor.
If their lives and characters be anything to the point the
Governor must be in the right.

In truth, things arc in a sad way here, for there is
robbery on every hand, and who can tell what the end
may be? Perhaps that we go to the English after all.
Monsieur Doltaire — you do not know him, I think — says,
" If the English eat us, as they swear they will, they'll die
of megrims, our alfairs are so indigestible." At another
time he said, " Better to be English than to be damned."
And when some one asked him what he meant, he said,
"Is it not read from the altar, ' Cursed is he that putteth
his trust in man'? The English trust nobody, and we
trust the English." That was aimed at Captain ^loray,
who was present, and I felt it a cruel thing for him to
say; but Captain Moray, smiling at the ladies, said,
" Better to be Erench and damned than not to be Erench
at all." And this pleased .Monsieur Doltaire, who does
not love him. I know not why, but there are vagre

THE SEATS OF THE MIOnTY.

wliispcrs tliat lio is acting against tlie Englishman for
causes best known at \'ersaiiles, wliicli have nothing to do
vitii our alTairs here. 1 do believe that Monsieur Dol-
tairo would rather hear a clever thing than get ten thousand
francs. At such times his face lights up, he is at once on
Ins mettle, his eyes look almost fiendishly beautiful. He is
a handsome man, but he is wicked, and I do not think he
has one little sense of morals. 1 do not suppose he would
stab a man in tiie back, or remove his neighbour's land-
mark in the night, though he'd rob him of it in open
daylight, and call it " enterprisi^ " — a usual word with
him.

lie is a favourite with ^ladame Cournal, who influ-
ences Bigot most, and one day we may see the boon com-
panions at each other's tiiroats ; and if either falls, I hope
it may be Bigot, for ^lonsieur Doltaire is, at least, no
robber. Indeed, he is kind to the poor in a disdainful
sort of way. lie gives to them and scoiTs at them at the
same moment: a bad man, with just enough natural kind-
ness to make him dangerous. I have not seen much of the
world, but some tilings we know by instinct ; we feel them ;
and I often wonder if that is not the way we know every-
thing in the end. Sometimes when I take my long walks,
or go and sit beside the Falls of ^lontmorenci, looking out
to the great city on th.e Heights, to dear Isle Orleans,
where we have our pretty villa (we are to go there next
week for three months — happy summer months), up at
the blue sky and into the deep woods, I have strange feel-
ings, which afterwards become thoughts ; and sometimes
they fly away like butterflies, but oftener they stay with
me, and I give them a little garden to roam in — you can
guess where. Now and then I call them out of the garden
and make them speak, and then I set down what they say
in my journal ; but I think they like their garden best.
You remember the song we used to sing at school ?

n for
to do

Dol-
usaiid
ice on

lie is
ink lie
would

land-
1 open
I with

influ-
n com-
I hope
'ust, no
Llainful
I lit the
1 kind-
of the
them ;
e very-
walks,
ng out
leans,
next
up at
feel-
etimes
ly with
ou can
garden
ley say
n best.

«' QUOTH LITTLE GARAINE." 83

" ' Wliero do the stars grow, littlo Gjirainel
Tlu' pirdcn of moons, is it fur away?
The orchard of suns, my little Garaiiie,
Will you take us there some day T

" * If you shut your eyes,' quoth little Garainc,
' I will sIkjw you the way to go
To the orc'iuird of suns and the garden of moons
And the field where tiie stars do grow.

•' ' But you must speak soft,* (juoth little Garainc,
'And still must your footsteps be,
For a great bear prowls in the field of the stars,
And the moons they have men to see.

" ' And tlie suns have Uia Cliildren of Signs to guard.
And they have no pity at all —
You must not stumble, you must not speak.
When you come to t^he orchard wall.

" ' The gates are locked,' quoth little Garaine,
' But the way 1 am going to tell i
The key of your heart it will open them all :
And there's where the darlings dwell I' "

You may not care to read these lines again, but it
helps to show what I mean : that everything is in the
heart, and that nothing is at all if we do not feel it.
Sometimes I have spoken of these things to my mother,
but she does not see as I do. I dare not tell mv father all
I think, and Juste is so much a creature of moods that I
am never sure whether he will be sensible and kind or
scoff. One can not bear to be laughed at. And as for
my sister, she never thinks; she only lives; and she looks
it — looks beautiful. But there, dear Lucie, I must not
tire you with my childish philosophy, though I feel no
longer a child. You would not know your friend. I can
not tell what has come over me. VuUa-!

To-morrow we go to visit General Montcalm, who has

THE SEATS OF THE MIGUTY.

just arrived in the colony. Kigot and liis gay set are not
likely to be there. My mother insists that 1 shall never
darken the doors of the Intendant's italace.

Do you still hold to your former purpose of keei)ing
a daily jounud? If so, 1 beg you to eo])y into it tiiis
epistle and your answer ; and when 1 go up to your dear
manor house at liiniuce next summer, we will read over
our letters and other things set down, and gossip of the
changes come since we met last. Do sketch the old ])lace
for me (as will I our new villa on dear Isle Orleans), and
make interest with the good cure to bring it to me with
your letter, since there are no posts, no postmen, yet be-
tween here and Beauce. The cure most kimllv bears this
to you, and says lie will gladly be our messenger. Yester-
day he said to me, shaking his head in a whimsical way,
" But no treason, mademoiselle, and no heresy or schism."
I am not quite sure what he meant. I dare hardly think
he had Captain Moray in his mind. I would not for tlie
world so lessen my good opinion of him as to think
him suspicious of me when no otlier dare ; and so I
put his words down to chance hitting, to a humorous
fancy.

lie sure, dear Lucie, I shall not love you less for giv-
ing me a prompt answer. 1'ell me of what you are think-
ing and what doing. If Juste can be sjjared from the
Governor's establishment, mav I brino: him with me next
summer? lie is a difficult, sparkling sort of fellow, but
you are so steady-tempered, so full of tact, getting your
own way so quietly and cleverly, that I am sure I should
find plenty of straw for the bricks of my house of hope,
my castle in Spain !

Do not sfive too much of mv share of thv heart else-
where, and continue to think me, my dear Lucie, thy
friend, loyal and loving,

Alixe Duyarxey.

e not

never

oping

: tills

dear

I over
)f the

})liice
), und
^ with
et be-
rs this
'ester-

II way,
hisni."

think

or the

think

1 so I

lorons

ir fl^iv-
Itbink-
11 11 the

next
|w, but

yonr
;hould

hope,

t else-
je, thy

(iciif'nil Montcdlin.

EY.

AS VAIN AS ABSALOM.

P. S. — Sinoo tlio above whs written wo liiivc visited
the (lenenil. Hotli Monsii'iir Doltiiiro and Ciiptuin
^fo^ly vvLTo })ro8ent, but ncitluT took inucli note of me —
Monsieur Doltiiire not at all. Tliose two eitlier Imte csieli
other lovin^dy, or love hatefully, 1 know not which, they
are so biting, yet so friendly to each other's cleverness,
though their style of word-play is so different: Monsieur
Doltaire'd like a hodkin-point, ('a})tain Moray's like a
nujsket-stock a-clubbing. Be not surjiriscd to see the
British at our gates any day. 'JMiough we shall beat
them back I shall feel no less easy because I have a
friend in the enemy's camj) ! You may guess who. Do
not smile. He is old cnoucjh to be my fatlicr. lie said so
liimself six months ago. Alixe.

VIII.

AS VAIX AS ABSALOM.

Gabord, coming in to me one day after I had lain
down to sleep, said, " See, m'sieu' the dormouse, 'tis holi-
day-eve ; the King's sport oomes to-morrow."

I sat up in bed with a start, for I know not but that
my death had been decided on without trial ; and yet on
second thought I was sure this could not be, for every
rule of military conduct was against it.

"Whose holiday?" asked I after a moment; "and
what is King's sport ? "

" You're to play bear in the streets to-morrow — which
is sport for the King," he retorted ; " we lead you by a
rope, and you dance the quickstep to })lease our ladies all
the way to the Chateau, where they bring bear to drum-
head."

" Who sits behind the drum ? " I questioned.
7

THE SEATS OF THE MICIITY,

" Tlio Miirqui.s ilc N'uudrcuil," he replied, " tlio In-
tendunt, Muster J)evil Dultaire, and the little men." \\y
theso hist he meant ollieers of the eoloniul soldiery.

So, then, at last I was to he tiieil, to ho dealt with defi-
nitely on the ahominahle ehari^e. I should at least again
e liirht and hreathe fresh air, and feel ahout me the stir

f tl

le woi

Id. For a lon<r vear I had heard no voice hut

my own and (iahord's, had had no fiieiitls hut my pale
blades of corn and a timid mouse, day after day no light
Jit all; and now winter was at hand again, and without
lire and with poor food my body was chilled and starved.
I had had no news of the woilil, nor of her who was dear
to me, nor of Juste Duvarney, save that he lived, nor of
our cause. Hut succeeding the thrill of delight I had at
thought of seeing the open world again there came a feel-
ing of lassitude, of indiU'erence ; 1 shrank from the jar of
activity. But presently I got upon my feet, and with a lit-
tle air of drollery straightened out my clothes and flicked a
handkerchief across mv gaiters. Then I twisted mvhead
over my shoulder as if I were noting the shape of my
back and the set of my clothes in a mirror, and thrust a
leg out in the manner of an exquisite. I had need to do
some mocking thing at the moment, or I should have
given way to tears like a woman, so suddenly weak had I
become.

(Jabord burst out laughing.

CD I >

An idea came to me. " I must be fine to-morrow,"
said I. " I must not shame my jailer." I rubbed my
beard — I had none when I came into this dungeon first.

" Alio ! " said he, his eves wheeling.

I knew he understood mc. I did not speak, but kept
on running my fingers through my beard.

" As vain as Absalom," he added. " Do you think
they'll hang you by the hair ? "

" I'd have it off," said I, " to be clean for the sacrifice."

'the In-
Ml." liy
y.

villi di'fi-
ist ji'^iiiu
e till' stir
roicu but
my palo
IK) liL;lit
without
[ stiirvi-'d.
was dear
(1, nor of
1 had at
lie i\ fcel-
th(j jar of
vith a lit-
I llicked a
luy head
)e of my
thrust a
leod to do
luld have
ak had I

iiorrow,
)bed my
In first.

)ut kept

[u think

icrifice."

AS VAIX AS AIISALUM.

" You had Vohan before," lie rejoiiu'd ; " we know what
happened — a dainty bit of a lelttr all rose-lily scented,
and eonilits for the soldier. 'I'he pretty wren perches
now in the (iovernor's house — a-cousiniu^, a-cousinin<;.
'I'hink you it is that she may <j:ct a ^dimpse of nTsieu' the
dormouse as he eonies to trial ? J»ut 'lis lu) business o'
mine; anil if 1 bi'ing my prisoner up when called for,
there's duty done ! "

I saw the friendly spirit in the words.

'' Voban,'' urged I, " Voban nuiy come to me?"

" The Intendant said no, but the (Jovernor yes," was
the replv ; "and that M'sieu' Doltaire is not vet come
back from Montreal, so he had no voice. They look for
him here to-morrow."

" Voban mav come?" I a;>ke(l a'^ain.

"At davbreak Voban — aho ! " he continued. " There's
milk and honey to-morrow," lie added, and then, without
a word, he drew forth from liis coat, and hurriedly thrust
into my hands, a piece of meat and a small 'Ihisk of wine,
und, swinging round like a schoolboy afraid of being
cauglit in a misdemeanor, he passed through the door and
the bolts clanged after liim. lie left the torch behind
him, stuck in the cleft of the wall.

I sat down on my couch, and for a moment gazed
almost vacantly at the meat and wine in my hands. I
had not touched either for a year, and now I could see
that mv fingers, as thev closed on the food nervouslv,
were thin and bloodless, and I realized that mv clothes
hung loose upon my i)erson. Here were light, meat, and
wine, and there was a pie(;e of bread on the board cover-
ing my water-jar. Luxury was spread before me, but
although I had eaten little all dav I was not hungrv.
Presently, however, I took the knife which I had hidden
a year before, and cut pieces of the meat and laid them
by the bread. Then I drew the cork from the bottle of

THE SKATS OF THE MIGHTY

wine, jiiid, liftin;:^ it towards that facn which was always
visible! to my 8011I I dratik — drank— drank !

Tile ri(!li li(|iior swam tlir»)iii,di my vrins like glorious
fire. It wakened mv l)rain and ncrvetl mv l)odv. 'i'lie
old sprin;; of life came back. This wine iiad come from
tlio hands of Alixe — from the (lovernor's store, mayl)e ;
for never could (lal)ord iiave f^'(»t such stull. 1 ate jjcartily
of the ricli bei'f and bread witii a new-made a|)[)etite,
and drank the rest of the wine. Wiieii I liad eaten and
drunk tlie last I sat and looked at the glowin<; torch, and
felt a sort of comfort eree]) tlirouirli me. 'I'iien tlicre
camo a deli;^^iitful thou^dit. Months a;j:o I liad put away
one last i)ipefid of tobacco, to save it till some day when 1
should need it most. I got it now, anil no man can guess
how lovingly I held it to a Hying llame of the torch, saw
it light, and blew out the lirst whill' of smoke into the
sombre air; for November was [igain piercing this under-
grouiul house of mine, another winter was at hand ! I sat
and smoked, and — can you not guess my thoughts? For
have you all not the same hearts, Ixjing British born and
bred? When I had taken the last whilf, I wrapi)ed my-
self in my cloak and went to sleep. lUit twice or thrico
during the night I waked to see the torch still shining,
and caught the fragrance of consuming pine, and minded
not at all the smoke the burning made.

IX.

A LITTLE COXCERXTXG THE rilEVALIER DE LA DARANTE

I WAS wakened comjjletely at last by the shooting ol
bolts. With the opening of the door I saw the figures of
Gabord and Voban. My little friend the mouse saw them
also, and scampered from the bread it had been eating.

CONC'KUNIXG TllH CHEVALIER DE LA DARAXTE. 89

3 alwayfl

glorious
ly. Tho
UK! from

niavlK' ;
' lu'urtily
iipiK'tito,
itcii and
)n'l», ami
en tluTO
put away
y wIr'U I
3an ^uoss
orc'li, saw

into the
lis uiulcr-
(1 ! I sat

tsV For
born and

)ped my-

or thrico

shinino^,
minded

IVRANTR

Noting ol

igures of

liw them

eating.

iiwav amonc: tlio Porn, througli whicli mv footsteps liad now
made two rectangular paths, not disregarded by (Jaliord,
who solicitously pulled \'ol»an into tho narrow track that
lie should not trespass o!i my harvest.

1 rose, showc(l wo piirticular delight at seeing Voban,
but greeted him easily — though !iiy heart was bursting to
f Ali.xe— and arraJi^etl mv (dothes. Presently

ik 1

um o

(iabord said, ''Stools for barber," and, wdu'cling, ho left

the (hmireon.

lie was jrono onlv an instant, but long

enou'di for Voban to thrust a letter into my hand, wd»i(di
1 ran into the lining of my waistcoat as 1 whispered,
*' Her brother — he is well?"

" Well, and he have go to France," he answered. " She
make me say, look to the round window in the (.'hateau
I'ront

We spoke in English— which, as I have said, Voban
understood imperfectly. There was nothing more said,
and if (Jabord, when he returned, suspected, he showed
no siffn, but i)ut down two stools, seating himself on one.

I seated mvself on the other for Voban 's handiwor

IV.

Presently a soldier api)earcd with a bowl of coiree. (Jabord
rose, took it from him, waved him away, and handed it
to mo. Never did cofTee taste so sweet, atid I sip})ed and
sipped till Voban had ended his work with me. Then I
drained the last drop and stood up. He handed mo a
mirror, and fJabord, fetching a fine white handkerchief
from his po(;ket, said, "Here's for your tears, when they
drum vou to heaven, dickey-bird."

But when I saw mv face in the mirror T confess \

was

startled. My hair, whi(di had been black, was })lentifully
sprinkled with white, my face was intensely })ale and thin,
and the eyes were sunk in dark hollows. I should not
have recognised mvself. Uut I laui::hed as I handed back
the glass, and said, "All ilesh is grass, but a dungeon's uo
good meadow."

THE SKATS OF THE MIGHTY.

""Pis for the dry (-'liiilT," (liiboril uiiswerod, "not for
yoiii\!jf '^viiss — ;iho ! "

llo rose anil nmdo ready to loiive, Vohun with biin.
'-'■ Tlio coiiiinissiiriat cjunprf Irtu in an hour or so," he said,
with a ri[)e chiickU'.

It was (dear the lunv state of alTairs was more to his
mind than the long year's rigour and silence. During
ail that tiuu! 1 never was visited by Dcjhaire but once, and
of that event 1 am about to write briellv liere.

It was about two months before this i)articidar morn-
ing that he came, greeting mo courteously enough.

"Close quarters here," said he, looking round as if
the place wer ■ new to liini and smiling to himself.

" Not so close as .wo all come to one dav ," said I.

" Dismal comparison ! " lie rejoined ; " yoirve h)st your
spirits."

" Xot so," I retorted ; " nothing but my liberty."

"You know the way to find it quickly," he suggested.

" The letters for La Pompadour? " I asked.

" A dead man's waste ])apcrs," responded he ; " of no
nse to him or vou, or to anv one save the Grande Mar-
quise."

"Valuable to me," said I.

" Xone but the Crande ^farquise and the writer would
give you a penny for them ! "

" Why should I not be my own merchant?"

" You can — to me. If not to me to no one. You
had your chance long ago, and you refused it. You must
admit I dealt fairly with you. I did not move till you
had set your own trap and fallen into it. Xow, if you do
not give me the letters — well, you will give them to none
else in this world. It has been a fair game, and I am
winning now. I've oidy used means which one gentle-
man might use with another. Had you been a lesser

CONCERNING THE CIIEVAUER DE LA DARANTE. Ql

' not for

th hi in.
he said,

e to his

During

nee, and

ir niorn-

id us if

lost your

Qfirested.

" of no
Mar-

r would

You
)u must
till you
you do
po none
I am
[gentle-
lesser

man I should have had you spitted long ago. You un-
derstand ? "

"IVrfectlv. But sinoo we have idaved so lonjr, do
yon think Fll give; you the stakes now — hefore tlie end?"

" Ft would be wiser," he answered thoughtfully.

"I have a nation behind me," urged 1.

" It has left you in a hole here to rot."

" It will take over vour citadel and din: me out some
day," I retorted hotly.

"•What good that? Your life is more to you than
Quebec to England."

" Xo, no," said I quickly ; " I would give my life a
hundred times to see your Hag hauled down ! "

'• A freakish ambition," he replied ; " mere infatua-
tion ! "

" You do not nnderstand it, Monsieur Doltaire," I re-
marked ironically.

" I love not endless puzzles. There is no sport in
following a maze that leads to nowhere save the grave."
lie yawned. " This air is heavy," he added ; "you must
find it trving."

" Xever so trying as at this moment," I retorted.

"Come, am I so malarious?"

" You are a trickster," I answered coldly.

" Ah, vou mean that niirht at Biirot's?" He smiled.
" Xo, no, you were to blame — so green. You might have
known we were for having you bctweeii the stones."

" But it did not come out as you wished?" hinted I.

" It served my turn," he responded ; and he gave me
such a S!niling, malicious look that I knew he sought to
convev he had his wav with Alixc; and thouirh I felt that
she was true to me bis cool presumption so stirred me 1
could have struck him in the face. I irot angrilv to mv
feet, but as I did so I shrank a little, for at times the
wound in my side, not yet entirely healed, hurt me.

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

" You are not well," he Siiid, with instant show of
curiosity ; "your wounds still trouble you? They should
be healed. (Jabord was ordered to see you cared for."

" Gabord has done well enough," answered I. " 1 have
had wouiuls before, monsieur."

lie leaned agaiust tlie wall ,nd lauglied. " "What
braggarts you Euglish are ! " he said. " A race of swash-
bucklers — even on bread and water I "

lie had mo at advantage, and I knew it, for he had
kept liis temper. 1 made an ellort. " Both excellent,"
rejoined I, "and English, too."

lie lauglied again. " Come, that is better. That's in
your old vein. 1 love to see you so. But how knew you
our baker was English? — which he is, a prisoner like
yourself."

" As easily as I could tell the water was not made by
Fronclnnen."

"Xow I have hope of you," he broke out gaily; "you
will yet redeem your nation."

At that moment Gabord came with a messaire from
the Governor to Doltairo, and he prepared to go.

"You arc set on sacrifice?" he asked. "Think—
dangling from Cape Diamond ! "

" 1 will meditate on your fate instead," I replied.

"Think!" he said again, weaving off my answer with
Ills haiui. " The letters 1 shall no more ask for; and you
will not escape death ? "

" N"ever by that way," rejoined I.

"So. Very good. An phtisir, my cuiiUiin. I go to
dine at the Seigneur Duvarney's."

AVith that last thrust he was gone, and left me won-
dering if the Seigneur had ever made an effort to see me,
if he had forgiven the duel with his son.

That was the incident.

sliow of
y should
for."
" 1 luive

" What

if SWilsll-

r ho luid
cc'Uent,"

Huit's in
new yon
ner like

made by

^; "yon

(TO from

1iink—

kl.

^er with
md yon

|I go to

le won-
Isee me,

CONCERNING THE CHEVALIER DE LA DARANTE. 93

When Clubord and V^oban were gone, leaving the light
behind, I went over to the torch in the wall, and drew
Alixe's letter from my pocket with eager lingers. It told
the whole story of her heart.

CiiATKAi' St. Loris, .?7fk Xovemhcr, 17'>7.

Though I write you these few words, dear Robert, I
do not know that they will reach you, for as yet it is not
certain they will let \'oban visit you. A year, dear
friend, and not a word from you, and not a word to yon !
I should have broken my heart if I had not heard of you
one wav and another. They sav you are much worn in
body, though you have always a cheerful air. There are
stories of a visit Monsieur Doltaire paid you, and how
yon jested. lie hates you, and yet he admires you
too.

And now listen, Robert, and 1 beg yon not to be
angry — oh, do not be angry, for 1 am all yours ; but I
want to tell yon that I have not repulsed ^lonsieur Dol-
taire when he has spoken flatteries to me. I have not
believed them, and I have kept my spirit strong against
tlie evil in him. I want to get yon free of prison and to
that end 1 have to work through him with the Intendant,
that he will not set the CJovernor more against you.
With tlie Intendant himself I will not deal at all. So I
use the lesser villain, and in trutli the more powei'ful, for
he stands higher at Versailles tlian any here. Witli tlie
Governor I have influence, for he is, as you know, a kins-
man of my mother's, and of late ho has sliown Ji fondness
for me. Yet you can see that I mnst act most warily,
that I must not seem to care for you, for that would be
your complete undo" ng. 1 rather seem to scofl'. (Oh, how
it hurts me! how my cheeks tingle when I think of it
alone ! and how I clench my hands, hating them all for
oppressing you !)

94:

THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY.

I do not believe tlieir sliuiders — tlnit you are a spy.
It is I, Robert, who liave at last iiidiu^ed the (Governor to
brin^^ you to trial. They would have i)ut it o(T till next
year, but 1 feared you would die in that awful dun^'oon,
and I was sure that if your trial cauie on there would be a
chan<j^(;,as there is to be for a time, at least. "^^)u are to be
lodi,a'd in the comniou jail duriui^ the sittiuirof the court ;
and so that is one step gained. Yet 1 had to use all man-
ner of device with the Governor.

lie is sometimes so playful with nu' that I can ])retend
to sulkiness ; and so one day J said that he showed no re-
gard for our family or for nie in not brin2:inij you, who
liad nearly killed my brother, to justice. 8o he consented,
and being of a stubborn nature, too, when Monsieur Dol-
taire and the Inteiuhmt opposed the trial, he said it should
come off at once. But one thing grieves me : they are to
have you marched through the streets of the town like
any common criminal, and I dare show no distress nor
plead, nor can my father, though he wishes to move for
you in this; and I dare not urge him, for then it would
seem strange the daughter asked your i)unishment, and
the father sousjht to lessen it.

When you are in the common jail it will bo much
easier to help you. I have seen (Jabord, but he is not to
be bent to any purpose, though he is kind to me. I shall
try once more to have him take some wine aiul meat to
you to-night. If I fail, then I shall only pray that you
may be iriven strength in body for your time of trouble
equal to your courage.

It may be I cm fix upon a point where you may look
to see me as you jiass on to-morrow to the Chateau. There
must be a sign. If you will put your hand to your fore-
head But no, they may bind you, aiul your hands

may not be free. When you see me, pause in your step
for an instant, and I shall know. I will tell Voban where

COXCERNIXO THE CHEVALIER DE LA DARAXTE. <J5

a spy.
•nor to
11 next
ngcon,
!d be ;i
•e to be
court ;
.1 mau-

)retcnd

no rc-

iii, who

sen ted,

ir Dol-

sliould

f lire to

,vn like

less nor

ove for

would

it, and

niucli
not to
I shall
leat to
at you
;rouble

ly look
There

Ir fore-
hands
ir step
where

you shall send your glance, if he is to be li't in to you, and
I liope that what 1 plan may not fail.

And so, Robert, adieu. Time can not chan«:je me, and
your misfortunes draw me closer to you. Only the dis-
honourable thinuf could make nu' close the doors of my
heart, aiul I will not think you, whatc'er they siiy, un-
worthy of my constant faith. Sonu' dtiy, maybe, we shall
smile at and even cherish these sad times. In this gay
house I must be flippant, for I am now of the foolish
world ! Vnxt under all the trivial sparkle a serious heart
beats. It belongs to thee, if thou wilt have it, Robert, the
heart of thy Alixh.

An hour after getting this good letter (Jabord came
acfiiin, and with him breakfast — a word which 1 had al-
most droj^ped 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 (Jabord came for me with two soldiers, an hour
later — I say an hour, Init I oidy guessed so, for 1 had no
way of noting time — I was ready for new cares, and to
see the world ai^ain. Ik' fore the others Oabord 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. i\Iy 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 aiul clean
liandkerchief I was an ill-favoured spectacle ; but I tried
to bear my shoulders up as we marched tlirough dark reek-
ing 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

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

minutes I stood tlierc, my guards stolidly waiting, CJjibord
muttering a little and stamping upc^n the lloor as if in
anger, though 1 knew he was i)laying a small part to de-
ceive his comrades. 'J'iie pain in my eyes grew less, and,
though they kei)t lllling witli 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. (Jabord bade me stand still,
and advanced toward the ofTicers' quarters. I asked him if
I might not walk to the ram})arts aiul view the scene.
lie gruflly assented, bidding the men watch me closely,
and 1 walked over to a point where, standing three hun-
dred feet above the noble river, I could look out upon its
sweet expanse, across to tiie 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 aiul sky, en-
livened by a crisp and cheering air. Snow had fallen, but
none now lay upon the ground, and I saw a rare and win-
ning earth. I stood absorbed. I was recalling that first
day of my life that I remember, 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 evervthino^ about me, I heard Dol-
taire's voice, 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 ene-
mies.

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

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

Ciiibord
IS if in
to do-
ss, and,
iolenco

! drawn
id still,

I him if
! scene,
closely,
)e luin-
ipon its

serried
n front
wooded
sky, en-
len, but
id win-
at first
ore my
le first

d Dol-
pr, " To

oils ! "

II given
nv ene-

slionld
worst

u shall

CONCERNING THE CHEVALIER DE LA DARAXTE. 97

" 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 sorue tinie?" he asked, waving a
fiuger toward the citadel. " It will need good ])lay to
pluck that ribbon from its place." Jle glanced up, as ho
spoke, at the white Hag 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 temjitiiigly disposed — the wild bull led
peaceably by the nose ! "

" liut one day I will twist your nose, Monsieur Dol-

t* ?5
aire.

" 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 sli]) the leash Fd sliji it. You are a dolt."
lie was touching upon the letters again.

" I W'cifjh it all," said I. " I am no fool — anvthins:
else you will."

" YouUl 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 gen-
tleman, 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 relined 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 tine 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.

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

Then he tiiniod towards mo, aiul as they walked o(T a little
distance I eoiild see tiiat he was curiuiis coneeniiiig nie.
Presently he nuscd his hand, and, as if something had
excited him, said, " NO, no, no; liang him and have done
with it, bnt Til iiave nothing to do with it — not a thing.
'Tis enongli for me to rnle at "

I couhl hear no further, but 1 was now sure that he
was some one of note who had retired from any share in
state alTairs. lie and Doltaire thun moved on to the doors
of the citadel, and, pausing there, Doltaire turned round
and made a motion of his hand to (Jabord. 1 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 Chatean 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 liritisii peoi)le. The women were not
behind the men in violence ; from them all 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 ai)peared 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 casu-
ally, and there in a 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 then stepped on.
Entering:, we were taken to the rear of the buildincr

'&»

to'

where, in an open courtyard, were a company of soldiers,
some seats, and a table. On my right was the St. Law-

ti little
iig me.
ig hud
e dune
, thing.

:h{it he
hare in
doors
[ round
at once
> nvdwh
a well-
ind the

towards
■ people
mcr of
nivself,
;ro not

•t

came
face ;

xed me
worse.
y who
atched

f casn-
xVlixe's
vs, was
od on.
ilding,
)ldiers,
Law-

CONCERNINU TIIK CIIHVALIKR I)K LA DAKANTK. 09

rcnce swelling on its course, hundreds of fei't benealh,
little boats passing hitlier and thither on its Hood.

We were wailing for ahout hall' an hour, the noises of
the clamouring crowd coming to us, as they carried me
aloft in elllgy, and, l)urning me at the el ill" edge, lired
guns and threw stones at me, till, rags, ashes, and llame, I
was tumbled into the river far below. At last from the
Chateau came the Mar^piis de ♦'audreuil, IJigot, and a
number of olhcers. 'I'lie (iuvernor looked gravely at mo,
but did not bow; Jiigot gave me a sneering smile, eying
me curiously the while, ami (I could feel), remarking on
my poor api)earance 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.

Tresently the (fOveriu>r was seated, and he said, look-
ing round, " ^lonsieur Doltaire — he is not here?"

Jiigot shook his head, and answered, ">io doubt he is
detiuned at the citadel."

"And the Seigneur Duvarney?" the Governor added.

At that nionuMit the Governor's secretary handed him
a letter. The Governor opened it. "Listen," said he.
lie read to the effect that the Seigneur Duvarney felt
that he was ill fitted to be a judge in this case, remem-
bering the conflict between Ins son and the notorious
Captain ]\Ioray. And from another standpoint, though
the prisoner merited any fate reserved for him, if guilty
of spying, he could not foi'get that his life had been saved
by this British captain — an obligation which, unfortuiuite-
ly, 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 coiisidcra-
tion thereupon.

I saw the (Jovernor frown, but he made no remark,
while JMgot said something in his ear which did not im-
prove his humour, for he replied curtly, and turned to his

100

TIIK SEATS OF TIIK Mir.IITY.

secretary. "Wc imist luive two geiitleiiien more," he
Buid.

At tluit monu'iit Doltaire entered with the old iiohle-
niaii of whom 1 liave written. The (iovernor instantly
brightened, and gave the stranger a warm greeting, call-
ing him his " dear Chevalier " ; and, after a deal of nrg-
ing, the Chevalier de la Darante was seated as one of my
judges: whi(di did not Jit all displease me, for I liked
his face.

I do not need to dwell upon the trial here. 1 have set
down the facts of the case before. I had no counsel and
no witnessiis. There seemed no reason why the triid should
have dragged on all day, for I soon saw it was intended to
find me guilty. Yet J was surprised to see how Doltaire
brought u}) a point here and a (piestion there in my favour,
which served to lengthen out the trial ; and all the time
he sat near the Clievalier de la Darante, now and again
talking with hitn.

It was late evening before the trial came to a close.
The one point to be established was that the letters taken
from (Jeneral Braddock were mine, and that I had made
the })lans while a hostage. I acknowledged nothing, and
would not do so unless allowed to speak freely. This was
not permitted until just before I was sentenced.

Then Doltaire's look was fixed on me, and 1 knew he
waited to see if I would divulge the nuitter priviite be-
tween us. However, I stood by my compact with him.
Besides, it could not serve me to s])eak 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 tliat they had not kc i)t our Articles of War signed at
Fort Necessity, which provided that I slioidd be free with-
in two months and a iuUf — that is, when prisoners in our
hands should be delivered up to them, as they were. They

11 rg-

\v lie

to ])C-

liim.

r use

vvliicli

cadcd
led at

with-
n our

They

C'0N('I-:KNIN(J TIIH ClIKVALIKn DK LA DAUAN'li:. [[)[

liiiil broken tlieir bond, tlioii;^di we had fuHiUed ours, and
I lield myself justilied in doing wliat 1 had (h<ne for our
cause and for my own life.

I was not lieard patiently, t]ii)u;:h I could see that tlio
(iovernor and the Chevalier were ini[)ressed ; but Iii;,^)t
instantly nr^^ed the i-ase liotly a.L^iinst me, and the end
came very soon. It was now dark ; a single li.L,dit had
been brou«;lit and placed beside the (iovern ir, while a
soldier held a torch at a distance. Suddenly there was a
silence; tlu'U, in res[)onse to a signal, tiie sharp rin;^in<^'
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 (Jov-
ernor's voice was heard condemninfj me to death bv iiang-
ing, thirty days hence at sunrise. Silence fell again in-
j stantly, and then a thing occurred whicli sent a thrill
through us all. From the dark balcony above us came a
voice, weird, higli, and wailing :

"Guilty! Guilty! (hiilty! lie 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 Jn-
tendant. Bigot himself sat pale and furious. " Discover
the intruder," ho 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."

102

TIIK SKATS OV TIIF, MKIIITV

A\ oi-ricKU 01' MArjixns.

What was my disnmy to know tliut I was to bo taken
back a^aiii to niy dim^^coii, and not lodged in tlic coinnion
jail, as I iiad bojxnl and Alixu bad binlcd ! W lieu 1 saw
wiiiLlicr my footstcjis were dircctrd I said notbin*^', nor
did (bibord speak at all. We niarelu'd bacdv tlirou;^'!) a
railin;,' crowd, all silent and ^doomy. J fell a ebill at my
beart wlien tbe citadel loonied up again out of tbe >»'ovem-
ber sbadow, and 1 balf paused as 1 entered tbe gates.
"Forward I" said (Jabord nu'cdianieallv, and I moved on
into tbe yard, into tbo prison, tbrougb tbe dull corridors,
tbe soldiers' beels clanking and resounding bebind, down
into tbe bowels of tbe eartb, wbere tbe air was moist and
warm, and tbon into my dungeon bome ! I stepped inside,
and (iabord ordered tbe ropes olV my })erson somewbat
rougbly, watclu'd tlie soldiers till tbey were well away, ami
tbeii leaned against tbe wall, waiting for mo to speak. I
bad no impulse to smile, but I knew bow I could most
toucb bim, and so 1 said ligbtly, " You\e diekey-bird
bome again."

He answered notbing and turned towards tbe door,
leaving tbe torcb stuck in tbo wall. ]iut be suddeidy
sto])ped sbort, and tbrust out to me a tiny piece of j)aper.

" A band toucbed mine as I went tbrougb tbe C'bateau,"
said be, "and wben out I came, look you, tbis bere ! I
can't see to road. AVbat does it say?" be added, witb a
sbrewd attempt at innocence.

I opened tbe little paper, bold it toward tbe torcb,
and road :

^'Jiccaufic of the sform there is no sleepififf. Is there
not the watcher aJoft? Shall the sparrow fall unheeded?
The ivicl'ed shall he confounded.^''

taken
onniioii
11 1 saw
n^% Mor
'()u;,'h a
11 at my
Novt'iii-
gates,
ovi'd on
)iTi(l(»rs,
(I, ilown
loist and
(1 inside,
)nie\vliat
way, and
x'lik. I
1(1 most
key-bird

le door,

suddenly

f ])aper.

hatean,"

lere :

I, with a

torch,

Is III ere
ih ceded?

AN OKFK Mil OF MA KINKS.

lOM

It wjw Alixe'M writing. She had ha/ardcd tlii,^ in tlio
lia:id.s of my jailer as Iut only liopo, and, knowini; tliat ho
nii;,dit not serve her, iiad put her nu'SsaLTc in vaijue sen-
tciu'es whi<'li I readily interpreted. I read the words
aloud to Inni, and lie lau;;lied, jind remai'ke(l, " "I'is a
foolish thin;,' that — the Scarlet Wonum, most like,"

''Most like," I atiswered «piietly; "yet wiiat should
she he doin;j; there at tiu' Chateau?''

"Tho nuid ^o everywhere," ho answered, "even to the
Intendanee !"

With that lie left me, ;roin?, jis ho said, " to fetch
ernnd)s and wine." Ivxhanstetl with tlie (hiy's business, I
threw myself upon my couch, drew my cloak over nu',
composed myself, aiul in a few minutes was sound asleep.
I waked to lind (ial)ord in the dunufoon, settini,' out food
u})on a board supported by two stools.

" 'Tis custom to feed vour dickev-binl ei-e von fetch
him to the pot," ho said, and drew the c(.trk from a bottle
of wine.

lie watched mo as I ate t:nd talked, but he spoke
little. When 1 had finished, he fetched a packet of
tobacco from his })()cket. I olTered him money, l)ut he
refused it, and 1 did not press him, for lie said the food
and wine were not of his buvin^r. Presently he left, and
came back with pens, ink, paper, and candles, which he
hiid out on my couch without a word.

After a little he came again, and i)laced a book on the
improvised table before me. It was an English Bible.
Oj)ening it, I found inscribed on the fly-leaf, (liarJes
Waiujlect^ Chaplain to the Jh'itish Aniuj. (Jabord ex-
plained that this chaplain liad been in the citadel for some
weeks; had often inquired about me; had been brought
from the Ohio, and had known of me, liaving tended the
lieutenant of my Virginian infantry in his last hours.
Gabord thought I should now begin to make my jjcace

104

THE SEATS OF THE MIOnTY.

witli Heaven, and so had asked for tlie cluiplain's Bible,
wliieii was freely given. I bade him thank the eliai)lain
for me, and opening the book, I found a leaf turned down
at the words,

" In llip sludlow of Tliij irii}(j.'< will I DiaJtc mij refuge^
iintil these calamities be orerjxisty

When 1 was left alone, I sat down to write diligently
that history of myself which I had composed and lixed in
my memory during the year of my housing in this dun-
geon. Tiie words came from my pen freely, Jind hour
after hour through nuiny days, while no single word
reached me from the outside world, I wrote on ; carefully
revising, but changing little from that which I had taken
so long to record in mv mind. 1 would not even yet
think that they would hang me ; and if they did, what
good could brooding do ? When the last word of the
memoirs (I may call them so), addressed to Alixe, had
been written, I turned my thoughts to other friends.

The day preceding that lixed for my execution came,
yet there was no sign from friend or enemy without. At
ten o'clock of that day Chaplain Wainfleet was admitted
to me in the presence of Gabord and a soldier. I found
great pleasure in his company, brief as his visit was ; and
after I had given him messages to bear for me to old friends,
if w^e never met again and he were set free, he left me, be-
nignly commending me to Heaven. There was the question
of ni}/ other letters. I had but one desire — Voban again,
unless at my request the Seigneur Duvarney would come,
and they would let him come. If it were certain that I
was to go to the scaffold, then I should not hesitate to tell
him my relations with his daughter, that he might com-
fort her when, being gone from the world myself, my
love could do her no harm. 1 could not think that he
would hold against me the duel with his son, and I felt
sure he would come to me if he could.

's Bible,
"haphiin
id down

/ refuge,

iliijcntly
lixed in
lis dun-
id hour
1(3 word
3arefully
id taken
;ven yet
id, what
[ of the
ixe, had
ds.

n came,

)ut. At

dniitted

I found

as ; and

friends,

me, be-

question

1 airain,

d come,

1 that I

e to tell

it com-

self, my

that he

Id I felt

AN OFFICEIl OF MARINES.

105

But why should I not try for both Voban and the
Seigneur? So I spoke to Gabord.

"Voban! Voban I "said he. "Does dickey-bird play
at peacock still ? Well, thou shalt see Voban. Thou
shalt go trimmed to heaven — alio ! "

Presently I asked him if he would bear ;i message to
the Governor, asking })ermission for the Seigneur Duvar-
ney to visit me, if he were so inclined. At his request I
wrote my petition out, and he carried it away with him,
saying that I should have Voban that evening.

I waited hour after hour, but no one came. As near
as 1 could judge it was now evening. It seemed strange
to think that, twenty feet above me, the world was all
white with snow ; the sound of sleigh-bells and church-
bells, and the cries of snowshoers ringing on the clear,
sharp air. I pictured the streets of Quebec alive willi
people : the young Seigneur set off with furs and silken
sash and sword or pistols ; the long-haired, black-eyed
woodsman in his embroitlered moccasins and leggings
with flying thrums ; the peasant farmer slapping his
hands cheerfully in the lighted market-place ; the petty
noble, with his demoiselle, hovering in the precincts of
the Chateau St. Louis and the intendance. Up there
were light, freedom, and the ins|)iriting frost ; down here
in my dungeon, the blades of corn, which, dying, yet
never died, told the story of a choking air, wherein the
body and soul of a man droop and take long to die. This
wjis the night before Christmas Eve, when in England and
V^irginia they would be preparing for feasting and thanks-
giving.

The memories of ]iast years crowded on me. I
thought of feastings and s])endthrift rejoicings in (Jlas-
gow and Virginia. All at once the carnal man in mo
rose up and damned these lying foes of mine. liesigna-
tion went whistling down the wind, llaug me ! Hang

lOG

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

mo ! Xo, by the God tliat gave mo breath ! I sat back
and lau.<i:lied — laughed at my own insipid virtue, by
which, to keep faitii witli tlie fanatical follower of Prinije
Charlie, I had refused my lil)erty ; cut myself olf from
the useful services of my King ; wasted good years of my
life, trusting to pressure and help to come from England,
which never came ; twisted the rope for my own neck to
keep honour with the dishonourable Doltaire, who him-
self had set the noose swinging ; and, inexi)ressible mis-
ery ! involved in my shame and peril a young, blithe
spirit, breathing a miasma upon the health of a tender
life. Every rebellious atom in my blood sprang to indig-
nant action. I swore that if they fetched me to the gal-
lows to celebrate tlieir Xoel, other lives than mine should
go to keep me company on the dark trail. To die like a
rat in a trap, oiled for the burning, and lighted by the
torch of hatred ! No, I would die fighting, if I must die.
I drew from its hiding-place the knife I had secreted
the day I was brought into that dungeon — a little weapon,
but it would serve for the first blow. At whom ? (Jabord ?
It all flashed through my mind how I might do it when
he came in again : bury this blade in his neck or heart —
it was long enough for the work; then, when he was
dead, change my clotlies for his, take his weapons, and
run my chances to get free of the citadel. Free? Where
should 1 go in the dead of winter ? Who would hide me,
shelter me? I could not make my wav to an Endish
settlement. Ill clad, exposed to the merciless climate,
and the end death. But that was freedom — freedom ! I
could feel my body dilating with the thought, as I paced
my dungeon like an ill-tempered beast. But kill Gabord,
who had put himself in danger to serve me, who himself
had kept the chains from off my ankles and body, whose
own life depended upon my security — " Come, come,
Robert Moray," said I, " what relish have you for that ?

AN OFFICER OF :MAIIINES.

107

That's an ill game for a gentloiiL'in. Alixe Duvarnoy
would ratlicr seo \ou dead than get your freedom over the
body of this man."

Tliat was an liour of storm. I am glad tliat I con-
quered the baser part of me ; for, ahnost before I had
grown calm again, the bolts of the dungeon (h)()rs shot
back, and presently GaU)rd stepped inside, followed i»y a
mulTled figure.

"Voban the barber," said TJabord in a strange voice,
and stepping again outside, he closed the door, but did
not shoot the bolts.

I stood as one in a dream. Voban the barber? In
spite of cap and great fur coat, I saw the f)utline of a fig-
ure that no barber ever had in this world. I saw two
eyes shining like lights set in a rosy sky. A moment of
doubt, of impossible speculation, of delicious suspense,
and then the coat of Voban the barber opened, dropped
away from the lithe, graceful figure of a young otlicer of
marines, the cap flew off, and in an instant the dear liead^
the blushing, shining face of Alixe was on my breast.

In that moment, stolen from the calendar of hate, I
ran into the haven where true hearts cast anchor and bless
God that they have seen upon the heights to guide them
the liglits of liome. The moment flashed by and was
gone, but tlie light it made went not witli it.

When I drew her blushing face up, and stood lier ofT
from me that I might look at her again, the colour flew
back and forth on her cheek, as von mav see the fire flut-
ter in an uncut ruby when you turn it i!i the sun. Mod-
estly drawing th.e cloak she wore more closely about her,
she hastened to tell me how it was she came in sufh a
guise; but I made her pause for a moment while I gave
lier a seat and sat down beside her. Then by the light (»t'
the flickering torch and fl.a'ing candles I watched her feel-
ings play upon her face as the warm light of autumn

108

TIIK SEATS OF THE MIGHTY

sliifts upon the glories of ripe fruits. Her liiijipiuoss was
tempered by the sjulness of our position, jiml my lu>iirt
smote me tluit I h:id made lu'r sulTt-r, bad brougbt care to
her young Hi'e. 1 could see that in the year she had grown
older, yet her beauty seemed eidianced by that and by the
trouble she had endured. I shall let her tell her story
here unbroken by my questions and those interruptions
which (iabord made, bidding ber to make haste. She
spoke without faltering, save here and there ; but even
then I could see her brave spirit quelling the riot of her
emotions, shutting down the sluice-gate of her tears.

" I knew," she said, her hand clasped in mine, "that
Gabord was the only person likely to be admitted to you,
and so for days, living in fear lest the worst should hap-
j)en, I have prepared for this chance. I have grown so
in height that an old uniform of mv brother's would fit
me, and 1 had it ready — small sword and all," she added,
with a sad sort of humour, touching the weapon at her
side. " You must know that we have for the winter a
house here upon the ramparts near the Chateau. It was
my mother's doings, that my sister (Jeorgette and I might
have no great journeyings in the cold to the festivities
liereabouts. 8o I, being a favourite with the Governor,
ran in ami out of the Chateau at my will ; of which my
mother was proud, and she allow^ed me much liberty, for
to be a favourite of the Governor is an hom)ur. I knew
liow things were going, and what the chances wore of the
sentence being carried out 0!i you. Sometimes 1 thought
my heart would burst with the anxiety of it all, but
I would show that to the world. If you could but have
seen me smile at the Governor and Monsieur Doltaire —
nay, do not press my hand so, Robert ; you know well
you have no need to fear monsieur — while I learned se-
crets of state, among them news of you. Three nights
ago ^lonsiuur Doltuire was talking with me at a ball — ah,

AN OFFICER OF MAUINKS.

lOi)

those feastiiigs wliilc you wore lying in n dunijoon, and I
sliiUtinsf up mv love and Vf>ur danircr close in niv heart,
even from those who loved me bcvst ! Well, suddenly he
said, ' I think I M'ill not have our English eaptaiu shii'led
to a better world.'

" My heart stood still; I felt an ache across my hreast
so that I could hardlv breathe. ' Whv will you not?' said
I; 'was not the sentence just?' llv paused a minute,
and then re2)lied, 'AH sentences are just when an enemy
is dangerous.' Then said I as in suri)rise, ' Why, was he
no spy, after all?' He sat back, and laughed a little. 'A
spy according to the letter of the law, but you have heard
of secret history — eh ? ' I tried to seem puzzled, for I
had a thought there was something private between you
and him which has to do with your fate. So I said, as if
bewildered, ' You mean there is evidence whicli was not
shown at the trial ? ' lie answered slowly, ' Evidence that
would bear upon the morals, not the law, of the case.'
Then said I, ' lias it to do with yon, monsieur?' ' It has
to do with France,' he replied. ' And so you will not have
his death?'! asked. 'Bigot wishes it,' he replied, 'for
no other reason than that Madame Cournal has s])oken
nice words for the good-looking captain, and because that
nnsuccessful duel gave Vaudreuil an advantage over him-
self. Vaudreuil wishes it because he thinks it will sound
well in France, and also because he really believes the
man a spy. The Council do not care much ; they follow
the Governor and Bigot, and both ix-ing agreed, their
verdict is unanimous.' lie ])aused, then addcul, 'And the
Seigneur Duvarney — and his daughter — wish it because
of a notable injury to one of their luime.' At that I cau-
tiously replied, ' Xo, my father does not wish it, for my
brother gave the offence, and Captain Moray saved his
life, as you know. I do not wish it, Monsieur Doltnins
because hanging is a shameful death, and he is a gentle-

110

THE SKATS OP THE MIGIITV

man, not .1 rufTuin. Let liim bo shot like ji ^outloman.
How will it sound at the Court of France that, on insutti-
cient evidence, as you Jidniit, an En^^iish <ientlcnuin wa3
lumped for a sj^y ? Would not the King say (for lie is a
jjontlenian), Wliy was not all this shown nie before the
man's death? Is it not a matter upon which a country
would feel as gentlemen feel 'i '

" 1 knew it the right thing to say at the moment, and
it seemed the only way to aid you, though I intended, if
the worst came to the worst, to go myself to the Governor
at the last and jilead for your life, at least for a reprieve.
But it had suddenly Hashed upon me that a reference to
France was the thing, since the Articles of War which
you are accused of dishonouring were signed by oflicers
from France and England.

"•Presently he turned to me with a look of curiosity,
aiul {mother sort of look also that made me tremble, and
said, '\ow, there you have put your finger on the point —
my point, the choice weapon I had reserved to prick the
little bubble of Bigot's hate and the Governor's conceit, if
I so chose, even at the last. And here is a girl, a young
girl just freed from pinafores, vidio teaches them the law
of nations ! If it pleased me I should not speak, for Vau-
dreuil's and Bigot's affairs are none of mine; but, in truth,
why should you kill your enemy ? It is the sport to keep
him living; you can get no change for your money from
a dead man. lie has had one cheerful year; why not an-
other, and another, and another? And so watch him
fretting to the slow-coming end, while now and again yon
give him a taste of hope, to drop him back again into the
pit which has no sides for climbing.' He paused a min-
ute, and then added, ' A year ago I thought he had touched
you, this Britisher, with his raw humour and manners;
but, my faith, how swiftly does a woman's fancy veer ! '
At that I said calmly to him, ' You must remember that

AX OFFICER OF .MARINES.

Ill

law
A'au-
rnth,
keep
from
ot an-
il im
11 yoii
o the
luin-
iiched
mors ;

^'cer

- 1 '

that

then he was not thouf;ht so base.' ' Yos, yos,' ho roiilicd ;
'and a woman loves to pity tlie captive, whatever his fault,
if he be presentabk^ and of some notice or talent. And
Moray has gifts,' he went on. I appeared all at once to
bo olTeiided. ' Veeriiiir, indeed ! a woman's fanev! I tliink
you might judge women better. You come from liigh
places, Monsieur Doltaire, and they say this and that of
your grcjit talents and of your power at Versailles, but
what proof have we had of it? You set a girl down with
a line patronage, and you hint at weapons to cut olT my
cousin the Governor and the Intendant from their pur-
jioses ; but how do we know you can use them, that you
have power with either the unnoticeable woman or the
great men?' I knew very well it was a bold move. He
suddenly turned to me, in his cruel eyes a glittering kind
of light, and said, ' I suggest no more tlian I can do with
those " great men " ; and as for the woman, the slave can
not be patron — I am the slave. I thought not of power
before; but now that I do, I will live up to my thinking.
I seem idle, I am not; purposeless, I am not; a gamester,
1 am none. I am a sportsman, and I will not leave the
field till all the hunt be over. I seem a triiler, vet I h.ivc
persistency. I am no romanticist, I have no great admira-
tion for mvself, and vet when I set out to hunt a woman
honestly, be sure I shall never back to kennel till she is
mine or I am done for utterlv. Not bv worth nor bv de-
serving, but by unending patience and diligence — that shall
be my motto. I shall devote to the chase every art that I
have learned or known by nature. So there you have me,
mademoiselle. Since you have brought me to the pointy
I will unfurl mv flag. ... I am — vour — hunter,' he went
on, speaking with slow, painful emphasis, ' and I shall
make you mine. You fight against me, but it is no use.'
I got to my feet, and said with coolness, though I was
sick at heart and trembling, ' You are frank. You have

112

THE SEATS OF THE MKJIITY.

iiiiule two rivsolves. I shall f]fivc wci^^^ht to the one as you
fulfil tho other'; ami, smiling at him, 1 moved away
towards my mother.

" Masterful as he is I felt that this would touch his
vanity. Tlierc hiy my ^reat chance with him. If he had
guessed the truth of what's between us, be sure, Kobert,
your life were not worth one hour beyond to-morrow's
sunrise. You must know how I loathe deeeitfulness, but
when one weak girl is matched against powerful and evil
men what can she do ? My conscience does not chide
me, for 1 know my cause is just. Kobert, look me in the
eyes. . . . There, like that. . . . Now tell me : You are
innocent of the dishonourable thing, are you not? I be-
lieve with all my soul, but that I nuiy say from your own
lips that you are no spy, tell me so."

When I had said as she had wished, jissuring her she
should know all, carrying proofs away with her, and that
hidden evidence of which Doltaire had spoken, she went
on :

*' ' You put me to the test,' said monsieur. ' Doing one,
it will be i)roof that I shall do the other.' lie fixed his
eyes upon me with such a look that my whole nature
shrank from him, as if the next instant his hateful hands
were to be placed on me. Oh, Kobert, I know how peiil-
ous was the part I played, but I dared it for your sake.
For a whole year 1 have dissembled to every one save to
that poor mad soul Mathilde, who reads my heart in her
wild way, to Yoban, and to the rough soldier outside your
dungeon. Hut they will not betray me. (Jod has given
us these rough but honest friends.

" Well, monsieur left me that night, aiul I have not
seen him since, nor can I tell where he is, for no one
knows, and 1 dare not ask too much. I did believe he
would achieve his boast as to saving your life, and so, all
yesterday and to-day, I have waited with most anxious

given

AN OFFICFR ()P MAUIXKS.

ii;3

lioart ; but not oiu' word ! Yet tliorc was that in all ho
said which nuidc luo sure lie meant to save you, ami I be-
lieve he will. Vet think : if anythin<,^ happened to him!
You know what wild doings go on at lligot's chateau out
at Charlesbourg ; or, again, in the storm of yesterday he
may have been lost. You see, there are the hundred
chanees ; so I determined not to trust whollv to him.
There was one other way — to seek the (Jovernor myself,
open my heart to him, and beg for a rejjrieve. To-night
at nine o'eloek — it is now six, liobert — we go to the Cha-
teau St. Louis, my mother and my father and J, to sup
with the (Jovernor. Oh, think what I must endure, to
face them with this awful shadow on me ! If no word
come of the reprieve before tliat hour, 1 shall make my
own appeal to the (Jovernor. It may ruin me, but it may
save you ; and that done, what should I care for the rest?
Your life is more to me than all the world beside." Hero
she put both hands upon my shoulders and looked me in
the eyes.

I did not answer yet, bnt took her hands in mine, and
she continned : " An hour past T told my mother I should
go to see my dear friend Lucie Lotbiniere. Then I stole
up to my room, put on my brother's uniform, and came
down to meet Voban near the citadel, as we had arranged.
1 knew he was to have an order from the (Jovernor to
visit you. He was waiting, and to my great joy he put
the order in my liands. I took his coat and wig and cap,
a poor disguise, and came straight to the eita(h'l, handing
the order to the soldiers at the gate. They gave it back
^vithout a word, and passed me on. I thought this strange,
and looked at tiie paper by the light of the torches. Whiit
was my surprise to see that Voban's name had been left
out ! It bnt gave permission to the bearer. That would
serve with the common soldier, but I knew well it would
not with Gabord or with the commandant of the citadel.

114

THE SEATS OF THE MKiHTV.

All lit once I 811W tlio f:fr('iit risk I wjis nniiiing, tlic ilan-
g(M* to us both. Still 1 would not turn i)ack. J'.ut how
good fortune serves us when we leiist look fur it ! At the
cornniiindiint's verv door wjis (laboid. J did not think to
deceive him. It wjis my jjurpose fi'om the first to throw
myself upon his mercy. So tlusre, tiuit njoment, I thrust
the order into his luind. He read it, looked ji monu'nt
lialf liercely aiul half kindly, at me then turned and took
the order to the commandant. Presently he came out,
and said to me, 'Come, m'sieu', and see you clip the gen-
tleman dainty tine for his sunrise travel. Jle'll get no
care 'twixt j)osting-house and end of journey, nTsicu'.'
This he said before two soldiers, s})eaking with harshness
and a brutal humour. But inside the citadel lie changed
at once, and, taking from my head this cap and wig, he
said quite gently, yet I could see he was angry, too, ' This
is a mad doing, young lady.' lie said no more, but led
me straight tc you. If 1 had told him I was coming, I
know he would have stayed me. But at the dangerous
moment he had not heart to drive me back. . . . And
that is all my story, Kobert."

As I have said, this tale was broken often bv little
questionings and exclamations, and was not told in one
lonu narrative as I have written it here. When she had
done I sat silent and overcome for a moment. There was
one thing now troubling me sorely, even in the painful joy
of having her here close by me. She had risked all to
save my liff^ — reputation, friends, even myself, the one
solace in her possible misery. "Was it not my duty to agree
to Doltaire's terms, for her sake, if there was yet a chance
to do so ? I had made a solemn promise to Sir John
Godric tluit those letters, if they ever left my hands, should
go to the great lady who had written them ; and to save
my own life I would not have broken faith with my bene-
factor. But had 1 the right to add to the misery of this

AN OFFICKU OF MAIIINKS.

115

This

agree
umce
Jolni
hoiild
save
bene-
' this

Rweet, bnivo spirit ? Suppose it was but for a year or t wo :
Iiud I tile right to give l»er sorrow Tor that tiiiu", if 1 coiihl
])revent it, even at tjje eost of lioiiour with tlie dead V Was
it not my duty to act, and at once? 'I'iine was sliort.

Wiiiio in a swift moment 1 was del)ating, (Jal)ord
()[)('ned tlie door, and said, " Come, end it, end it. (Ja-
bord lias a liead to sav(^ ! " I l)egged him for one minute
more, and then giving Alixe tiie })aeket whidi iichl my
story, J told her hastily the matter between Dohaire and
myself, and said that now, rather than give her sorrow, [
was prepared to break my word with Sir .lohn Ciodrie.
She heard me througli witii flashing eyes, and I eould see
her • bosom heave. When 1 had done, she looked mo
straight in the eyes.

"Is all that here?" she said, holding up the })aeket.

" All," I answered.

"And you would not break your word to save your
own life?"

I shook my head in lu-gation.

"Now I know that you are truly honourable," slu; an-
swered, "and you shall not break your jjromisc for me.
No, no, you shall not ; you shall not stir. Tell me that
you will not send word to Monsieur Doltaire — tell me I "

When, after some struggle, I had consented, she said,
" But I may act. I am not bound to secrecy. I havo
given no word or bond. I will go to the (Jovernor with
the tale of my love, and I do not fear the end. 'I'liev will
put me in a convent, and I shall see you no more, but I
shall have saved you."

In vain I begged her not to do so; her purpose was
strong, and I could only get her promise that she would
not act till midnight. This was liardly achieved when
Gabord entered quickly, saying, " The Seigneur Duvarney !
On with your coat, wig, and ciip ! Quick, mademoiselle I "

Swiftly the disguise was put on, and I clasped her to

iir.

TIIK SKATS OF TIIK MKHITV

luy biVHst with :i joyful Jii^^oiiy, wlulo (Jalionl luistily put
out tlio (!Jiii(ll«'s iiiid torcli, 5111(1 (hvw Ali\u In-liiiid tho
(lunu^coii (lixtr. 'riicii stainliii^' iiiiiisi'lf in i\\v doorway, ho
loudly coruiiu-ndcd nio to sU'cp sound iiiitl he ready for
lonj,' travel in the nionnng. Takin;; the hint 1 threw niy-
Hclf upon my couch and compost'd myself. An instant
afterwards tho Sei^jneur appeared with a soldier. («al)or(l
met him cheerfullv, looki'd at tho order from the (iovcr-
nor, and motioni'd tho Seigneur in and the soldier away.
As Duvarney step[ied inside, Oahord followed, holdini;
up a torch. I rose to moot my visitor, anil as I took hid
liand I saw (iahord catch Alixo hy tho sleeve and hurry
her out with a whispered word, swinj^ing tho door behind
lior us slio i)assod. 'i'hen ho stu(^k tho tonOi in the wall,
w'(!nt out, shut and bolted the dungeon door, and loft us
two alono.

I was glad that Alixo's safety liad boon assured, and
my greeting of her father was cordial. l>ut ho was more
reserved than 1 had over known liim. 'J'he duel with lii3
son, which had sent tho youth to Franc(^ ami left him
with a wound which wou.ld trouble him for . ..nv a dav,
weighed heavily against mo. Again, I think he guessed
my lovo for Alixo, aiul resented it with all his might.
AVhat Frenchman would care to have his daughter lose
her heart to one accused of a wretched crime, condemned
to death, an enemy of his country aiul a Protestant? I
was sure that, should ho guess at the exact relations be-
tween us, Alixo would be sent behind the tall doors of a
convent, \\here I should knock in vain.

" You must not think, ^loray," said he, "that I have
been iiulifferont to your fate, but you can not guess how
strong is tho feeling against you, how obdurate is the
Governor, who, if he should a))pear lax in dealing with
you, would give a weapon into Bigot's hands which might
ruin him in France one day. 1 have but this moment

liavc

liow

is tho

Avitli

)ment

AN OFFICKK OF MAIilXKS.

conic from tlie (Jovoriior, and tluTo si'cma no way to move
him;'

1 siiw that ho was (rouhlctj nriv-itly, atul I I'rlt liis lu-lp-
lossness. ll(» wcMit on: "Tlit'iv is hut one niaJi wiio ('(Mild
hcnd the (lovcriior, hut. lie, alasl is no friciul of yours.
And wliat way tiiciv is to move liim 1 know not; ha has
110 wisii, I fancy, hut that you shall ^^o to your fate."

"You nu'an Monsieur Doltairc':' " sai«l I <|uictly.

"Doltaiiv," hcMinswcrcd. '' \ have tried to find him,
for lie is the secret agent of La Pompadour, and if 1 had

one ])lausihle reason to weigh with liim Hut I havt^

none, unless you can give it. There are vague hints of
things hetween you and him, and 1 liave come to ask if
you can put any fact, any argument, in my haiuls that
would aid me with him. I would go far to servo you."

"Think not, 1 pray you," returned 1, ''that there is
any deht unsatistied hetween us."

IIo waved hi.s hand in a nu'lancholv wav. " Iiuh'cd, [
wish to serve you for the sake of past friendship hetween
us, not only for that dcht's sake."

" In spite of my quarrel with your son?" asked F.

" In spite of that, indeed," he said slowly, " though a
great wedge was driven hetween us there."

" I am truly sorry for it," said I, with somc^ pride.
"Thehlamo was in no sense mine. I was struck across
the face; I humhled myself, renu^mhering you, but he
would have me out yes or no."

"T^'pon a wager!" he urged, somewhat coldly.

" With the Intendant, monsieur," 1 replied, '• not with
vour so, I

I can not understand the matter," was his gloomy

answer,

" I heg you not to try," I rejoined ; " it is too late for
explanations, and I have nothing to tell you of myself and
Monsieur Doltaire. Only, whatever comes, remember I

SCARBOROUGH TOWNSHtP
PUBLIC LIBRARY

118

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY

\r n

have begged nothing of you, have desired notliing but
justice — tliiit only. I shall make no further move; tlie
axe shall fall if it must. I have nothing now to do but
set my house in order, and live the hours between this
ajid sunrise with what quiet I may. I am ready for either
freedom or death. Life is not so incomparable a thing
that I can not give it up without pother."

lie looked at me a mouient steadily. " You and I are
standing far off from each other," he remarked. "I will
say one last thing to you, though you seem to wish me
gone and your o"m grave closing in. I was asked by the
Governor to tell you that if you would put him in the
way of knowing the affairs of your provinces from the
letters you have received^ together with estinuite of forces
and plans of your forts, as you have known them, he will
spare you. I only tell you this because you close all other
ways to me."

"I carry," said I, with a sharp burst of anger, "the
scars of wounds an insolent youth gave me. I wish now
tliat I had killed the son of the man who dares bring me
such a message."

For a moment I had forgotten Alixe, everything, in
the wildness of my anger. I choked with rage ; I could
have struck him.

" I mean nothing against you," he urged, with great
ruefulness. " I suggest nothing. I bring the Governor's
message, that is all. And let me say," he added, '' that I
have not thought you a spy, nor ever shall think so."

I was trembling with anger still, and I was glad that
at the moment Gabord opened the door and stood
waiting.

" You will not part with me in peace, then ? " asked
the Seigneur slowly.

" I will remember the gentleman who gave a captive
hospitality," I answered. " I am too near death to let a

THE COMING OF DOLTAIRE.

119

ig but
e ; tlie
do but
jn this
• eitlier
L thing

(1 I are
" 1 will
ish iiie
L by the
in the
om the
•f forces
, he will
ill other

^1',

((

the

ish now
ring me

|hing, in
I could

Dh great
Ivernor's
"that I
»o."

lad that
stood

asked

captive
Ito let a

late injury outweigh an old friendship. 1 am ashamed,
but not only for myself. Let us part in peace — ay, let us
part in peace," I added with feeling, for the thought of
Alixe came rushing over me, and this was her father !

" Good-by, Moray," he responded gravely. " You are
a soldier, and brave. If the worst comes, I know how you
will meet it. Let us waive all bitter thoughts between
us. Good-by."

We shook hands then, without a word, and in a mo-
ment the dungeon door closed behind him, and I was
'dlone. For a moment my heart was heavy beyond tell-
ing, and a terrible darkness settled on my spirit. I sat
down on my couch and buried my head in my hands.

THE COMING OF DOLTATRE.

At last I was roused bv Gabord's voice.

He sat down, and drew +]ie leaves of faded corn be-
tween his fingers. *"Tis a poor life, this in a cage, after
all — eh, dickey-bird? If a soldier can't stand in the field
fighting, if a man can't rub shoulders v/ith man, and pitch
a tent of liis owl somewhere, why not go travelling with
the Beast — alio? To have all the life sucked out like
these — eh? To see the flesh melt and the hair (^^o white,
the eye to be one hour bright like a fire in a kiln, and the
next like mother on workinsj vlne<j^ar — that's not livin<j:
at all — no."

The speech had evidently cost him much thinking,
and when Vie ended, his cheeks putfed out and a soundless
laugh seemed to gather, but it burst in a sort of sigh. I
would have taken his hand that moment, if I had not re-
membered when once he drew back from such demon-

120

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

>*
^

■t

strations. I did not speak, but nodded assent, and took
to drawing the leaves of corn between my fingers as he
was doing.

After a moment, cocking liis liead at me as might a
surly schoolmaster in a pause of leniency, he added, " As
quiet, as quiet, and never did he lly at door of cage, nor
peck i..t jailer- -alio ! "

I looked at iiim a minute seriously, and then, feeling
in my ^'oat, handed to him the knife which I had secreted,
with the words, "Enough for pecking with, ehV"

lie looked at mc so strangel}', as lie weighed the knife
up and down in his hand, that 1 could not at first
guess his thought; but presently 1 understood it, and I
almost could have told what he would say. lie opened
the knife, felt tlie blade, measured it along his fingers,
and then said, with a little bursting of the li')s, '■'■ Foom f
But what would ma'm'selle have thought if (Jabord was
found dead with a hole in his neck — behind ? Eh?"

He had struck the very note that had sung in me
when the temptation came ; but he was gay at once again,
and 1 said to him, " What is the hour fixed ? "

" Seven o'clock," he answered, " and 1 will bring your
breakfast first."

" Good-night, then," said I. " Coffee and a little to-
bacco will be enough."

When he was gone I lay down on my bag of straw,
which, never having been renewed, was now only full of
worn chaff, and, gathering myself in my cloak, was soon in
a dreamless sleep.

I wake'T to the opening of the dungeon door, to see
(labord entering witli a torch and a tray that helil my
frugal breakfast. He had added some brandy, also, of
which I was glad, for it was bitter cold outside, as I dis-
covered later. lie was quiet, seeming often to wish to
speak, but pausing before the act, never getting beyond

THE COMTXG OP DOLTAIRE.

121

(1 took
s as 1

might a
j(l, " As
ige, nor

feeling
eeroted,

ic knife

at first

t, and I

opened

fingers,

' Foom !

ord was

1?"

in me

e again,

ng your

ittle to-

f straw,
full of
soon in

% to see
leld my
also, of
s I dis-
wisli to
bevond

a stumbling aho ! 1 greeted him cheerfully enough.
After making a little toilette I drank my colTee with
relisV. At last I asked Gabord if no word had come to
the citadel for me ; and he said none at all, in)thing save
a message from the Governor, before midnight, ordering
certain mjitters. ^'o more was said, until, turning to the
door, he told me lie would return to fetch me forth in a
few minutes. ]iut when halfway out he sudfleiily wheeled,
came back, and blurted out, " If you and I could only
fight it out, ni'sieu' ! 'Tis ill for a gentleman and a sol-
dier to die without thrust or parry."

"Gabord," said I, smiling jit him, "you preach good
sermons always, and I never saw a man Fd rather light
and be killed by than you!" 'J'hen, with an attempt at
rough humour, 1 added, " But, as I told you once, the knot
isn't at my throat, and FU tie another one yet elsewhere
if God loves honest men."

I had no hope at all, yet I felt I must say it. lie
nodded, but said nothing, and presently I was alone.

I sat down on my straw couch and composec' myself
to think ; not upon my end, for my mind was made up
as to that, but upon the girl vho was so dear to me, whose
life had crept into mine and filled it, making it of value
in the world. It must not be thonsj-ht that I no loncjer
had care for our cause, for I would willingly have spent
my life a hundred times f(jr my country, as my best
friends will bear witness; but there comes a time when a
man has a right to set all else aside but his own personal
love and welfare, and to me the world was now bounded
by just so much space as my dear Alixe might move in.
I fastened my thought upon her face as I had last seen it.
]\[y eyes seemed to search for it also, and to find it in the
torch which stuck out, softly S2)uttering, from the wall.
I do not pretend, even at this distance of time, after hav-
ing thought much over the thing, to give any good reason

122

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

for so sudden a change as took place in me then and there.
All at once a voice appeared to say to me, " When you are
gone she will he Doltaire's. Kememher what she said.
•She fears him. lie has a power over her."

Now, some will set it down to a low, unmanly jealousy
and suspicion. It is hard to name it, but 1 know that I was
seized with a misery so deep that all my past sulfcrings
and disappointments, and even this present horror, were
shadowy beside it. I pictured to myself Alixe in Dol-
taire's arms, after I had gone beyond human call. It is
strange how an idea will seize us and master us, and an
inconspicuous possibility suddenly stand out with huge
distinctness. All at once I felt in my head " the ring of
lire " of which Mathilde had warned me, a maddening
heat filled my veins, and that hateful picture grew more
vivid. Things Alixe had said the night before Hashed to
my mind, and I fancied that, unknown to herself even,
he already had a suhstantial power over her.

lie had deep determination, the gracious subtlety which
charms a woman, and she, hemmed in by his devices, over-
come by his pleadings, attracted by his enviable personality,
would cume at last to his will. The evening before I had
seen strong signs of the dramatic qualities of her nature.
8he had the gift of imagination, the epic spirit. Even
three years previous I felt how slie had seen every little in-
cident of her dailv life in a wav which gave it vividness and
distinction. All things touched her with delicate em-
phasis — were etched upon her brain — or did not touch her
at all. She would love the picturesque in life, though her
own tastes were so simple and fine. Imagination would
beset her ])ath with dangers ; it would be to her, with her
beauty, a fatal gift, a danger to herself and others. She
would have power, and feeling it, womanlike, would use
it, dissipating her emotions, paying out the sweetness of
her soul, till one day a dramatic move, a strong pictur-

THE COMING OF DOLTAIRE.

123

wliich
over-
ality,
I liad
iture.
Even
le in-
ss and
eni-
h her
h her
kvoukl
h her
She
1 use
ss of
ctur-

esqiie personality like Doltaire's, would catch her from
the moorings of her truth, and the end must be tragedy
to her. Doltaire ! Doltaire ! The name burned into my
brain. Some prescient quality in me awaked, and I saw
her the sacrilice of her imagination, of tlie dramatic
beauty of her nature, my enemy her tyrant and destroyer.
lie would leave nothing undone to achieve his end, and
do nothing that would not in the end })oison her soul
and turn her very glories into miseries. How could she
withstand the charm of his keen knowledge of the world,
tlio fascination of his temperament, the alluring eloquence
of his fi-ank wickedness? And 1 should rather a million
times see her in her grave than passed through the atmos-
phere of his life.

This may seem madness, selfish and small; but after-
events went far to justify my fears and imaginings, for
behind all there was a love, an aching, absorbing solici-
tude. I can not think that my anxiety was all vulgar
smallness then.

I called him by coarse names as I tramped up and
down my dungeon ; I cursed him ; impotent contempt
was poured out on him ; in imagination I held him there
before me, and choked him till his eyes burst out and his
bodv grew limp in my arms. The ring of fire in my head
scorched and narrowed till I could have siirieked in agonv.
Mv breath came short and laboured, and mv heart felt as
though it were in a vise and being clamped to nothing.
For an instant, also, I l)roke out in wild bitterness against
Alixe. She had said she would save me, and vet in an
hour or less I should be dead. She had come to me last
night — ah, true; but that was in keeping with her dra-
matic temperament; it was the drama of it tliat had ap-
pealed to her; and to-morrow she would forget me, and
sink her fresh spirit in the malarial shadows of Doltaire's.

In my passion I thrust my hand into my waistcoat and

124

THE SEATS OP THE MICJHTY.

unconsciously drew out somctlung. At first my only fool-
ing was that my hand could clinch it, but slowly a knowl-
edge of it travelled to my brain, as if through clouds ai^d
vapours. [Now I am no Catholic, I do not know that I
am superstitious, yet when I became conscious that the
thing I held was the wooden cross that Mathilde had given
me, a weird feeling passed through me, and there was an
arrest of the passions of mind jind body ; a coolness passed
over all my nerves, and my brain got clear again, the ring
of fire loosing, melting away. It was a hai)py, diverting
influence, which gave the mind rest for a moment, till the
better spirit, the wiser feeling, had a chance to reassert
itself ; but at the time it seemed to me almost supernatural.

One can laugh Avhen misery and danger are over, and
it would be easv to turn this matter into ridicule, but from
that hour to this the wooden cross which turned the flood
of my feelings then into a saving channel has never left
me. I keep it, not indeed for what it was, but for what
it did.

As I stood musing there came to my mind suddenly
the words of a song which I had heai'd some voijagciirs
sing on the St. Lawrence as I sat on the cliJf a hundred
feet above them and watched them drift down in the
twilisrht :

" Brothers, we go to the Sccarlct Hills:

(Little gold sun, come out of the dawn !)
There wc will meet in the cedar groves ;

(Shining while dew, come down !)
There is w bed where you sleep so sound,
The little good folk of the hills will guard.
Till the morning wakes and your love comes home.
(Fly away, heart, to the Scarlet Hills I)''

Something in the half-mystical, half-Arcadian s})irit of the
v'crds soothed rie, lightened my thoughts, so that when,
presently, Gabr.d opened the door and entered with four

THE COMING OF DOLTAIUE.

125

soldiers I was calm oiiough for the groat shift. Cabord
did uot spcai\, but set about pinioning nie himself. I
asked him if he could not let mo go un})inioned, for it
was ignoble to go to one's death tied lii\0 a beast. At first
he shook his head, but as if with a suthlen imp ilse ho cast
the ropes aside, and, helping mo on with my cloak, threw
again over it a heavier cloak he had brought, gave me a
fur cap to wear, and at last himself put on mo a pair of
woollen leggings, which, if they were no ornament, and to
bo of but transitory use (it seemed strange to me thou
that one should bo caring for a bodv so soon to be cut off
from all feeling), were most comforting when we came
into the bitter, steely air. (Jabord might easily have given
those last tasks to the soldiers, but he was solicitous to
perform them himself. Yet with surly brow and a rough
accent he gave the word to go forward, and in a moment
we were marching through the passages, up frosty steps,
in the stone corridors, and on out of the citadel into the
yard.

I remember that as we passed into the open air I hoard
the voice of a soldier singing a gay air of love and war.
Presently he came in sight. He saw mo, stood still for a
moment looking curiously, and then, taking np the song
again at the very lino where he had broken off, passed
round an angle of the building and was gone. To him I
was no more than a moth fluttering in the candle, to drop
dead a moment later.

It w^as just on tlio verge of sunrise. There was the
grayish-blue light in the west, the top of a long range of
forest was sharply outlined against it, and a timorous
darkness was hurrying out of the zenith. In the oast a
sad, golden radiance was stealing up and driving back the
mystery of the night and that weird loneliness of an arctic
world. The city was hardly waking as yet, but straight
silver columns of smoke rolled up out of many chimneys.

120

THE SEATS OF THE MKIIITY.

and tlie goldcMi cross on the catliedrul ciuight the first rays
of the sun. 1 was not interested in the city ; I hud now,
as I tlioiiglit, (h)ne witli men. Besides tlie four soldiers
wlio liud brouL,dit nie out, another squad surrounded nie,
commanded bv a voun<f otlicer wliom 1 reeo'niised as Cap-
tain Lancy, the rough roysterer who liad insuhed me at
lilgot's palace over a year ii^^j. 1 looked with a spirit ab-
sorbed upon the world about me, and a hundred thoughts
which had to do with man's life passed through my mind.
But the young olhcer, speaking sharply to me, ordered me
on, and changed the current of my tli oughts. The coarse-
ness of the man and his insulting words were hard to bear,
so that 1 was constrained to ask him if it were not cus-
tomary to protect a condemned man from insuit rather
than to expose him to it. I said that I should be glad of
my last moments in peace. At that he asked Clabord why
I was unbound, and my jailer answered that binding was
for crimirials who were to be liinujed !

I could scarcely believe my ears. I was to be shot, not
hanged. I had a thrill of gratitude which I can iu)t de-
scribe. It may seem a nice distinction, but to me there
were whole seas between the two modes of death. I need
not blush in advance for being shot — my friemls could
bear that without humiliation; but hanging would always
have tainted their memory of me, try as they would
against it.

" The gallows is ready, and my orders were to see him
hanged," Mr. Lancy said.

"An order came at midniirht that he should be shot,"
was Gabord's reply, producing the order and handing it
over.

The ofticcr contemptuously tossed it back, and now, a
little more courteous, ordered me against the wall, and I
let my cloak fall to the ground. I was placed where,
looking east. I could see the Island of Orleans, on which

3t rays
1 now,
[)ldiors
I'd ine,
s t'ap-

1110 lit

rit ab-
oughts

mind,
red nie
t'oarse-
bear,
ot eus-

ratlier
2;] ad of
rd wby
ng was

ot, not
lot de-
there
need
could
ilways
would

3e him

shot,"
ing it

ow, a

and I

Ivhere,

y-'

'55

hicli

THE COMING OF DOLT A III K.

127

was the siirnnior-hoiiso of tlie Scifrneur Diivjiniov. (Jii-
l)()nl ciiine to mo iiiul said, " M'sii'u', you an- a bravo
inaii'' — tlu'U, all at oiu'o broakiuf]^ olT, ho adcUnl in a low,
hurried voice, " 'Tis not a long llight to heaven, in'sicu'!"
I eould see hid face twitching as lie stood looking at nie.
lie hardlv dared to turn round to his comrades, lost his
emotion should be seen. liut the oHicer roughly ordered
him back. (Jabord coolly drew out his watch, and made
a motion to me not to take otT my cloak yet.

" 'Tis not the time by six minutes," he said. " 'i'ho
gentleman is to be shot to the stroke--aho ! " His voice
[lud manner were dogged. The olhcer ste}»ped forward
threateningly; but (jiabord said something angrily in an
undertone, and the other turned on his heel and began
Avalking up aiul down. This continued for a moment, in
which we all were very still and bitter cold — the air cut
like steel — and then my heart gave a great leap, for
suddenly there stepped into the yard Doltaire. Action
seemed suspended in me, but I know I listened with
singular curiosity to the shrill creaking of his boots on
the frosty earth, and I noticed that the fur collar of the
coat he wore was all white with the frozen moisture of
his breath, also that tiny icicles hung from his eyelashes,
lie came down the yard slowly, and presently paused and
looked at Gabord and the young officer, his head laid a
little to one side in a quizzical fashion, his eyelids
drooping.

"What time was monsieur to be shot?" he asked of
Captain Laucy.

" At seven o'clock, monsieur," was the reply.

Doltaire took out his watch. " It wants three minutes
of seven," said he. " What the devil means this business
before the stroke o* the hour? " waving a hand towards me.

" We were waiting for the minute, monsieur," was
the officer's reply.

I'JS

TIIK SKATS OF TIIK MKIIITY.

A cynical, I'uttiii;; siiiilo crossed Doltairc's face. *' A
(;liai'itul)li' trick, upon my soul, to futch a «;cntl('iiiaii from
a warjn (liiii;,^'oM and stand liiin a<;ainst an icy wall on a
deadlv inornin;; to cauA his liocls as ho waits for Ids hour
to die! ^'ouM skin your lion and shoot him afterwards
— ro/Vri / " All this time he heKl the watch in his
liand.

" Von, (ial)ord," he went on, "you ai'e a man to obey
orders — eh ^ ''

(Jabord hesitated a moment as if waitin*,' for I.ancy to
Fpeak, and then said, "J was not in command. \\ hen I
was called ui)on I brought him forth/'

" Excuses ! excuses ! Vou sweated to be rid of your
cliarge."

(Jabord's face hjwered. " M'sieu' would liavo been in
lieaven by this if 1 hadu't sto])ped it," he broke out
an<(rily.

Dollaire turned sharply on Laney. "I thought as
much," said he, " and yon wonld have lot (Jabord share
your misdemeanour. Yet your father was u gentleman !
If you had shot monsieur before seven, you would have
taken the dungeon he left. You must learn, my young
l)rovincial, that you are not to supersede France and the
King. It is now seven o'clock; you wUl march your men
back into quarters."

Thou turning to mo, ho raised his cap. "You will
find your cloak more comfortable, (^iptain ^[oray," said
ho, and he motioned CJabord to hand it to mo, as he came
forward. " .Afay I breakfast with you?" he added cour-
teously. He yawned a little. " I have not risen so early
in years, and I am chilled to the bono, (iabord insists

that it is warm in your dungeon; I have a fancy to
breakfast there. It will recall my year in the Bastile."

lie smiled in a quaint, elusive sort of fashion, and as I
drew the cloak about me I said through chattering teeth,

TIIH rOMIN(J OF DOLTAIIU"!.

1L>0

{(

in from
all oil a
lis lioiir
iTwanis
ill his

to obey

.atu'V to
When 1

of your

ht't'ii in
jku out

iiijlit as
(1 share

leinan !

(1 have
young

lul the

ur men

ou will
y," said
10 came
I cour-
30 early
insists
uicy to
ile."
nd as I
^ teeth,

for I had sulT(>rod witli tlic ))rutal cold, "I ant <,dad to
Inive the chance to olTcr breakfast."

"To nie or any one? " he dryly su^'iji'sicd. " 'I'hink !
by now, had 1 not coin(», you nii;;ht have hem in a
warmer world than this — indeed, nnich warmer," he siid-
di'iily said, as he stoo()ed, piiikcd up some snow in his
b;ire hand and clapped it to my check, rubhini,' it with
U>\vo and swiftness. Tlie (;old hati nipped it, and this
was the way to draw out the frost. His solicitude at the
moment was so natural and earnest that it was iiard to
think h(! was my eiu'my.

When lu! had rublx'd awhile, he gave me his owti
handkerchief to dry my face; and so i)erfect was his
courtesy, it was impossible to do otherwise than meet
liim as he meant and showed lor the moment. He had
Btep])ed between me and death, and even an ciu'iny who
does that, no matter what the motive, deserves something
ut vour hands.

" CJabord," he said, as we step))cd inside the citadel,
"we will breakfast ut eight o'(!l()ck. Meanwhile I have
some duties with our oflicers here. Till we meet in your
dining-hall, then, monsieur," he added to me, and raised
his cap.

" You 1 ust put up witli frugal fare," I answered,
bowing.

" If you but furnish locusts," he said gaily, " I will
bring the wild honev. . . . What wonderful hives of bees
they have at the Seigneur Duvarney's!" he continued
musingly, as if with second thought; "a beautiful manor
— a })lace for pretty birds and honey-bees ! "

His eyelids drooped languidly, as was their way when
ho had said something a little carbolic, as this was to me
because of its hateful sujrjrestion. His words drew notli-

'jifi"

ing from me, not even a look of understanding, and again

bow

ing we went our ways.

130

THE SEATS OF '?HE MIGHTY.

At the door of the dungeon Gabord held the torch up
to my face. His own had a look which came as near to
being gentle as was possible to him. Yet he was so ugly
that it appeared almost ludicrous in him.

'''' Poom ! ''"' said he. "A friend at court. More com-
fits."

"You think Monsieur Doltaire gets comfits too?"
asked I.

He rubbed his cheek with a key. " Alio ! " mused he
—"alio ! M'sieu' Doltaire rises not early for naught."

XII.

" THE POINT ENVENOMED TOO ! "

I WAS roused by the opening of die door. Doltaire en-
tered. He advanced towards me with the manner of an
admired comrade, and, with no trace of what would mark
him as my foe, said, as he snilfed the air :

"Monsieur, I have been selfish. I asked myself to
breakfast with you, yet, while I love the new experience,
I will deny myself in this. You shall breakfast with me,
as you pass to your new lodgings. You must not say no,"
he added, as though we were in some salon. " I have a
sieigli here at the door, and a fellow has already gone to
fan my kitchen fires and forage for the table. Come,"
he continued, "let me help you with your cloak."

lie threw my cloak around me, and turned towards
the door. I had not spoken a word, for what with weak-
ness, the announcement that I was to have new lodgings,
and the sudden change in my uffairs, I was like a child
walking in its sleep. I could do no more than bow to
him and force a smile, which must have told more than
aught else of my state, for he stepped to my side and

torch up
3 near to
5 so ugly

)re com-

s too?"

lused he
ght."

taire en-
er of an
Id mark

self to

lerience,

ith me,

lay no,"

have a

one to

|Come,"

[owards

weak-

Iging's,

child

Ibow to

le than

le and

«'TIIE POINT ENVENOMED TOO!"

131

offered me his arm. I drew back from that witli thanks,
for 1 felt a quick hatred of myself that I should take fa-
vours from the man who had moved for my destruction
and to wickedly steal from me my promised wife. Yet
it was my duty to live if 1 could, to escape if that were
possible, to use every means to foil my enemies. It was
all a game ; why should I not accept advances at my
enemy's hands, and match dissimulation with dissimula-
tion ?

When I refused his arm he smiled comicallv, and
raised his shoulders in deprecation.

" You forget your dignity, monsieur," I said presently
as Wb walked on, Gabord meeting us and lighting us
through the passages ; •' you voted me a villain, a spy, at
my trial ! "

" Technically and publicly, you are a spy, a vulgar
criminal," he replied ; " privately, you are a foolish, blun-
dering gentleman."

"A soldier also, you will admit, who keeps his com-
pact with his enemy."

" Otherwise we should not breakfast together this
morning," he answered. "What di'Terence would it
make to this government if our private matter had been
dragged in ? Technically you still would htive been the
spy. But I will say tliis, monsieur, to me you are a man
better worth torture than death."

" Do you ever stop to think of how this may end foi
you?" I asked quietly.

He seemed pleased at the question. " I have thought
it might be interesting," he answered ; " else, as I said,
you should long ago have left this naughty world. Is
it in your mind that we shall cross swords one day ? "

"I feel it in my bones," said I, " that I shall kill you."

At that moment we stood at the entrance to the cita-
del, where a good pair of horses and a sleigh awaited

182

THE SEATS OF TOE MIGHTY.

us. We got in, the robes were piled around us, and the
horses started off at a lorg trot. I was muflled to the
ears, but I could see how white and beautiful was the
world, how the frost glistened in the trees, how the bal-
sams were weighted down with snow, and how snug tlie
chateau:-; looked with the smoke curling up from their
lunudied chimneys.

Presently Doltaire replied to my last remaik. "Con-
viction is the executioner of the stupid," said he. " Wlien
a man is not great enough to let change and chance guide
him he gets convictions and dies a fool."

" Conviction has made men and mitions strons:," I
rejoined.

" lias made men and nations asses," he retorted. " The
Mohammedan has conviction, so has the Christian : they
die fighting each other, and the philosoi)her sits by and
laughs. Expediency, monsieur, expediency is the real
wisdom, the true muster of this world. Expediency saved
your life to-day ; conviction would have sent you to a starry
home."

As he spoke a thought came in on me. Here we were
in the open world, travelling together, without a guard of
any kind. Was it not possible to make a dash for free-
dom ? The idea was put away from me, and yet it was a
fresh accent of Doltaire's character that he tempted me in
this way. As if he divined what I thought, he said to me
— for I made no attempt to answer his question :

" Men of sense never confuse issues or choose the
wrong time for their purposes. Foea may have unwritten
truces."

There was the matter in a nutshell. He had done
nothing carelessly; he was touching oif our conflict with
flashes of genius. lie was the man who had roused in me
last night the fiercest passions of my life, and yet this
morning he had saved me from death, and though he

THE POINT ENVENOMED TOO!"

l;33

iiul the
to tlie

ft' as the
the bal-
ing tlie
m their

" Con-
" When
)e guide

ong,

. "The
in : they
3 by and
the real
cy saved
a starry

|we were
uard of
[or free-
lit was a
(d me in
Id to nie

)se the
[written

id done
let with
ll in me

I'ct this
Ingh he

was still my sworn enemy I was about to breakfast with
him.

Already tlie streets of the town were tilling ; for it was
tlie day before Christmas, and it would be the great mar-
ket-day of the year. Few noticed us as we sju'd along
down Palace Streei, and 1 coukl not conceive whither we
were going, until, passing the Hotel Dieu, 1 saw in front
of us ihe Intendance. I remembered the last time 1 was
there and what had happened then, and a thought Hashed
through me that perhaps this was another trap, liut 1
put it from me, and soon afterwards Doltaire said :

" I have now a slice of the Intendance for my own, and
we shall breakfast like squirrels in a loft."

As we drove into the open space before the palace a
company of soldiers standing before the great door began
marching np to the road by which we came. With them
was a prisoner. I saw at once that he was a British otlicer,
but I did not recognise his face. I asked his name of
Doltaire and found it was one Lieutenant Stevenson, of
Kogers's Rangers, those brave Xew-Englanders. After an
interview with Bigot he was being taken to the common
jail. To my request that I might speak with him Dol-
taire assented, and at a sign from my companion the sol-
diers stopped. Stevenson's eyes were fixed on me with a
puzzled, disturbed expression. lie was well built, of in-
trepid bearing, with a fine openness of manner joined to
handsome features. But there was a recklessness in his
eye which seemed to me to come nearer the swashbuckling
character of a young French seigneur than the wariness of
a British soldier.

I spoke his name and introduced myself. Ins surprise
and pleasure were pronounced, for he had thought (as he
said) that by this time I should be dead. There was an
instant's flash of his eye, as if a suspicion of my loyalty

had crossed his mind ; but it was gone on the instant, and
10

134

THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY.

immediately Doltaire, who also had interpreted the look,
smiled, and said he had carried me olf to breakfast while
the furniture of my former prison was being shifted to my
new one. After a word or two more, with Stevenson's as-
surance that the British had recovered from Hraddock's
defeat and would presently be knocking at the portals of
the Chateau St. Louis, we parted, and soon Doltaire and I
got out at the high stone steps of the palace.

Standing there for a moment I h)oked round. In this
space surrounding the Intendance was gathered the his-
tory of Xew France. This palace, large enough for the
king of a European country with a population of a mil-
lion, was the oflicial residence of the commercial ruler of
a province. It was the house of the miller, and across the
way was the King's storehouse. La Fri])onne, where poor
folk were ground between the stones. The great square
was already filling with people who had come to trade.
Here were barrels of malt being unloaded ; there, great
sacks of grain, bags of dried fruits, bales of home-made
cloth, and loads of fine-sawn boards and timber. Moving
about among the peasants were the regular soldiers in
their white uniforms faced with blue, red, yellow, or vio-
let, with black three-cornered hats, and black gaiters from
foot to knee, and the militia in coats of white with black
facings. Behind a great collar of dogskin a pair of jet-
black eyes flashed out from nnder a pretty forehead ; and
presently one saw these same eyes grown sorrowful or dull
under heavy knotted brows, which told of a life too vexed
by care and labour to keep alive a spark of youth's ro-
mance. Now the bell in the tower above us rang a short
peal, the signal for the opening of La Friponne, and the
bustling crowd moved towards its doors. As I stood there
on the great steps, I clianced to look along the plain, bare
front of the palace to an annex at the end, and standing
in a doorway opening on a pair of steps was Voban. I

"THE POINT ENVEXOMED TOO!"

135

le look,
5t while
d to my
ion's as-
d dock's
)rtals of
re and I

In this
the his-
for the
if a mil-
ruler of
3ross the
ere poor
it square
to trade.
fre, great
me-made
^Moving
diers in
, or vio-
ers from
th black
r of jet-
ad ; and
il or didl
00 vexed
ith's ro-
g a short
and the
od tliere
ain, bare
standing
obau. 1

was amazed that he sliould be there — tlie man whose life
had been spoiled by Bigot. At tiie same moment Doltaire
motioned to iiim to return inside; wiiich lie did.

Doltaire laughed at my surprise, and, jis he showed mo
inside tlie palace, said : " There is no barber in the world
like Voban. Interesting ! interesting ! 1 love to watch
his eye when he draws the razor down my throat. It
would be so easy to fetch it across ; but Voban, as you see,
is not a man of absolute conviction. It will be sport, some
day, to put Bigot's valet to bed with a broken leg or a lit
of spleen, and send Voban to shave him."

"Where is Mathilde?" I asked, as though I knew
naught of her whereabouts.

"Mathilde is where none may touch her, monsieur :
even under the protection of the daintiest lady of New
France. It is her whim ; and when a lady is charming,
an Intendant, even, must not trouble her caprice."

He did not need to speak more phdnly. It was ho
who had prevented Bigot from taking ^lathilde away
from Alixe and locking her up, or worse. I said noth-
ing, however, and soon we were in a large room sumjitu-
ously furnished, looking out on the great square. The
morning sun stared in, some snowbirds twittered on the
window-sill, and inside, a canary, in an alcove hung with
plants and llowers, sang as if it were the heart of summer.
All was warm and comfortable, and it was like a dream
that I had just come from the dismal chance of a miser-
able death. My cloak and cap and leii-irin<;s h:id been taken
from me when I entered, as conrteously as though I had
been King Louis himself, and a great chair was drawn
solicitously to the fire. All this was done by the servant,
after one quick look from Doltaire. The man seemed
to understand his master perfectly, to read one look us
though it were a volume —

*'The constant service of the antique world."

186

THE SKATS OK TFIE MKIIITV

Sucli wns Doltiiiro's iiifluonce. Tlie closer you came
to him, the more compelling was he — ii devilish attrac-
tion, iiotiil>ly selfish, yet eainible of benevolence. Two
years before this time I saw him lift a load from the back
of a peasant woman and carry it home for her, putting
into her hand a gold piece on leaving. At another time,
an old man had died of a foul disease in a miserable n})per
room of a wjirehouse. Doltaire was passing at the moment
when the body should be carried to burial. The stricken
widow of the dead man stood below, waiting, but no one
would fetch forth the corpse. Doltaire stopped and ques-
tioned her kindly, and in another minute he was driving
the carter and another ujjstairs at the point of his sword.
Together they brought the body down, and Doltaire fol-
lowed it to the burying-ground, keeping the graved igger
at his task when he would have run away, and saying the
responses to the priest in the short service read above the
grave.

I said to him then, " You rail at the world and scoff at
men and many decencies, and yet you do these things ! "

To this he replied — he was in my own lodgings at the
time — " The brain may call all men liars and fools, but the
senses feel the shock of misery which we do not ourselves
inflict. Inflicting, we are prone to cruelty, as you have seen
a schoolmaster begin punishment with tears, grow angry
at the shrinking back under his cane, and give way to a
sudden lust of torture. I have little pity for those who
can help themselves — let them fight or eat the leek ; but
the child and the hel[)less and the sick it is a pleasure to
aid. I love the poor as much as I love anything. I could
live their life, if I were put to it. As a gentleman, I hate
squalor and the puddles of wretchedness: but I could
have worked at the plough or the anvil ; I could have dug
in the earth till my knuckles grew big and my shoulders
hardened to a roundness, have eaten my beans and pork

"THE POINT ENVENOMED TOO!"

137

1 cume
attriic-
, Two
le back
putting

T tillU',

? u})p('r
iioiuent
trickoii
no one
d ques-
driving
1 sword,
ire I'ol-
edigger
ing the
ove the

scoff lit
ngs!"
s at the
jut the
irselves
Lve seen
V angry
ay to a
)se who
■k ; but
sure to
I could
, I liate
could
ive dug
oulders
id pork

and poa-sonp, and have been a healthy ox, munching the
bread of industry and trailing the puissant pike, an obe-
dient serf. 1 have no etiiics, and yet 1 am on the side of
the just when they do not put thorns in my bed to keep
me awake at night ! "

rpon the walls liung suits of armour, swo/ds of beauti-
ful nuike, s[)ears, belts of wonderful worknumship, a tat-
tered banner, sashes knit by ladies' lingers, poueiies, l)an-
doleers, and numy agreeable sketches of scenes tluit 1 knew
Avell. ^«'ow and then a woman's head in oils or pencil
peeped out from the abundant ornaments. 1 recuiled
then another thing he said at that timt of wliich I
write :

" 1 have never juggled with my conscience — never
'made believe ' with it. My will was always stronger than
my wish for anything, always stronger tlian temptation.
I have cliosen tiiis way or that cU'liberatcly. I am ever
ready to face consequences, and I never cry out. It is
the ass undeserving of either reward or })unishment who
says that something carried him away, and, being weak,
lie fell. That is a poor man m'Iio is no stronger than
his passions. I can understand the devil fighting God,
and taking the long punishment without repentance, like
a powerful jirince as he was. I could understand a ])eas-
ant killing King Louis in the palace, and being ready, if
he had a hundred lives, to give them all, liaving done the
deed he set out to do. If a man must have convictions
of that sort, he can escape everlasting laughter — the llnal
hell — only by facing the rebound of his wild d-eds."

These were strange sentiments in the mouth of a man
who was ever the mannered courtier, and as I sat there
alone, while he was gone elsewhere for some minutes,
many such things he had said came back to me, sug-
gested, no doubt, by this new, inex))iicable attitude to-
wards myself. I could trace some of his sentiments, per-

138

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

hiips va<^ucly, to the fact tliut — as I liad come to know
through tlic Seigneur Duvarncy — liis niollier was of peas-
ant hlood, the hcautiful (hiughter of a farmer of Poicliers,
^vlK) liad (lied soon after giving birtli to Dohaire. ILis
l)eeuliar nature had shown itself in his refusal to accept u
title. It was liis whim to be the plain "^lonsieur"; l)e-
hind whi(;h was, perhaps, some native arrogancy that
miidc him prefer this to being a Jioble whose origin,
well knowii, must ever int.rfeie with his ambitions.
Then, too, mayl)e, the peasant in him — never in his face
or form, which were patrician altogether — spoke for more
truth and manliness Jian he was capable of, and so he
chose to be the cynical, irresponsible c(*urtier, while many
of his instincts liad urged him to the peasant's integrity.
He had undisturbed however one instinct of the ])easani
— a good directness, evident mostly in the clearness of his
thoughts.

As tliese tilings luirried through my mind, my body
sunk in a kind of restf ulness before the great fire, Doltaire
came back.

" I will not keep you from breakfast," said he. " Voban
must wait, if you will pass by untidiness."

A thought flashed through my mind. Perhaps Voban
had some word for me from Alixe ! So I said instantly,
" I am not hungry. Perhaps you will let me wait yonder
while Voban tends you. As you said, it should le inter-
esting-"

" You will not mind the disorder of my dressing-room?
Well, then, this way, and we can talk wdiile Voban plays
with temptation."

So saying, he courteously led the way into another
chamber where Voban stood waiting. I spoke to him,
and he bowed but did not speak; and then Doltaire
said :

" You see, Voban, your labour on monsieur was wasted

know

[)f pc'iis-
oictiiThi,
c. J lis
iicoopt a.
r"; he-
cy that
origin,
ibitions.
iiis face
or more
d so he
le many
itogrity.
])easani
ss of his

ny body
Doltaire

Voban

Vol^an
itar.tly,
vonder
iuter-

-room?
ti plays

u^other
o him,
)olUire

wasted

"THE POINT EXVEXOMED TOO!

139

so far as concerns the wor]<l to como. Yon trimmed him
for the ghjrious com})any of the apostk's, and sco, ho
breakfasts with Monsieur Doltaire — in the Inteiidance,
too, my \'oban, which, as you know, is wicked — a very
nest of wasps I "

I never saw more hate than shot out of V'oban's eyes
at that moment; but the lids drooped over them at once,
and he made ready for his work, as Uoltaire, putting aside
his coat, seated himself, laughing. There was no little
daring, as there was crn.elty, in thus torturing a man
whose life had been ])roken by T)oltaire\s associate. 1
wondered now and then if Doltaire were not really put-
ting acid on the barber's bare nerves for some other pur-
pose than mere general cruelty. Even as he would have
understood the peasant's murder of King Louis, so he
would have seen a logical end to a terrible game in Bigot's
death at the hand of Voban. Possibly he wondered that
Vol)an did not strike, and he liimself took delight in
showing him his own wrongs occasionally. 'J'hen, again,
T jltaire might wish for Bigot's death, to succeed him
in his place ! But this I put by as iniprol)able, for the
Intendant's post was not his ambition, or, favourite of La
Pompadour as he was, he would, desiring, have long ago
achieved that end. Moreover, every evidence showed that
he would gladly return to France, for his clear brain fore-
saw the final ruin of the colony and the triumph of the
British. lie had once said in my hearing:

"Those swaggering Englishmen will keep coming on.
They are too stujiid to turn back. The eternal sameness
I'f it all will so distress us we shall awake one morning,
(ind thciii at our bedsides, give a kick, and die from sheer
ennui. They'll use our banners to boil their fat puddings
in, they'll roast oxen in the highways, and after our
girls have married them they'll turn them into kitchen
wenches with frowsy skirfj and ankles like beeves!"

140

THE SKATS OF THE MKIHTY.

But, indeed, beiieiitli liis d.'in^^eroiis irony there was a
fitraiii of irnpisluiesH, and he would, if neeil bo, hiugli at
hia own troni)Ie.s, and torture himself as ho had tortured
otiiers. 'i'liis niornin*^' lie was full )f a carbolic humour.
As the razor camo to his neck \\v s:iid :

" \'oban, a barl)er must have })atieiu'e. It is a sad
tliin<^ to mistake friend for enemy. What is a friend? Is
it one wh says sweet words? "

There wjis a pause, in which ihc shaving went on, and
tlien he continued :

"Is it he who says, I hnve eatei\ A'ol)an's bread, and
Voban sliall tlierefore go to i)rison or be hurried to Wal-
halia? Or is it lu; wlu) stays the iron hand, who puts
nettU's in N'oban's cold, cokl bed, that he may rise early
and go forth among tlie heroes?"

I do not think Voban understood that, through some
freak of purpose, Doltaire was telling him thus obliquely
he had saved him from Bigot's cruelty, from prison or
death. Once or twice he glanced at me, but not mean-
ingly, for Doltaire was seated opposite a mirror, and could
see each motion made by either of us. Presently Doltaire
said to me idlv :

"I dine to-day at the Seigneur Duvarney's. You will
be glad to hear that mademoiselle bids fair to rival the
charming ^[adame Cournal. Ilor followers are as manv,
so they say, and all in one short year she has suddenly
thrown out a thousand new faculties and charms. Doubt-
less you remember she Avas gifted, but who would have
thought she could have blossomed so ! She was all light
and softness and air ; she is now all fire and skill as well.
^Matchless ! matchless ! Every day sees her with some
new capacity, some fresh and delicate aplomb. She has
set the town admiring, and jealous mothers prophesy trist
ending for her. Her swift masterv of the social arts is
weird, they say. La ! la ! The social arts ! A good braiu,

♦•TIIK POIN'T KNVFA'OMRD TOO!"

liiive
light
well.

some

)e luis

trist

irts is

(braiu,

a <]fift of ponotnitioti, a manner — wliich is a grand noooa-
sity, and it must bu with birtii — and no h»'art to s[)t'ai\ of,
and the rest is easy. Xo licart — there is tije thitig ; uiili
a irood braiji and senvSes all warm >vith life — to fed, hut
never to have the arrow strike home. Von must never
thiidv to love and be loved, and be wise too. 'i'he emo-
tions blind the judgment. He heartless, be perfeet with
heavenlv iutilice, and, if you are a woman, have no viti'icd
on your tongue — aiul you mav rule at Versailles or (Quebec.
But with this dilTerenee: in Quebec you nmy be virtuous;
at Versailles you must not. It is a i)ity that you nuiy not
meet Mademoiselle Duvarney. She would astound you.
She was a simple ballad a year ago; to-morrow she nuiy
be an epic."

He nodded at me reflectively, ami went on :
"'Mademoiselle,' said the Chevalier de la Daranto to
her at dinner, some weeks ago, ' if I were young, I slujuld
adore vou.' ' ^fonsieur,' she rnswereil, ' you use ihat " if "
to shirk the responsibility.' Tiuit put him on his mettle.
'Then, by the gods, I adore you now I' ho answered. ' If
I were young, 1 should blush to hear you say so,' was her
reply. 'I empty out my heart, and away tri{)s the dis-
dainful nymph with a laugh,' he rejoined gaily, the rusty
old courtier; 'there's nothing left but to full u})on my
sword!' 'Disdainful nym})hs are the better scabbards
for distinguished swords,' she said, with charming cour-
tesy, 'i'hen, laughing softly, 'There is an Egyptian
proverb which runs thus: "If thou, Dol, son of Hoshti,
hast eni})tied out thy heart, and it bring no fruit in ex-
change, curse not thy gods and die, but build a pynimid
in tiie vineyard where thy love was spent, and write npori
it, Pride liath no conqueror^ ' It is a mind for a palace,
is it not?"

I could see in the mirror facing him the provoking
devilry of his eyes. I knew that he was trying how much

IHJ

Tin-: SI-: ATS or tiik MKnirv.

ho could stir uw. lie ^nicsscd my love for licr, but I
coiiltl sec III' WHS sure tliiit she no lon<^c'r — if slic ever liiul
— tlioii;,Hit of nio. Besides, with u lover's uiiderstaiidiii;;,
I siiw also tliiit he liked to talk of her. His eves, in tlio
mirror, did not meet mine, hut wen; iixed, jis on sorno
distant and pleasinu^ pros{)ect, thou<,di there was, as al-
wavs, a sli'dit disdain ul liis mouth, liut tlu^ eves wero
cleai", resolute, and stron.ij;', never waverin.L,' — aiul 1 nevi'r
saw tliem waver — yet in them somethini,^ distant and in-
scrutable. It was u candid eye, and he was candid in his
evil; he made no ])retenco ; and though the means to his
ends were wicked, they were never low. I'resently, glanc-
ing round the room, 1 saw an easel on which was a can-
vas. He oiught my glance.

"Silly work for a soldier and a gentleman," he said,
" but silliness is a great privilege. It needs as much skill
to carry folly well as to be an ambassador. Kow, you are
often much too serious, C'a})tain Moray."

At that he rose, and, after putting on his coat, came
over to the easel and threw up the cloth, exposing a por-
trait of Alixe ! It had been painted in by a few bold
strokes, full of force and life, yet giving her face more
of that look which comes to women bitterly wise in the
ways of this world than I eared to see. The treatment
was daring, nnd it cut mo like a knife that the whole
jiiiinting had a red glow: the dress was red, the light
falling on the hair was red, the shine of the eyes was
red also. It was fascinating, but weird, and, to me, dis-
tressful. There Hashed through my mind the remem-
brance of Mathilde in her scarlet robe as she stood on
the Heights that momentous night of my arrest. I looked
at the picture in silence, lie kept gazing at it with a
curious, half-({uizzical smile, as if he were nnconscious
of my presence. At last he said, with a slight knitting
of his brows :

"THE roiXT ENVKXOMKI) TOO!"

\{l\

\s was
), dis-
tmem-

)cl on
looked

'ith II
Iscioua

litting

"It ia stninpfc — stninc^o. I sketched that in two nifj^hts
n2^o, ]>y the li.L^lit of the lire, after 1 iiad come from the
Chateau St. liOiiis — from nit'iiKH'v, as vuii sec. It never
struck me where ti»o efTect was taken from, tiiat siiiiridar
^dow over all the face and llj^^uiv. Hut now I set- it; it
returns: it is the impression <tf colour in the senses, left
from the ni^lit that lady-hu;^ Mathilde Hashed out. on the
Heights! Aline — a line etVcct ! ll'm! for anotlier such
one nnght give another such Mathiltle I "

At that moment we wei'e both start le(l hy a sound l)e-
hind us, and, wheeling, \\'{> saw N'ohan, a look (d" lage in
his face, in the act of tlirowing at Doltaire a short spear
which he luid caught up from a corner. The spear Hew
from Ins liand even as Doltaire sprang asi<le, di'awing iiis
sword witli great swiftness. I thought lie must have l)een
killed, but tiie rapidity of Ids action saved him, for the
s])ear passed his shoulder so close that it tore away a shred
of his coat and stuck in the wall behind him. In another
instant Doltaire had his sword-jioint at \'oban\s throat,
^riie man did not cringe, did not speak a woi'd, but his
liandii clinched and the mus(des of his fa(;e woi'kcd pain-
fully. At tirst there was a fury in Doltaire's face and a
metallic hardness in his eyes, and 1 was sure he nu-ant to
pass his sword through the other's body; but afti'r stand-
ing for a moment, death hanging on his sword-point, he
quietly lowered his wea])on, ami, sitting on a chair-arm,
looked curiously at Voban, as one might sit and watch a

nuid aninnd within a cage

\'oban did not stir, but stood

rooted to the spot, his eyes never moving from Doltaire.
It was clear that he had looked for death, and now ex-
pected ])unishment and prison. Doltaire took out his
liandkerchief and wiped a sweat from his cheeks, lie
11 turned to me soon, and said, in a singularly impersonal

way, as though he were s})eaking of some animal :

"He hud great ])rovocation. The Duchess de Valois

144

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

had a young panther once which she liiid hrought up
from tlie milk. Slic was inquisitive, and used to try its
tcunper. ft was i^ood sport, but one day she took away
its food, gave it to tlie cat, and pointed lier linger at
monsicHir tlie panther. The J)uchess de \'alois never
bared her breast thereafter to an admiring world — a pan-
ther's claws leave scars." He paused, and presently con-
tinued : " You remember it, Voban ; you were the l^uke's
valet then — you see I recall you ! Well, the panth ^r lost
his head, both llguratively and in fact. The panther did
not moan to kill, maybe, but to kill the lady's beauty was
death to her. . . . Voban, yonder spear was poisoned !"

lie sviped his face, and said to me, " I think you saw
that at the dangerous moment I had no fear; yet now
when the game is in my own hands my cheek runs with
cold sweat. How easy to be charged with cowardice!
Like evaporation, the hot breath of peril passing sud-
denly into thd cold air of safety leaves this ! " — he wiped
his cheek ag:::ii.

lie rose, moved dowly to Voban, and, pricking him
with his sword, said, " You are a bungler, barber. Xow
listen. I never wronged you ; I have only been your blis-
ter. I prick your sores at homo. Tut ! tut ! they jirick
them openly in the market-place. I gave you life a min-
ute ago; I give you freedom now. Some day I may ask
that life for a day's use, and then, Voban, then will you
give it '? "

There was a moment's pause, and the barber an-
swered, " M'sieu', 1 owe you nothing. I would have
killed yon then ; you may kill me, if you will."

Doltaire nodded musingly. Something was passing
through his mind. I judged he was thinking that here
was a man who, as a servant, would be invaluable.

" Well, well, we can discuss the thing at leisure,
Voban," he said at last. " Meanwhile you may wait here

^ »

"THE POINT ENVENOMED TOO!"

145

gilt up
I trv its
ik away
uger at
s never
—a paii-
tly con-
Ptike's
h iv lost
her did
uty was
led ! "
you saw
ret now
lis with
t'ardice !
ng sud-
c wiped

112: him
Xow
lur blis-
y prick

a min-
nay ask

•ill you

)er an-
d have

passing
lit here

leisure,
it here

till Captain Moray has breakfasted, and then you shall be
at his service; and I would have a word witli you, also."

Turning with a polite gesture to me, lie led the way
into the breakfast-room, and at once, half famished, I was
seated at the table, drinking a glass of good wine, and
busy with a broiled whitelish of delicate quality. We
were silent for a time, and the bird in the alcove kept
singing as though it were in Eden, while chiming in be-
tween the rhythms there came the silvery sound of sleigh-
bells from the world without. I was in a sort of dream,
and I felt there must be a rude awakening soon. After a
while, Doltaire, who seemed thinking keenly, ordered the
servant to take in a glass of wine to Voban.

lie looked up at me after a little, as if he had come
back from a long distance, and said, "It is my fate to
have as foes the men I would have as friends, and as
friends the men I would have as foes. The cause of
mv friends is often bad ; the cause of mv enemies is some-
times good. It is droll. I love directness, yet I have ever
been the slave of complication. I delight in following
my reason, yet I have been of the motes that stumble in
the sunlight. I have enough cruelty in me, enough self-
ishness and will, to be a ruler, and yet I have never held
an ofHce in my life. I love true dijilomacy, yet I have
been comrade to the oflicial liar and am the captain of
intrigue — la ! la ! "

"You have never had an enthusiasm, a purpose?"
said I. •

He laughed, a dry, ironical laugh. " I have both an
enthusiasm and a purpose," he answered, " or you would
by now be snug in bed forever."

I knew what he meant, though he could not guess I
understood. He was referring to Alixe and the challenge
she had given him. I did not feel that I had anything to
get by playing a part of friendliness, and besides, he was

140

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

a man to whom the boldest speaking was always palatable,
even when most af^ainst liimself.

" I Jim sure neither would bear daylight," said I.

" Why, I almost blush to say that they are both hon-
est — would at this moment endure a moral microscope.
The experience, I confess, is new, and lias the glamour
of originality."

" It will not stay honest," I retorted. " Honesty is a
new toy with you. You will break it on the first rock
that shows."

" I wonder," he answered, " I wonder, . . . and yet I
suppose you are right. 8ome devilish incident will twist
things out of gear, and then the old Adam must impro-
vise for safety and success. Yes, I suppose my one beau-
tiful virtue will get a twist."

What he had said showed me his mind as in a mirror.
He had no idea that I had the key to liis enigmas. I felt
as had Voban in the other room. I could see that he had
set his mind on Alixe, and that she had roused in him
what was perhaps the first honest passion of his life.

What further talk we might have had I can not tell,
but while we were smoking and drinking colfee the door
opened suddenly, and the servant said :

"His Excellency the Marquis de Vaudreuil ! "

Doltaire got to his feet, a look of annoyance crossing
his face ; but he courteously met the Governor, and placed
a chair for him. The Governor, however, said frostily,
" Monsieur Doltaire, it must seem difficult for Captain
^lorav to know who is Governor in Canada, since he has
so many masters. I am not sure who needs assurance
most upon the point, you or he. This is the second time
he has been feasted at the Intendance when he should
have been in prison. I came too late that other time ;
now it seems I am opportune."

Doltaire's reply was smooth: "Your Excellency will

)t tell,
door

•ossnig
luccd

ostilv,
iptain

le has

11 ranee
time

should
time ;

y will

«A LITTLE BOAST."

pardon the liberty. The Intondance was a sort of half-
way house between the citadel and the jail."

"There is news from France," the (rovernor said,
"brought from Gaspe. We meet in council at the Cha-
teau in an hour. A guard is without to take Captain
^[orav to the common jail."

In a moment more, after a courteous good-by from
Doltaire, and a renuirk from the Governor to the effect
that I had spoiled his night's sleep to no purpose, I was
soon on my way to the common jail, where arriving, what
was my pleased surprise to see Gabord ! lie had been
told off to be my especial guard, his services at the citadel
having been deemed ao efficient. He was outwardly surly
— as ronsfh as he ever was before the world, and, without
speaking a word to me, he had a soldier lock me in a cell.

XIII.

" A LITTLE BOAST."

My new abode was more cheerful than the one I had
quitted in the citadel. It was not large, but it had a
window, well barred, through which came the good strong
lijrht of the northern skv. A wooden bench for mv bed
stood in one corner, and, what cheered me much, there
was a small iron stove. Apart from warmth, its fire would
be companionable, and to tend it a means of passiug the
time. Almost the first thino: I did was to examine it. It
was round, and shaped like a small bulging keg on end.
It hau a lid on top and in the side a small door with bars
for draught, suggesting to me in little the delight of a
fireplace. A small pipe carried away the smoke into a
chimney in the wall. It seemed to me luxurious, and
my spirits came back apace.

148

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

There was no fire }'ct, and it was bitter cold, so tliat I
took to walking up and down to keep wariutli in me. I
was iU nourished, and I felt the cold intensely. But I
trotted up and down, plans of eseape already running
through my head. I was as far off as you can imagine
from that event of the early morning when 1 stood wait-
ing, half frozen, to be shot by Lancy's men.

After I had been walking swiftly up and down for an
hour or more, slapi)ing my hands against my sides to keep
them warm — for it was so cold I ached and felt a nausea
— I was glad to see Gabord enter with a soldier carrvino:
wood and shavings. I do not think I could much longer
have borne the chilling air — a dampness, too, had risen
from the iloor, which had been washed that morning —
for my clothes were very light in texture and much worn.
I had had but the one suit since I entered the dunjjeon
in the citadel, for my other suit, which was by no means
smart, had been taken from me when I was imprisoned
the year before. As if many good things had been des-
tined to come at once, soon afterwards another soldier
entered with a knapsack, which he laid down on the
bench. It held my other poor suit of clothes, together
with a rough set of woollens, a few handkerchiefs, two
pairs of stockings, and a wool cap for night wear.

Gabord did not speak to me at all, but roughly hur-
ried the soldier at his task of fire-lighting, and ordered
the other to fetch a pair of stools and a jar of water.
Meanwhile I stood near, watching, and stretched out my
skinny hands to the grateful heat as soon as the fire
was liixhted. I had a boy's delight in noting how the
draught pumped the fire into violence, shaking the stove
till it ]nifPed and roared. I was so filled, that moment,
with the domestic spirit that I thought a steaming
kettle on the little stove would give me a tabby-like com-
fort.

hat I

ic. I
liut I
lining
uigine
^vait-

Cor an

a keep

nausea

rrying

longer

1 risen

ning —

I worn.

Lingeon

I means

irisoned
n dcs-
soldier
on the
oretlier
fs, two

|ly hur-

)rdered

water.

»nt my

Ihe fire
low the
le stove
lonient,
leamiiig
ke com-

•'A LITTLE BOAST.'

149

"Why not a kettle on tlie hob?" said I gaily to
Gabord.

" Why not a cat before the lire, a bit of bacon on the
coals, a pot of mulled wine at elbow, and wenclTs chin to
chuck, baby-bunibo ! " said CJabord in a mocking voice,
which made the soldiers laugh at my expense. " And a
spinet, too, for ducky dear, Scarrat ; a piece of cake and
cherry wine, and a soul to go to heaven! Tonnerre ! "
he added, with an oath, " these English prisoners want
the world for a sou, and they'd owe thcic till judgment
dav."

I saw at once the meaning of his words, for he turned
his back on me, and, going to the window, tried the stan-
chions, seeming much concerned about them, and mutter-
ing to himself. I drew from my ])ocket two gold pieces,
and gave them to the soldier Scarrat ; and the other sol-
dier coming in just then, I did the same with him; and
I could see that their respect for me mightily increased.
Gabord, still muttering, turned to us again, and began to
berate the soldiers for their laziness. As the two men
turned to go, Scarrat, evidently feeling that something
was due for the gold I had given, said to Gabord, " Shall
m'sieu' have the kettle ? "

Gabord took a step forward as if to strike the soldier,
but stopped short, blew out his cheeks, and laughed in a
loud, mocking way.

"Ay, ay, fetch m'sieu' the kettle, and fetch him llax
to spin, and a pinch of snulT, and hot llannels for his
stomach, and every night at sundown you shall feed him
with pretty biscuits soaked in milk. Ah, go to the devil
and fetch the kettle, fool!" he added roughly again,
and quickly the place was empty save for him and my-
self.

" Those two fellows are to sit outside your cage door,
dickey-bird, and two are to march beneath your window
11

150

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

yonder, so you sluill not luck cure if you seek to go abroad.
TJiose are tlie new orders."

"And you, (Jubord," suid I, "are you not to be my
jailer?" I said it sorrowfully, I'or I hud a gemiine feel-
ing for liini, and 1 could not keep that from my voice.

When 1 had spoken so feelingly, he stood for a mo-
ment, Hushing and })uiling, as if confused by the conij)li-
ment in the tone, and then he answered, ''Tin to keep
you safe till word comes from the King what's to be done
with you."

Then he suddenly becume surlv nirain, staiulini]^ with
legs apart and keys dangling; for Scarrat entered with
the kettle and put it on the stove. " You will bring
blankets for m'sieu'," he added, " and there's an order
on my table for tob.. co, which you will send your com-
rade for."

In a moment we were left .'done.

" You'll live like a stuiled i)ig here," he said, " though
'twill be cold o' nights."

After another pass or two of words he left me, aiul I
hastened to make a better toilet than I had done for a
year. My old rusty suit which I exchanged for tiie one I
liad worn seemed almost sumptuous, and the woollen wear
comforted my weakened body. \\'ithin an hour my cell
looked snug, and I sat cosily by the lire, feeding it lazily.

It must have been about four o'clock when there was
a turning of keys and a shooting of bolts, the door opened,
and who should step inside but Gabord, followed by Alixe !
I saw Alixe's li])s frame my name thrice, though no word
came forth, aiul my heart was bursting to cry out and clasp
her to my breast. But still, with a sweet, serious look cast
on me, she put out her hand aiul stayec me.

(liabord, looking not at us at all, went straight to the
window, and, standing on a stool, busied himself with the
stanchions and beiran to whistle. I took Alixe's hands

broad.

be my
feel-
iee.

• 11 nio-
;orn))li-
i) ki'cp
>e done

g with
d with
[ bring
I order
r eoni-

thongh

', nnd I

e for a

le oue I

n wear

[ny cell

|l:izily.

(re was

•pened,

Alixe!

lo word

d clasp

|ok cast

to the
litli the
hands

"A LITTLE BOAST."

151

■

and held them, and spoke her name softly, and she smiled
up at me with so perfect a grace tiuit I thought there never
was aught like it in the world.

She was the lirst to break tlie good spell. I j)laced a
seat for her, and sat down bv her. She held out her lin-
gers to the lire, and then, after a moment, she told me the
story of last night's alTair. First she nuide me tell luT
briefly of the events of the morning, of which she knew,
hut not fiillv. This done, she began. I will set 'lown
her story as a whole, and you must understand as you
read tluvt it was told as women tell a storv, with all lit lie
graces and diversions, and those small details with which
even momentous things are enveloped in their eyes, I
loved her all the more because of these, and 1 saw, as
Doltaive had said, how admirably poised was her intel-
lect, how acute her wit, how delicate and astute a di-
plomatist she was becoming; and yet, through all, pre-
serving a simplicity of character almost impossible of be-
lief. Such qualities, in her directed to good ends, in lesser
women have mostly made them infamous. Once that day
Alixe said to me, breaking off as her story went on, '' Oh,
Kobert, when I see what power I have to dissimidate —
for it is that, call it by what name you Avill — when I
see how I enjoy accom{)lishing against all ditliculty, how
I can blind even so skilled a di})lomatist as .Monsieur Dol-
taire, I almost tremble. I see how, if (Jod had not given
me something here" — she placed her lumd u])on her
heart — "that saves me, I might be like Madame ("ournal,
and far worse, far worse than she. For I love power —
I do love it ; I can see that I "

She did not realize that it was her strict honesty with
herself which was her true safeguard.

Here is the story she told .ne :
" When I left you last night, I went at
home, and was alad to cet in without bein

once to my
ir seen. At

152

THE SEATS OF THE MIUIITY.

nine o'clock wu \»ire to be at the Cliutcaii, Jind wliile my
sistor (Jcor<,^ettc wus helping me with my toilette — oli, how
I wished she would i^o Jiiid leave me quite alone ! — my
liead was in a whirl, and now and then 1 could leel my
lieart draw and shake like a liali'-choked pump, and there
was a strange i)ain behind my eyes. (Jeorgette is of snch
a warm disposition so k' id idways to mo, whom she
vouLl yield l ■ iu cv< '•<*"':i.:4, :o sim])lo in her aU'ections,
that I seemed stan'^in;' =; - ■ bv her like an intrigante, as

one who had got wisdom at th.

•ieo ol" a good something

lost. ]iut do not think, Kobert, that for one instant I
was sorry I played a i)art, and have done so for a long year
and more. 1 would do it again, and more, if it were for
you.

" (Jeorgette could not understand why it was I stopped
all at once and caught her head to my breast, as she sat by
me where I stood arranging my g jwn. 1 do not kiiow quite
why I did it, but perliaps it was from my yearning that
never should she have a, lover in sui . sorrow and danger as
mine, and that never should she have to learn to mask her
heart as I have done. Ah, sometimes I fear, Robert, that
when all is over, and vou are free, and von see what the
world and all this playing at hide-and-seek have made me,
you will feel that such as (Jeorgette, who have never looked
inside the hearts of wicked people, and read the tales
therein for knowledge to defeat wickedness — that such as
she w^-re better fitted for your life and love. Xo, no,
please do not take my hand — not till you have heard all I
am going to tell."

She continued quietly; yet her eye flashed, and now
and then something in her thoughts as to how she, a
weak, powerless girl, had got her ends against astute evil
men, sent a little laugh to her lips; for she had by nature
as merry a heart as serious.

" At nine o'clock we came to the Chateau St. Louis

"A LITTLE BOAST."

ir)3

^'liile my
-oil, how
le ! — my
li'ol my
11(1 there
i of sucli
loni she
Tc'ctions,
L,^unte, us
nietliing
iistant I
oil'' vear
svore for

stopped

lie sat hy

ow quite

'u\(f that

lanL,'er as

luisk her

ert, tliat

kvhat the

iiade mo,

r looked

he tales

such as

^'o, no,

ard all I

nd now
V she, a
tute evil
y nature

it. Louis

from 8tc. Anne Street, where our winter home is — yet
liow much do I prefer Mie Nfanor House! 'I'liere wcie
but !W guests to supper, and .\L)iisieur Doltaire was not
ainong them. I alTected a genial iirprise, and asked the
Gov'.rnoi f oi;e of the two va'':n\t cliairs at the tal)le was
for monsieur; and lo(/i<ii:g a little as though he would
reprove n.o — for he does not lik(^ to think of me as inti-r-
ested in monsieur — he said ir was, but that monsieur was
somewhere out of town, and tiiere was no surety that he
would come. The other chair was for the Chevalier de
la Darante, one of the oldest and best of our nobility, wli
pretends great roughness and barbarism, but is a kind a. <
honourable irentleman, thoui^h odd. He was one of v<. i.
judges, Robert; and though ho condemned you, he saiv'
that you had some reason on your side. I will show "ou
hovv he stood for you last night.

"I need not tell you how the supper passed, while I
was planning — planning to reach the (lovernor if mon-
sieur did not come; and if he did come, how to ])lay my
part so he should suspect nothing but a vain girFs ca-
price, and maybe heartlessness. ]\L3ment after moment
went by, and ho came not. I almost despaired. Pres-
ently the Chevalier de la Darante entered, and ho took
the vacant chair beside mo. I was glad of this. I had
gone in npon the arm of a rusty gentleman of the (jourt,
who is over hero to get his health aixiiin, and does so bv
gaming and drinking at the Chateau liigot. The Cheva-
lier began at once to talk to mo, and he s})oke of you, say-
ing that lie had heard of vour duel with mv brother, and
that formerly you had been much a guest at our house.
I answered him with what carefulness I could, and brought
round the question of your death, l)y hint and allusiun
getting him to speak of the mode of execution.

"Upon this point he spoke his mind strongly, saying
that it was a case where the penalty should be the mus-

154

TllK SKATS OF TIIK MKJHTV.

kct, not tlio rope. It was no siihjcot for tlio sii])p(M' t.iblo,
jiMil the (Jovcriior felt tliis, juid I fciired ho would sliow
(lisph'asurc!; hut otiior gcutU.'nu'U took u[) tlu' nuittcr,
and lu! oouhl not easily cliango tlu^ talk at the tnonicnt.
Tlic fcclinir was stron-^ a'Minst you. Mv fatJicr stavt'<l
silent, hut 1 could see he watched the olTetit upon the
Governor. I knew that he himself liad tried to have the
mode of execution ehan^^ed, hut the (Jovernor had been
innnovahle. The Chevalier spoke most strongly, for ]»e is
afraid of no one, and he gave tlu; other gentlemen raps
ui)on the knuckles.

" ' 1 swear,' he said at hist, ' I am sorry now I gave
in to Ins death at "'1, for it seems to me that there is
much (iruelty and hatred behiiul the case against him.
He se(>med to me a gentleman of force and fearlessness,
and what he said had weight. Why was the gentleman
not exchanijed long ago? lie was here three years before
he was tried on this charge. Ay, there's the point !
Other prisoners were exchanged — why not he? If the
gentleman is not given a decent deatii, after tliese years of
ciiptivity, I swear I will not leave Kamaraska again to set
foot in Quebec'

"At that the Governor gravely said, ' These are mat-
ters for our Council, dear Chevalier.' To this the Cheva-
lier replied, ' I meant no rellection on your Excellency,
but you are good enough to let the opiidons of gentlemen
not so wise as you weigh with you in your eiforts to be
just; and I have ever held that one wise autocrat was
worth a score of juries.' There was an instant's pause,
and then my father said quietly, ' If his Excellency had
always councillors and colleagues like the Chevalier de la
Darante, his path would be easier, and Canada happier
and richer.' This settled the matter, for the Governor,
looking at them both for a moment, suddeidy said, ' Gen-
tlemen, you shall have your ^^ay, and 1 thank you for your

••A urn A-: hoast."

155

or t;il)l(',

lid show

niatUT,

iKMiicnt.

.' St{l}t'(l

poll the
UIVC3 tlie
ad bt'on
for lu! is
11' II nips

I j^iive

tlicre is

st liiiii.

lossMcss,

itlemaii

s before

])oint !

If the

ears of

1 to set

•0 mat-

Clieva-

lleiipy,

leinen

;s to be

•at was

pause,

oy had

r de la

iap})ier

rem or,

r,eii-

r your

coiifidenee. — If the ladies will pardon a sort of comicil of
state here I ' he added. The (iovernor called a servant,
and ordered pen, iidv, and paper; and there hefitre us all
he wrote an order to (labord, your jailer, to be di-livered
before nndni;,dit.

" He had b(\i,nin to read it al'»ud to us, when the cur-
tains of the enti'ance-door parted, and Monsieur Doltaii'e
stepped inside. The (Jovernor did not hear him, un«l
monsieur stood for a moment listi'iiini When the read-
ing was linished he ^ave a dry little lau_uh, ami came down
to the (Jovermu-, apologizing for his lateJU'ss, and bowing
to the rest of us. He did not look at nu' at all, l)Ul once
he glanced keeidv at mv father, and 1 felt sure that he
had heard my father's woi'ds to the (Jovernor.

"Mlave the ladies ln'cn made councillors ?' he asked
lightly, and took his seat, which was op[)osite to mine.
' Have they all conspii'ed to give u criminal ojie less epi-
sode in his life for which to blush? . . . Mav I not ioin
the conspiracy V' he added, glancing round, and lifting a
glass of wine. Not even yet had he looked at me. Then
he waved his glass the circuit of the table and said, ^ 1
drink to the councUlors and aj)[)laud the conspirators,'
and as he raised his glass to his lips his eyes came abrtiptly
to mine and stayed, and he bowed profoumlly and with an
air of suggestion. He drank, still looking, and then
turned again to the (Jovernor. I felt my heart stand
still. Did he suspect my love foi- you, Robert? Had
he discovered something? Was (Jabord a traitor to us?
Had I been watched, detected ? 1 could have shrieked at
the susjtense. I was like one suddenly faced with a
dreadful accusation, with which was u great fear, liut 1
held myself still — oh, so still, so still ! — and as in a dream
I lieard the (Iovernor say pleasantly, ' I would I had such
conspirators always 1)y me. I am sure you would wish
them to take more responsibility than you will now as-

15G

THE SKATS OF TIIK MIGHTY.

sumo in (.'iiniida.' Doltairo bowed uiid smiled, iiiid tho
(loviTiior went on: 'I lun sure you will approve of Cap-
tain Moray l)ein<j^ shot instejid of lian<j:ed. Hut iiuleed it
luis been my ^nxul frii'ud the Chevalier here who has
given uw. tho best council I have held in many a day.'

*''!'<) this ^Toiisieur Doltaire replied: 'A council un-
known to statute, but ap])roved of those who stand for
eti(piette with one's foes at any cost. For myself, it is
so unpleasant to think of the rope' " (here Alixe hid lier
face in her hands for a moment) "'that I should eat no
breakfast to-morrow if the gentleman from Virginia were
to hang.' It was impossible to tell from his tone what
was in his mind, and I dared not think of his failure to
interfere as he had j)roiuised me. As yet he had done
nothing, I could see, and in eight or nine hours more you
were to die. He did not look at me again for some time,
but talked to my mother and my father and the Cheva-
lier, coru!nenting on affairs in France and the war be-
tween our countries, but saying nothing of where he had
been during the past week, lie seenunl paler and thinner
than when 1 last saw him, aiul I felt that something had
lia])})ened to him. You shall hear soon what it was.

*' A^. last he turned from the Chevalier to mo, and said,
MVhen did yon hear from your brother, mademoiselle?'
I told him ; and he added, ' 1 have hjul a letter since, and
after supper, if you will permit me, I will tell you of it.'
'^rurning to my father and my mother, he assured them
of Juste's well-being, and afterwards engaged in talk with
the Governor, to whom he seemed to defer. When we all
rose to go to the salon, he oifered my mother his arm,
and I went in upon the arm of the good Chevalier. A
few moments afterwards he came to me, and remarked
cheerfully, ' in this farther corner, where the spinet
sounds most, we can talk best' ; and we went near to the
spinet, where Madame Lotbiniere was playing. ' It is

11(1 tlio
(U'ud it

iio llilS

c'il un-

111(1 for

If, it is

lid her

cut no

ia were

10 what

hire to

(1 (h)no

ore you

10 time,

Ciiova-

Viir bc-

ho hud

liiiinor

ig hud

d said,

iscUo V '

CO, and

of it.'

thorn

k witli

wo all

s arm,

r. A

larked

spinet

to the

'It is

"A LITTLE noAST;

l.V

triio,' ho began, ' that 1 have had a letter from your
brotluM*. IIu begH mo to use intliioueo for his advanoo-
inont. Vou 800, lie writes to mo instead of to ibciJov-
ernor. You can guess iiow I sti'nd in I*' ranee. \\ Cll, wo
fiball soo what 1 may do. . . . Have you not woiKh-red
coiu!orning mo tliiswookV luMisked. 1 said to him, ' I
8(;arce expected you till after to-morrow, wlicn you wouhl
j)U'a(l SOUK! accident as cause for not rullilling your pretty
little boast.' Ho looked at mo sluirply for a minute and
tiieii said: 'A i)retty (if fir boast, is it? ll'm ! you toucii
great tilings with light lingers.' I nodded. ' Yes,' said I,
' when 1 have no great faith.' ' ^'oii liave marvellous (!()ld-
noss for a gir' that promised warmth in her youth,' ho
answered. ' Kvcn 1, who am old in thest^ matters, cm
not think of this Moray's death without a twinge, for it
is not like an alTair of battle; but you seem to think of it
in its relation to my "little boast," us you call it. Is it
not so ? '

'"No, .10,' said I, with apparent indignation, 'you
must not make mo out so cruel. I am not so hard-hearted
as vou think. Mv brother is well — I have no fooling
against Captain "Moray on his account; and as for spying
— well, it is only a painful epithet for what is done hero
and ovorywliere all the time.' ' Dear me, dear me,' ho
rom.'irked lightly, ' what a mind you have for argument ! —
a born casuist; iwl yet, like all women, you would lot
your sympathy ruk vou in m-ittors of state. But come,'
he added, 'where do you think I have been?' It was
hard to answer him gaily, and yet it must bo done, and so
I said, ' You have probably put yourself in prison, that
vou sliould not keen vour tinv boast.' ' I have been in
prison,' ho answered, 'and I was on the wrong side, with
no kev — even locked in a cliost-room of the Inteiidance,"'
he explained, ' but as yet I do not know by whom, nor am
I sure why. After two days without food or drink I man-

158

THE SEATS OF THE .MICHTY.

aged to got out tlirongli tlie barred window. I spent
three days in my own room, ill, and here I am. You
must not speak of this — you will not?' ho asked mo.
'To no one,' 1 answered miilv, 'but mv otlier self.'
'Where is your other self'?' he asked. 'In here,' said I,
touching my bosom. I did not mean to turn my head
away when 1 said it, but indeed I felt I could not look
him in the eves at the moment, for I was thinkinir of you.

" He mistook me ; he thought I was coquetting with
him, an.d he leaned forward to speak in my ear, so that
I could feel Ins breath on my cheek. I turned faint, for
I saw how terrible was this game I was playing; but oh,
liobert, Robert " — her hands lluttered towards me, then
drew back — " it was for your sake, for your s:ike, that I
let his hand rest on mine an instiint, as he said : ' 1 shall
go hunting flierc to find your other self. Siiall I know
the face if I see it?' I drew my hand away, for it was
torture to me, but I only said, a little scornfully, ' You
do not stand by your words. Y'ou said ' — liere I laughed
disdainfully — 'that you would meet the first test to prove
your I'ight to follow the second boast.'

"He got to his feet, ami said in a low, fii'm voice:
' Your memory is excellent, your a})lomb perfect. You
are young to know it all so well. But you bring your own
punishment,' he added, with a wicked smile, 'and you
shall pay heroiiftor. I am going to the Governor. Bigot
has arrived, and is witli Madame Gournal yonder. You
shall have proof in half an hour.'

" Then ho left jne. An idea occurred to mo. If he
succeeded in staying your execution, you would in all like-
lihood be placed in the common jail. I would try to get
.an order from the Governor to visit the jail to distribute
gifts to the prisoners, as my mother and T had done be-
fore on the day before Christmas. So, while ]\[onsieur
Doltaire was passing with Bigot and the Chevalier de la

A LITTLE BOAST.

ir>9

prove

You

to g(?t

Daranfo into anotluT room, I made 1113' roquost of the
Governor; and that very moment, at my wisli, he liad liis
secretary write the order, wliich he countersigned and
handed me, with a gift of gold for the ])risoner.s. As
lie left my mother and myself, ^[onsieur Doltaire came
back with Bigot, and, ap[)roacliing the (Jovernrr, tliey
led him away, engaging at once in serious talk. One
thing I noticed : as monsienr and liigot canu^ up, I con Id
see monsieur evins: the Intendant askance, as though he
would read treachery; for I feel sure tlial it was ]^)igot
who contrived to have monsienr shut up in the chest-
room. I can not cpiite gness the reason, unless it be true
what gossips say, that Bigot is jealous of the notice
Madame Cournal has given Doltaire, wiio visits mucli at
her house.

"Well, they asked me to sing, and so I did ; and can
you guess what it was? Even the royafjeurs'' song —

'Brothers, vre go to tlio Scarlet Hills,
(Little gold sun, come out (if the dawn I) '

I know not how T sang it, for my heart, my thoughts, were
far away in a whirl of clouds and mist, as you may see a
flock of wild ducks in the haze upon a river, flying they
know not whither, save that chey follow the sound of the
stream. I was just ending the song when ]\[onsieur Dol-
taire leaned over me, and said in my ear, ' To-morrow I
shall invite Caj)tain Moray from the scalTold to my
breakfast-table — or, better still, invite myself to his own.'
His hand caught mine, as I gave a little cry; for when I
felt sure of your reprieve, I could not, Robert, I could not
keep it back, lie thought I was startled at his hand-
pressure, and did not guess the real cause.

" ' I have met one challenge, aiul I shall meet the
other,' he said quickly. ' It is not so much a nnitter of
power, either ; it is that engine opportunity. You and I

IGO

THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY.

should go fur in tliis wicked world,' he added. ' We think
together, wo see through ladders. I admire you, niade-
nioi-selle. Some men will say they love you ; and they
should, or they have no taste ; and the more they love you,
the hetter pleased am I — if you are hest i)leased with me.
But it is possible for men to love and not to admire. It
is a foolish thing to say that reverence must go with love.
I know men who have lost their heads and their souls for
women whom they knew infamous. But when one ad-
mires where one loves, then in the ebb and flow of passion
the heart is safe, for admiration holds when the sense is
cold.'

" You know well, Rohert, how clever he is ; how,
listening to him, you must admit his talent and his power.
But oh, believe that, though I am full of wonder at his
cleverness, I can not bear him very near me."

She paused. I looked most gravely at her, as well one
might who saw so sweet a maid employing her heart thus,
and the danger that faced her. She misread my look a
little, maybe, for she said at once :

" I must be honest with you, and so I tell you all — all,
else the part I play were not possible to me. To you I
can speak plainly, pour out my soul. Do not fear for me.
I see a battle coming between that man and me, but I
shall fight it stoutly, worthily, so that in tids, at least, I
shall never have to blush for you that you loved me. Bo
patient, Kobert, and never doubt me ; for that would
make me close the doors of my heart, though I should never
cease to aid vou, never wearv in labour for your well-
being. If these things, and fighting all these wicked men,
to make IMonsienr Doltaire help me to save you, have
schooled to action some worse parts of me, there is yet
in me that which shall never be brought low, never be
dragged to the level of Versailles or the Chateau Bigot
— never ! "

«'A LITTLE BOAST."

161

men,
liavG

Slie looked at me with siieli diu^iiity ami pride that my
eyes lined with tears, and, not to ho stayed, 1 reached out
and took her hands, and would have clasped her to my
hreast, hut she held back from me.

" Vou believe in me, Hobei't?" she said most earnestly.
"You will never doubt me? You know that I am true
and loyal.'"

"I believe in (}od, and in you," I answered reverently,
and I took her in my ai'ms and kissed her. I did not care
at all wdiether or no (Jabord saw; but indeed he did not,
as Alixe told me afterwards, for, womaidike, even in this
sweet crisis she had an eye for such detads.

" What more did he savV" I asked, mv heart beatinir
hard in the iov of that embrace.

" Xo more, or little more, for mv mother came that
instant and brought me to talk with the Chevalier de la
Darante, who wished to ask me for next summer to Ka-
maraska or Isle aux Coudres, where he has manorhouscs.
Before I left Monsieur Doltaire, he said to me, ' I never
made a promise but I wished to break it. 'IMiis one shall
balance all I've broken, for I'll never unwish it.'

" y[y mother heard this, and so I summoricd all my
will, and said irailv, • Poor broken crockerv I You stand
a tower among the ruins.' This pleased him, and he an-
swered, ' On the tower base is written, 'i'liis crockery out-
serves all others.' ^fy mother looked shar]»ly at nie, but
said nothinir, for she has come to thiidv tliat I am heart-
less and cold to men and to the world, sellish in many
things."

At this moment Giibord turned round, saying, " 'Tis
time to be done, '^iad.ime (n^mes."

"It is my mother," said Alixe, standing np, and
hastily i)lacing her hands in mine. " I must be gone.
Good-bye, good-bye."

There was no chance for further adieu, and 1 saw her

102

TIIK SEATS OF THE MltJlITY.

puss out witli (Jabord ; but slie turned jit tlic last, and said
in English, I'ur slio spoiic it i'airly now, " Jielieve and re-
member."

XIV.

ARGAND COLKNAL.

TiiK most measfre int('lli(?cnce came to me from tlie
outer world. I no lonu^er saw (Jabord ; he had suddenly

id the

been witlidi'awn and a new ,iailer substituted, ana tne sen-
tinels outside my door and beneath the window of my cell
refused all information. Vov months I had no news what-
ever of Alixe or of those afTairs nearest my heart. I heard
nothing of Doltaire, little of Bigot, and there was no sign
of Voban.

Sometimes I could see my new jailer studying mo, as
if my plans were a puzzle to his brain. At first he used
regularly to try tlie bars of the vrindow, and search the
wall as though he thought niy devices might be found
there.

Scarrat and Flavelle, the guards at my door, set too
high a price on their favours, and they talked seldom, and
then with brutal jests and ribaldry of matters in the town
which were not vital to me. Yet once or twice, from
things they said, I ca'ue to know that all was not well be-
tweeu Bigot and iioltaire on one hand, and Doltairo and
the Governor on the other. Doltaire had set the Governor
and the Intendant scheming against him becanse of his
adher- ;u e to <:h.e cause of neither, and his power to render
the plans (>f ; ithti' of no avail when he chose, as in my
case. V;iuih-ei;ii's vanity was 'njured, and, besides, ho
coun!':>'! nviii-iir., ioo Mvoiig a friend of ]^)ig(»t. Bigot, 1
doubted • 'iL, t'ound in ^[adaii.e Gournars liking 'for Dol-
tairo all ser s of things of wducli he never would have

S(|

c;l
(

AUG AN I) COURXAI..

1G3

iiid
11 or
his
ler
my
]io

t, 1

iol-

ive

dreamed ; for tlier(> Is !io siicli potent devilry in this world
lis the jealousy of siu-li a sort of man over a woman whoso
vanity and cu2)idity arc tiiu sprin^^s of her alTeetions. Dol-
taire's imprisonment in a room of the Intendanee was not
so mysterious as suggestive. I foresaw a strife, a compli-
cation of intrigues, and internal enmities which would he
(as they were) the ruin of New !•' ranee. 1 saw, in inuigiua-
tion, the English army at the gates of (^uelxM', and those
who sat in the seats of the miifhtv, sworn to ])ersonal en-
mities — X'audreiiil through vanity, iiigot through cupid-
ity, Doltaire by the innate ma.li(,'e<)f his nature — saerilicing
the countrv ; tin; scarlet l)odv of British i)ower movinu:
down npon a dishonoured city, never to take its foot from
that sword of France which fell there on the soil of the
New World.

But there was another factor in the situation on wliich
I have not before dwelt. Over a year earlier, when war
was being carried into Prussia by Austria and France, and
against England, the ally of Prussia, the F'rench ^linister
of War, D'Argenson, had^ by the grace of La Pompadour,
sent General the ]\[arquis de ^lontcalm to ('anada, to pro-
tect the colony with a snudl army. F'rom the first, Mont
calm, fiery, impetuous, and honourable, was at varian-
with Vaudrenil, who, though honest himself, had m r
dared to make open stand against Bigot. When ^fo'-t-
calm came, practically taking the military command nit
of the hands of the (lovernor, Vaudreuil developed a si mil-
iar jealous spirit against the (Jeneral. It began to express
itself about the time \ was thrown into the citadel dun-
geon, and I knew from what Alixe had told me, and from
the gossip of the soldiers that tiiere was a more open show
of disagreement now.

The Governor, seeing how ill it was to he at variance
with both A[ontcalm and liigot, })resently l)egan to covet
a reconciliation with the latter. To this Bigot was by no

1G4

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

moans uvorse, for his own position Inid danger. Ilis fol-
lowers and confederates, Cournal, ^[arin, Cadet, and Ki-
gaud, were rol)bing the King with a daring and effrontery
wliich must ultimately bring disaster. This he knew, but it
was his plan to hold on for a time longer, and then to re-
tiro before the axe fell with an immense fortune. There-
fore, about the time set for my execution, he began to close
with the overtures of the Governor, and ])resently the two
formed a confederacy against the Marquis de ^[ontcalm.
Into it they tried to draw Doltaire, and were surprised to
find that he stood them off as to anything more than out-
ward show of friendliness.

Truth was, Doltaire, who had no sordid feeling in him,
loathed alike the oui)i(iiLy of Bigot and the incompetency
of the Governor^ and respected Montcalm for his honour
and reproached Inm for his rashness. I'rom first to last
he was, without show of it, the best friend Montcalm had
in the province ; and thougli he held aloof from bringing
punishment to Bigot, he despised him and his friends,
and was not slow to make that plain. D'Argenson made
inquiry of Doltaire when Montcalm's honest criticisms
were sent to France in cipher, and Doltaire returned the
reply that Bigot was the only man who could serve Can-
ada efficiently in this '^risis ; that he had abounding fer-
tility of resource, a clear head, a strong will, and great ad-
ministrative faculty. This was all he would say, save that
wiien the war was over other matters might be conned.
]\[ean while France must pav liberal! v for the Intendant's
servi(?es !

Through a friend in France, Bigot came to know that
his affairs were moving to a crisis, and saw that it would
be wise to retire ; but he loved the very air of crisis, and
Madame Cournal, anxious to keep him in Canada, en-
coura^red him in his natural feeling to stand or fall with
the colony. lie never showed aught but a bold and con-

ARC AND COURXAL.

105

iiiiide
leisms
(1 the
Can-
g fer-
ut ad-
e that
Diined.
daiit's

\y tliat
would
s, and
I, en-
M'ith
con-

fident face to tlie ])ublic, and was in all repirds the most
conspicuous figure iii ^'e\v France. AVhen, two years be-
fore, Montcalm took Oswego from the English, Higot threw
open his palace to the po})ulace for two days' feasting, and
every night during the war he entertained lavishly, though
the people went hungry, jind their own corn, bought for
the King, was sold back to them at famine prices.

As the (Jovernor and the Intendant grew together in
friendship, Vaudrcuil sinking past disap[)roval in present
selfish necessity, thev quietly combined against Doltaire
as against ]\[ontcalm. let at this very time Doltaire was
living in the Intendance, and, as he had told Alixe, not
without some personal danger, lie had before been offered
chambers at the Chateau St. Louis; but these he would
not take, for he could not bear to be within touc'. ( .' the
Governor's vanity and timidity, lie would of preierence
have stayed in the Intendance had he known that pitfalls
and traps were at every footstep. Danger gave a piquancy
to his existence. Perha})S he did not greatly value Ma-
d'lme Cournal's admiration of himself ; but when it drove
Bigot to retaliation, his inuigination got an impulse, and
he entered upon a conflict which ran parallel with the
war, and with that delicate antagonism which Alixe
waged against liim, long undiscovered by himself.

At my wits' ends for news, at last 1 begged my jailer
to convev a message foi' me to the Governor, askinu: that
the barber be let come to me. The next day an answer
arrived in the person of \'oban himself, accompanied by
the jailer. For a time there was little speech between us,
but as he tended me we talked. AVe could do so with
safety, for Voban knew English ; and though he spoku it
brokenly, he had freedom in it, and the jailer knew no
word of it. At first the fellow blustered, but I waved
him off. lie was a man of better education than Gatbord,
but of inferior judgment and shrewdness, lie made no
12

IGO

THE SEATS OF THE MKillTY.

trial thcroaftor to interrupt our talk, but s.at and drumined
upon a stool with liis keys, or loitered at tliu window, or
now and again tlirust liis liand into my pockets, as if to
see if weai)ons were concealed in tlicni.

\ " N'oban," said I, " wliat lias linppened since I saw you
at^tlie Intendance? 'j\'ll nie lirst of niadenioiselle. You
have notliing from lier for me?"

" Nothing," he answered. " Tliere is no time. A
sohlibi' come an liour ago witli an order fr'^ni the (Jov-
ernor, and I must go all at once. So I come as you see.
But as for the ma'm'selle, she is well. I'uila., there is no
one like her in New France. 1 do not know all, as you
can guess, but they say she can do what she will at the
Chateau. It is a wonder to see her drive. A month ago
a droll thing come to i)ass. She is driving on the ice with
Ma'm'selle Lotbiniere and her brother Charles. M'sieu'
Charles, he has the reins. Soon, ver' quick, the horses
start with all their might. M'sieu' saw and pull, but they
go the faster. Like that for a mile or so ; then ma'm'selle
remember there is a great crack in the ice a mile farther
on, and beyond, the ice is weak and rotten, for there the
curren' is ver' strongest. She sees that M'sieu' Charles.,
he can do nothing, so she reach and take the reins. The
horses go on ; it make no diffrence at first. But she
begin to talk to them so sof, and to pull ver' steady, and
at last she get them shaping to the shore. She have the
reins wound on her hands, and people on the shore, they
watch. Little on little th3 horses pull up, and stop at
last not a hunder' feet from the great crack and the
rotten ice. Then she turn them round and drive them
liome.

" You should hear the people cheer as she drive up
Mountain Street. 'J'he bishop stand at the window of
his palace and smile at her as she pass, and m'sieu' " —
he looked at the jailer and ]viused — "m'sieu' the gen-

iminod
low, or
jis if to

aw vou
. You

1110. A

ic (lov-

y-OU St'O.

re is no
as you
at tlio
nth ago
ce with
M'sieu'
! horses
)ut they
m'selle
arthcr
lere tlie
harles.,
The
^ut she
y, and
ive the
•e, they
stop at
id the
them

•ive up
low of
eu' "—

e gea-

ARGAXD C'OURXAL.

ig;

tlonian wo do not lovo, ho stand in (lie street witli his
cap oft for two inimites as she eomo, and after she go
by, and say a grand coniijlinu'iit to ht'r so tiiat her faeo
go })ak\ Ho get froze ears for liis pains — that was a
cohl (hiy. Well, at night there was a grand dinner at
the ratoiuhanoo, and aftei-wards a ball in tlie splendid
room whieh that man " (he n.oant liigot : I shall use
names when (pioting liim further, that ho may he bet-
ter understood) "built for the ])oor people of the hind for
to danee down their sorrows. iSo vou can gue-s I would
be there — hai)py. Ah yes, so happy ! 1 go and stand in
the great gallery above tlu; hall of danee, with crowd of
people, and look down at the grand folk.

" One man eome to me and say, ' Ah, Voban, is it you
liere? Who would think it I ' — like that. Another, he
come and say, ' \'oban, he ean not keep away from the In-
tendance. AVho does lie eome to look for? Jhit no, ,s7/e
is not here — no.' And again, another, ' Why should not
Voban be here? One man has not enough bread to eat,
and Bigot steals his corn. Another hungers for a wife to
sit by his fire, and liigot takes the nudd, and Voban stulTs
his mouth with humble pie like the rest. Chut I shall
not ]Mgot have his fill?' And yet another, and, ra//rt,
she was a woman, she say, ' Look at the Intendant down
there with madame. And M'sieu' Cournal, he also is
there. "What does M'sieu' Cournal eare ? No, not at all.
The rich man, what he care, if he has gold? \'irtue !
ha, ha! what is that in vour wife if vou have gold for it?
Xotliiuir. See his liand at the Intendant's arm. See how
]\r'sieu' Doltaire look id them, and then up here at us.
What is it in his mind, you think? Kh ? '^'ou thiidv he
say to himself, A wife all to himself is tlie poor man's one
luxury? Eh? Ah, M'sieu' Doltaire, you are right, you
are riirlit. You catch up mv child from ils basket in the
market-place one day, and you shake it ver' soft, an' you

i y^^^

1G8

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

say, ' Afiuliiim', 1 will stako tlio last year of my life that I
can pill my litiiifor on the fatiier of this child.' And when
I laii.i,Hi in his face, he say a;;ain, 'And if he th()ii<,dit ho
wasn't its father, he would cut out the liver of the other
— ehV And 1 laii,i;h, and say, ' My .Iac(iucs would fol-
low him to hell to do it.' Then he say, Vohan, lu^ say to
me, ' That is the dilTereiice hctween you and us. We only
kill men who meddle with our mistr('sses I ' Ah, that
M'sieu' Doltairo, lie put a loiiis in the hand of my habe,
and he not even kiss me on the cheek. Pshaw I Jacques
would sell him tlfty kisses for llflv loiiis. liut sell me,
or a child of me? Well, Vohan, you can guess I Pali,
barber, if you do not cjire what he did to the poor Ma-
tliilde, there are other maids in St. I\och.' "

Vohan paused a moment, then added quietly, " How do
you think 1 bear it all ? With a smile ." Mo, 1 hear with
my ears open and my heart close tight. Do they think
they can teach me ? Do they guess I sit down and hear
all without a cry from my throat or a will in my body?
Ah, m'sieu' le Cai-utaine, it is you wlio know. You saw
what I would have go to do with M'sieu' Doltaire before
the day of the (ireat liirth. You saw if 1 am a coward —
if I not take the sword when it was at my throat without
a whine. Xo, m'sieu', I can wait. There is a time for
everything. At first I am all in a muddle, I not know
what to do ; but by-and-bye it all come to me, and you
shall see one day what I wait for. Yes, you shall see. I
look down on that people dancing there, quiet and still,
and I hear some laugh at me, and now and then some one
say a good word to me that make mo shut my haiuls tight,
so the tears not come to my eyes. But I felt alone — so
much alone. The world docs not want a sad man. In
my shop I try to laugh as of old, and I am not sour or
heavy, but I can see men do not say droll things to me as
once back time. Xo, I am not as I was. What am I to

■o

AU(JANL) COL' UN A L.

1(»0

itliout

me for

know

a you

ice. I

still,

ic one

tight,

lie — so

1. In

)ur or

nie as

1 I to

do? There is but one way. What is f]jreat to one man is
not to another. W'liat kills tin; one does not kill tho
other. Take au'Jiy from sonu» people one thing, and they
will not care; from others that same, and tlu're is nothing
to live for, exeept just to live, and because a man does not
like death."

llepaused. " You are righ.% ^'oban," said 1. "fJoon."
lie was siliMit agidn for a tir/ie, ami then he moved his
hand in a hi'l[)less sort of way across his forehead. It
had become deeply lined and wrinkled all in ;i couple of
years. His temples were sunken, his checks hollow, and
his face was full of those shadows which lend a sort of
tragedy to even the humblest and least distinguisluMl
countenance. J lis eyes had a restlessness, anon an in-
tense steadiness almost uncanny, and his thin, long lingers
had a stealthiness of motion, a soft swiftness, which struck
me strangely. I never saw a man so changtMl, He was
like a vessel wrested from its moorings; like some craft,
filled with explosives, set loose along a shore liiu'd with
fishing-smacks, which miglit come foul of one, and blow
the company of men and boats into the air. As ho stood
there, his face luilf turned to nu3 for a moment, this came
to my mind, and T said to him, " Voban, you look like
some wicked gun which would blow us all to pieces."

He wheeled, and came to me so sv/iftly that I shrank
back in my chair witli alarm, his action was so sudden,
and, pcn'ing intc my face, he said, glancing, as I thought,
anxiously at the jailer, " IMow — blow — how blow us all to
pieces, m'sieu'?" He eyed me with suspicion, and I
could see that he felt like some hurt animal among its
captors, ready to fight, yet not knowing from wlcat point
danger would come. Something pregnant in what I said
had struck home, yet I could not guess then what it was,
though afterwards it came to me with great force and
vividness.

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Sdences

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

•<*)

170

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

"I meant notliiiig, Yoban," answered I, "save that
you look dangerous."

I luUf put out my hand to touch his arm in a friendly
way, but I saw tliat the jailer was watching, and I did not.
Voban felt what I was about to do, and his face instantly
softened, and his blood-shot eyes gave me a look of grati-
tude. Then he said :

" I will tell you what happen next. I know the palace
Tery well, and when I see tlie Intendant and j\['sieu' Dol-
taire and others leave the ballroom I knew that they go
to tlie chamber which they call ' la Chambre de la Joie,'
to ])lay at cards. So 1 steal away out of the crowd into a
passage which, as it seem, go nowhere, and come quick,
all at once, to a bare wall. But I know tlie way. In one
corner of the passage I press a spring, and a little panel
open. I crawl through and close it behin'. Then I feel
my way along the dark corner till I come to another panel.
This I open, and I see light. You ask how I can do this?
Weil, I tell you. There is the valet of Bigot, he is my
friend. You not guess who it is ? Xo ? It is a man
whose crime in France I know. He was afraid when he
saw me here, but I say to him, *Xo, I will not speak —
never'; and he is all my friend just when I most need.
Eh, voila^ I see light, as I said, and I push aside heavy cur-
tains ver' little, and there is the Chamber of the Joy below.
There they all are, the Intendant and the rest, sitting
down to the tal)les. There was Capitaine Lancy, ^I'sieu'
Cadet, M'sieu' Cournal, ]\rsieu' le Chevalier de Levis, and
M'sieu' le Cenerale, le ^Marquis de Montcalm. I am as-
tonish to see him there, the great General, in his grand
coat of blue and gold and red, and laces ires hcaii at his
throat, with a fine jewel. Ah, he is not ver' high on his
feet, but he has an eye all fire, and a laugh come quick to
his lips, aiul he speak yqy'' galanf, but he never let them,
Messieurs Cadet, ^larin, Lancy, and the rest, be thick

ARGAXD COURNAL.

171

friends with him. Tlioy do not clap their hands on his
shoulder comme le hoii cainarade — non!

" Well, they sit down to play, and soon there is much
noise and laughing, and then sometimes a silence, and
then again the noise, and you can see one snuff a candle
with the points of two rapiers, or hear a sword jangle at a
chair, or listen to some one sing ver' soft a song as he hold
a good hand of cards, or the ring of louis on the table, or
the sound of glass as it break on the lloor. And once a
young gentleman — ahis ! he is so young — he got up from
his chair, and cry out, 'AH is lost! I go to die!' He
raise a pistol to his head ; but M'sieu' JJoltaire catch his
hand, and say quite soft and gentle, ' >i'o, no, 'fno}i enfant^
enough of making fun of us. Here is the liunder' louis
I borrow of you yesterday. Take your revenge.' The lad
sit down slow, looking ver' strange at M'sieu' Doltaire.
And it is true : he take his revenge out of M'sieu' Cadet,
for he win — I saw it — three hunder' louis. Then M'sieu'
Doltaire lean over to him and say, ' M'sieu', you will carry
for me a message to the citadel for i\rsieu' Ramesay, the
commandant.' Ah, it was a sight to see M'sieu' Cadet's
face, going this way and that. But it was no use : the
young gentleman pocket his louis, and go away with a
letter from M'sieu' Doltaire. But M'sieu' Doltaire, he
laugh in the face of IM'sieu' Cadet, and say ver' pleasant,
' That is a servant of the King, m'sieu', who live by his
sword .'done. AVliy should civilians be so greedy? Come,
play, m'sieu' Cadet. If M'sieu' the General will play with
me, we two will see what we can do with you and his Ex-
cellencv the Intendant.'

" They sit just beneath me, and 1 hear all what is
said, I see all the looks of them, every card that is played.
M'sieu' the General have not })lay yet, but watch M'sieu'
Doltaire and the Intendant at the cards. With a smile
he now sit down. Then M'sieu' Doltaire, he say, ' M'sieu'

172

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

Cadet, let us liuve no misttike — let us be commercial.'
lie take out his watch. ' 1 have two hours to spare ; are
you dispose to i)lay for tliat time only? To the moment
we will rise, and there shall be no question of satisfaction,
no discontent anywhere — eh, shall it be so, if m'sieu' the
General can s})are the time also?' It is agree that the
General play for one hour and go, and that M'sieu' Dol-
taire and the Intendant })lay for the rest of the time.

" They begin, and 1 hide there and watch. The time
go ver' fast, and my breath catch in my throat to see how
great the stakes tliey play for. 1 hear M'sieu' Doltaire
say at last, with a smile, taking out his watch, ' M'sieu'
the General, your time is up, and you take with you twenty
thousan' francs.'

" The General, he smile and wave his hand, as if sorry
to take so much from M'sieu' Cadet and the Intendant.
M'sieu Cadet sit dark, and speak nothing at tirst, but at
last he get up and turn on his heel and walk away, leav-
ing what he lose on the table. M'sieu' the General bow
also, and go from the room. Then M'sieu' Doltaire and
the Intendant play. One by one the other players stoji,
and come and watch these. Something get into the two
gentlemen, for both are pale, and the face of the Intend-
ant all of spots, and his little round eyes like specks of
red fire; but M'sieu' Doltaire's face, it is still, and his
brows bend over, and now and then he make a little laugh-
ing out of his lips. All at once I hear him say, ' Double
the stakes, your Excellency ! ' The Intendant look up
sharp and say, * What ! Two hunder' thousan' francs!'
— as if M'sieu' Doltaire could not })ay such a sum like
that. M'sieu' Doltaire smile ver' wicked, and answer,
' Make it three hunder' thousan' francs, your Excellency.'
It is so still in the Chamber of the Joy that all you hear
for a minute was the fat Monsieur Varin breathe like a hog,
and the rattle of a spur as some one slide a foot ou the lloor.

nercial.'

ire; ure

iiomeiit

faction,

iou' tho

hut the

)u' Dol-

nc.

he time

see liow

)oltuire

M'sieu'

twenty

if sorry
end ant.
, but at
y, leav-
ral bow
ire and
rs stop,
he two
[ntend-
ecks of
-nd liis
huigh-
Double
)ok up
•ancs ! '
m like
mswer,
llency.'
»u licar
I a hog,
e lloor.

ARGAND COURXAL.

173

" The Intendant look blank ; then he nod his head for
answer, and each write on a i)icce of paper. As they be-
gin, M'sieu' Doltaire take out his watch and lav it on the
table, and the Intendant do the same, and they both look
at tlie time. The watch of the Intendant is all jewels.
' Will you not add the watches to the stake V ' sav
M'sieu' Doltaire. The Intendant look, and shrug a shoul-
der, and shake his head for no, and M'sieu' Doltaire smile
in a sly way, so that the Intendant's teeth show at his lips
and his eyes almost close, he is so angry.

"Just this minute I hear a low noise behind me, and
then some one give a little cry. I turn quick and see
Madame Cournal. She stretch her hand, and touch my
lips, and motion me not to stir. I look down again, and
I see that M'sieu' Doltaire look up to the place where I
am, for he hear that sound, T think — I not know sure.
But he say once more, ' The watch, the watch, your Ex-
cellency ! I have a fancy for yours ! ' I feel madame
breathe hard beside me, but I not like to look ':ic her. I
am not afraid of men, but a woman that v/ay — ah, it make
me shiver! She will betray me, I think. All at once I
feel her hand at my belt, then at my pocket, to see if I
have a weapon ; for the thought come to her that I am
there to kill Bigot. But I raise my hands and say ' Xo,'
ver' quiet, and she nod her head all right.

" The Intendant wave his hand at M'sieu' Doltaire to
say he would not stake the watch, for I know it is one
madame give him ; and then they begin to play. Xo one
stir. The cards go out /? /"/;,// /;?, on the table, and with a
little soft scrape in the hands, and I hear Bigot's hound
munch a bone. All at once M'sieu' Doltaire throw down
his cards, and say, ' Mine, Bigot ! 'J'hree hunder' thousan'
francs, and the time is up I ' The other get from his
chair, and say, ' How would you have pay if you had lost,
Doltaire V ' And m'sieu' answer, ' From the colfers of the

174

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

King, like you, Bigot.' Ilis tone is odd. 1 feel madame's
breath go liard. Bigot turn round and say to tlie others,
* Will you take your way to tlie great hall, messieurs, and
M'siou' Doltaire and I will follow. We have some private
conf'rence.' They all turn away, all but M'sieu' Cournal,
and leave the room, whispering. ' I will join you soon,
Cournal,' say his Excelleney. M'sieu' Cournal not go, for
he have been drinking, and something stubborn get into
him. But the Intendant order him rough, and he go. I
can hear madame gna;>h her teeth sof beside me.

" When the door close, the Intendant turn to M'sieu'
Doltaire and say, ' What is the end for which you play?'
M'sieu' Doltaire make a little motion of his hand, and
answer, ' For three hunder' thousan' francs.' ' And to
pay, m'sieu', how to 2)ay if you had lostV M'sieu' Dol-
taire lay his hand on his sword sof. ' From the King's
cotfers, as I say ; he owes me more than he has paid.
But not like you, Bigot. I have earned, this w\ay and
that, all that I might ever get from the King's coUers —
even this three hunder' thousan' francs, ten times told.
But you. Bigot — tusli ! wliy should we make bubbles of
words?' The Intendant get white in the face, but there
are spots on it like on a late apple of an old tree. ' You
go too far, Doltaire,' he say. 'You have hint before my
officers and m 7 friends that I make free with the King's
coffers.' M'sieu' answer, ' You should see no such hints,
if your palms were not musty.' ' How know you,' ask
the Intendant, ' that my hands are musty from the King's
coffers?' ^I'sieu' arrange his laces, and say light, 'As
easy from the must as I tell how time passes in your nights
by the ticking of this trinket here.' He raise his sword
and touch the Intendant's watch on the table.

" I never hear such silence as there is for a minute,
and then the Intendant say, ' You have gone one step too
far. The must on my hands, seen through your eyes, is

adamc's
3 others,
II rs, and
private
Journal,
311 soon,
t go, for
get into
3 go. I

M'sien'

play ? '

nd, and

And to

(u' Dol-

King's

LS paid.

ay and

)ilers —

3s told.

bles of

t there

' You

)re my

King's

I hints,

11,' asiv

King's

it, 'As

nights

sword

linute,
ep too
;yes, is

ar(;ani) courvXAL.

-I hr<^

no matter, but when you must the name of a lady there is
but one end. You uiiderstan', m'.sieu', there is l)ut one
end.' M'sieu' laugh. ' Tlie sword, you mean? Eh?
No, no, 1 will not light with you. I am not here to rid
the King of so excellent an ollieor, however large fee he
force for his services.' 'And 1 tell you,' say the Intend-
ant, ' that I will not have you cast a slight ui)()n a lady.'
jMadame besiuc me sturt up, jind whisper to me, ' If you
betray me, you shall die. If you be still, I too will say
nothing.' But then a thing happen. Another voice
sound from below, and there, coming from behind a great
screen of oak wood, is M'sieu' C'ournal, his face all red
with wine, his hand on his sword. ' liah I ' he say, com-
ing forward — ' bah ! I will speak for madame. 1 will
speak. I have been silent long enough.' lie come be-
tween the two, and, raising his sword, he strike the time-
piece and smash it. 'Ila! ha I ' he say, wild with drink,
' I have you both here alone.' lie siuip his finger under
the Intendant's nose. ' It is time I protect my wife's
name from you, and, by God, I will do it!' At that
i\r'sieu' Doltaire laugh, and Cournal turn to him and say,
' Batard ! ' The Intendant have out his sword, and he
roar in a hoarse voice, ' Dog, you shall die ! ' But jM'sieu'
Doltaire strike up his sword, and face the drunken man.
* No, leave that to me. The King's cause goes shipwreck ;
Ave can't change helmsman now. Think — scandal and
your disgrace!' Then he make a pass at M'sieu' Cour-
nal, who parry quick. Another, and he prick his shoul-
der. Another, and then madame beside me, as I spring
back, throw aside the curtains, and cry out, ' Xo, m'sieu' !
no ! For shame ! '

" I kneel in a corner behind the curtains, and wait and
listen. There is not a sound for a moment ; then I hear
a laugh from M'sieu' Cournal, such a laugli as make me
sick — loud, and full of what you call not care and the

176

THE SEATS OF THE MKJIITY.

tk'vil. Mjulamo spciik down ;it tliem. ' Ah,' slio say, 'it
is so fine u sport to di'iiuj a womairs name in tlio niirc!'
Hit voice is full of si)irit, ami she look heautiful — beauti-
ful. 1 never guess how a woman like that look ; so full
of pride, and to speak likc^ von eould think knives sinj^ as
they strike steel — sharp and eold. ' I eanie to see liow
gentlemen look at ])lay, and they end m brawling over a
lady ! '

"]\I'sieu' Doltaire speak to her, and they all put up
their swords, and M'sieu' Cournal sit down at a table, and
he stare and stare up at the baleony, and make a motion
now and then with his hand. M'sieu' Doltaire say to her,
'Madame, you must excuse our entertainment; we did
not know we had an audience so distinguished.' She re-
ply, 'As scene-shifter and prompter, M'sieu' Doltaire, you
have a mh. Y'our Excellencv,' she sav to the Intendant,
' I will wait for you at the top of the great staircase, if
vou will be so <i:ood as to take me to the ballroom.' The
Intendant and M'sieu' Doltaive bow, and turn to the door,
and M'sieu' (-ournal scowl, and make as if to follow; but
madame speak down at him, ' M'sieu' — Argand ' — like
that! and he turn back, and sit down. I think she for-
get me, I keep so still. The others bow and scrai)e, and
leave the room, and the two are alone — alone, for what
am I? What if a dog hear great people speak? No, it
is no matter !

"There is all still for a little while, and I watch. her
face as she lean over the rail and look down at him ; it is
like stone that aches, and her eves stare and stare at
him. lie look up at her and scowl ; then he laugh,
with a toss of the finger, and sit down. All at once he
put his hand on his sword, and gnash his teeth.

"Then she speak down to him, her voice ver' qniet.
' Argand,' she say, ' you are more a man drunk than sober.
Argand,' she go on, ' years ago, they said you were a brave

AROAND COUUXAL.

( i

say, ' it
10 niiro ! '
— beauti-

; so full

s sing as

soo how

g over a

put np
iblo, and

1 motion
V to lier,

WO did

She re-
liro, you
tendant,
ircaso, if

' The
he door,
ow ; bu t
\ '—like
she for-
ipe, and
3r what

No, it

tell .her
m ; it is
=itarc at
laugh,
once he

' quiet,
n sober,
a brave

man ; you fight well, you do good w )rk for tlie King,
your name goes with a swuet sound to Versailles. You
had only your sword and my poor fortune anil me then —
tiiat is all ; but you were a man. You had and)ition, so
had 1. What e;in a woman do? You had your sword,
your country, the King's service. Ihadljcauty; 1 wanU'd
power — ah yes, power, that was the thing! l)ut J was
vounir and a fool ; you were older. You talked line
things then, but you had a base heart, so much baser than
mine. ... I might have been a good woman. 1 was a
fool, and weak, and vain, but you were base — so base —
coward and betrayer, you ! '

"At that m'sieu' start up and snatch at his sword,
and speak out between his teeth, ' l^y CJod, 1 will kill
you to-Tiiglit!' She smile cold and hard, and say, 'Xo,
no, you will not; it is too late for killing; that should
have been done before. You sold your right to kill long
ai,n-), Ar<rand Cournal. \'ou have been close frirnds with
the man who gave me power, and you gold.' Then she
get fierce. ' AVho gave you gold before he gave me power,
traitor?' lake that she speak. 'Do you never think
of what you have lost?' Then she break out in a laugh.
' Pah ! Listen : if there must be killing, whv not be the
great Tloman — drunk ! '

" Then she laugh so hard a laugh, and turn away, and
go quick by me and not see me. She step into the dark,
and he sit down in a chair, and look straight in front of
liim. I do not stir, and after a minute she come back
sof, and peep down, her face all diiferen'. ' Argand !
Argand!' she say ver' tender and low, ' if — if — if — like
that. But just then he see the broken watch on the
fioor, and he stooj), with a laugh, and pick up the pieces;
then he ^et a candle and look on the floor evervwhere for
the jewels, and he pick them up, and put them away one
by one in his purse like a miser, lie keep on looking,

17.S

TIIK SFATS OF THE MIGHTY.

and oiK'o tlio firo of the cinullc hiini liis bojinl, imd lie
swear, ami she stare ami stare al him. lie sit. (h)\vn at the
tal)le, uml looiv at tlii' jewels ami laii^i^ii to liimsi'lt'. Thou
she draw hi'i'sclf ii(), ami shake, ami put lier hands to her
eyes, and, ' C'V.v/ _////// c'cst Jini!' she whisper, and that
is aU.

" When slie is ^n)m', al'tei' a litile time he ehange — ah,
he chani^e much, lie i^o to a table and ])()ur out a <»;reat
bowl of wine, and thfii another, and he drink them both,
aud lu' beii-iii to walk up and down the tloor. lie sway
now and then, but he kee[> on for a lon^*^ time. Onee a
servant come, but he wave him away, and ho scowl and
talk to himself, aud shut the doors and locdv them. 'J'lien
he walk on and on. At last he sit down, and he face me.
In front of him are candles, and he stare between them,
and stare and stare. 1 sit and watch, and I feel a i)ity.
I hear him say, ' Antoinette ! Antoinette I My dear An-
toinette ! We are lost forever, my Antoinette ! ' Then
he take the purse from his pocket, Jind throw it up to the
balconv where I am. ' Prettv sins,' he sav, * follow the
sinner ! ' It lie there, and it have sprung open, and I can
sec the jewels shine, but I not touch it — no. Well, he sit
there long — long, and his face get gray and his cheeks all
hollow.

"I hear the clock strike one! f/rof f/nrc ! four!
Once some one come and try the door, but go away again,
and he never stir; he is like a dead man. At last I fall
asleep. When I wake u]), he still sit there, but his head
lie in his arms. I look round. Ah, it is not a fine sight
— no. The candles burn so low, and there is a smell of
wick, and the grease runs here and there down the great
candlesticks. Upon the iloor, this ])lacc and that, is a
card, and pieces of pa})er, and a scarf, and a bndven
glass, and something that shine by a small table. This is
a picture in a little gold frame. On all the tables stand

AI ?iANI) COUUNAL.

179

1, 1111(1 lie
wii at tlio
f. Tlioii
lis to her
Jlllll tluit

11.2:0 — all,
it a great
Jill both,
lie sway
Once a
,'o\vl and

I. 'riien
face me.
)n them,
d1 a i)ity.
lear Au-
' Then
ip to the
Ik/W the
nd I can

II, he sit
leeks all

! four !
ly again,
ist I fall
lis head
[10 sight
smell of
10 groat
lat, is a
broken
This is
)s stand

glasses, some full and some empty, of wine. And jnst as
thiMhiwn come in tbrongh tlio tall \\in(h)\vs, a cat crawl
out from somewhere, all ver' thin and sliy, and walk
across th<' floor; it makes the room look so much alone.
At last it come and move against m'sieu's legs, and he
lift his head and look down at it, and nod, and sav
something which I not hear. After that iie get uj), and
pull himself together with a shake, and walk down the
room. Then he see the little gold picture on the iloor
which some drunk young olllcer drop, and he pick it up
and look at it, and walk again. ' Poor fool !' he say, and
look at the jiicturo again. ' I'oor fool ! AVill he curse her
some day— II child with a face like that? Ah !' And he
throw the picture down. 'J'hen he walk away to the
doors, unlock them, and go out. Soon I steal away
through the panels, and out of the palace ver' quiet, and
go home. But I can see that room in my mind."

Again the jailer hurried \'ol)an. There was no excuse
for him to remain longer ; so I gave him a message to
Alixo, jind slipped into his hand a transcri[)t from my
journal. Then he loft mo, and I sat and thought upon
the strange events of the evening which he had described
to me. That he was bent on mischief 1 felt sure, but how
it would come, what wore his plans, I could not guess.
Then suddenly there flashed into my mind my words to
him, " blow us all to pieces," and his consternation and
strange eagerness. It came to me suddenly : he meant
to blow up the Intondance. When V And how ? It

seemed absurd to think of it. Yet — yet The grim

humour of the thing possessed mo, and I sat back and
laughed hcartilv.

In the midst of my mirth the cell door opened and let
in Doltaire.

180

THE ttllATS OF THE MIUUTV.

XV.

IN' Tirr: (iiamiu'i: or Toin'iiii;.

I STAUTKI) from my sc.it ; wo bowed, and, stn^tchiii^'
out ii liiind to the lir*', Doltaire said, '' Ah, my cjiptuiii,
wo meet loo sclilom. lict mo sec: live montlis — ah vos,
nearly livi' months. Ildieve mi', I have not breakfasted
so heartily since. Voii arc looking uUh.'r — older. Solitndo
to the active mind is iKjt to bo ondnrod alono — no."

'' Monsieur Doltairo is the surgeon to my solitude,"
said 1.

'* ITml" h(> answered, "a jail surgeon merely. Ami
that brings mo to a point, monsieur. I have luid letters
from I-'ranco. The (Jrande ^faniuiso — I may as well be
frank with you — womaidikc, yearns violently for those
silly letters which you hold. She would sell our Franc^e
for them. There is a chaiu'o for you who would serve
your country so. Servi; it, and yourself — and me. We
have no news yet as to your doom, but be sure it is cer-
tain. La Pompadour knows all, and if you are stubborn,
twentv deaths were too few. I can save vou little louirer,
even were it mv will so to do. For mvself, the great ladv
girds at me for being so poor an agent. You, monsieur"
— he smiled whimsicallv — "will agree that I have been
persistent — aiul intolligont."

" 80 much so," rejoined I, "as to be intrusive."

He smiled again. " If La Pompadour could hear you,
she would understand why I prefer the live amusing lion
to the dead dog. When you are gone, I shall be incon-
solable. I am a born in(|uisitor."

" You were born for better things than this," I an-
swered.

lie took a seat and mused for a, moment. " For larijer
things, you mean," was his reply. " Perhaps— perhaps.

IN TiiK ('nA>fnr.R op TouTrin":.

181

•(ft('liin<^

CJlptiUM,

-all yuA,
ikFiisti'd
Solitiulo

)litiido,"

/. And

I k'ttors

well bo

)!' tllOrfO

Franco
Id serve
10. Wo

it is cer-
ul)l)orn,
lonii^er,
eat lady
bnsieur "
ve been

ear vou,
Ing lion
) incon-

" I an-

►r larger
lerhaps.

I have oni* ^dl't of the stioni^ man - 1 am inexorable when
I mako for my end. As u^M'inu'ai, 1 would i)our men into
the maw of ileutli as eorn into the )ioj»i»er, if that would
build a brid;;e to my end. ^'ou call to mind how thos(5
Spaniards (!on(jueriMl the .Mexi(pi«' eity which was all camds
like N'enice'r' They IUUmI the waterways with shattered
houses and the bodies of their enemies, us they fought
their way to Mont(!7,uma's palace. So I would know not
j)ity if 1 had a great cause. Jn anything vital I would
have succoss at all cost, and to gist, destroy as 1 went — if
1 were a great man."

1 thought with horror of his pursuit of my dcsar Alixe.
" I am your hunter," had been his words to her, and I
knew not what had happentnl in all theses months.

"If you were a great man, you sbould have the best
prerogative of greatness," I remarked (piietly.

"And wbat is that? Some excellent moral, 1 doubt
not," was tlus rejoinder.

" Mercy," 1 replied.

"Tush!" ho retorted, " mercy is for tlio fireside, not
for the throne. In great causes, what is a screw of tyranny
here, a bolt of oppression there, or a few thousand lives!"
lie suddeidy got to his feet, and, looking into the distance,
made a swift motion of his hand, his eyes half closed, his
brows brooding and firm. " I should look beyond the
moment, the year, or the generation. Why fret because
the hour of death comes sooner than we looked for? Jn
the movement of the ponderous car some honest folk
must be crushed by the wicked wheels. No, no, in large
alTairs there must bo no thought of the detail of misery,
else what should bo done in the world ! Tie who is the
strongest shall survive, and he alone. It is all conflict —
all. For when conflict ceases, and those who could and
should be great spend their time chasing butterflies among
the fountains, there comes miasma and their doom. Mercy?
V6

182

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

Mercy? Xo, no : for none but tlic poor and sick and over-
ridden, in time of peace ; in time of war, mercy for none,
pity nowhere, till the joybells ring the great man home."

" But mercy to women always," said I, " in war or
peace."

lie withdrew his eyes as if from a distant prospect,
and they dropped to the stove, where I had corn parch-
ing, lie nodded, as if amused, but did not answer at once,
and taking from my hand the feather with which I stirred
the corn, softly whisked some olf for liimself, and smiled
at the remaining kernels as they danced upon the hot iron.
After a little while he said, "Women? Women should
have all that men can give them. Beautiful things should
adorn tliem; no man should set his hand in cruelty on
a woman — after she is his. Before — before? Woman is
wilful, and sometimes we wring her heart that we may
afterwards comfort it."

" Your views have somewhat changed," I answered.
" I mind when you talked less sweetly."

He shrugged a shoulder. " That man is lost who keeps
one mind concerning woman. I will trust the chastity of
no woman, yet 1 will trust her virtue — if 1 have her heart.
They are a foolish tribe, and all are vulnerable in their
vanity. They are of consecjucnce to man, but of no con-
sequence in state matters. When they meddle there we
have La Pompadour and war with England, and Captain
Moray in the Bastile of New France."

" You come from a court, monsieur, which believes in
nothing, not even in itself."

" 1 come from a court," he rejoined, " which has made
a gospel of artifice, of frivolity a creed ; buying the toys
for folly with the savings of the poor. His most Christian
Majesty has set the fashion of continual silliness and uni-
versal love, lie begets children in the peasant's oven and
in the chamber of Charlemagne alike. And we are all

IN THE CHAMBER OF TORTURE.

183

md over-

for none,

homo."

u war or

prospect,
•n parcli-
r ut once,

I stirred
id smiled

hot iron,
(n should
gs should
ruelty on
tV^oman is
; we may

inswered.

v'ho keeps
liastity of
ler heart,
in their
ir no con-
there we
1 Captain

lelieves in

has made
the toys

Chiistian
and uni-

oven and

iQ are all

good subjects of the King. "We are brilliant, exquisite,
brave, and naughty ; and for us there is no to-morrow."

" Nor for France," I suggested.

He laughed, as he rolled a kernel of parched corn on
his tongue. " Tut, tut ! that is another thiug. We are
the fashion of an hour, but France is a fact as stubborn
as the natures of you English ; for beyond stubbornness
and your Shakespeare you have little. Down among the
moles, in the peasants' huts, the spirit of France never
changes — it is always the same ; it is for all time. You
English, nor all others, you can not blow out that candle
which is the spirit of France. I remember the Abbe
Bobon preaching once upon the words, ' The si)irit of man
is the candle of the Lord ' ; well, the spirit of France is
the 'jandle of Europe, and you English will be its screen
against the blowing out, though in spasms of stupidity
you flaunt the extinguisher. You — you have no imagina-
tion, no passion, no temperament, no poetry. Yet I am
wrong. The one thing you have "

He broke off, nodding his head in amusement. " Yes,
you have, but it is a secret. You English are the true
lovers, we French the true poets ; and I will tell you why.
You are a race of comrades, the French, of gentlemen ; you
cleave to a thing, we to an idea ; you love a woman best when
she is near, we when she is away ; you make a romance of
marriage, we of intrigue ; you feed upon yourselves, we
upon the world ; you have fever in your blood, we in our
brains ; you believe the world was made in seven days, we
have no God ; you would fight for the seven days, we would
tight for the danseuse on a bonbon box. The world will
say ' tie ! ' at us and love us ; it will respect you and hate
you. That is the law and the gospel," he added, smiling.

" Perfect respect casteth out love," said I ironically.

He waved his tingers in approval. " ]5y the Lord, but
you are pungent now and then ! " he answered ; " cabined

1S4

TOE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

here you are less material. By tlie time you are chastened
unto heaven you will be too companionable to lose."

" When is that hour of completed chastening V" I
asked.

" Never," he said, '' if you will oblige me with those
letters."

"For a man of genius you discern but slowly," re-
torted I.

"Discern your amazing stubl)ornness?" he asked.
" Why should you play at martyr, when your talent is
commercial ? You have no gifts for martyrdoTu but
wooden tenacitv. l*shaw I the leech has that. You mis-
take your calling."

"And you yours," 1 answered. "This is a poor game
you play, and losing it you lose all. La Pompadour will
pay accoruing to the goods you bring."

lie answered with an amusing candor: "Why, yes,
you are partly in the right. But when La Pompadour
and I come to our linal reckoning, when it is a question
wdio can topple ruins round the King quickest, his mis-
tress or his ' cousin,' there will be talcs to tell."

He got up, and w^alked to and fro in the cell, musing,
and his face grew darker and darker. " Your Monmouth
was a fool," he said, "lie struck from the boundaries ;
the blow should fall in the verv chambers of the Kiuff."
lie put a finger musingly u])on his lip. "I see — I see
how it could be done. Full of danger, ])ut brilliant, bril-
liant and bold! Yes, ves . . . yes!" Then all at once
he seemed to come out of a dream, ami laughed ironically.
"There it is," he said; "there is mv case. I have the
idea, but I will not strike; it is not worth the doing un-
less I'm driven to it. We are brave emnigh, we idlers,"
he went on; "we ('■'e with an air — all artilice, artifice!
. . . Yet of late T have had dreams. Now that is not
well. It is foolish to dream, and I had long since ceased

IN THE CHAMBER OF TORTURE.

185

chastened

se.

iiing?" I

itli those

)\vlv," re-

10 asked.

talent is

doTu bnt

You mis-

loor game
-dour will

viiy, yes,

)mpadour
. question
, his mis-

, musing,
onmoutli
iindaries ;
le Kiii<]:."
lee — I see
ant, bril-
l at once
ronically.
liave tlie
loing un-
3 idlers,"
artifice I
at is not
ce ceased

to do so. But somehow all the mad fancies of my youth

come back. This dream will go, it will not last; it is

my fate, my doom," he added lightly, "or what you
will ! "

I knew, alas, too well where his thou^dits were hanir-
iiig, and I loathed him anew ; for, as he hinted, his was
a passion, not a deep, abiding love, llis will was not
stronger than the general turpitude of his nature. As if
he had divined my thought, he said, "My will is stronger
than any passion tliat 1 have ; I can never plead weakness
in the day of my judgment. I am deliberate. When I
clioose evil it is because I love it. I could be an anchor-
ite ; I am, as I said — what you will."

" You are a conscienceless villain, nionsieur."

" Who salves not his soul," lie added, with a dry smile,
" who will play his game out as he began; who repents
nor ever will repent of anything ; who sees for him and you
some interesting moments yet. Let me make one now,"
and he drew from his pocket a packet, lie smiled hate-
fully as he handed it to me, and said, " Some books which
monsieur once lent ^[ademoiselle Duvarney — ])oems, I
believe. Mademoiselle found them yesterday, and desired
me to fetch them to vou ; and I obliged her. I had the
])leasure of glancing through the books before she rolled
them up. She bade me say that monsieur migjit find
them useful in his captivity. She has a tender heart —
even to the worst of criminals."

I felt a strange churnnig in my throat, but with com-
posure I took the books, and said, " Mademoiselle Duvar-
ney chooses distinguished messengers."

" It is a distinction to aid her in her charities," he
replied.

1 could not at all conceive what was meant. The
packet hung in my hands like lead. There was a mystery
I could not solve. 1 would not for an instant think what

•2

' \t

■ 111

186

THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY.

ho meant to convey by a look — that her choice of him to
carry back my gift to her was a final repulse of past
advances I had made to her, a corrective to my romantic
memories. I would not believe that, not for one fleeting
second. Perha])s, I said to myself, it was a ruse of this
scoundrel, l^ut again, I put that from me, for I did not
think he would stoop to little meannesses, no matter how
vile he was in great things. I assumed indifference to the
matter, laying the packet down upon my couch, and say-
ing to him, " You will convey my thanks to Mademoiselle
Duvarney for these books, whose chief value lies in the
honourable housing they have had."

lie smiled provokingly ; no doubt he was thinking
that my studied compliment smelt of the oil of solitude.
"And add — shall I — your compliinents that they should
have their airing at the hands of Monsieur Doltaire ? "

" I shall pay those compliments to Monsieur Doltaire
him soli one day," I replied.

lie waved his Angers. " The sentiments of one of the
poems were commendable, fanciful. I remember it" — he
put a flnger to his lip— "let me see." He stepped towards
the packet, but I made a sign of interference — how grate-
ful was I of this afterwards! — and he drew back courte-
ously. "Ah well," he said, "I have a fair memory; I
can, I think, recall the morsel. It impressed me. I
could not think the author an Englishman. It runs
thus," and with adnurable grace he recited the words :

" flower of all tlio world, flower of all !
The gai'den where thou dwellcst is so fair,
Thou ,irt so piodjy, and so qiieoidy tall,

Thy sweetn(>ss scatters sweetness everywhere,
flower of all !

" flower of all the years. O flower of all !
A dav beside thee is a dav of davs :
Thy voice is softer than the throstle's call,

f liim to
of past
romantic
3 fleeting
e of tliis
[ (lid not
tter how
ce to the
and say-
3moiselle
s in the

thinking
solitude.
y should
re ? "
Doltaire

le of the

it "—he

towards

w grate-

L courte-

mory ; I

me. I

It runs

)rds :

IN THE CHAMBER OF TORTURE. 187

There is not son^f enouf^h to sing thy praise,
flower of all !

♦' flower of all the years, flower of all !
1 seek thee in thy garden, and I dare
To love thee ; and liuMigh my deserts be small,
Thou art the only flower I would wear,
flower of all ! "

" Now that," he said, " is the romantic, almost the Ar-
cadian, spirit. We have lost it, but it lingers like some
good scent in the folds of lace. It is also but artifice, yet
so is the lingering perfume. When it hung in the flower
it was lost after a day's life, but when gathered and dis-
tilled into an essence it becomes, through artilice, an
abiding sweetness. So with your song there. It is the
spirit of devotion, gathered, it may be, from a thousand
flowers, and made into an essence, which is offered to one
oidy. It is not the worship of this one, but the worship
of a thousand distilled at last to one delicate liturgy. So
much for sentiment," he continued. "Upon my soul,
Captain Moray, you are a boon. I love to have you caged.
I shall watch your distressed career to its close with deep
scrutiny. You and I are wholly different, but you are
interesting. You never could be great. Pardon the ego-
tism, but it is truth. Your brain works heavily, you are
too tenacious of your conscience, you are a blunderer.
You will always sow, and others will reap."

I waved my hand in deprecation, for I was in no mood
for further talk, and I made no answer. He smiled at
me, and said, " Well, since you doubt my theories, let us
come, as your Shakespeare says, to Hecuba. ... If you
will accompany me," he added, as he opened my cell door
and motioned me courteously to go outside. I drew back,
and he said, " There is no need to hesitate ; I go to show
you only what will interest you."

We passed in silence through the corridors, two senti-

188

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

nels attending, and at last came into a large square room,
wherein stood three men with hands tied over their heads
against the wall, their faces twitching with pain. J drew
back in astonishment, for, standing before them, were (Ja-
bord and another soldier. Doltaire ordered from the room
the soldier and my two sentinels, and motioned me to one
of two chairs set in the middle of the floor.

Presently his face became hard and cruel, and he said
to the tortured prisoners, " You will need to speak the
truth, and promptly. I have an order to do with you what
I will. Hear me. Three nights ago, as Mademoiselle
Duvarney was returning from the house of a friend beside
the Intendance, she was set upon by you. A cloak was
thrown over her head, she was carried to a carriage, where
two of you got inside with her. Some gentlemen aiul my-
self were coming that way. We heard the lady's cries,
and two gave chase to the carriage, while one followed
the others. By the help of soldier (Jabord here you all
were captured. You have hung where you are for two
days, and now I shall have you whipped. When that is
done, you shall tell your story. If you do not speak truth,
you shall be whipped again, and then hung. Ladies shall
have safety from rogues like you."

Alixc's danger told in these coiumsc words made me, I
am sure, turn pale ; but Doltaire did not see it, he was en-
gaged with the prisoners. As I thought and wondered
four soldiers were brought in, and the men were made
ready for the lash. In vain they pleaded they would tell
their story at once. Doltaire would not listen ; the whip-
ping first, and their story after. Soon their backs were
bared, their faces were turned to the wall, and, as (Jabord
with harsh voice counted, the lashes were mercilessly laid
on. There was a horrible fascination in watching the skin
corrugate under the cords, rippling away in red and pur-
ple blotches, the grooves in the llesh crossing and recross-

IN THE CHAMBER OF TORTURE.

189

room,

ing, the raw misery spreading from tlie hips to the shoul-
ders. Now and again Doltaire drew out a box and took a
pinch of anuif, and once, coolly and curiously, he walked
up to the most stalwart ])risoner and felt his pulse, then
to the weakest, whose limbs and body had stilTcned as
though dead. ^^ Xint'ty-seven ! Xinely-eiyht ! Xi/irl//-
niuel " growled Gabord, and then came Doltaire's voice:

" Stop ! Now fetch some brandy."

The prisoners were loosened, and Doltaire spoke sharp-
ly to a soldier who was roughly pulling one num's shirt
over the excoriated back. Hnmdy was given by (labord,
and the prisoners stood, a most pitiful sight, the weakest
livid.

" Now tell your story," said Doltaire to this last.

The man, witli broken voice and breath catching, said
that they had erred. They had been hired to kidnap Ma-
dame Cournal, not Mademoiselle Duvarney.

Doltidre's eyes Hashed. " I see, I see," he said aside to
me. " The wretch speaks truth."

" Who was your master V " ho asked of the sturdiest of
the villains ; and he was told that Monsieur Cournal had
engaged them. To the question what was to be done with
Madame Cournal, another answered that she was to be
waylaid as she was coming from the Intendance, kid-
napped, and hurried to a nunnery, there to be imprisoned
for life.

Doltaire sat for a moment, looking at the men in
silence. " You are not to hang," he said at last ; " but
ten days hence, when you have had one hundred lashes
more, you shall go free. Fifty for you," he continued to
the weakest, who had first told the story.

" Xot fifty, nor one ! " was the shrill reply, and, being
nnbound, the prisoner snatched something from a bench
near, there was a flash of steel, and he came huddling in
a heap on the floor, muttering a malediction on the world.

190

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

" Tlicro was some bravery in that," said Doltaire, look-
iiisx at the dead man. "If lie lias friends, hand over the
body to tliem. This matter niiist not be spoken of— ut
your peril," he added sternly. " (iive them food and
brandy."

Then he aceompanied me to my cell, and opened the
door. I passed in, and he was about going without a word,
when on a sudden his old nonchalance came back, and he
said :

" I promised you a matter of interest. You have had
it. Gather philosophy from this : you may with impunity
buy anything from a knave and fool except his nuptial
bed. He throws the money in your face some day."

So saying he plunged in thought again, and left me.

XVI.

BE SAIXT OR IMP.

Immediately I opened the packet. As Doltaire had
said, the two books of poems I had lent Alixe were there,
and between the i)ages of one lay a letter addressed to
me. It was, indeed, a daring thing to make Doltaire
her messenger. But she trusted to his habits of cour-
tesy; he had no small meannesses — he was no spy or
thief.

Dear Robert (the letter ran): I know not if this
will ever reach you, for I am about to try a perilous thing,
even to make Monsieur Doltaire mv letter-carrier. Bold
as it is, I hope to bring it through safely.

You must know that mv mother now makes Monsieur
Doltaire welcome to our home, for his great talents and
persuasion have so worked upon her that she believes him

BE SAINT OR IMP.

191

re, look-
)ver tho
1 of— at
od and

ned the

a word,

, and he

ave had

npunity

nuptial

ft me.

lire had
'e there,
3ssed to
Doltaire
)f cour-
spy or

if this
s thing,
". Bold

[onsieiir
nts and
ves him

not so black as he is painted. My fatlier, too, is not un-
moved by his amazing address and comphiisanee. I do
not think ho often cares to use his arts — he is too indo-
lent; but with my father, my mother, and my sister he
has set in motion all his resources.

Ilobert, all Versailles is here. This ^lonsieur Doltaire
speaks for it. I know not if every court in tlie world is
the same, but if so, I am at heart no courtier; thouirh
I love the sparkle, the sharp i)lay of wit and word, tlie
very touch-and-go of weapons. I am in love with life,
and I wish to live to be old, very old, tluit I will have
known it all, from helplessness to helplessness again, miss-
ing notliing, even though much be sad to feel and bear.
Robert, I should have gone on many years, seeing little,
knowing little, I think, if it liad not been for you and for
your troubles, which are mine, and for this love of ours,
cherished in the midst of sorrows. Georgette is now as
old as when I first came to love you, and you were thrown
into the citadel, and yet, in feeling and experience, I am
ten years older than she ; and necessity has made me
wiser. Ah, if necessity would but make me happy too,
by giving you your liberty, that on these many miseries
endured we might set up a sure home ! I wonder if you
think — if you think of that : a little home away from aW
these wars, aloof from vexins]: thinjxs.

liut there ! all too plainly I am showing you my heart.
Yet it is so good a comfort to speak on paper to you, in
this silence here. Can you guess where is that here, Eob-
ert? It is not the Clniteau St. Louis — no. It is not the
manor. It is the chateau, dear Chateau Alixe — my
father has called it that — on the island of Orleans. Three
days ago I was sick at heart, tired of all the junketings
and feastings, and I begged my mother to fetch me here,
though it is yet but early spring, and snow is on the
ground.

192

TIIK SKATS OF TllH MIGHTY.

First, vou must know that this new chateau is built
u])on, and is joined to, tlic ruins of an old one, owned long
yijars jil,^) by the liaron of l»eau;j;ard, whose strange history
you must learn some day, out of the pajters we have found
here. I bcirgi-d my fallu'r not to tear the old portions of
the manor down, but, using the llrst foundations, put up
a house hall' eastlc aiul half numor. Pictures of the old
manor were found, and so we have a place that is no
patchwork, but a renewal. I made my father give me the
old surviving part of the building for my own, and so it is.

It is all set on high ground abutting on the water
almost at the point where I am, and 1 have the river in
my sight all day. Now, think youi'sclf in the new build-
ing. You come out of a dining-hall, huug all about with
horns and weapons and shields and such bravery, go
through a dark, narrow i)assage, and then down a step or
two. You open a door, bright light breaks on your eyes,
then two stc})s lower, and you are here with me. You
might have gone outside the dining-hall u})on a stone
terrace, and so have come along to the deep wimlow where
I sit so often. You nniy thiidv of me hiding in the cur-
tains, watching you, though you knew it not till you
touched the window and I came out quietly, startling you,
so that your heart would beat beyond counting!

As I look up towards the window, the thing first in
sight is tlie cag(\ with the little bird which came to me in
the cathedral the morning my brother got lease of life
a2:ain : vou do vemember — is it not so ? It never goes from
my room, and though I lune come here but for a week I
mufTled the cage well and brought it over; and there the
bird swings and sings the long day through. I have
heaped the window-seats with soft furs, aiul one of these
I prize most rarely. It was a gift — aiul whose, think you?
Even a poor soldier's. You see I have not all friends
among the great folk. I often lie upon that soft robe of

BE SAINT OR IMP.

193

atiblo — ay, aublo, Muster Uoljort — uiul think of him who
^uve it to me. Now I know you jiro jcjdous, jind I ciiii
see your eyt's llu.sh u}). Uut you shall ut oiici! bo soothcil.
It is 110 other tiiun (ijibord's <^nft. lie is now of the (Jov-
cnior'd boily-i^Uiii'd, and I think is by no means happy,
and wouhl [)i'efor service with the Mar(|uis de Montcalm,
who goes not comfortuljly with tlu* Intendant and the
(Jovernor.

One day rjabord came to our liousc on the ramparts,
and, askin,i,' for nu^, blundered out, "Alio, wliat shall a
soldier (h) with sabk^s? They are for <,a'ntles ami for
wrens to snu,i]:<,de in. Here (!omes a Russian count over-
sea, and goes mad in tavern. Hero comes (Jal)ord, and
saves count from ruddy cr(!st for kissing tlie wrong
vven(di. Then count falls on (iabord's ne(;k, and kisses
both Ids cars, and gives him sables, and crosses oversea
a"fain ; and so good-bve to count and his foolerv. And
sables shall be ma'm'selle's, if slie will have them." He
might have sold the thing for many louis, aiul yet lio
brought it to mc; and he would not go till he had seen
me sitting on it, mullling my hands and face in the
soft fur.

Just now, as I am writing, I glan(?e at the table where
I sit — a small brown table of oak, (iarved with the name of
Feliso, Baroness of Beaugard. She sat liere ; and some
dav, when vou hear her storv, von will know whv I begged
Madame fjotbiniere to give it to mc in excliange for an-
other, once the King's. Carved, too, beneath her name,
are the words, "0 farri/ thou tJie Lord's lei.snrey

And now you shall laugh with me at a droll thing
Georgette has given me to wipe my i)en upon. There are
three little circles of deerskin and one of ruby velvet,
stitched together in the centre. Then, standing on the
velvet is a yellow wooden chick, with little eyes of beads,
and a little wooden bill stuck in most quaintly, and a

104

TIIH SKATS OF TIIM MKIIITY.

hojid that twists like :i wciitluM-cock. It has siicli a piquant
silliness of look that 1 laugh at it most heartily, and 1
liavo an almost ellish fun in smoarinjjj its downy feathers.
1 am sure you ilid "not think I could bo amused so easfly.
You shall see this silly ••hick one day, humorously ugly
and all dauhcd with ink.

'i'heru is a low couch in one corner of the room, and
just above hangs a plctui'i' of my mother. In another
corner is a little shelf of books, among them two which I
liavo studied constantly since you wei-e i)ut in prison —
your great Sliakespeai'c, and tlu; writings of one Mr.
Addison. J had few means of studying at lii'st, so dilli-
cult it seemed, and all the words sounded hard ; but there
is here, as vou know, vour counti'vman, one Lieuteiumt
Stevens of Kogers's Uangers, a pi'isoner, ami he has helped
me, and is ready to help you when the time comes for
stirring. J teaeh him i-'rench ; and though I do not talk
of you, he tells me in what esteem you are hehl in Vir-
ginia and in J'higland, and is not slow to praise you on
Ins own account, which makes me more forgiving when
lie would come to sentiment !

In another corner is my spinning-wheel, and there
stands a harjisichord, just where the soft sun sends in
a ribbon of light; and I will presently play for you
'a pretty sonir. I wonder if you can hear it? Where
I shall sit at the harpsichord the belt of sunlight will fall
across my shoulder, and, looking through the window, I
shall see your ])rison there on the Heights; the silver
fhig with its gold lilies on the Chateau 8t. Louis; the
great guns of the citadel ; and far off at Beauport the
]\Ianor House and garden which you and I know so well,
and the Falls of ]\Iontmorenci, falling like white flowing
liair from the tall clilf.

You will care to know of how these months luive been
spent, and wluit news of note there is of the fighting be-

, utul 1
.Mithcrs.
) oasi'ly.
ily u-ly

)ni, and
[iiu)lli«jr
wliii'li I
n'isoii —
►no Mr.
so (li Hi-
nt there
utontmt
s li(.'ll)ed
nii'rf for
lot tulk
in \'ir-
yoii on
ig when

d there

ends in

for you

W lie re

will fall

indovv, I

He silver

Ills; the

)ort the

so well,

flowing

ive been
iting be-

'■^ ■,-,■ ' •'I • V

'M:

•a

=:;

BE SAINT OR IMP.

195

tween our countries. No matters of great consequence
have come to our ears, save that it is thought your navy
may descend on Louisburg ; that Ticonderoga is also to
be set upon, and Quebec to bo besieged in the coming
summer. From France the news is various. Now, Fred-
erick of Prussia and England defeat the allies, France,
Kussia, and Austria ; now, they, as Monsieur Doltaire says,
" send the great Prussian to verses and the megrims."
For my own part, I am ever glad to hear that our cause is
victorious, and letters that my brother writes me rouse all
my ardour for my country. Juste has grown in place and
favour, and in his latest letter he says that ]\Ionsieur Dol-
taire's voice has got him much advancement. He also re-
marks tliat Monsieur Doltaire has reputation for being one
of the most reckless, clever, and cynical men in France.
Things that he has said are quoted at ball and rout. Yet
the King is angry with him, and La Pompadour's caprice
may send him again to the Bastile. These things Juste
heard from D'Argenson, Minister of War, through his
secretary, with whom he is friendly.

I will now do what I never thought to do : I will
send you here some extracts from my journal, which will
disclose to vou the secrets of a girl's troubled heart.
Some folk might say that I am unmaidenly in this. But
I care not, I fear not.

Decemher QJf. I was with Robert to-day. I let him
see what trials I had had with Monsieur Doltaire, and
what were like to come. It hurt me to tell him, yet it
would have hurt me more to withhold them. I am hurt
whichever way it goes. Monsieur Doltaire rouses the
worst parts of me. On the one hand I detest him for his
hatred of Robert, and for liis evil life, yet on the other I
must needs admire him for his many graces — why are not
the graces of the wicked horrible ?— for his singular abili-

196

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

ties, and bocaiiso, gamester though he may be, he is no
public robber. Then, too, the mehmcholy of his birth and
liistory claim some sympatliy. Sometimes when 1 listen
to him speak, hear the almost piquant sadness of his words,
watch the spirit of isolation which, by design or other-
wise, shows in him, for the moment 1 am conscious of a
])ity or an interest which 1 flout in wiser hours. This is
his art, the deep danger of his personality.

To-night he came, and with many flno phrases wished
us a hapi)y day to-morrow, and most deftly worked upon
my motlier and (Jcorgette by looking round and speaking
with a quaint sort of raillery— half pensive, it was— of the
peace of this home-life of ours; and, indeed, he did it so
inimitably that I was not sure how much was false and
how much true. I tried tv avoid him to-day, but my
mother constantly made private speech between us easy.
At last he had his way, and then I was not sorry ; for
CJeorirette was listenius: to him with more colour than she
is wont to wear. 1 would rather see her in her o-rave than
with her hand in his, her sweet life in his power. She is
unschooled in the ways of the world, and she never will
know it as I now do. llow am I sounding all the depths !
Can a woman walk the dance with evil, and be no w^orse
for it bv-aud-bveV Vet for a cause, for a cause! What
can I doV I can not say, " ^[onsieur Doltaire, you must
not s})eak with me, or talk with me; you are a ])lague-
spot." No, 1 must even follow this path, so it but lead at
last to Uobert and his safety.

Monsieur, having me alone at last, said to me, " I have
kept my word as to the little boast : this Captain Moray
still lives."

" You are not greater than I thought," said I.

He professed to see but one meaning in my words, and
answered, " It was, then, mere whim to see me do this
thing, a lady's curious mind, eh ? My faith, I think your

BE SAIXT OR IMP.

197

be is no
irtli and

1 listen
is words,
r other-
)us of a

This is

s wished
3d upon
;peakiiig
— of the
lid it so
ilse and
but my
us easy,
rry ; for
:han she
ive than
Slie is
3ver will
depths !
10 worse
! Wliat
3n must
plague-
t lead at

" I have
1 Moray

>rds, and

do this

nk your

sex are the true scientists : you try experiment for no
other reason than to see ellect."

" You forget my deep interest in Captain Moray," said
I, with airy boldness.

lie laughed, lie was disarmed, llow could he think
I meant it ! " My imagination halts," he rejoined. '' Mil-
lenium comes when you are interested. And yet," he
continued, "it is my one ambition to interest you, and 1
will do it, or 1 will say my prayers no more."

" But how can that be done no moi'e,
Which ne'er was done before V

1 retorted, railing at him, for I feared to take him se-
riously.

" There you wrong me," he said. " 1 am devout ; I
am a lover of the Scriptures — their beauty haunts me ; 1
go to mass — its dignity affects me; and 1 have prayed, as
in my youth 1 w^rote verses. It is not a matter of mo-
rality, but of temperament. A man may be religious and
3^et be evil. Satan fell, but he believed and he admired,
as the Enc^lish ]\[ilton wiselv shows it."

1 was most ejlad that mv father came between us at
that moment ; but before monsieur loft, he said to me,
" You have challenged me. Beware : I have begun this
chase. Yet I would rather be your follower, rather have
vour arrow in me, than be vour hunter." He said it witli
a sort of warmth, wliich I knew was a glow in his senses
merely ; ho was heated with his own eloquence.

" Wait," returned I. " You have heard the story of
King Artus ? "

lie thought a moment. " Xo, no. 1 never was a child
as other children. I was always comrade to the imps."

" King Artus," said I, " was most fond of hunting."
(It is but a legend with its moral, as you know.) " It was
forbidden by the priests to hunt while mass was being said.
14

198

THE SEATS OF THE JMIGIITY.

One day, at tlie lifting of the host, the King, hearing a
hound bay, rushed out, and gathered his i){ick together-
but as tliey went, a whirlwind caught them up into the
air, wliere tliey continue to tliis (hiy, following a lonely
trail, never resting, and all tlie game they get is one ily
every seventh year. And now, when all on a sudden at
night you hear the trees and leaves and the sleepv birds
and crickets stir, it is the old King hunting— for the fox
he never gets."

Monsieur looked at me with curious intentness. " You
have a great gift," he said ; " you nuike your i)oint by jd-
lusion. 1 follow vou. But see: wlicn I (vii hlotnt info Ute
air 1 ^ItaJl nut ride (done. Happiness is the fox we ride
to cover, you and I, though we hnd hut a firefly in the
end."

"A poor re2)lv," I remarked easily; " not worthy of
you."

" As worthy as I am of you," lie rejoined ; then he
kissed mv hand. " I will see you at nuiss to-morrow."

Unconsciously, I rubbed the hand he kissed with my
handkerchief.

" I am not to be provoked," he said. " It is much to
have you treat my kiss with consequence."

March ;?-'>. Xo news of Robert all this month. Ga-
bord has been away in ]\rontreal. I see Voban only now
and then, and he is strange in manner, and can do noth-
ing. Mathilde is better — so still and desolate, yet nut
wild; but her memory is all gone, save for that "Fran-
^'ois ]>igot is a devil." ^My father has taken anew a strong
dislike to ^Eonsieur Doltaire, because of talk that is
abroad concerning him and ^ladame Counud. I once
thought slie was much sinned ngainst, but now I am sure
she is not to be defended. She is most defiant, though
people dare not shut their doors against her. A change

BE SAINT OR IMP.

199

earing a
ogothcr ;
into the
a lonely
s one lly
Luldeu at
?py birds
r the fox

3. "You
nt by al-
i in/o /lie
X we ride
(ly in the

vorthy of

then lie
row."
with my

mil ell to

ith. Ga-
only now
do iioth-
yet not
it "Fran-
V a strong
that is
I once
I am sure
t, though
A change

seemed to come over her all at once, and over her husband
also. He is now gloomy and taciturn, now foolishly gay,
yet he is little seen with the Intcudant, as before. How-
ever it be. Monsieur Doltaire and Bigot are no longer in-
timate. What should I cai'c for that, if ^lonsieur Dol-
taire had no power, if he were not the door between Robert
and me ? What care I, indeed, how vile he is, so he but
serve my purpose ? Let liiin try my heart and soul and
senses as he will ; I will one day purify myself of his pres-
ence and all this soiling, and lind my peace in liobert's
arms — or in the quiet of a nunnery.

This morning I got up at sunrise, it being the iVnnun-
ciation of the Virgin, and })rcpared to go to mass in the
chapel of the Ursulines. How peaceful was the world !
So still, so still. The smoke came curling up here and
tliere through the sweet air of spring, a snowbird tripped
along the white coverlet of the earth, and before a Cal-
vary I saw a peasant kneel and say an Ave as he went to
market. There was springtime in the sun, in the smell
of the air ; springtime everywhere but in my heart, which
was all winter. I seemed alone — alone — alone. I felt the
tears start. But that was for a moment only, I am glad
to say, for I got my courage again, as I did the night be-
fore when Monsieur Doltaire placed his arm at my waist,
and poured into my ears a torrent of protestations !

I did not move at lirst. But I could feel my cheeks
grow cold, and something clamp my heart. Yet had ever
man such hateful eloquence ! There is that in him — oli,
shame ! oh, shame ! — which goes far with a woman. He
has the music of passion, and though it is lower than
love, it is the poetry of the senses. I spoke to him calm-
ly, I think, begging him place his merits where they
would have better entertainment ; but I said hard, cold
things at last, when other means availed not ; which pres-
ently made him turn upon me in another fashion.

200

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

His words dropped slowly, with a cousuminute careful-
ness, his manner was i^ointedly courteous, yet there was
an underpressure of force, of will, which made me see the
danger of my position. He said that I was quite right ;
that he would wish no privilege of a woman which was
not given witii a frank eagerness ; that to him no woman
was worth the having who did not throw her whole nature
into the giving. Constancy — that was another matter.
But a perfect gift while there was giving at all — that v/as
the way.

" There is something behind all this," ho said. " I am
not so vain as to think any merits of mine would influence
you. But my devotion, my admiration of you, the very
force of my passion, should move you. Be you ever so set
a":ainst me — and I do not thiidv von are — vou should not
be so strong to resist the shock of feeling. I do not know
the cause, but 1 will find it out ; and when I do, I shall
remove it or be myself removed." lie touched my arm
with his fingers. " When I touch you like that," he said,
" summer riocs in my veins. I will not think that this
which rouses me so is but power upon one side, and effect
upon the other. Something in you called me to you, some-
thing in me will wake you yet. Jfo)i Dicu, I could wait
a score of years for my touch to thrill you as yours does
me ! And I will— I will"

" You thiidv it suits your honour to force my affec-
tions ? " I asked ; for I dared not say all I wished.

•' What is there in this reflecting on my honour ? " he
answered. " At Versuilles, believe me, thev would sav I
strive here for a canonizing. ]S'o, no ; think me so gal
hint that I follow you to serve you, to convince you that
the w\ay I go is the way your hopes will lie. Honour? To
fetch you to the point where you and I should start to-
gether on the Appian Way, I would traffic with that, even,
and say I did so, and would do so a thousand times, if in

BE SAINT OR IMP.

201

I caref nl-
liere wjis
e sec the
;e right ;
liich was
r) woman
le nature
' matter,
■that v/as

" I am
influence

the very
^'cr so set
ould not
lot know
o, I shall

mv arm
' he said,
that this
md effect
on, some-
3uld wait
ours does

my aflec-

;)ur ? " ho

idd say 1

e so iral

you that
our? To

start to-
hat, even,
[lies, if in

the end it put your hand in mine. Who, who can give
vou what 1 offer, can offer? See : 1 have given mvself to
a hundred women in my time — ))ut what of me? ^J'hat
which was a candle in a wind, and the light went out.
There was no depth, no life, in that ; only the shadow of
a man was there those hundred times. Hut liere, now,
tile whole man plunges into this sea, and he will reach the
lighthouse on the shore, or ho broken on the reefs. Look
in my eyes, and see the furnace there, and tell me if you
think that fire is for cool corners in the gardens at Xeuilly

or for the Hills of " He suddenlv broke off, and a

singular smile followed. " There, there," he said, " I have
said enough. It came to me all at once how droll my
speech would sound to our people at Versailles. It is an
elaborate irony that the occasional virtues of certain men
turn and mock them. That is the penalty of being in-
consistent. Be saint or imp; it is the only way. But tliis
imp that mocks me relieves you of reply. Yet I have
spoken truth, and again and again I will tell it you, till
vou believe accord in <r to mv gospel."

How glad I was that he himself lightened the situa-
tion ! I had been driven to despair, but this strange twist
in his mood made all smooth for me. "That 'again and
again' sounds dreary," said I. "It might almost appear
I must somotiine accept your gospel, to cure you of preach-
iu": it, and save me from eternal drowsiness."

Wq were then most fortunately interrupted. He made
his adieus, and I went to my room, brooded till my head
achod, then fell a-weeping, and wished myself out of the
world, I was so sick and weary. Now and again a hot
shudder of shame and misery ran through me, as I tliought
of monsieur's words to me. Put them how he would,
they sound an insult now, though as he spoke I felt the
power of his ])assion. " If you had lived a thousand years
ago, you would have loved a thousand times," he said to

202

TllK SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

me one clay. Somotiines I tliiiik he spoke truly; I have
a nature that responds to all eloquence in life.

Robert, I liave bared my heart to thee. 1 have hid-
den nothing. In a few days I shall go back to the eity
with my mother, and when 1 can I will send news; and
do thou send me news also, if thou canst devise a safe
way. ]\rean while I have written my brother Juste to be
magnanimous, and to try for thy freedom, lie will not
betray me, and he may help us. 1 have begged him to
write to thee a letter of reconcilement.

And now, comrade of my heart, do thou have courage.
I also shall be strong as 1 am ardent. Having written
thee, I am cheerful once more ; and when again I may, I
will open the doors of my heart that thou mayst come in.
That heart is thine, Kobert. Thy

Alixe,
who loves thee all her days.

P. S. — I have found the names and places of tlie men
who keep the guard beneath thy window. If there is
chance for freedon) that way, fix the day some time ahead,
and I will see what may be done. A'oban fears nothin
he will act secretly for me.

The next day I arranged for my escape, which had
been long in planning.

XVII.

THROUGH THE uars of the cage.

I SHOULD have tried escape earlier but that it was
little use to venture forth in the harsh winter in a hostile
country. But now^ April had come, and I was keen to
make a trial of my fortune. I had been saving food for
a long time, little by little, and hiding it in the old knap-

TIIUOUGII THE BARS OF THE CAGE.

203

I luivo

ve liid-
lio city
vs ; and
a safe
to be
vill not
him to

toiirage.

written

may, 1

ome in.

LIXE,

le men
ihere is
> aheiul,
otliing ;

oil bad

it was

hostile

seen to

lod for

1 knaj)-

saek wbieli luid held my second suit of clothes. 1 bad
used the little stove for parching my food — Indian corn,
for which 1 had ])rofessi'd Ji fondness to my jailer, and
liberally paid for out of funds which bad been sent me by
^Ir. (lieorge Washington in answer to my letter, and other
moneys to a goodly amount in a letter from (iovernor
Dinwiddle. These letters had been carefully written, and
the ^laniuis do Vandreuil, into whose hands they had
first come, was gallant enough not to wichhold them —
thougli he read them ilrst.

Besides Indian corn, the parching of which amused
me, I bad dried ham and tongue, and bread and cheese,
enough, by frugal use, to last me a month at least. I
knew it would be a lourney of six weeks or more to the
nearest English settlement, but if I could get that month's
start I should forage for the rest, or take my fate as I found
it: I was used to all the turns of fortune now. My
knapsack gradually filled, and meanwhile I slowly worked
my passage into the open world. There was the chance
that my jailer would explore the knapsack ; but after a
time I lost that fear, for it lav nntoucbcd with a blanket
in a corner, and I cared for my cell with m.y own hands.

The real point of danger was the window. There lay
my way. It was stoutly barred with iron up and down,
and the bars were set in the solid limestone. Soon after
J entered this prison I saw that I mnst cut a groove in
the stone from stanchion to stanchion, and tlien, by draw-
ing one to the other, make an oj^ening large enough to
let my l>o(ly tbrougb. For tools I bnd only a miserable
knife with which I cut my victuals, and the smaller but
stouter one which Oabord bad not taken from me. 'J'here
could be no pounding, no chiselling, but oidy rubbing of
the hard stone. So hour after hour I rubbed away, in
constant danger of discovery liowever. ^Fy jailer had
a trick of sudden entrance which would have been gro-

204

THE SEATS OF THE .MIGHTY.

tosqiio liiul it not bt'oii ko serious to inc. To provide
agiiinst the llurrii'd iiujiiisition of his vyo 1 kp[)t iicur me
bread well chewed, with wiiieh I lilli-d the hole, covering
it willi tlie Siind I had ruhbi'd or the ashes of my inpe. I
lived ill dread of these eiit ranees, hut at last I i'ounil that
tliev eiumeed only witiiin certain hours, and I arranged
my times of work aceorilingly. Once or twice, however,
beiui,' im})atient, 1 scratched the stone with some asperity
and noise, and was rewan'.ed bv liearin^' mv fellow stum-
bling in the hall ; for he had as uncertain limbs as ever I
saw. lie stumbled upon iiothinfr, as you have seen a cliild
tri]) itself u]) by tan£rlin^^ of its feet.

The tirst time that he came, ^'oused by tlie ^ratiTi";
noise as he sat below, he stumbled in the verv centre of
the cell, and fell upon his knees. I would liave laughed
if 1 had dared, but 1 yawned over the book I had hastily
snati^hed u]), and {mtVed great whiU's from my })ipe. 1
dreaded Iv-^ he should go to the window. He started for
it, but suddenly nuide foi' my couch, and dragged it away,
as if looking to find a hole dug beneath it. Still I did
not laugh at him, but gravely watched liim ; and present-
ly he went away. At another time I was foolishly harsh
witli my tools; but I knew now the time required by him
to come upstairs, and I swiftly filled tlie groove with
bread, strewed ashes and sand over it, rubbed all smooth,
and was ]»lnnged in my copy of Montaigne when he en-
tered. This time he went straight to the window, looked
at it, tiled the stanchions, and then, with an amused at-
tempt at being cunning and hidiiig his own vigilance, he
asked me. with laborious hypocrisy, if I had seen Captain
Lancy ])ass the window. And so for weeks and weeks
we phxycd hide-and-seek with each other.

At last I had notliing to do but sit and wait, for the
groove was cut, the bar had room to play. I could not
bend it, for it was fast at the top ; but when my hour of

TilUuUUlI TIII^: BARS OF TUP. CAdH. 005

l)n)\ido
iR'ur me
covering'
I)i|)(\ 1
111(1 that
iirniTi^ed
liowover,
ns|)('i'ity
w stiiin-
as ever I
1 a cliild

gratiTi
entre of
laii^Hiod
1 hastily
I)i|)e. I
Li'ted for
it away,
ill ] did
present-
ly luirsh
I by him
)ve with
smooth,
1 he eii-
S looked
used at-
anne, ho
Captain
id weeks

, for the

)nld not

hour of

adventure was oonie, I would tie a handkerchief round I ho
two l)arH and twist it with tlu^ niece of hickorv used for
slirriu<( the lire. Here was my eiii^iiu! of esca])e, and I
waited till April should wind to its (dose, when 1 should,
in the softer weather, try my fortune outside these
walls.

So time went on uniil one eventful day, even the MOth
of April of that year lir)8. It was raininjT and blowing
when I waked, and it ceased not all tlu^ (hiy, c(»ming to a
hailstorm towai'ds ni^dit. I felt sure that my ij^uards
without would relax their vi<^nhince. In the evening I
listened, and heard no voices nor any sound of feet, only
the ])elting rain and the whistling wind. Vet 1 did not
stir till midnight, 'i'hon I sluTig the knapsack in front
of me, so that I could force it through the window first,
and tying my handkerchief round the iron bars, 1 screwed
it up with my stick. Presently the bars came together,
and my way was o})en. T got my body through by dint
of squeezing, and let m.yself go plump into the mire below.
Then I stood still a minute, and listened again.

A light was shining not far away. ])rawing near, I
saw that it came from a small hut or lean-to. Looking
through the cracks, I observed my two gentlemen drows-
ing in the corner. I was eager for their weapons, but I
dared not make the attempt to get them, for they were
laid between their l(\irs, the barrels resting against their
shoulders. I drew back, and for a moment paused to get
mv bearings. Tlien I made for a corner of the vard where
the wall was lowest, and, taking a run jit it, caught the
top, witli dilticulty scrambled up, and spc^edily was over
and floundering in the mud. I knew W(?ll where I was,
and at once started olT in a northwesterly direction,
toward the St. Charles Iviver, making for a certain farm-
house above the town. Yet 1 took care, though it was
dangerous, to travel a street in which was Voban's house.

SCARBOROUGH TOWNSHIP
PUDL.'C LIBRARY

200

TUK SKATS OF 'rilK MKillTV.

»,:

;l.^

It-;

There was no li^'lit in the street iior in his house, nor hml
I seon anv one ahrojul as I eanie, not even a sentineh

I knew where was tlie window ol' the harl)er\s hed-
rooni, and 1 ta[)[)ed upon it softly, instantly 1 iieard a
stir; then tliere came the sound of Hint and steel, then a
light, and ])rcsently a hand at the window, and a voice
asking who was there.

1 gave a quick reply; the light was put out, the win-
dow opened, and tliere was N'oban staring at nie.

"This letter,'' said J, "to iMademoiselle Duvarney,''
and 1 slipped ten louis into his hand also.

The coins he (piickly handed back. " Arsieu','' said
he, "if I take it 1 would seem to myself a traitor — no,
no. P)ut I will give the letter to ma'nrsello."

Then ho asked nic in; but I would not, ^et begged
him, if he could, to have u canoe at my disposjd at a point
below the Falls of ^lontmorenci two nights hence.

*' ^r\sieu'," said he, " I will do so if I can, but I am
watched. I would not pay a sou for my life — no. Yet I
will serve you, if there is a way."

Then I told him what I inennt to d' 'ind bade hitn
repeat it exactly to Alixo. 'JMiis he sw.»re to do, and I
cordially grasped the good wretch's shoulder, and thanked
him with all my heart. I got from him a weapon, also,
and again I put gold louis into his hand, and bade him
keep them, for T might need his kind otlices to spend it
for me. 'I'o this he consented, and I ]»lunged into the
dark again. I had not gone far when I lieard footsteps
coming, and I drew aside into the corner of a poi'ch. A
moment, then the light ilashcd full upon me. I had my
hand upon the hanger I had got from Voban, and I was
ready to strike if there were need, when (Jabord's voice
broke on my ear, and his hand caught at the short sword
by his side.

" 'Tis dickey-bird, alio ! " cried he. There was exul-

■1

(

TITROrOII TIII<: BARS OF TIIK CAdK. 2»)7

tation in lii-? oyo iuid voido. IIito wjih n cliinn'o for liirn
to prove liiiiisclf jiiTHiiist iiic ; lie had proved liiiiiseir for
IMO niori^ than (uwv.

" Hero uas I," aihh'.l lie, " uvakhv^ for M'sieu' Vohan,
that he ini,i;ht come iind hlee(l ;i sick sohlier, wlien who
slioidd coiiK! running but our Mnylish caplain ! Conio
forth, aho!"

".No, (;al)ord," said I, " Fni lumnd for freedom." I
stepped forth. His sword was poised a;L,^ainst mo. I was
intent to make a despei'ati' (i^^lit.

" Marcli on," returned lie, grullly, and I could feel tho
iron in liis voice.

*' Hut not with you, (iabord. ^Fy way lies towards \'ir-
ginia."

1 did not care to strike the fli'st blow, and I made (o
go past him. His lantern came down, and he mad': a
catch at my shoulder. I swung back, threw oil' my cloak
and np my weapon.

Tiien wc fought. My knapsack troubled me, for it
was loose, and kept sliifting. (Jabord made stroke after
stroke, watchful, heavy, offensive, muttering to himself as
ho struck and parried. There was no hatred in his eyes,
but he had the lust of fighting on him, and he was breath-
ing easily and could have kei)t this up for hours. As
wo fouixht I heard a clock strike one in a house near.
Then a cock crowed. T had received two sliglit wounds,
and 1 had not touched mv enemv. liut I was swifter,
and I came at him suddenly with a rush, and struck for
his left shoulder when I saw my chance. I felt the steel
strike tho bono. As I did so he caught my wrist and
lunged most fiercely at me, dragging me to him. The
blow^ stnudv straight at my side, but it went through the
knapsack, which had swung loose, and so saved my life;
for another instant and I had tripped him np, and he lay
bleeding badly.

208

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

"Alio! 'twas a fair iigbt," said he. " Xow get you
gone. I call for help."

"I can not leave you so, (Jabord," said I. I stooped
and lifted u]) his head.

" Then you shall go to citadel," said he, feeling for his
small triunpet.

" ]S 0, no," I answered ; " TU go fetch A\)l)an."

" To bleed me more ! " quoth he whimsically ; and I
knew well he was pleased 1 did not leave him. " Xay,
kick against yonder door. It is (;a})taiii Lancy's."

At that Mioment a window opened, and Jjancy's voice
v.'as heiU'd. AVithout a word 1 seized the soldier's lan-
tern and my cloak, aiul made away as hard as 1 could go.

" ril have a winix of vou for lantern there I " rcjared
Gabord, swearing roundly as I ran off with it.

Witli all my might 1 hurried, and was soon outside the
town, and coming fast to the farmhouse about two miles
beyond. Xearini]: it, I hid the lantern beneath my cloak
and made for an outhouse. The door was not locked, and
I passed in. Thei-e was a loft nearly full of hay, and I
crawled up and dug [i hole far down against the side of
the building, and climbed in, bringing with me for di'ink
a nest of hen's eggs which I found in the corner. Th(^
warmth of the dry hay was comforting, and after caring
for my wounds, which I found were but scratches, I had
somewliat to eat from my knapsack, drank up two eggs,
and then coiled myself for slec];. It was my purpose, if
iiot discovered, to stay where I was two days, and then to
luake for the point below the Falls of >rontnu.)renci vvhere
I hoped to find a canoe C)f Voban's placing.

When I wak(Ml it must have been near noon, so I lay
still for a time, listening to the cheerful noise of fowls and
cattle in the yard without, aud to the clacking of a hen
above me. T'he air smelt very sweet. I also heard my
unknowing host, at whose table I had once sat, two years

THROUGH THE BARS OF THE CAGE.

209

get you
I stooped

ig for his

y ; and I

^. ":sjiv,

3y's voice
ier's hiu-

Duld 2'0.

" r(Jiired

:tside tlie
wo niiloo
my cloak
dvcd, and
IV, and I
le side of
'or driidv
er. 'i'ho
'r caring
\s, I had

^WO Q^g^,

irpose, if
I tlien to
ici rvhere

so I liiy
awls and
)f a hen
card my
kvo years

before, talking with his son, who had just come over from
Q,uebec, bringing news of my escape, together with a won-
derful story of the fight between Gabord and myself. It
had, by his calendar, lasted some three hours, and both of
us, in the end, fought as we lay upon the ground. "But
presently along comes a cloaked figure, with horses, and
he lifts ni'sieu' the ]^]nglishman upon one, and away they
ride like the devil towards St. Charles River and Beau-
port. Gabord was tjiken to the hospital, and he swore
that Englishnuin would not have got av/ay if stranger had
not fetched him a crack with a pistol-butt which sent him
dumb and dizzy. And there M'sieu' Lancy sleep snug
through :'l until the horses ride away !"

The farmer and his son laughed heartily, with many a
" IW Gar ! " their sole English oath. Then came the news
that six thousand livres were olTered for me, dead or liv-
ing, the drums beating far and near to tell the people so.

The farmer gave a long whistle, and in a great bustle
set to calling all his family to arm themselves and join
with him "n this treasure-hunting. I am sure at least a
dozen were at the task, searching all about ; nor did they
neHect the loft where I lav. But I had dug far down,
drawing the hay over rne as I went, so that they must
needs liave l)een keen to smell me out. After about three
hours' poking 5d)out over all the farm, they met again
outside this building, aiul T could hear their gabble plainly.
The smallest among them, the piping chore-boy, he was
for spitting me witliout mercy; and the milking-lass
would toast nie with a hay-fork, that she would, and six
thousand livres should set her up forever.

In the midst of their rattling cinne two soldiers, who
ordered them about, and with much blustering began
searching here and there, and chucking the maids uiuler
the chins, as 1 could tell by their little bursts of laughter
and the " La m'sieu's ! " which trickled through the hay.

210

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

I am sure that one sucli little episode saved me ; for I
heard a soldier just above me poking and tossing hay with
iiiicomfortable vigour. But presently the amorous hunter
turned his thoughts elsewhere, and I was left to myself,
and to a late breakfast of parched beans, and bread, and
raw eggs, after Avhieh I lay and thought ; and the sum of
the thinking was that I would stay where I was till the
firt't wave of the hunt had passed.

Near midnight of the second day I came out secretly
from my lurking-place, and faced straight for the St.
Charles liiver. Finding it at high water, I plunged in,
with my knapsack and cloak on my head, and made my
way across, reaching the oi)posite shore safely. After
going two miles or so, I discovered friendly covert in the
woods, where, in si)ite of my cloak and dry cedar boughs
wrapped round, I shivered as 1 lay until the morning.
When the sun came up, I drew out ; and af ier I was dry
again I crawled back into my nest and fell into a broken
sleep. Many times during the day I heard the horns of
my hunters, and voices near me more than once. But 1
had crawled into the liollow of a half-uprooted stump, and
the cedar branches, which had been cut off a day or two
before, were a screen. I could see soldiers here and tiiere,
armed and swaggering, and faces of peasants and shop-
keepers wliom I knew.

A function was being made of my escape ; it was a
hunting-feast, in which women were as eager as their hus-
bands and their brothers. There was something devilish
in it, when you come to think of it : a whole town roused
and al)r()ad to hunt down one poor fugitive, whose oidy
sin was, in themselves, a virtue — loyalty to his country. 1
saw women armed with sickles and iron forks, and lads
bearing axes and hickory poles cut to a point like a spear,
while blunderbusses were in plenty. Now and again a
wea])on was fired, and, to watch their motions and peep-

THROUGH THE BARS OF THE CAGE.

211

e ; for I
hay with
s liiinter
I myself,
ead, and
e sum of
s till the

. secretly

the 8t.

uged in,

lade my

After

rt in the

I' boughs

Homing.

was dry

I broken

liorns of

But I

mp, and

y or two

id tiiere,

id shop-

it was a
leir h US-
devilish
i\ roused
ose only
mtry. I
md lads
a s])ear,
again a
id peep-

ings, it might have been thought I was a dragon, or that
they all were hunting La Jongleuse, their fabled witch,
whose villainies, are they not told at every fireside ?

Often I shivered violently, and anon I was burning
hot ; my adventure had given me a chill and fever. Late
in the evening of this day, my hunters having drawn off
with as little sense as they had hunted me, I edged cau-
tiously down past Beauport and on. to the Montmorenci
Falls. I came along in safety, and reached a spot near
the point where Voban was to hide the boat. The high-
way ran between. I looked out cautiously. I could hear
and see nothing, and so I ran out, crossed the road, and
pushed for the woods on the banks of the river. I had
scarcely got across when I heard a shout, and looking
round I saw three horsemen, who instantly spurred to-
wards me. I sprang through the underbrush, and came
down roughly into a sort of quarry, spraining my ankle
on a pile of stones. I got up quickly ; but my ankle
hurt me sorely, and I turned sick and dizzy. lamping
a little way, I set my back against a tree and d^'ew my
hanger. As I did so, the three gentlemen burst in upon
me. They were General Montcalm, a gentleman of the
Governor's household, a^d Doltaire !

" It is no use, dear captain," said Doltaire. " Yield
up your weapon."

General Montcalm eyed me curiously, as the other
gentleman talked in low, excited tones ; and presently
he made a gesture of courtesy, for he saw that I was
hurt. Doltaire's face wore a malicious smile ; but when
he noted how sick T was, he came and offered me his arm,
and was constant in courtesy till I was set upon a horse ;
and with him and the General riding beside me I came
to my new imprisonment. They both forbore to torture
me with words, for I was suffering greatly ; but they
fetched me to the Chateau St. Louis, follcwed by a crowd.

212

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

who hooted at mc. Doltiiiro turued on them at last, and
stopped them.

The Governor, whose petty vanity was roused, showed
a foolish fury at seeing me, and straightway ordered me
to the citadel again.

" It's useless kicking "gainst the pricks," said Doltaire
to me cynically, as I ]>assed out limping between two sol-
diers ; but I did not reply. In another half hour of bit-
ter journeying I found myself in my dungeon. I sank
upon the old couch of straw, untouched since I had left
it; and when the door shut upon me, desponding, aching
in all my body, now feverish and now shivering, my ankle
in great pain, 1 could bear up no longer, and I bowed my
head and fell a-weeping like a woman.

XVIII.

TTIE STEEP PATH OF COXQUEST.

Xow I am come to a period on which I shall not dwell,
nor repeat a tale of suffering greater than that I had yet
endured. All the first night of this new imprisonment
I tossed on my wretched bed in pain and misery. A
strange and surly soldier came and went, bringing bread
and water ; but when I asked that a physician be sent me,
he replied, with a vile oath, that the devil should be my
only surgeon. Soon he came again, accompanied by an-
other soldier, and put irons on me. With what quietness
I could I asked him by whose orders this was done ; but
he vouchsafed no rei)ly save that I was to " go bound to
fires of hell."

" There is no journeying there," I answered ; " here is
the place itself."

Then a chain was roughly put round my injured

THE STEEP PATH OP CONQUEST.

213

last, and

, showed
ered me

Doltaire
two soi-
r of bit-
I sank
bad left
, acliing
ly aukle
I wed my

>t dwell,
had yet
lonmeiit
ery. A
ig bread
!ent me,
i be my
. by an-
iiietness
ne ; but
ound to

' here is

injured

ankle, and it gave me such agony that I turned sick, but
I kept back groaning, for 1 would not have these varlets
catch me quaking.

" I'll have you grilled for this one day," said I. " You
are no men, but butchers. Can you not see my ankle has
been sorely hurt ? "

" You are for killing," was the grulT reply, " and here's
a taste of it."

With that he drew the chain with a jerk round the
hurt member, so that it drove me to madness. I cauixht
him by the throat and hurled him back agaiust the wall,
and, snatching a pistol from his comrade's belt, aimed it at
his head. I was beside myself with pain, and if he had
been further violent I should straightway have shot him.
llis fellow dared not stir in his defence, for the pistol was
trained on him too surely ; and so at last the wretch,
promising better treatment, crawled to his feet, and made
motion for the pistol to be given him. But I would not
yield it, telling him it should be a guarantee of truce.
Presently the door closed behind them, and I sank back
upon the half-fettered chains.

I must have sat for more than an hour, when there
was a noise without, and there entered the commandant,
the jMarquis de Montcalm, and the Seigneur Duvarney.
Tlie pistol was in my hand, and I did not put it down,
but struggled to my feet, and waited for tliem to speak.

For a moment there was silence, and then the com-
numdant said, " Your guards have brought me word. Mon-
sieur le Capitaine, that you are violent. You have re-
sisted them, and have threatened them with their own
pistols "

" With one pistol, monsieur le commandant," an-
swered I. Then, in bitter words, I told them of my treat-
ment by those rascals, and I showed them how my ankle
had been tortured. " I have no fear of death," said I,
15

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

((

but I will not lie and lot dogs bite me with ' I thank yon.*

ce; it is a damned brutality to

Death should come but once ; it is a ciamn
make one die a hundred and yet live — the work of Turks,
not Christians! If you want my life, why, take it and
have done."

Tlie ^larcjuis de Montcalm whispered to the command-
ant. The Seigneur Duvarney, to whom I had not yet
spoken, nor he to me, stood leaning against the wall, gaz-
ing at me seriously and kindly.

Presently Ramesay, the Commandant, spoke, not un-
kindly : " It was ordered you should wear chains, but not
that you should be maltreated. A suro-eon shall be sent
to you, and this chain shall be taken from your ankle.
]\[eanwhile, your guards shall he changed."

I hold out the pistol, and he took it. " I can not hope
for justice here," said I, " but men are men, and not dogs,
and I ask for humane usage till my hour comes and my
country is your jailer."

The Marquis smiled, and his gay eyes sparkled.
"Some find comfort in daily bread, and some in prophe-
cy," ho rejoined. " One should envy your spirit. Captain
Moray."

" Permit me, your Excellency," replied I ; " all Eng-
lishmen must envy the spirit of the ^larquis de Montcalm,
though none is envious of his cause."

He bowed gravely. " Causes are good or bad as they
are ours or our neighbours'. The lion has a good cause
when it goes hunting for its young ; the deer has a good
cause when it resists the lion's leap upon its fawn."

I did not reply, for I felt a faintness coming; and nt
that moment the Seigneur Duvarney came to me and
put his arm through mine. A dizziness seized me, my
head sank upon his shoulder, and I felt myself floating
avv^ay intj darkness, while from a great distance came a
voice :

THE STEEP PATH OP CONt^UEST.

215

hank you.'

rutulity to

of Turks,

ike it and

com man d-
d not yet
i wall, gaz-

0, not un-
is, but not
all be sent
Dur ankle.

1 not ho})0
L not dogs,
!S and niv

sparkled,
in pro})lie-
it, Captain

"all Eng-
Montcalni,

»ad as thev
^ood cause
has a good
vn."

ig; and ni
;o me and
'd mo, my
If floating
ice came a

" It had been kinder to have ended it last year."

" He nearly killed your son, Duvarney." This was the
voice of the Marquis in a tone of surprise.

" lie saved my life, iMarquis," was the sorrowful reply.
" 1 have not paid back those forty pistoles, nor ever can,
in s])ite of all."

" Ah, pardon me, seigneur," was the courteous rejoin-
der of the General.

That was all 1 heard, for 1 had entered the land of
complete darkness. When I came to, 1 found that my
foot had been bandaged, there was a torch in the wall,
and by my side something in a jug, of which I drank,
according to directions in a surgeon's hand on a paper
beside it.

I was easier in all my body, yet miserably sick still,
and 1 remained so, now shivering and now burning, a
racking pain in my chest. My couch was lilled witli fresh
straw, but in no other wise was my condition altered from
the first time I had entered this place. My now jailer
was a man of no feeling that 1 could see, yet of no vio-
lence or cruelty ; one whose life was like a wheel, doing
the eternal round. He did no more nor less than his
orders, and 1 made no complaint nor asked any favour.
Xo one came to me, no message found its way.

Full three months went by in this fashion, and then,
one day, who should step into my dungeon, torch in hand,
but Oabord ! lie raised the light above his head, and
looked down at me quizzically.

" Upon my soul — Gabord ! " said 1. " 1 did not kill
vou, then?"

" Upon your soul and upon your body, you killed not
Gabord."

"And what now, quarrelsome Gabord?" 1 questioned
cheerfully.

He shook some keys. " Back again to dickey-bird's

216

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

cage. 'Look you,' quotli (Jovcrnor, '- who will guui'd uiul
bait tliis prisoiior like the inaii he inaulcd V ' 'No one,'
quoth a lady who staiuls by (ntvi-ruor's ohair. And she it
was who had (Joveriior send me here — even .Ma'm'sello
Duvarney. And she it was who made Ciovernor loose oil'
these chains."

lie began to free me from tlio chains. I was in a vile
condition. The irons had made sores npon my wrists and
legs, my limbs now trembled so beneath me that I could
scarcely walk, and my head was very light and dizzy at
times. J'resently Ciabord ordered a new bed of straw
brought in; and from that hour we returned to our old
relations, as if there had not been between us a fight to
the death. Of wliat was going on abroad he would not
tell me, and soon I found myself in as ill a state as before.
No Voban came to me, no Doltaire, no one at all. I sank
into a deep silence, dro|)])ed out of a busy world, a riursel
of earth slowly comiiig to Mother Earth again.

A strange apathy began to settle on me. All those
resources of my first year's imj)risonment had gone, and I
was alone: my mouse was dead; there was no liistory of
my life to write, no incident to break the pitiful monot-
ony. There seemed only one hope: that our army under
Amherst would invest Quebec and take it. I had no news
of any movement, winter again was here, and it must lie
five or six months before any action could successfully be
taken; for the St. Lawrence was frozen over in winter,
and if the city was to be seized it must be from the water,
with simultaneous action by land.

1 knew the way, the only way, to take the city. At
Sillery, west of tiie town, there was a hollow in the cliffs,
up which men, secretly conveyed above the town by water,
could climb. At the to]) was a plateau, smooth and line as
a parade-ground, where battle could be given, or move be
made upon the city and citadel, which lay on ground no

THE STEKP PATH OP CONQUEST.

217

lurd and
No oiu','
ml slie it
ii'm'sL'llo
loooc olT

ill {I vile

lists Mild

I could

dizzy ut

of straw

) our old

- flijlit to

ould not

IS before.

I sank

a Ti).>rsel

Ml those
tie, and I
listory of
1 monot-
iiy under
no news
must be
isfully be
1 winter,
lie water,

3ity. At
:lie clilTs,
by water,
id tine as
move be
ound no

liii^dier. Then, with the gnns playin.s^ on the town from
the lU'ct, and from the Levis shore with forces on the
Beauport side, attack in;j^ the lower town where was the
Intendant's palace, the great fortress might be taken and
Canada be ours.

T'his passage up the clilT side at Sillery I had discovered
three years befoi'e.

When winter set well in CJabord brought me , blanket,
aiid thouirh last year I had not needed it, now it was most
grateful. I had been fed for months on bread and water,
as iu my first imprisonment, but at last — whether by
orders or not, I never knew — he brought me a little meat
every day, and some wine also. Yet I did not care for
them, and often left them nntasted. A hacking cough
had never left me since my attcm})t at escape, and I was
miserably thin and so weak that 1 could hardly drag my-
self about my dun£::eon. So, many weeks of the Avinter
went on, and at last I was not able to rise from my bed of
straw, and could do little more than lift a cup of water to
mv lii)s and nibble at some bread. I felt that mv hours
were numbered.

At last, one day I heard commotion at my dungeon
door; it opened, and Gabord entered and closed it after
liiin. lie came and stood over me, as with dilliculty I
lifted myself upon my elbow.

" Come, try your wings," Sidd he.

" It is the end, Gabonl ?" asked I.

" Xot paradise yet ! " said he.

'■Then I am free?" I asked.

" Free from tliis dungeon," he answered cheerily.

I raised myself and tried to stand upon my feet, but
fell back. He helped me to rise, and 1 rested an arm on
his shoulder.

I ti'ied to walk, but a faintuess came over me, and I
sank back. Then (Jabord laitl me down, went to the

218

THE SEATS OF TIIK MUIIITY.

door, and nulled in two soldit'i'H with a iimttrcss. i was
wrapped in my cloak and bhudvt'ts, laid thori'on, and so
was borne forth, nil cov(M'(m1 even to my weak eyes. 1
was placed in a slciiih, ami as tho horses sprang away,
the clear sleigh bells rang out, and a gun from the ram-
parts was fired to give the noon hour, 1 sank into uncon-
sciousness.

XIX.

A DAXSEUSE AND THE BASTILE.

Recoyerixg, I found myself lying on a concli, in a
large, well-lighted room hung about with pictures and
adorned with troi)hies of the hunt. A wide window faced,
the foot of the bed where I lay, and through it I could
see — though the light hui't 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, lie felt my pulse ; then stopped and put
his ear to my chest, and listened long.

*' Is there great danger?" asked I.

"The trouble Avould ])ass," said he, "if you WTre
stronger. Your life is worth lighting for, but it will be a
struggle. That dungeon was slow jioison. You must
have a barber," added he ; " yon 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.

A DANSEUSE AXD THE BASTILE.

219

awuy,

IIo shook liis liejul. "1 jun but Ji surgeon," lie an-
swered shortly, mcaiiwliile writing with u ilourish on a
piece of pajjer. AViien lu' hiul linisheil, he handed tlie
paper to the soldier witli an order. Then he turned to go,
politely bowing to nie, but came again and said, "I would
not, were 1 you, trouble to plan escape these months yet.
This is a comfortable prison, but it is easier coming in
than going out. Your ndnd and body need (juiet. You
have, we know, a taste for adventure" — he smiled — "but
is it wise to light a burning powder magazine?"

" Thank you, monsieur," said I, " 1 am myself laying
the fuse to that magazine. It lights for nie by-and-
bye."

]le shrugged a shoulder. " Drink," said he, with a
professional air wliicli almost set me laughing, "good
milk and brandy, and think of nothing but that you are
a lucky man to have this sort of i)rison."

He bustled out in an important way, shaking his head
and talking to himself. Tapi)ing the chest of a bulky
soldier who stood outside, he said brusquely, " Too fat, too
fat; you'll come to apoplexy. (Jo figlit the English, lazy
rullian!"

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 aiul night come down. I
was taken to a small alcove wliich 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 np 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 at-
tend me, and I questioned him : but he said he had orders

220

THE SEATS OF THE MIOHTV.

from miulomoiscllo tluit !io was to tell nothing — tliat slio,
as soon an sho could, would visit u\(\

About (liiTi; hours jifUT this, as I lay upon tlie couch
in tlie largo room, clean and well shaven, the door opened,
and sonic one entered, saving to my guard, " Vou will re-
nuiiu outside. I have the (iovernor's order."

I knew the voice; an instant, and 1 saw tlie face sinn-
ing with exjtectancy, the eyes eager, yet timid, a small
white hand pressed to a i>ulsing breast — my one true
friend, the jailer of my heart!

For a moment she was all trembling and excited, her
hand softly clutcdung at my shoulder, tears dripping from
her eyes and falling on my cheek, as hers lay pressed to
mine ; but [)rcsently she grew calm, and her face was lifted
with a smile, and, brushing ])iwk some Hying locks of hair,
she said in a tone most (piaint and touching too, " Poor
gentleman ! [)0or English jyrisoner ! ]K)or hidden lover! I
ought not, I ought not," sho added, "show mv feel-
ings thus, nor excite you so." My hand was trembling
on hers, for in trutli I was very weak. " It was my pur-
pose," she continued, " to come most ((iiietly to yon, but
there are times when one must cry out or the heart will
burst."

I spoke then as a man may avIio has been delivered
from bondage into the arms of love. She became very
quiet, looking at me in her grave, sweet way, her deep
cv'\s shining with sincerity.

"Honest, honest eyes," said I—" eyes that never de-
ceive and never were deceived."

"All tliis in spite of what you do not know," she an-
swered. For an instant a lo(^k elllsli 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

A DAXSKUsr: ANT) THE nASTTLn.

221

tliiit slio,

\o roucli
' opciied,
I will re-

;u'0 sliiii-

!i Kiniill

)no true

:ito(l, licr
ing from
reast'd to
•lis lifteil
i of liair,
I, " Poor
over ! 1
nv fool-
'ombling
my piir-
von, l)iit
eart will

lolivcred
,me very
ler deep

over de-
she ali-
ke came
1 in the

iigei\<i.

^ hardly

to toueli the p^roimd, lier ])ody swaying like u tall flower
ill tiie wind, her face all light and lire. 1 was charnied,
fascinated. I felt my sleepy hlood stirring to tlie delicate
rise and fall of her bosom, the light of hci- eyes llasliiiig a
dozen colours. 'JMicrc was scarce a sound; her steps could
not be heard across the room.

All at once she broke oil 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.

" liobert," said she, "can you, do you, trust me even
Avhen vou see me at such witchery V"

" 1 trust you always," answered I. "Such witcheries
are no evils that 1 can see."

She put her linger u| >\i my lips, with a kind of bash-
fulness. " llush, till 1 tell you where and when I danced
like that, and then, and then "

81: settled down in a low chair. " I have at least an
hour," she continued. "'J'he (Jovernor 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 iiiu:hl, last autumn there was a grand dinner at
the Intembmce. Such gentlemen as my father were not
asked; only the roisterers and hard drinkers, and gam-
])ling friends of the Tntendant. You would know^ the sort
of npspring it would be. Well, I was sitting in my win-
dow, looking down into the gardc^i. for the moon was
shining. Presently T saw a man ap])ear b'^low, glance up
towards me, and beckon. ItwasVoban. I hurried down
to liim, and he told me that there had bin-n a wild carous-
ing at the palace, and that ten gentlemen had determined,
for a wicked sport, to mask 1 1 icjn selves, go to the citadel
at midnight, fetch yon forth, and make you run the gant-

222

THE SEATS or TIIxO MIGHTY.

let in the yard of tlie Inteiiduncc, and afterwards set you
lighting for your Ife witli another jirisoner, a common
criminal. To this, Bigot, heated with wine, had made no
objotion. 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 dis-
cuss matters of war witii the Council.

*' There was but one thing to do — get word to Gen-
eral ]\[ont('aIm. lie was staying at the moment with the
Seigneur I'ipon at his manor by the Montmorenci Falls.
lie must needs be sought tliere : he would never allow this
shameless thing. !So I bade A'oban go thither at once,
getting a horse from any quarter, and to ride as though
for his life, lie promised, and left me, and I returned
to my room to think. A\>ban had told m thut his news
came from Bigot's valet, who is his close friend. This 1
knew, and I knew the valet too, for I had seen something
of him wiien my brotlicr lay wounded at the palace. Un-
der the best Lurcumstances General ]\Iontcalm could not
arrive within two hours. Meanwhile, these miserable men
might go on tlieir dreadful expedition. Something must
be done to gain time. I racked my brain for minutes, cill
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 quietly and religiously, though many trials have been
made to bring her talents into service; and the Intend-
ant h;is made many efCortt: to have her dance in the ])alace
for his guests. P)ut she would not.

"^ladame Lotbinicre had come to know Jamond, and
ohe arranged, after much persuasion, for lessons in danc-
ing to be given to Lucy, myself, and Georgette. To me

A DANSEUSE AND THE BASTILE.

223

(Is set you
L common
I made no
lie had, it
li country.
me to dis-

i to Gen-
t with the
jnci Falls,
allow this
r at once,
as though
' returned
t his news
1. This 1
something
ace. Un-
co aid not
■rable men
liing must
inuf es, till
plan came

1, a great
tiows, save
m France.
;o, she has
have been
e Intend-
the palace

nond, and
1 in danc-
1. To me

the dancing was a keen delight, a passion. As I danced
I saw and feit 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 ily'ug 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 Inirsh 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 trav-
elled 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 chansfc mv 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 ilame, and voices that kept crying,
' 'J'he 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 said, " I .ancied I was before a
king and his court, dancing for my life or for another's.
Oh, how 1 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
cars of hounds that gaped at me, while the king's fool at
first made mock at me, and tlie face of a man behind the
king's chair smiled like Satan— or ^Nfoi^sicur Doltaire!
Ah, Koberl, I knoAV 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

224

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

hear from mc some day lior history — a sad one indeed ;
a woman sinned agriinst, not sinning, lint these lessons
went on seci'etly, for I was snre, if j)eoi)le knew how
warmly I followed this recreation, they wonld set it down
to wiKnl desire to be singnlar — or worse. It gave me new
interest in lonely days. So the weeks went on.

" Well, that wieked night I sent Voban to Ceneral
Montcalm, and, as 1 said, a thonght caine to me: I would
lind Jamond, beg her to mask herself, go to the Intend-
ance and dance before the gentlemen there, keei)ing
them amused until the General came, as I was sure he
would at my suggestion, for he is a just man and a gener-
ous. All my jx'oplc, even (Jeorgette, were abroad at a
soiree, and would not be home till late. So I souiiht Ma-
thilde, and she hurried wiili me, my poor daft protector,
to Jamond's, whose house is very near the bisho})''s palace.
" We were at once admitted to Jamond, who was lvii;'»-
npoii a coucli. I hurriedly told her what I wished her to
do, what was at stake, everything but that 1 loved you;
laving mv interest ni)oii humanitv and to vour havin^•
saved my father's life. She looked troubled at once, and
then t()ok my face in lier hands. 'Dear child,' she said,
' 1 understand. You have sorrow too young — too young.''
'P)Ut you will do tiiis for me?' I cried. She shook her
head sadly. ' I can not. I am lame these two days,' slie
answered. ' T have had a sprain.' I sank on the floor be-
side her, sick and dazt^d. She put ]\er hand pitifully on
my head, then lifted up my chin, fjooking into her eyes,
I read a thought there, and 1 got to my feet with a spi'ing.
' I mvself will a'o,' said 1 ; ' I will dance there till the (Jen-
eral comes.' She put out her hand in protest. ' Vou
must not,' she nrged. 'Think: you may be discovered,
and then the ruin that must come I'

'"] shall ])ut my tiaist in (Jod,' said 1. 'T have no
fear. 1 will do this thing.' She caught me to her breast.

A DANSEUSE AND THE BASTILE.

225

indeed ;
!se lessons
inew how
it it down
vo me new

Cenerul
: I would

Intend-
, keeping
ls sure he
d a gener-
ro.'id lit {I
)ugiit Ma-
proteetoi',
[is paliiee.

was Ivii'.'^
led lier to
oved you ;
Lir having
once, and
' she said,
10 young.''
diook luT
davs 'slic
e floor he-
itifully on
) her eyes,

1 a s])i'iiig.
1 the (I'en-
=;t. ' You
.iscovercd,

[ have U(»
icr breast.

' Then God bo with you, child,' was her answer ; ' you
sludl 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 litted me well, and with the wig the
colour of her hair, brought quickly from her boxes, and
use of paints which actors use, I was transformed. In-
deed, I coi'ld 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. Slie walked lame, and must
use a stick, and we issued forth towards the Intendance,
]\Iathilde remaining behind.

"AVhen we got to the palace, and were admitted, I
asked for the Intendant's valet, and we stood waiting in
tlie cold hall until he was brought. ' We come from Voban
the barber,' I whispered to hiui, for there were servants
near ; and ho led us at once to his private room. lie did
iu)t 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 com-
plaisance, but his face was troubled. ' You come from
Monsieur Voban ? ' lie inquired. ' Ei'om ^Monsieur Voban,'
answered I. ' lie has gone to General Montcalm.' His
face fell, and a kin<l 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, i)leas('d at his own penetration. 'You
will take me at once to the diiiing-hall,' said I, nodding.
' They are in the Chambrc de la Joie,' he rejoined. ' Then
the Chamber de la Joie,' said I; and he led the way.
When we came near to the chamber I said to him, ' Y^ou

22G

THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY.

will tell the Iiitendaiit that a lady of some gifts in danc-
ing would entertain his guests ; but she must come and
go without exchange of individual courtesies and at her
own will.

" He opened the door of the chamber, and we followed
him; for just inside there was 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 socii-tv, with the shoAV of decorum
about them, loosed now from all restraint, and swagger-
ing like woodsmen at a fair. I felt a sudden fear, and
drew jack 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 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 the blood fly
back and forth in my heavt with great violence, and I
leaned against the oak screen for support. ' Courage I '
said tlie voice of Jamond in my ear, VAid 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 to
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 wel-
come me. Welcome from Francois Biirot to a dancinof-

ill danc-
jonio tiiid
id at her

followed
reen, and
therein,
from the
: carousal
entlemcn
decorum
swagger-
fear, and
r even as
L or more
alf-secrot
k in his
blood fly
:e, and I
'Ourage I '
3d myself

) men in
oor, and
'essieurs,'
le makes

be let to
'essieurs,'

and my

ul ! ' and
nee door,
the door
if to wel-
dancing-

A DANSEITSE AND THE BASTILE.

227

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.
Tlie room shone brilliantly, yet just under tlie great can-
opy, 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, unnat-
ural eyes.

" Once there I was changed. I did not think of the
applause that greeted me, the murmurs of surprise, ap-
probation, 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-olf picture.
^[y mind was caught away into that world which I had
created for myself when I danced, and these rude gentle-
men were but visions. All sense of indignity passed from
me. I was only a woman fighting for a life and for her
own and another's happiness.

"As I danced I did not know how time passed — jnly
that I must keep those men where they were till General
^lontcalm 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, some-
times so silent that I could hear their breathing only,
sometimes making a great applause, which passed into
silence agiiin quickly. Once, as I wheeled, I caught the
eyes of Jamond watchino: me closely. The Intendant
never stirred from his seat, and scarcely moved, but kept
his eyes fixed on me. Xor did he applaud. There was
sometliing painful in his immovability.

" I saw it all as in a dream, yet I did see it, and I was

228

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

resolute to ti-iumph over the wicked designs of buse and
abandoned men. I feared that my power to hold them
nuglit sto[) before help eame. Onee, in a slight ])ause,
when a great noise of their hands and a rattling of scab-
bards on the table gave me a short respite, some one —
Captain Lancy, I thiidv — snatched up a glass, and called
on all to driidv my health.

"'Jamond! Jamond!' was the cry, and they drank,
the Intendant himself standing u}), and touching the glass
to his lips, then sitting down again, silent and immovable
as before. One gentlemim, a nephew of the Ciievidier de
la Darante, came swaying towards me with a glass of wine,
begging me in a llippant courtesy to drink; but I waved
him back, and the Intenihmt said most curtly, ' ^lonsieur
de la Darante will remember my injunction.'

" xVgain I danced, aiul I can not tell you with what
anxietv and desperation ! — for there must be an end to it
before long, and your peril, liobert, come again, unless
these rougli fellows elianged their minds. Moment after
moment went, aiul though I had danced beyond reason-
able limits. T still seemed to get new strength, as I hav(?
heard men s;iy, in iigliting, they 'come to their second
wiiul.' At last, at the end of the most famous step that
Jamoiul had tauglit me, 1 stood still for a moment to re-
newed ap[tlause; and I must have wound these men up
to excitement beyond all sense, for they would not be dis-
suaded, but swarmed towards the dais where I was, and
some calleil on me to remove my mask.

"Then tlie rntendant came down among them, bid-
ding them stand l)ack, and himself moved towards me. I
felt afTright(Ml, 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 quickly to me with a mannered court-

A DANSEUSE AND THE BASTILE.

220

juse and
Id them
t pause,
of scab-
e one —
id called

1 drank,
^lie glass
movable
I'alier de
of wine,
I waved
lonsieur

itli what
ind to it
1, unless
lit after
reason-
's I have
• second
te]) that
nt to re-
men up
t be dis-
rt'as, and

2m, bid-
3 me. I
, and so,
did not
ce — and
it. But
id court-

esy, and said in my ear, ' Madame, you have won all our
hearts; will you not accept some hospitality — a glass of
wine and a wing of partridge, in a room where none sliall
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 pro-
test, 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 ovm, 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-
comer had seen the matter, and I stopped short, dum-
founded — for it was Monsieur Doltaire ! lie was stand-
ing 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, ' Ilis Excellency will present me to his distin-
guished 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, lie 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 wonder-
ful 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
IG

230

THE SEATS OF THE MKWITV.

also. ' 1 luive j)i'<)iiiisc'cl to protect iiuuhiino from indi-
yiduul courtesy wliilo liero,' lie* stiitl. Monsieur Doltiiire
looked at him keenly. ' Then your Excellency must build
stone walls about yourself,' he rejoined, with cold em])ha-
sis. 'Sometimes great men are foo'ish. To-night your-
Excellency would have let' — here he raised his voice so
that all could liear — 'your Excellency would have let a
dozen cowardly gentlemen drag a dying prisoner from his
prison, forcing back his Majesty's ollicers at the dungeon
doors, and, aftec baiting, have matched him against a
common ciiminal. That was unseemly in a great man
and a King's chif I olhcer, the trick of a low law-breakei-.
Your Excellency promised a lady lo protect her from
individual courtesy, if she gave pleasure — a ])leasure be-
yond price — to you and your guests, and you would hjive
broken your word without remorse. General Moiitcalm
has sent a company of men to set your Excellency right
•t 1 on(^ direction, and I am come to set you right in the
other.'

"The Intendant was white with rage, lie muttered
*5omething between his teeth, then said aloud, ' Presently
we will talk more of thi^, monsieur. You measure
strength with Franc/ois Bigot : we will see winch proves
the stronger in the end.' 'In the end the unj'ist steward
kneels for mercy to his master,' was Monsieur Doltaire's
quiet answer; and then he made a cou'teous gesture
towards the door, aiul T went to it with him slowly, won-
dering what the end would he. Once at the other side of
the screen, he peered iiu.o Jamomrs face for an instant,
then he gave a low whisth. ' Y^ou have an apt pupil, Ja-
moiul, one who miglit he your rival one day,' said he.
Still thei'e was a puzzled look on his face, wnich did not
leave it till he saw Jamond walking. 'Ah yes,' he added,
' I see now. Y'ou are lame. This was a desperate jet suc-
cessful expedient.'

)iu iiitli-

Doltaire

Dst build

I oinj)hji-

ght your-

voice so

live let a

from his

dungeon

igainst ti

reat man

'-breaker.

Iier from

asure be-

ould have

VI on t calm

!ncy right

it in tlie

muttered
Presently
measure
h proves
t steward
Doltaire's

gesture
wly, won-
er side of
w iustant,
pnpil, da-
said he.
h did not
he addf'd,
;e vet sue-

A DANSEUSE AND TIFE BASTILR.

231

" Tie did not speak to me, but led the way to where, at
the great door, was the Intendant's valet standing witli
my cloak. Taking it from him, he put it round luy
shoulders. ' The sleigh by which I came is at the door,'
he said, 'and I will take you home.' 1 knew not wluit to
do, for I feared some des})erate act on his part to possess
me. I determined tliat 1 would not leave Janiond, in any
case, aiul I felt for a weapon which I had hidden in my
dress. We had not, however, gone a half dozen paces in
the entran'',e hall '.vhen iliere were quick steps behind,
and four soldiers came towards lis, with an ollicer at their
head — an otlicer 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 ollicer replied by handing monsieur a paper.
Monsieur's hand dropped to his sword, but in a momeiit
he gave a short, sharj) Uiiigh, and opened up the packet.
' Il'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 roon. ? ' monsieur agaiji 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 tliese three years past. You
have intrigued against the captains of intrigue, you have
matched yourself against practised astnteness. 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 sucli Miing as quarter between us. Your lover
sliall die, and I will come again. This whim of the
Grande Marquise will last but till I see her; then I will

232

TlIK SKATS OF TllH MKJllTV

return to vou — forever. Your lover sluill die, your love's
labour for him shall be lost. 1 shiiU reap where 1 did not
sow — his harvest and my own. 1 am as ice to you, made-
moiselle, at this moment; I iuive murder in my heart.
Yet warmth will come again. I admire you so much that
I wlP 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 coveilly from the sweet mead-
ows of France to the marshes of England, a taste un-
worthy of you. You shall be redeemed from that l)y
Tinoir Doltaire. Now thank me for all I have done for
you, and let me say adieu.' lie stooped and kissed my
liand. ' 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 an re-
voir, sweetheart,' he answered. ' If 1 should go to the
Bastile, I shall have food for thought; and 1 am your
hunter to the end ! In this good orchard I pick sweet
fruit one day.' llis look fell on me in such a way that
shame and anger were at equal height in me. Then In;
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. Yon were
safe for the moment — that was tlie great thing. The ter-
ror I had felt when I saw Monsieur Doltaire in the Charn-
bre de la Joie had passed, for I felt he would not betray
me. He is your foe, and he would kill yon; 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 adventnre 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 rec-
ognized me ! Of Jamond I was snre. Her own past

A DAXSEUSE AND THE BASTILR.

233

our love's
1 (lid not

on, iiijule-

iiiy lu'urt.

miL'h tliiit
tlio lii<^di

au's, your

L'l't IHL'lui-

tiisio Ull-

1 tluit by
c done for
kissed my

iiehieved,'
I th rente n,
md (tii re-

go to the
. am your
lick sweet
a way that
Then he
li a sedate
officer.
Yon were
The ter-
the C.harn-
!iot betray
but I was
vas absent
ng public
:e. IMiere
,11, thou^^li

he would
ath. But
3n he rec-

own pa.-:!

liad been full of sorrow, and her life was now so secluded
and religious tluit I could not doubt her. Indeed, wo
iiave been blessed with good, true friends, Itobert, though
tlicy are not of those who are ])owerful, save in their
loyalty."

Alixe then told nic that the officer Legrand had ar-
rived from France but two days before the eventful niglit
of whieii i have just written, armed with an order from the
(jirande Manpiise for Doltaire's arrest and transportation.
Jle had landed at (Jaspe, and had come on to Quebec
overland. Arriving at the Intendance, he had awaited J)ol-
taire's coming. Doltairo had stopped to visit (General
Montcalm at .Montmorenci Falls, on his way back from
an expedition to the Enghsli country, and had thus him-
self brought my i)rote(!tion and hurried to his own undo-
ing. 1 was thankful for his downfall, though 1 believed
it was but for a moment.

f was curious to kno'v hov/ it chanced 1 was set free of
my dungeon, and I had tliu 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,
tliat she would secretly convey me wines and preserves
and jellies and such kickshaws, that 1 should better get
mv streno-th.

" 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. A\'hen you are young ag;iin
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

Till-: SKATS OF TIIK MKIIITY.

from a sudden "Miirch rjiiii, tlit^ boundless forests beyond,
uihI tlu^ umple St. Liiwrence still covered with its vast
bridge of ice ; jinon into my face, wliile I gtized into
those deeps of her blue eyes that 1 had drowned my heart
in. I loved to watch her, for with me she was ever her
own absolute self, free from all artitice, lost in her perfect
naturalness: a healthy, ({uiet soundness, a pi'iiuitive sim-
jdicity beneath the ai'titice of usual life. She had a
beautiful hand, louij^, wat'in, and firm, and tlu^ lingers,
when they clasped, seemed to possess and inclose your
own — the tenderness of the maideidy, the protec^tiveru'ss
of the maternal. She carried with her a wholesome fra-
<rrai)('c and beauty, as of an orchanl, and while she sat
there I thonn^ht of the enga,L,Mng wortis :

" T/iou (iri 1(1 nir li/rf (i bi(sh'ct of svinnicr fniif. and I
src/i tlicv in tliji cdltdijc Inj the I'lncyiird^ fenced about with
(jiiud i<))}nnendable trees.''''

Of my release she spoke thus: " Monsieur Doltairc is
to be conveyed overland to the coast en route for France,
and he has sent lut; by his valet a small arrow studded
with emeralds and ])(.'arls, and a skull all ])olished, with
a messau'e that the arrow was for mvself, and the skull
for another — remembraiu'es of the i)ast, and earnests of
the future — truly an insolent and wicked man. When he
was gone I w^'ut to the (Governor, and, with show of in-
terest in many things pertaining to the government (for
he has been flattered by my attentions — me, poor little
bee in the buzzing hive!), came to the question of the
Kiiglish prisoiuM'. I told him it was I that prevented the
disgrace to his good government by sending to (Jeneral
Montcalm to ask for your protection.

" I To was impressed, and opened out liis vain heart
about the state in divers ways. But 1 may not tell you of
these— oidy what concerns yourself; the rest belongs to
his honour. When he was in his most pliable mood, 1

A DANSKUSR A XI) TIIK nASTTI.K.

235

H beyond,
I itH va.st
ized into
my hojirt
v.wr her
T j)erf(M!t
tivc sim-
e liiid a
; fingers,
ose vour
ctivcncss
^onR' frii-

3 sllO Silt

if, and [

I out with

olt.'iire is
r Franco,

stnddcd
led, Avitli
the skull
rncsts (if
Wlien he
)w of in-
lent (for
3or little
n of the
'iited the

General

in lioai't

II vou of
longs to
mood, 1

grew serions and told hirii there was a danger whidi per-
ha])s he did not see. Jlere was his l^lnglish [»risoner, who,
they «aid abroad in the town, was dying. There was
no doubt that the King would ai>»)i'()V(^ the sentence' of
death, and if it were duly and with some display enforced,
it would but add to the (Governor's re})utation in France.
P)Ut should the prisoner die in cai)tivity, or should he go
an invalid to tlu; scaiTold, there would only be pity excited
in the world for him. For his own hoiujur, it were better
the (Jovernor should hang a robust i)risoner, who in full
blood should expiate his sins npon the scaiTold. The ad-
vice went down like wine; and when he knew not what
to do, 1 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 bv now he will be sure that he himself had
tlie sparkling inspiration. There, dear Robert, is the
])resent climax to many months of suspense and perse-
cution, the like of which I hope I may never see again.
ISome time I will tell you all : those meetings with ^lon-
sieur 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 ^fontcalm ;
the difficulties with my own peo])le ; the despair of my
poor father, who does not know that it is I who have ke])t
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 ofTice in this poor country — alas!"

Soon afterwards we parted. As she jiassed out she told
me I might at any hour expect a visit from the Governor.

236 THE SP]ATS OF THE MIGHTY.

XX.

IJPOX THE RAMPARTS.

The Governor visited me. Ilis tittitnde was marked
by notlnng so much as a supercilious courtesy, a manner
which said, You must see I am not to be trifled with ; and
though I have you here in my chateau, it is that I may
make a fine scorching of you in the end. lie Aould make
of me an example to amaze and instruct tho nations —
when I was robust enough to die.

1 might easily have llattered myself on being an ob-
jecj of interest to the eyes of nations. I almost pitied
him. lie appeared so lost in self-admiration that he
would never see disaster when it came.

" There is but one master here in Canada," he said,
"and I am he. If things go wrong it is because my
orders are not obeyed. Your peoj)le have taken Louis-
burg; had I been there, it should never have been given
up. Drucour wao hasty — he listened to the women, I
sliould allow no woman to move me. J should be inflex-
ible. They might send two Amhersts and two Wolfes
against me, I would hold my fortress."

" Thev will never send two, vour Excellencv," said I.

He did not see the irony, and he prattled on : " That
Wolfe, they tell me, is bandy-legged ; is no better than a
girl at sea, and never well ashore. I am always in rav/
health — the strong mind in the potent body. Had I been
at Louisbiirg, I should have held it as I held Ticonderoga
last July, and drove the English back with monstrous
slaughter."

Here was news. I had had no information in many
months, and all at once two great facts were brought
to me.

" Your Excellency, then, was at Ticonderoga ? " said I.

UPON THE RAMPARTS.

237

marked
manner
itli ; and
it I may
Id make
ations —

y an ob-
it pitied
that he

he said,
luse my
1 Louis-
!n given
men. I
B inflex-
) Wolfes

said I.
: "That
' than a
in raw
i I been
nderoga
3nstroiis

in many
brought

' said 1.

" I sent Montcahn to defend it," he replied pompously.
" I told him how he must act ; I was explicit, and it came
out as I had said : w(^ 'vere victorious. Yet he would
have done better had he obeyed me in everything. If I
had been at Louisburg "

I could not at first bring myself to flatter the vice-regal
peacock ; for it had been my mind to fight these French-
men always ; to yield in nothing ; to defeat them like a
soldier, not like a juggler. But I brought myself to say,
half ironically, " If all great men had capable instruments,
they would seldom fail."

" You have touched the heart of the matter," said he,
credulously. " It is a pity," he added, with complacent
severity, " that you have been so misguided and crimi-
nal ; you have, in some things, more sense than folly."

1 bowed, as to a compliment from a great man. Then,
all at once, I spoke to him with an air of apparent frank-
ness, and said that if I must die, I cared to do so like a
gentleman, with some sort of health, and not like an in-
valid. He must admit that at least I was no coward. He
might fence me about with what guards he chose, but I
prayed him to let me walk upon the ramparts, when I was
strong enough to be abroad under all due espionage. I
had already suffered many deaths, I said, and I would go
to the final one looking like a man, and not like an out-
cast of humanitv.

" Ah, I have heard this before," said he. " Monsieur
Doltaire, who is in prison here, and is to fare on to the
]5astile, was insolent enough to send me a message yester-
day that I should keep you close in your dungeon. But
I had had enough of ^[onsieur Doltaire ; and, indeed, it
was through me that the Grande Marquise had him called
to durance. He was a muddler here. They must not
iiiterfere with me ; I am not to be cajoled or crossed in
my plans. AVe shall see, we shall see about the ramparts,"

238

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

he continued. " Meanwliile prepare to die." This he
said with such im])ort{ince that I almost laughed in his
face. 15ut J bowed with a sort of awed submission, anc
he turned and left the room.

I grew stronger slowly day by day, but it was quite a
month before Alixe came again. Sometimes I saw her
walking on the banks of the river, and I was sure she was
there that I might see her, though she made no sign to-
wards me, nor ever seemed to look towards my window.

Spring was now fully come. The snow had gone from
the ground, the tender grass was springing, the air was
soft and kiad. One fine day, at the beginning of May,
I heard the booming of cannons and a great shouting,
and, looking out, I could see crowds of people upon the
banks, and many boats in the river, where yet the ice had
not entirely broken up. By stretching from my window,
through the bars of which I could get my head, but not
my body, I noted a squadron sailing round the point of
the Island of Orleans. I took it to be a fleet from France
bearing re-enforcements and supplies — as indeed after-
wards I found was so ; but the re-enforcements were so
small and tlie supplies so limited that it is said Montcalm,
when he knew, cried out, " Now is all lost ! Nothinir re-
mains but to flght and die. I shall see my beloved Can-
diac no more."

For the first time all the English colonies had com-
bined against Canada. Vaudreuil and Montcalm were at
variance, and Vaudreuil had, tlirough his personal hatred
and envy of Montcalm, signed the death-warrant of the
colony by writing to the colonial minister that Montcalm's
agents, going for succour, were not to be trusted. Yet
at that moment I did not know these things, and tlie
sight made me grave, though it made me sure also that
this year would find the British battering this same Cha-
teau.

This he
3(1 in his
;iou, tiud

s quite a
saw her
: slie was
sign to-
ndow.
)ne from
air was
of May,
houting,
ipon tlie
}■ ice had
window,
but not
point of
1 France
d after-
! were so
ontcalm,
hing re-
^ed Can-

lad com-
L were at
i\ hatred
t of tlie
ntcahn's
3d. Yet
and the
ilso that
ne Cha-

<:>

(i(')i('i'(il Wolfe.

UPON THE RAMPARTS.

239

Presently there came word from the Governor that I
might walk upon the ramparts, and I was taken forth for
several hours each day; always, however, under strict sur-
veillance, my guards, well armed, attending, while the
ramparts were, as usual, patrolled by soldiers. I could
see that amjile prepai-ations were being made against a
siege, and every day the excitement increased. I got to
know more deiinitely of what was going on, when, under
vigilance, I was allowed to speak to Lieutenant Stevens,
who also was permitted some such freedom as I had en-
joyed when I first came to Quebec, lie had private infor-
mation that General Wolfe or General Amherst was likely
to proceed against Quebec from Louisburg, and he was
determined to join the expedition.

For months he had been maturing plans for escape.
There was one Clark, a ship-carpenter (of whom I have
before written), and two other bold s|)irits, who were sick
of captivity, and it was intended to fare forth one night
and make a run for freedom. Clark had had a notable
plan. A wreck of several transports had occurred at
Belle Isle, and it was intended by the authorities to send
him down the river with a sloop to bring back the crew,
and break up the wreck. It was his purpose to arm his
sloop with Mr. Stevens and some English prisoners the
night before she was to sail, and steal away with her
down the river. But whether or not the authorities sus-
})ectod him, the command was at the last given to an-
other.

It was proposed, however, to get away on a dark night
to some point on the river, where a boat should be sta-
tioned — though that was a difficult matter, for the river
was well patrolled and boats were scarce — and drift quietly
down the stream, till a good distance below the city. Mr.
Stevens said he had delayed the attempt on the faint hope
of fetching me along. Money, he said, was needed, for

240

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

Chirk aud aU were very poor, and common necessaries
were now at exorbitant prices in tlie country. Tyranny
and robbery liad made corn and clothing luxuries. All
the old tricks of Higot and his La Friponne, which, after
the outbreak the night of my arrest at the Seigneur Du-
varney's, had been somewhat repressed, were in'full swing
again, and robbery in the name of providing for defence
was the only habit.

I managed to convey to Mr. Stevens a good sum of
money, and begged him to meet me every day upon the
rampai-ts, until I also should see my way to making a
dart for freedom. I advised him in many ways, for he
was more bold than shrewd, and I made him j)romise
that he wo')ld not tell Clark or the others that I was
to make trial to go with them. I feared the accident of
disclosure, and any new failure on my part to get away
would, I knew, mean my instant death, consent of King
or no consent.

One evening, a soldier entered my room, whom in
the half-darkness I did not recognize, till a voice said,
" There's orders new ! Not dungeon now, but this room
Governor bespeaks for gentlemen from France."

" And where am I to go, Gabord ? "

" Where yoii will have fighting," he answered.

" With whom ? "

" Yourself, alio ! " A queer smile crossed his lips,
and was followed by a sort of sternness. There was
something graver in his manner than I had ever seen.
I could not guess his meaning. At last he added,
pulling roughly at his mustache, " And when that's
done, if not \vg\\ done, to answer to Gabord the sol-
dier ; for, God take my soul without bed-going, but I will
call you to account I That Seigneur's home is no j^lacc
lor you."

" You speak in riddles," said I. Then all at once tlio

icessaries
Tyranny
ies. All
ch, after
icur Du-
ill swing
defence

sum of
ipon tlie
luking- u
s, for he
})ron]ise
it I was
jident of
;:ct away
of King

ivliom in
lice said,
his room

his lips,
lere was
'Cr seen.

I added,

II tliat's
the sol-
ut I will
no place

once tlio

UPON THE RAMPARTS.

241

matter burst upon me. " The Governor quarters me at
the Seigneur Duvarney's ? " 1 asked.

" No other," answered he. " In three days to go."

I understood him now. lie had had a struggle,
knowing of the relations between Alixe and myself, to
avoid telling the Governor all. And now, if I involved
her, used her to elfect my escape from her father's
house ! Even his peasant brain saw my difficulty, the
danger to my honour — and hers. In spite of the joy I
felt at being near her, seeing her, I shrank from the
F.ituation. If I escaped from the Seigncuir Duvarney's,
it would throw suspicion upon him, upon Alixe, and
that made me stand abashed. Inside the Seigneur
Duvarney's house I should feel bound to certain calls
of honour concerning his daughter and hiuioelf. I stood
long, thinking, Gabord watching me.

Finally, " Gabord," said I, " I give you my word of
honour that I will not put Mademoiselle or Monsieur
Duvarney in peril."

" You will not try to escape ? "

" Not to use them for escape. To elude my guards,
to fight my way to liberty — yes — yes — yes !"

" But that mends not. Who's to know the lady did
not help you ? "

" You. You are to be my jailer again there ? "

He nodded, and fell to pulling his mustache. " 'Tis
not enough," he said decisively.

" Come, then," said I, " I will strike a bargain with
you. If you will grant me one thing, I will give my
word of honour not to escape from the seigneur's
house."

" Say on."

" You tell me I am not to go to the seigneur's for
three days yet. Arrange that mademoiselle may come to
me to-morrow at dusk — at six o'clock, when all the world

242

THE SEATS OF THE MICillTV

dines — mid 1 will give my word. No more do I iisk you
— only that. '

'' i)oiie," suid he. " It sliall be so."
" You will fetch her yourtielf? " I asked.
" On the stroke of six. (jJuard clumges then."
Here our talk endetl. He went, and I plunged deep
into my great 1)1;; \ ; l'<"' al at onec, as we had tidked,
came athiL4 lo ih • v* m ch i shall make clear erelong.
I set my wits tc w; ■ '^nce since my coming to the
chateau I had been visite:: by the English chaplain,
who liad been a prisoner at the citadel the year before.
He was now on parole, and had freedom to come and go
in the town. Tho Governor had said he might visit me
on a certain day every week, at a fixed hour, and the
next day at five o'clock was the time appointed for his
second visit. CJabord had ^iromised to bring Alixe to
me at six.

The following morning I ^'et j\rr. Stevens on the
ramparts. 1 told him it was my pur})ose to escape the
next night, if possible. If not, I must go to the Seign-
eur Duvarney's, where I should be on parole — to Ga-
bord. I bade him fulfil my wishes to the letter, for
on his boldness and my own, and the courage of his
men, I dej^ended for escape. He declared himself ready
to risk all, and die in the attempt, if need be, for he
was r,\c[\ of idleness. lie could, he said, mature his plans
that dny, if he had more money. I gave him secretly
a small bag of gold, and then I made explicit note of
what I required of him : that he sliould tie up in a
loose but safe bundle a sheet, a woman's skirt, some
river grasses and reeds, some phosi)horus, a pistol and
a knife, and some saltpetre and other chemicals. That
evening, about nine o'clock, which was the hour the
guard changed, he was to tie this bundle to a string I
should let down from my w^indow and I would draw

UPON THE RAMPARTS.

243

iisk yon

:cd deep
tiilkt'd,
3re long.
J to tlie
haphiin,
r before.
3 and go
visit nio
and the
for l]is
ilixe to

on the
ape the
1 Seign-
-to Ga-
ter, for
( of his
f ready
for he
is phms
secretly
note of
ip in a
t, some
tol and
That
>nr the
itring I
d draw

it np. Then, the night following, the others must steal
J way to that place near Sillery — the west side of the
'►wn was always ill guarded — and wait there witii a boat.
][e should see nie at a certaii part on the ranijiarts, and,
I veil i';rned, we also would make our way to Sillery, and

" iVoin the spot called the Anse du Foulon drift down the

river in the dead of nii^ht.

He promised to do all as I wished.

The rest of the day I spent in my room fashioning
strange toys out of willow rods. 1 had got these rods
from my guards, to make whistles for their cliildiv i, .. d
they had carried away many of them. But nc^ •, \- h
pieces of a silk handkerchief tied to the wl ' tk and
filled with air, I made a toy which, when squeeze ', sent
out a weird lament. Once, when my guard m'^ in, I
pressed one of these things in my pocket, and it gave
forth a sort of smothered cry, like a sick child. At this
he started, and looked round the room in trepidation ;
for, of all peoples, these Canadian Frenchmen are the
most superstitious, and may be worked on without limit.
The cry had seemed to come from a distance. I looked
around also, and appeared serious, and he asked me if I
had heard the thing before.

" Once or twice," said I.

" Then you are a dead man," said he ; " 'tis a warn-
ing, that ! "

" Mavbe it is not I, but one of you," I answered.
Then, with a sort of hush, " Is't like the cry of La Jon-
gleuse?" I added. (La Jongleuse was their fabled witch,
or spirit of disaster.)

He nodded his head, crossed himself, mumbled a
prayer, and turned to go, but came back. " I'll fetch a
crucifix," he said. " You are a heathen, and you brirg
iier here. She is the devil's dam."

He left with a scared face, and I laughed to myself

:/-^i

24-t

TIIR SEATS OF THE MKHITV,

quietly, for 1 sjiw success iiliejid of luc. True to his word
ho hrouglit a onicifix und put it up — not where lie
wished, l)ut, iit my request, opposite the (h)or, upon i...
wnU. lie crossed himself before it, smd wiis most de-
vout.

It looked siijgular to see this big, rough soldier, who
WHS in most things ji swaggerer, so childlike in all that
touclied his religion. Witli this you could fetch him to
his knees; with it 1 would cow him that 1 might myself
escape.

At half past five the chaplain came, having been de-
layed by the guard to have his order indorsed by Captain
Lancy of the Governor's household. To him I told my
plans so far as 1 thought he should know them, aiul then
I explained what I wished him to do. lie was grave and
thoughtful for some minutes, but at last consented, lie
was a pious man, and of as honest a heart as I have known,
albeit narrow and confined, which sprang perhaps from
his provincial practice and Ids theological cutting aiul
trimming. We were in the midst of a serious talk, where-
in 1 urged him upon matters which shall presently be set
forth, when we heard a noise outside. I begged him to
retire to the alcove where my bed was, and draw the cur-
tain for a few UKments, nor come forth until I called.
He did so, yet 1 thought it hurt his sense of dignity to be
shifted to a bedroom.

As he disappeared the door opened, and Gabord and
Alixe entered. " One half hour," said Gabord, and went
out again.

Presently Alixe told me her story.

" 1 have not been idle, Robert, but I could not act, for
my father and mother suspect my love for you. I have
come but little to the chateau without them, and 1 was
closely watched. I knew not how the thing would end,
but 1 kept up my workings with the Governor, which is

UPON TIIK IIAMI'ARTS.

245

\m word
tvhore he
upon I...

most (lo-

(Ucr, wlio
11 all tliiit
li him to
ht my sell'

been cle-
y Captain
I told my
and then
grave and
ited. lie
ve known,
nips from
tting and
Ik, where-
itly be set
ed him to
V the cnr-

I called,
nity to be

ibord and
and went

ot act, for
1. I have
and I was
ould end,
, which is

easier now Monsieur Doltairo is gone, and I got you the
freedom to walk upon tiie ramparts. Well, ouce, before
my father suspected me, I said that if his Kxcellency dis-
liked your beiijg in the Chateau, you could be as well
guarded in my father's house with sentinels always there,
until you could, in better health, be taken to the common
jail again. What was my surprise when yesterday came
word to my father that he should nuike ready to receive
you as a prisoner; being sure th 'the, his Kxcelhmcy's
cousin, the father of the; man you had injured, and the
most loval of Frenchmen, would jj^uard vou dili'^entlv ;
]i(! now needed all extra room in the Chateau for the en-
ti 'tainment of gentlemen ami ollicers lately come from
France.

" When my father got the news, he was thrown i!ito
dismay, lie knew not what to do. On what ground
could he refuse the Governor? Yet when he thought of
me he felt it his duty to do so. Again, on what gr(jund
could he refuse this boon to vou, to whom we all owe the
blessing of his life? On my brother's account? But my
brother has written to my father justifying you, and mag-
nanimously praising yon as a man, while hating you as an
Tilnglish soldier. On my account? But he could not
give this reason to the Governor. As for me, I was silent,
I waited — and I wait; I know not what will be the end.
Meanwhile preparations go on to receive you."

I could see that Alixe's mood was more tranquil since
T^oltaire was gone. A certain restlessness had vanished.
Her manner had much dignity, and every movement a
peculiar grace and elegance. She was dressed in a soft
cloth of a gray tone, touched off with red and slashed
with gold, iind a cloak of gray, trimmed with fur, with
bright silver buckles, hung loosely on her, thrown off at
one shoulder. There was a sweet disorder in her hair,
which indeed was prettiest when freest.
17

240

Til hi SKATS OF TlIK MIUIITV.

Wlioji she liiid liiiisluHl sjK'jikin<^ slic looked jit mo, as
I tiioui^ht, willi ii littK' aiixit'ty.

'' Alixc," I siiid, *" \\v have conio to tlie cross- I'omls, jind
the wjiv \V(^ (diooso now is for all time."

Slu! looki'd up, stjiitk'd, yd <j;oVL'rniMj^^ luTsclf, and her
bund s()iii,^lit iiiiiio and m-stlcd tlu'r(\ ''1 fed llial, too,"
bIic ivjjlii'd. '' What is it, KobortV"

" 1 can not in honour escape from v<»ur father's liouse.
I cun not steal his daughter, and his safety too "

" Vou must escape, " she interrupted tlrndy.

'^ From here, I'rojii the citadel, from anywhere but your
house ; and so I will not go to it."'

'^ Vou will not go to it?" she repented slowly and
strangely. " How may you not? You are a ])risoner. If
they make my father your jailer " She laughed.

'* I owe that jailer and that jailer's daughter-

i»

" Y<)U owe them y(jur safety and your freedom. Oh,
Kobert, I know, 1 know what you mean. Hut what eare
I what the world may think by-and-bye, or to-m<n'row, or
to-dav? My conscience is clear."

'" Your father " I persisted.

She nodded. " Yes, yes, you speak truth, alas! And
yet you nnist be freed. And" — here she got to her feet,
and with Hashing eyes spoke out — "and you shall be set
free. Let come what will, I owe my first duty to you,
though all the world cliatter ; and I will not stir fr(jm
that. As soon as I can make it possible, you shall escape."

" You shall have the right to set me free," said T, *" if
T must go to your father's liouse. Aiul if I do not go
there, but out to my own country, you shall still have
the right before all the world to follow, or to wait till I
come to fetch you."

" I do not understiind you, IJobert," said she. " I do
not " Here she broke olf, looking, looking at me wist-
fully, and trembling a little.

lit me, as

Gilds, jind

', illld luT
luit, too,"

r's house.
^)

I but your

only uiid
soner. li'
L^^licd.

[oni. Oh,
w I lilt ciiro
loiTow, or

lis! And

I) lier feet,

ill I be set

y to you,

stir h'om

11 esciipe."

Siiid I, 'Ml

do not go

still hiive

wiiit till I

" 1 do
,t me wist-

UPON TllK HAMPAUTS.

24:

Then I stooped and wliisjxMvd softly in her oar. She
jr.'ive ji little cry, and dn!\v biick I'lom me; yet instiintiy
luT hiind came out juul Ciiught my iii'm.

"" liolx'rt, liobcirt ! I etin not, I (hire not ! " she csried
softly. '' No, no, it nniy not be," she iidded in a whisper
of feiir.

I went to the alcove, drew biiek the eurtiiin, and asked
^fr. Wtiinileet to step forth.

"Sir," said 1, picking up my I'myci' Uook iind [tutting
it in his hands, "I beg you to marry this lady and my-
self."

He piiused, dazed. "Marry you — here — now?" he
asked sluik'»igly.

" liefore ten minutes go round, this hidy must be my
wife," said I.

" Mademoiselle Duvarney, you " he begiin.

" Be pleased, dear sir, to open the book at ' 117// Ihoii,
have^'' " said I. " The hidy is a Ciitholic ; she has not
the consent of her people ; but when she is my wife,
made so by you, whose consent need we ask ? Ctin you
not tie us fiist enough, ii miin jind woman of sense suf-
ficient, but you must pause hei'e ? Is the knot you tie
siife against ])icking and steiding? "

1 hiul touched his Viinity and his ecclesiasticism.
" Miirried by me," he replied, " once chiiphiin to the
Bishop of London, you luive a knot that no sword cjin
cut. 1 am in lull orders. My parish is in Boston itself.'*

" You will h.ind a certilicate to my wife to-morrow,
ami you will uphold this marriiige iigainst idl gossip ? "
asked I.

"Agiiinst all Fnince and all England," he answered,
roused now.

" Then come," I urged.

" But I must have a witness," he interposed, opening
the book.

248

TIIR SKATS OF THE MIGITTY.

'' You sluill liiivo one in duo tinio," said I. " Qo on.
Whoi). the ni{iri'iiiij:o is ])erfornied, jind at the point where
you siudl prochiini us man and wife, I will have a
witness."

I tuiMied to Alixe, and found her pale and troubled.
" Oh, Robert, Robert I " slie cried, " it cannot be. Now,
now I am afraid, for the lirst time in my life, dear, the
jirst time!"

"Dearest lass in tlic world," I said, *' it must be. I
sh.'ill not go to your father's. 'J'o-murrow night I make
my great stroke for freedom, aiul when 1 am free I shall
retui-n to fetch my wife."

" You will try to escape from here to-morrow ? " she
aske<l, her face llusliinij: fmelv.

" 1 will escape or die," I answered ; "but I shall not
think of deatli. (.*ome — come and say witli me that we
shall pa.'t no more — in spirit no more ; that, whatever
comes, you and 1 have fuUillcd our great hope, though
under the shadow of tlie sword."

At that she ])ut her hiind in mine with pride and
sweetness, and said, " I am ready, liobert. I give my
heart, my life, and my hoiu)ur to you — forever."

Then, Avith simplicity and solemnity she turned to the
clerirvman : " Sir, mv honour is also in your hands. Jf
you have mother or sister, or true care of souls upon you,
I pray you, in the future act as becomes good men."

" Mademoiselle," he said earnestly, " [ am riskiiig my
freedom, ma\be my life, i!i this; do you Thi?d\ "

Here sue took his hand and ])resse(l it. "Ah, I
ask your pardon. I ;un of a different faith from you,
and I have known how men forget when they siiouhi
remember.'' She smiled ;it him so }>erfectly that he
drew himself up with pri(h'.

" -Make haste, sir," said 1. " Jailers are curious
folk."

" Go on.

nt where

have a

troubled.
3. Now,
dear, the

3t be. I
b I make
so I shall

w?" she

shall not
) that we
whatever
), though

iride and

p-ive mv

ed to the
ands. If
ipon you,

sking my
If

"Ah, I
rom vou,
iy should

that he

i curious

UPON THE RAMPARTS.

2^9

The room was not yet lighted, the evenipg shadows
were creeping in, aiul up out of the town came the rino-.
iug of the ves})er bell from the church of the Ilecollets.
For a moment there w^as stillness in the room and all
around us, and then the chaplain began in a low voice :

"7 require and clutrge you both "and so on. In a

few moments I had made the great vow, and had put on
AHxe's finger a ring which the clergyman drew from his
own hand. Then we knelt down, and I know we botli
prayed most fervently \\\i\\ the good man that we miglit
*' ever remain in perfect love and perfect j)eace together."

Rising, he paused, and I went to the door and
knocked upon it. It was opened by (Jabord. " Come in,
Gabord," said I. " There is a ■.hing that you must hear."

He stepped back and got a light, and then entered,
holding it up and shutting the door. A strange look
came upon his face when he saw the chaplain, and dismay
followed, when, stepping beside Alixe, I took her hand,
and Mr. Wainlleet declared us man and wife. lie stood
like one dumbfounded, and lie did not stir, as Alixe,
turning to me, let me kiss her on the lips, and tlien
went to the crucifix on the wall and embraced the feet of
it, and stood for a moment praying. Nor did he move
or make a sii^n till she came back and stood beside me.

" A pretty scene ! " he burst forth then with anger.
" But, by God ! no marriage is it ! "

Alixe's hand tightened on my arm, and she drew
close to me.

" A marriage that will stand at Judgment Day, Ga-
bord," said I.

" But not in France or here. 'Tis mating wild, with
end of doom."

" It is a mnrriage our great Archbishop at Lambeth
Palace will uphold against a huiulred popes and kings,"
said the cha})lain with importance.

250

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

*' You are no priest, but holy peddler ! " cried Gabord
roughly. " This is not mating as Christians, and fires of
hel! shall burn — alio ! I will see you all go down, and
hand of mine sliall not be lifted for you I "

lie pulfed out his cheeks, and his great eyes rolled
like lire-wheels.

" Y"ou are a witness to this ceremony," said the chap-
lain. " And you shall answer to your God, but you must
speak the truth for tliis man and wife."

" Man and wife ? " laughed Gabord wildly. " May I
die and be damned to "

Like a flash Alixe was beside him, and put to his lips
swiftly the little wooden cross that Mathilde had given
her.

" Giibord, Gabord," she said in a sad voice, " when
you may come to die, a girl's prayers will be waiting at
God's feet for you."

He stopped, and stared at her. Jler hand lay on his
arm, and she continued : " No night gives me sleep, Ga-
bord, but I })ray for the jailer who has been kind to an
ill-treated gentleman."

"A juggling gentleman, that cheats Gabord before
his eyes, and smuggles in mongrel priest ! " he blustered.

1 waved my hand at the chapl.iin, or I think he would
have put his Prayer Book to rougher use than was its
wont, and I was about to answer, but Alixe spoke in-
stead, and to greater pur|)ose than I could have done.
Iler whole mood changed, her face grew still and proud,
her eyes flashed bravely.

" Gaboi'd," she said, " vanity speaks in you there, not
honesty. No gentleman here is a juggler. Xo kindness
you may have done w.arrants insolence. You have the
power to bring great misery on us, and you may have the
will, l)ut, by God's help, both my husband and myself
shall be delivered from cruel hands. At any moment I

UPON THE RAMPARTS.

251

d Gab Orel
d fires of
own, and

'es rolled

the chap-
yoii must

" May I

his lips
lad given

!, " when
raiting at

ay on his
ileep, Ga-
nd to an

•d before
liistered.
he would

1 was its
i})oke in-
ive done.
id proud,

here, not
kindness
liave the
have the
d myself
loment I

may stand alone in the world, friends, people, the Church,
and all the land against me : if you desire to hasten that
time, to bring me to disaster, because you would injure
my husband " — how sweet the name sounded on her lips !
— "then act, but do not insult us. But no, no," she broke
otf softly, " you spoke in temper, you meant it not, you
were but vexed with us for the moment. Dear Gabord,"
she added, " did we not know that if we had asked you
Ih'st, you would have refused us ? You care so much for
me, you would have feared my linking life and fate with
one "

" With one the death-man has in hand, to pay price
for wicked deed," he interrupted.

" With one innocent of all dishonour, a gentleman
wronged every way. Gabord, you know it is so, for you
have guarded him ai.\d fought with him, and you are an
honourable gentleman," siie added gently.

" No gentleman I," he burst forth, " but jailer base,
and soldier born upon a truss of hay. But honour is an
apple any man may eat since Adam walked in garden.
. . . 'Tis honest foe, here," he continued magnanimously,
and nodded towards me.

" We would have told you all," she said, " but how
dare we involve you, or how dare we tempt you, or how
dare we risk your refusal ? It was love and truth drove
us to this ; and God will bless this mating as the birds
mate, even as Tie gives honour to Gabord who was born
upon a truss of hay."

" Pootn ! " said Gabord, puffing out his cheeks, and
smiling on her with a look half sour, and yet with a dog-
like fondness, " viabord's mouth is shut till 's head is olf,
and then to tell the tale to Twelve Apostles ! "

Through his wayward, illusive speech we found his
meaning. He would keep faith with us, and be best proof
of this marriage, at risk of his head even.

252

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

As we spoko, tlie cluipliiiu was writing in tlie blank
fore-pages of the Prayer Jiook. l*resently he said to nie,
hiinding nw the pen, whieh he iiad pieked from a table,
"Inscribe your names liere. J t is a rough record of tlie
ceremony, but it will sulliee before all men, when to-mor-
row I have given Mistress ^Moray another re(;ord."

We wrote our names, and then the pen was luinded to
Gabord. Ih) took it, and at last, with many nourishes
antl ((has, and by dint of })uthugs and rolling eyes, lie
wrote his name so large that it lilled as much space as the
other names and all the writing, and was indeed like a
hu<j:e indorsement across the record.

When this was done, Alixe held out her hand to him,
" Will you kiss me, dabord?" she said.

The great soldier was all taken back, lie flushed like
a schoolboy, yet a big humour and pride looked out of his
eyes.

" I owe you for the sables, tov»," she said. " But kiss
me — not on my ears, as the Kussian count kissed Gabord,
but on my cheek."

This won him to our cause utterly, and I never think
of Gabord, as 1 saw him last in the sway and carnage of
battle, fighting with wild u})roar and covered with wounds,
but the memory of that moment, when he kissed my
youni; wife, comes back to me.

At that he turned to leave. " I'll hold the door for
ten minutes," he added; and bowed to the chaplain, who
blessed us then with tears in his eyes, and smiled a little
\', my thaidvs and praises and purse of gold, and to Allxe's
gratiliitle. With lifting chin — good lionest gentleman,
who ai'Lcr wards proved his fidelity and truth — he said that
lie w'.Mld t]!o to 'i}ilu;l(l this sacred ceremony. And so he
m.'( It ii iittlf speech, \\:< if he had a pulpit round him, and
he w u >k1 up wit!) a heiu'dietion which sent my dear girl
to team's aij'! soft tremblin<::

LA JONGLEUSE.

253

he bliink
-id to me,
a tiiblc,
ii'd of tlie
1 to-nior-

iiiiuled to
(loiirislies
eyes, he
Lce as tlie
ed like a

1 to him,

shed like
)iit of his

But kiss
. Gabord,

xr think

irnage of

wounds,

issed my

door for
lain, who
1 a little
:o Alixc's
ntleman,
said that
Lud so he
him, and
dear girl

" The Lord hJess you and keep you: the Lord muhe his
face to shine u^hin you ; tlie Lord lift up his countcMance
upon you^ and give you reace^ note and for evermore.''^

A moment afterwards the door olosed, and for ten
mitiutes 1 looked into my dear wife's face, juid told her
my plans for escape. When Gabord opened the door upon
us, we liad passed through years of undei'standing and re-
solve. Our parting was brave — a bravery on her side that
1 do not think any other woman could match. She was
quivering with the new life come upon her, yet she was
self-controlled ; she moved as in a dream, yet I knew her
mind was alert, vigilant, and strong; she was aching with
thougiit of this separation, with the peril that faced us
both, yet she carried a quiet joy in her face, a tranquil
gravity of bearing.

" Whom God hath joined " said I gravely at the

last.

" Let no man put asunder," she answered softly and
solemnlv.

" Alio ! " said Gabord, and turned his head away.

Then the door shut upon me, and, though I am no
Catholic, I have no shame in saying that I kissed the feet
on the crucifix which her lips had blessed.

XXL

LA JONGLEUSE.

At nine o'clock I was w^aitini? bv the window, and
even as a bugle sounded "lights out" in the barracks
and change of guard, I let the string down. ^Ir. Stevens
shot round the corner of the chateau, just as the depart-
ing sentinel disappeared, attached a bundle to the string,
and I drew it up.

254

THE SEATS OF THE MIOnTY.

" Is all well ? " I culled softly down.

"All well," said Mr. Stevens, and, liiigi^in^^ the wall of
the chateau, he sped away. In another moment a new
sentinel began })aeing up and down, and I shut tlie win-
dow and untied my bundle. All that I had asked for was
there. I iiid the things away in the alcove and went to
bed at once, for I knew that I should have no sleep on
the following night.

I (lid not leave niv bed till the morniiiij: was well ad-
vanced. Once or twice during the day I brought my
guards in with fear on their faces, the large fat man more
distorted tlian his fellow, by the lamentable sounds 1
m.de with my willow toys. They crossed themselves again
and again, and I myself a])})eared devout and troubled.
When we walked abroad during the afternoon, I chose to
loiter by the river rather than walk, for I wished to con-
serve my strength, which was now vastly increased, though,
to mislead mv watchers and the authorities, I assumed the
delicacy of an invalid, ami appeared unfit for any enter-
prise — no hard task, for I was still very thin and worn.

So I sat upon a f.vourite seat on the clilf, set against
a solitary tree, fixed in the rocks. I gazed long on the
river, and my guards, stoutly armed, stood near, watching
me, and talking m jow tones. Kager to i;ear their gossip
I appeared to sleep. They came nearer, and, facing me,
sat upon a large stone, and gossipped freely concerning
ihe strange sounds heard in mv room at the chateau.

" See you, my Bamboir," said the lean to tlie fat sol-
dier, "the British captain, he is to be carried off in burn-
ing flames by that La Jongleuse. We shall come in one
morning, find a smell of suljdnir only, and a circle of
red on the floor where the im{)s danced before Tia Jon-
gleuse said to them, 'I'p with him, darlings, and

av»'t> V

f ' "

Al this Bamboir shook his head, and answered, "To-

LA JONGLEUSE.

255

le wall of
lit a new
. the wiii-
d for was
wont to
) sleep on

; well ad-
iight my
nan more
sounds 1
ives again
troubled,
chose to
d to con-
[, though,
umed the
ny enter-
worn,
t against
ig on the
watching
Mr gossip
icing mo,
nccrning
can,

le fat sol-

in burn-

He in one

circle of

Tia Jon-

ngs, and

•od, '' To-

morrow rU go to the (lovornor and toll him what's com-
ing. j\Iy wife, she falls upon my neck this morning. ' Ar-
gose,' she says, ' 'twill need the bishop and his college to
drive La Jonglouse out of the grand chateau.' "

" No less," ro})lied the other. " A deacon and sacred
palm and sprinkle of holy water would do for a cottage,
or even for a little manor house, with twelve candles
burning, and a hymn to the Virgin. But in a king's
house "

" It's not the King's house."

" But yes, it is the King's house, though his Most
Christian Majesty lives in France. The Marquis de Vau-
dreuil stands for the King, and we are sentinels in the
King's house. But, my faith, I'd rather be fighting against
Frederick, the Prussian boar, than watching this mad Eng-
lishman."

"But see you, my brother, that Englishman's a devil.
Else how has he not been hanged long ago ? lie has vile
arts to blind all, or he'd not be sitting there. It is well
known that M'sieu' Doltaire, even the King's son — his
mother worked in the fields like your Xanette, Bam-
boir "

" Or your Lablanche, my friend. She has hard hands,
with wiu'ts, and red knuckles therefrom "

" Or your Nr.notte, Bamboir, with nose that blisters in
the summer, as she goes swingeing flax, and swelling feet
that sweat in sabots, and chin thrust out from carrying
pails upon her head "

" Av, like Nanette and like Lablanche, this peasant
mother of M'siou' Doltaire, and maybe no such firm
breasts like Nanette "

" Nor such an eve as has Lablanche. Well, M'sieu'
Doltaire, who could override them all, he could not kdl
this barbarian. And Gabord— you know well how they
fought, and the black horse and his rider came and car-

256

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

rii'd him iiwiiy. Why, the young ^I'sieii' DuYiirncy hud
liiin on liiri knees, tlie bhicle jit liis tlirojit, iind ii sword
Hush out from tlie durk — ^they suy it wus the devil's — and
took liim in the ribs und well-nigh killed him."

" Hut wluit SUV vou to Mu'm'sellc Duvuriu'v cominsjr to
him that duy, und uguin yesterday with (JabordV"

"Well, well, who knows, J)umboir? This morning I
say *"^^ Nanette, ' Why is't, all in one moment, you send mo
to the devil, and pray to meet mc in A! -uhum's bosom
too?' Whut think you she answer me? Why, this,
my Bumhoir: ' Why is't Adum loved his wife and swore
her down before the Lord also, all in one moment?' Why
Ma'm'selle Duvarney does this or that is not for muddy
brains like ours. It is some whimsy. They say that
women are more curious about the devil than about St.
Jean Huptiste. I'erhups she got of him a magic book."

" \o, no ! If he had the magic Petit Albert, he would
have turned us into dogs long ago. Hut I do not like
him. He is but thirty years, they say, and yet his hair is
white as a pigeon's wing. It is not natural. Nor did he
ever, says Gabord, do aught but laugh at everything they
did to him. The chains they put would not stay, and
when he was set against the wall to be shot, the watches
stopped — the minute of his shooting passed. Then ^M'sieu'
Doltuire come, aiul say a man that could do a trick like
that should live to do another. And he did ic, for M'sieu'
Doltaire is gone to the I^astile. Voycz^ this Englishman
is a damned heretic, and has the wicked arts."

" Hut see, Hamboir, do you think he can cast spells?"

" What mean those sounds from his room ! "

" So, po. Yet if he be a friend of the devil, La Jon-
gleuse would not come for him, but "

Startled and excited, they grasped each other's arms.
" Hut for us — for us ! "

" It would be a work of < Uo send him to the devil,"

LA JONGLEUSE.

257

viirncy hud

11(1 11 sword

(.'virs — mid

y coming to

iiiorninc: I

'ou send ine

iini's bosom

Wliy, tliis,

! JlJld SWOl'G

nfv' Why

, for muddy
y say thiit
11 jibout St.
ic book."
•t, ho would
do not like
t his hair is
Nor did he
ything tliey
t stay, and
the watches
'hen ^Fsieu'
a trick like
for ■NPsieu'
Knglishniriu

ist spells

f) ?>

7»

ill. La Jon-

her's arms.

the devil,"

said liamboir in a loud whisper. " lie has given us trouble
enough. Who can tell what comes next? Those damned
uoist's in his room, eh — eh?"

Then they whispered together, and presently I caught
a fragment, by which I understood that, as we walked near
th(^ ('(Ige of the clilt, I should be pushed over, and they
would make it appear that 1 had drowned myself.

They talked in low tones again, but soon got louder,
and ])resently I knew that they were speaking of La
Jongleuse; and liamboir — the fat Bamboir, who the
surgeon had said would some day die of apoplexy — was
rash enough to say that he had seen her. lie described
her accurately, with the spirit of the born rdfonfenr :

" Hair so black as the feather in the (iovernor's hat,
and i^reen eves that Hash tire, and a brown face with
skin all scales. Oh, mv saints of heaven, when she i)ass
1 hide my head, and I go cold like stone. She is all
covered with lonoj reeds and lilies about her head and
shoulders, and blue- red sparks lly up at every step.
Flames go round hc^', and she burns not her robe — not
at all. And as she go I hear cries that make me sick,
for it is, 1 said, some poor man in torture, and 1 thi dv
perhaps it is Jacques Villon, perhaps Jean Ivivas, perhaps
AngcMe Damgoclie. But no, it is a young priest of St.
Clair, for he is never seen again — never !"

In my mind I commended this fat Bamboir as an ex-
cellent story-teller, and thanked him for his true picture
of La Jongleuse, whom, to my regret, I had never seen.
I would not forget his stirring description, as lie should
see. I gave point to the tale by squeezing an inllated
toy in my pocket, with my arm, while my hands remained
folded in front of me ; and it was as good as a play to
see the faces of these soldiers as they sprang to their feet,
staring round in dismay. I myself seemed to wake with
a start, and, rising to my feet, I asked what meant the

258

TIIK SEATS OF THE MUillTV.

noise and tliuir anmzoment. Wo were in ii spot where wo
could not ousily be neen from iiny distance, and no one
was in si«;ht, nor were we to be remarked from the fort.
They exehan;L,a'd looks, as \ started baek tr>wards the
chateau, wulkiii^j; very near the ed^^e of the el ill. A
spiiit of bravado came on nu', and 1 said musingly to
tliem as we walked :

" It would be easy to tlirow you both over tlie clilT,
but I love you too well. 1 have proved that by making
toys for your children."

It was as cordial to me to watcli their faces. They
both drew away from the clilT, and grasped their th-e-
arms apprehensively.

" My God," siiid l^)amboir, " those toys shall be burned
to-night! Alphonse has the smallpox and Susanne the
croup — damned (h^vil I " he added furiously, stepping
forward to me with 'j;u]\ raised, " Til "

I believe he would have shot me, but that I said
quickly, " Jf you did harm to me you\l come to the
rope. The (loverno would rather lose a luuul than my
life."

I })ushed his musket down. *' Why should you fret?
I am leaving the chateau to-morrow for aiujther prison.
You fools, d'ye think I'd harm the children V I know
as little of the devil or La Jongleuse as do you. We'll
solve the witcheries of these sounds, you and I, to-night.
If thev come, we'll sav the Lord's Praver, and make the
sacred gesture, and if it goes not, we'll have a priest t^)
drive out the whining spirit."

This rpiieted them, and I was glad of it, for they
had looked bloodthirsty enough, and though I had a
weapon on me, there was little use in seeking figliting or
flight till the aus[)icious moment. They were not satis-
fied, however, and they watched me diligently as we came
on to the chateau.

LA JONOLIU'SE.

i250

where wo
id no one
I tlie fort,
wards tlio
dm. A
ising'ly to

the olilT,
y iiuikiiig

's. TlR.y
heir lire-

)e burned

Siinne the

stei)})ing

at I sjiid
e to the
than my

'on fret?
r prison.
I know
I. WeMl
to- nig] it.
nuke the
l)riest to

for tliey
I hud a
ditinir or
lot sutis-
we came

I uouhl not bear thut th y should be frightened about
tlieir ehildren, so 1 said :

" Make ^'or nie a sacred oatli, and I will swear by it
that those toys will do your children no hunu."

1 drew out tlu; little wooden cross thut Muthildc hud
given me, uud held it up. They looked at uie ustnu-
islu^d. What should I, a herelic and a Protestant, do
with this sacred emblem? '' This never leaves me," said
1 ; "it was a pious gift."

I raised the cross to my lips ami kissed it.

" That's well," said 15am hoir to his comrade. " If
otherwise, he'd have been struck down by the Avenging
Angel."

We got back to the Chateau without more talk, and
1 was locked in, while my guards retired. As soon as
tliey had gone 1 got to work, for my great enterprise
was at hund.

At ten o'clock I was ready for the venture. When
tlie critical moment came, I was so arrayed that my
dearest friend would not have known me. ^ly object
was to come out upon my guards as La .Fougleuse, and, in
the fright aiul confusion which shoukl follow, make my
escape through the corridors and to the entrance doors,
past the sentinels, and so on out. It may be seen now
why I got the vvomim's gurb, tlie sheet, the horsehair, the
phosphorus, the reeds, and such things ; why I secured
tlie knife and pistol may be conned likewise. Ui)on the
lid of a small stove in the room I placed my saltpetre,
and I rubbed the horsehair on my head with phosphorus,
also on my hands, and face, and feet, and on many ob-
jects in the room, ^riie knife and pistol were at my hand,
and as soon as the clock had struck ten I set my toys
wail in 1?.

Then I knocked upon the door with solemn taps,
hurried back to the stove, and waited for the door to

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<if

2G0

THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY.

open before I applied tlie matcli. I heard a fumbling
at the lock, then tlie door was tlirown wide open. All
was darkness in the hall without, save for a spluttering
candle which l^aniboir held over his head, as he and his
fellow, deadly ])ale, peered into the chanil)er. Suddenly
they gave a cry, for I threw the sho(!t from my face and
shoulders, and to their excited imagination La Jongleuse
stood before them, all in llames. As I started down on
them, the coloured tire Hew up, making the room all blue
and scarlet for a moment, in which I niu?t have looked
devilish indeed, with staring eyes and outstretched chalky
hands, and wailing cries coming from my robe.

I moved swiftly, and liamboir, without a cry, dropped
like a log (poor fellow, he never rose again ! the apoplexy
which the surgeon promised had come), his comrade gave
a cry, and sank in a heap in a corner, mumbling a
prayer and nuiking the sign of the cross, his face stark
with terror.

I passed him, caine along the corridor and down one
staircase, without seeing any one ; then two soldiers ap-
peared in the half-lighted hallway. Presently a door
opened behind me, and some one came out. By now the
phosphorus light had diminished a little, but still I was
a villainous picture, for in one hand I held a small cup,
from wdiich suddenly s])rang red and blue fires. The
men fell back, and I sjuled past them, but I had not
gone far down the lower staircase when a shot rang
after me and a bullet passed by my head. Now I came
rapidly to the outer door, where two more sentinels
stood. They shrank back, and suddenly one threw
down his musket and ran ; the other, terrified, stood
stock-still. I passed him, opened the door, and came out
upon the Intendant, who was just alighting from his

carriage.

The horses sprang away, frightened at sight of me,

LA JOXGLEUSE.

261

ambling
en. All
uttering
I and hi3
uulilenly
face and
ongleuse
:lo\vn on
I all blue
:q looked
d chalky

dropped
apoplexy
i-ade gave
nbling a
ixce stark

:lown one
Idiers ap-
y a door
: now the
;till I was
nail cup,
es. The
had not
lot rang
w I came
sentinels
le threw
ed, stood
came out
from his

it of me,

and nearly threw Bigot to tlie ground. I tossed the tin
cup with its cliemicul lires full in his face, as he made v.
dasli for me. lie called out, and drew his sword. I
wished not to tight, and I sprang aside; but he made a
pass at me, aiul 1 drew my i)i8tol and was jihout to tiJ-e,
when anotlier shot came from the hallway and struck him.
lie fell almost at my feet, and I dashed away into the
darkness. I'ifty feet ahead I cast one glance back and
saw Monsieur Cournal standing in the doorway. I was
sure that his second shot had not ben meant for me, but
for tlie Intendant — wild attempt at a revenge long de-
layed, for the worst of wronj^^s.

I ran on, and presently came full upon five soldiers,
two of whom drew their pistols, tired, and missed. Their
comrades ran away howling. They barred my path, and
now I lired too, and brought one down ; then came a
shot from behind them, and another fell. The last one
took to his heels, and a moment later I had my hand in
that of Mr. Stevens. It was he who had fired the oppor-
tune shot that rid me of one foe. We came quickly along
the river brink, and, skirting the citadel, got clear of it
without discovery, though we could see soldiers hurrying
past, roused by the firing at the chateau.

In about half an hour of steady running, with a
few bad stumbles ami falls, we reached the old windmill
above the Anse du Foulon at Sillery, and came plump
upon our waiting comrades. I had strii)ped myself of my
disguise, and rubbed the phosphorus from my person
as we came alonir, but enouirh remained to make me an
uncanny figure. It had been kept secret from these peo-
ple tliat I was to go with them, and they sullenly kept
tlu'ir muskets raised ; but when Mr. Stevens told them
who I was they were agreeably surprised. I at once took
command of the enterprise, saying firmly at the same time
that I would shoot the first man who disobeyed my orders.
18

THE SKATS OF TlIK i^IIGlITY.

'I Wiis sure tluit T cjoiild bring thciu to siifuty, but my will
Itiust be l;i\v. They took my terms like men, and swore
to stand by me.

)

XX 11.

Till' LUUU OF KAMAKASKA.

We were five altogetlier — ^Fr. Stevens, Clark, the two
Boston soldii-'r.-j, and mysi'li'; and presently we came down
the steep passage in the clill' to wliere our craft lay, se-
cured bv mv dear wife — a birch canoe, well laden with
necessaries. Our craft was none too large for our party,
but she must do; and safely in, we ])ushed out upon the
current, wliieh was in our favour, for the tide was going
out. ]\Iy object was to cross the river softly, skirt the
Levis shore, pass the Isle of Orleans, and so steal down the
river. There was excitement in tlie town, as wo could tell
from the lights Hashing along the shore, and boats soon
began to i)atrol the banks, going swiftly up and down, and
cxtendinir a line round to the St. Cliarles liiver towards
Beauport.

It was well for us the night was dark, else we had
never run tliat gantlet. But we were lucky enough, by hard
paddling, to get [)ast the town on the Levis side. Xever
were better boatmen, 'i'lie paddles dropjied with agreeable
precision, and no boatswain's rattan was needed to keep
my fi'llows to their task. I, whose sight was long trained
to darkness, could see a great distance rouiul us, and so
could prevent a ti'ap, though once or twice we let our
canoe drift with the tide, K'st our paddles should be heard.
I could not paddle long, 1 had so little strength. After
the Isle of Orleans was passed I drew a breath of re-
lief, and ])layed the part of captain and boatswain merely.

Yet when I looked back at the town on those strong

THE LOUD OF KAMAIIASKA.

2G3

: my will
lid swore

:, the two
Line down
ft lay, se-
iden with
nw party,
upon the
was going
skirt the
down the
coidd toll
)oat3 soon
own, and
r towards

e we had

1, by hard

0. Never

agreeable

d to keep

g trained

us and so

e let our

be heard,
h. After
itli of re-

11 merely,
ose strong

heights, and saw the bonfires burn to warn the settlers of
our escape, saw the ligiits sparkling in many liomes, and
even fancied I could make out tlie light sliiniug in my
dear wife's window, [ had a strange feeling of loneliness.
There, in the shadow of my prison walls, was the dearest
tiling on earth to me. Ought she not to be with me?
Slie had begged to come, to share with me these dangers
and hardships ; but that I could not, w»)uld not grant.
Slie would be safer with her people. As for us ib'Sperate
men bent on escape, we must face houi-ly ])erih

Thank Clod, there was woi'k to do. Hour after hour
the swing and dip of the paiUlles went on. 'So one
showed weariness, and when dawn broke slow and soft
over the eastern hills I motioned my good boatmen to-
wards tlie sliore, and we landed safelv. J.iftincf our friir-
ate up, we carried her into a thicket, there to rest with us
till night, when we would sally forth again into the
friendly darkness. AVe were in no distress all that day,
for the weather was line, and we had enough to eat; and
in this case were we for ten davs and niuhts, thouo-h in-
deed some of the uijjhts were dreai'v and verv cold, for it
was yet but the beginning of May.

It might thus seem that we were leaving danger well
behind, after having travelled so many heavy leagues, but
it was yet several hundred nules to Louisbui'g, our destina-
tion, and we had escai)ed only immediate danger. We
passed Isle aux Coudres and the Isles of Kamaraska, and
now we ventured by day to ramble the woods in search of
game, which was most plentiful. In this good outdoor
life my health came slowlv back, ai.d I should soon be
able to bear equal tasks with any of my comrades. Xever
man led better friends, though J have seen adventurous
service near and far since that time. Even the genial
ruflian Clark was amenable, and took sharp reprimand
without revolt.

2Gi

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

On the olevcTith night, iiftor our escape our first real
trial eanic. We were keeping the middle of the great
river, as safest from detection, and when tlie tide was witli
US we could thus move more rapidly. We liad had u con-
stant favouring breeze, but now su(hleidy, though we were
running with the tide, the wind turned easterly and blew
up the river against the ebb. Soon it became a gale, to
which was added snow and sleet, and a rough, cho])py sea
followed.

I saw it would bo no easy task to fetch our craft to tlie
land. The waves broke in upon us, and presently, while
lialf of us were paddling with laboured and desperate
stroke, the other half were bailing. Lifted on a crest, our
canoe, heavily laden, d'-opi)ed at both ends; and again,
sinking into the hollows between the short, brutal waves,
her gunwales yielded outward, and her waist gaped in a
dismal w;ty. We looked to see her with a broken back at
anv moment. To add to our ill fortune, a violent cur-
rent set in from the shore, and it was vain to attempt a
landing. Spirits and bodies llagged, and it needed all my
cheerfulness to keep my fellows to their tasks.

At last, the ebb of tide being almost spent, the waves
began to fall, the wind shifted a little to the northward,
and a piercing cold instantly froze our drenched clothes
on our backs, liut ^ ith the current changed there was a
good chance of reaching the shore. As daylight came w^e
passed into a little sheltered cove, and sank with exhaus-
tion on the shore. Our frozen clotlies rattle<l like tin,
and we could scarce lift a leg. But we gathered a fine
heap of wood, flint and steel were ready, and the tinder
^vas sought; which, wlien found, was soaking. Not a
dry stitch or stick could we find anywliere, till at last,
within a leather belt, Mr. Stevens found a handkerchief,
which was, indeed, as he told me afterwards, the gift and
pledge of a lady to him ; and his returning to her with-

TIIK LORD OP KAMARASKA.

2G5

first real
;he great
was with
Lid a coii-
wo were
and blew
I gale, to
iopi)y sea

ift to tlie
:ly, while
Jesperate
3rest, our
id again,
al waves,
ped ill a
1 back at
lent ciir-
ttenipt a
3d all my

he waves
>rthward,
1 clothes
ore was a
came we
1 ex hail s-

like tin,
I'd a fine
le tinder
Not a
I at last,
kerchief,

gift and
der with-

out it nearly lost him another and better gift and pledge,
for tliis went to light our fire. We had had enough
danger and work in one night to give us relish for some
days of rest, and we piously took them.

The evening of the second day we set off again and
had a good night's run, and in the dawn, s|)vin<r a snuir
little bay, we stood in and went ashore. I sent my two
Trovincials foraging with tlu-ir guns, and we who re-
mained set about to iix our camp for the day and i)re-
pare breakfast. A few minutes only i)asse(l, and my
hunters came runiiing back with rueful faces to say
they had seen two Indians near, armed .nth muskets and
knives. My plans were made at once. We needed their
muskets, and the Indians must pay the price of their
presence here, for our safety should be liad at any cost.

I urged my men to utter no woi'd at all, for none but
Clark could speak French, and he but poorly. For my-
self, my accent would pass, after these six years of })rac-
tice. We came to a little river, beyond which we could
observe the Indians standing on guard. We could only
cross by wading, which we did ; but one of my Provin-
cials came down, wetting his musket and hiuiself thor-
oughly. Reaching the shore, we marched together, I
singi!ig the refrain of an old French song as we went,
so attracting the attention of the Iiulians. The better to
deceive, we all were now dressed in the costume of the
French ]ieasant — I had taken jiains to have ]\[r, Stevens
secure these for us before starting; a pair of homespun
trousers, a coarse brown jacket, with thrums like wavijig
tassels, a silk handkerchief about the neck, and a strong,
thick worstt'd wig on the head ; no smart toupet, n(n'
buekle ; nor coinbei], nor ])owdered ; a.]ul all crowned by
a dull black ea]"). 1 myself was, as became my purpose,
most like a small captain of militia, doing wood service,
in the braver costume cf tlu' courcur dc hois.

200

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

I signalled to tlie Iiitliiiiis, {iiul, coming near, addressed
them in Frencli. 'riiey were deceived, and presently,
abreast of them, in the midst of ai)i)arent ceremony, their
tirelocks were seized, and Mr. Stevens and Clark had them
safe. I told them we must be satislied as to who they
were, for English prisoners esca})ed from (2n('l)ec were
abroad, and no man could go unchallenged. They must
at once lead me to their cam}). So they did, and at
their bark wigwam thev said tliev had seen no Enirlish-
men. They were guardians of the fire; that is, it was
their dutv to light a lire on the shore when a hostile fleet
should appear ; and from another point farther up, other
guardians, seeing, would do the same, until beacons would
bo shining even to Quebec, three hundred leagues away.

"While I was questioning them, Clark rilled the wig-
wam ; and presently, the excitable fellow, finding some

dlent stores of skins, tea, maple sugar, coffee, and other
tilings, broke out into English expletives. Instantly the
Indians saw they had been trapped, and he whom Mr.
Stevens held made a great spring from him, caught up a
gun, and gave a wild yell which echoed far and near.
Mr. Stevens, with great rapidity, levelled his pistol and
shot him in the heart, whUe I, in a close struggle with
my captive, Avas glad — for I was not yet strong — that
Clark finished my assailant : a]id so both lay there dead,
two foes less of our King.

Not far from where we stood was a pool of water,
and we sank the bodies there ; but I did not know till
long afterwards that Clark, with a barbarous and dis-
gusting spirit, carried away their scalps to sell them in
New York, where they would bring, as he confided to
one of the Provincials, twelve pounds each. Before we
left, we shot a poor howling dog that mourned for his
masters, and sank him also in the dark pool.

We had but got back to our camp, when, looking out,

THE LOUD OF KAMAUASKA.

207

uldresscd
) resell lly,
>ny, tlieir
lad tliem
rvlio tlicy
l)ec were
key must
, iind at
Englisli-
s, it was
stile fleet
lip, other
IIS would
3 away,
the wig-
ng some
nd other
iiitly the
:iom ^[r.
ght up a
rid near,
istol and
gle with
iig — that
!i'e dead,

)f water,
:iiow till
and dis-
them in
ifided to
efore we
[ for his

:ing out,

wo saw a well-manned four-oared boat making for the
shore. My meti were in disniMV until I told them that,
having begun the game of \v;ir, 1 would curry it on to
the ri[)C end. This boiit and all therein should be mine.
Safely hidden, we watched the rowers d'-aw in to shore
with brisk strokes, singing a (puiii't farewell song of the
vuijKt/curs^ oiiWi-'d La I'auvre .^L4•e, of which the refrain is:

" And his inotlior says, ' .My dcur,
For your iibseiico 1 shall ^riove ;
Come you home wilhiu the yo;ir.' "

They had eviilently been upon a long journey, and by
their toiling we could see their boat was deep loaded ; but
they drove on, like a horse that, at the close of day, sees
ahead the inn where he is to bait and refresh, and, rous-
ing to the spur, coiiies cheerily home. The ligiire of a
reverend old man was in the stern, and he sent them in
to shore with brisk words. Ihiini) came the big shallop
on the beach, and at that moment I ordered my men to
fire, but to aim wide, for I had another end in view than
killing.

We were exactly matched as to numbers, so that a
fight would have bec^n fair enough, but I hoped for peace-
ful conquest. As we fired I ste})ped out of the thicket,
and behind me could be seen the barrels of our thrcaten-
intr muskets. The old ovntlcman stood ui) while his men
cried for quarter, lie waved thom down with an impa-
tient gesture, and stepped out on the beacli. Then I
recotrnized him. It was the (Mievalicr de la Darante. I
stepped towards him, my sword drawn.

"Monsieur the Chevalier dc la Darante, you are my
prisoner," said I.

lie started, then recognized me. " Xow, by the blood
of man ! now, by the blood of man ! '' he said, and paused,
dumfounded.

2G8

THE SKATS OF THE MKillTY.

"You forgot mo, monsiinir?" iiskod I.

" Forgot you, inonsiour ? " suiil ho. " As soon for-
get the devil at muss! JUit 1 thouglit you dojul by
now, and "

" If you are disapj)ointo(l," said I, " thoro is a way " ;
and I waved towards Ids mon, tlioii to Mr. Stevens and
my own ambusliod follows.

lie sndlod an aoid smilo, and took a pinch of snulT.
" It is not so liory-eilgod as that," he answered ; " I ean
endure it."

" You sliall have time, loo, for rovoi'io," answered I.

He looked puzzled. " What is't you wish?" ho asked.

" Your surrender first," saiil 1, " and tlion your com-
pany at breakfast."

" Tlie hitter has moaning and compliment," he re-
sponded, " the former is beyond me. What would you
do with me ? "

" Detain vou and vour shallop for the services of mv
master, the King of England, soon to be the master of
your master, if the sii^us ai'o right."

" All signs fail with tlio blind, monsieur."

"Monsieur," he added, wi^^h great, almost too great
dignity, "I am of \\w fanuly of the Due do Miropoix.
The whole Kamnraska Isles are mine, and the best gen-
tlemen in this province do me vassalage. I make war on
none, I have stepped aside from all alTairs of state, I am a
simple gentleman. I have boon a groat way down this
river, at large expense and toil, to purchase Avheat, for all
the corn of these counties above goes to Quebec to store
the King's magazine, the adored La Friponne. I know
not your purposes, but I trust you will not push your ad-
vantage" — he waved towards our muskets — "against a
private gentleman."

" You forgot. Chevalier," said I, " that you gave ver-
dict for my death."

THE LOUD 0. KAMAIiASKA.

209

soon for-
<li'ii(l by

; Ji way " ;
L' veils jiiid

of siiiilT.
; " I can

ercHl I.
ho askcil.
our eoiu-

," lie rc-
Duld vou

'08 of my
11 aster of

00 groat
liropoix.
jost gen-
war on
% I am a
)wn til is
t, for all
to store
I know
your ad-
^ainst a

avG vcr-

"Up(m the evidcnoo," he replied. "And I have no
doubt you deserve hanging a thousand times/'

I ahnost loved him lor his boldness. I remembered
also that he had no wish to be one of my judges, and that
he spoke for me in the presence of the (iovernoi-. I'.ut he
was not the man to make a point of that.

" Chevalier,'' said I, " I have i>een foully used in yonder
town; by the fortune of war you shall hel{) me to eom-
])ensation. \\\\ have come a long, hard journey; we are
all much overworked; W(; need rest, a better i)o:it, and
goo<l sailors. You and your nu-n. Chevalier, shall row us
to Louisburg. When we are attacked, you shall l»e in the
van; when we are at peace, you shall industriously servo
under King (Jeorge's Ihig. \o\v will you give up your
men, and join me at breakfast':"'

For a moment the excellent gentleman was mute, and
my heart almost fell before his venerable white hair and
his proud bearing; but something a little overdone in his
pride, a little ludicrous in the situation, set me sniilinii-;
there came ])ack on me the remembrance of all 1 had suf-
fered, and I let no sentiment stand between me and my
pur])oses.

" I am the Chevalier de la "" he l)egan.

"If vou ^\ere Kinc: l.ouis himself, and everv man in
your boat a iteer of his realm, you should row a I'n-itish
subject now," s:iid I; "or, if you choose, you shall have
fighting instead." J meant there shoidd be nothing un-
certain in my words.

" I surrender," said lu^ ; " and if you are bent on sham-
ing me, let us have it over soon."

" You shall have better ti'catment than I had in Que-
bec," answered I.

A moment afterwards his men avoto duly surrendered,
disarmed, and guarded, and the Chevalier breakfasted
with me, now and again asking me news of (Quebec. He

27(1

TIIR SKATS OF TIIK MKillTY.

was jiinuzcd to Iumi- lliiit l)i;^'(>t li;ul hoon shot, juid (Yin-
tressed that I could not s:iv wlu'llicr I'atidly or not.

I jixcil (Ml a iicw plan. W c would now procet'd l)y
day us woll as liy ni^lit, for the shallop could not k'livo the
rivor, suid, bcsidi's, I did not can' to trust my })risom'rs on
slioro. I tlirew from Ihc sliallop into ihu stream c'nou,i;h
wheat to liirhten her, and now, well stored and irimmed,
we pushed away upon our course, the Chevalier aiul Ids
men rowiuu:, while my men rested and tended the sail,
wdnch was now set. 1 was much loath to tnit our good
canoe adrift, hut she stoj)[)ed the shaUop's way, and she
was l(d't heliind.

After a tiuu^ our prisoners were in i)art relieved, and
I made the Chevalier rest also, for lie had taken Ins task
in good pai't, and h;id ordei'ed his men to subnut cheer-
fully, lu the late afternoon, after nn exeeUent journey,
we saw a high and shaggy point of laiul, far ahead, whieli
sliut oil' our view. I was anxious to see beyond it, for
ships of war might appear at any moment. A good
breeze brought u]) this land, .and when we were abreast of
it a h)fty fi-igate was disclosed to view — a convoy (so the
Chevalier saiil) to a licet of transports whi(di that morn-
ing had gone u[> the river. 1 resolved instantly, since
light was useless, to make a run for it. Seating myself at
the tiller, I di'clared solemnlv that I would shoot the first
man who dared to stop the shallop's way, to make sign, or
si>eak a word. So, as the frigalo stood .across the river, I
had all sail set, roused the men at the oars, and we came
runinng by her stern. Our })riKoners were keen enough
to get past in safety, for they were between two fires, and
the cx(!ellent Chevalier was as alert }ind laborious as the
rest. '^I'hev siijfnalled us from the frii^-ate bv a shot to
bring to, l)ut we came on u'allantlv. Another shot wdiizzed
by at a distance, but we did not change our course, and
then balls came Hying over our heads, drop[)ing round us,

uud (11s-
)t.

oct't'il by
li'iivc tlie
■^oiuTs on

II C'IH)ll,i;ll

IriiiinuMl,
' jiiul his
tho sail,
Diir good
, jiiid slio

3ve(l, iiiid
1 Ids tiisk
dt clieer-
i joiiniov,
id, wliicdi
id it, for
A good
djrojist of
)y (so tbo
lilt morn-
tlv, siiico
myself at
. file first
c sign, or

river, I
wo came

1 enough
fires, and
lis as tlio
I si lot to
) whizzed
iirsc, and
•ound us,

TIIH LOUD OK KA.MAIiASKA.

271

cooling their hot protests in the river. r»iit none struck
us, -md presently all fell short.

We durst not slarlu'ii paee that night, and hy morn-
ing, niiieli exhausted, we deemed oiu'selves safe, and
rested for a whil", making a hearty hreakl'ast, though a
sombre shadow had settle(l on tin; face of the gooil Cheva-
lier. Once more he ventured to pi'otest, hiH 1 tolil him
my resolution was lixed, and that 1 wouM, at all costs,
secure escape from my six years' misery. He must abide
the fortune of this wai*.

For several days we fared on, witlioiit more mi.-hap.
A.t b^st, one morning, as we hugged the shore, 1 saw a
liM'gc bo;it lying on the beach. On landing we found the
bout of excellent size an<l made for swift going, and pres-
ently Clark discovered tiie oai's. 'riicn 1 turned to the
Cbevali"!', who was watchinij; me curiouslv, vet hidinix
anxietv, for be bad upheld his digidlv with sonic accent
since he bad come into my service :

"Chevalier," said I, "yon shall find um^ more luimane
tban my persecutors at (i^uebco. J will not binth'r your
going, if you will engage on your lionour--as would, for
instance, tbo Due do Mirepoix !" — he liowcd to my veiled
ii'onv — "that vou will not divnl-je what hronuht" vou hack
thus far, till you shall reach vour Kaniai'aska isles; and
you must undertake the same for your fellows here."

lie consented, and I admired the line, vain old man,
and lamented that I bad bad to use him so.

" Tben," said I, "you may depart with your sliallop.
Your mast and sail, however, must he ours; and for these
I will i)ay. I will also pjiy for the wheat which was
thrown into the river, and you shall have a sbare of our
provisions, got from tiro Indians."

" .AEonsieur," said be, "I shall remember witb pride
tbat I bave dealt witb so fair a foe. I can not regret tbo
pleasure of your accpiaintance, even at the price. And

272

THE SEATS OF TOE MIGHTY.

sec, monsieur, I do not think you tlic criminal tlioy have
made you out, and so I will tell a lady — -"

I raised my liand at him, fur I saw tliat lie knew
somelliing, and Mr. Stevens was near us at the time.

'' (■lievalier," said I, di'awing him aside, "if, as you
say, I have used you lionourahly, then, if trouhle falls
upon !ny wife Ix'fore I see her again, I beg yen to stand
her friend. In the sad fortunes of war aud hate of me,
she may need a friend — even against her own iieoi)le, on
lier own hearthstone."

I never saw a man so anuized. To his rapid question-
ings I gave the one reply, that Alixe was my wife, llis
lip trendded.

"Poor child I poor child!" said he; "they will put
her in a nunnerv. 'i'ou did wrou"*, monsieur."

" Chevalier," said I, " did you ever love a woman ?"

lie nuide a motion of the hand, as if I had touched
n^ion a tender point, and said, " So young ! so young ! "

" But you will stand by her," I urged, " by the memory
of some good Avoman you have known !"

He ])ut out his hand again with a chafing sort of mo-
tion. " There, there," said he, " the poor child shall never
want a friend. If I can hel}) it, she shall not be made the
victim of the Church or of the State, nor yet of family
pride — good (!od, no I"

Presently we pnrted, and soon we lost our grateful foes
in tlie distance. All night we jogged along with easy sail,
but just at dawn, in a sudden opening of the land, we saw
a sloop at aiu'hor near a wooded })oint, her pennant fiying.
AVe pushed along, uidieeding her fiery signal to bring to;
aiul deeliniug, she let ily a swivel loade*! with grape, aud
again anotiier, riddling our sail ; but we were travelling
with wind and ti(h% and we soon left the indignant patrol
behind. Towards eveniui,^ came a freshening wind and a
cobbling sea, and I thought it best to make for shore. So,

THE LORD OF KAMARASKA.

273

they liave

lie knew
:rne.

f, as you
iblc falls
to stand
te of mo,
eoplo, on

qnestion-
ife. His

'vvill put

lan ? "

touched
ang ! "

memory

t of mo-
Lill never
nude the
f family

oful foes
Dasy sail,
, we saw
it flyini:'.
ring to ;
[ipe, and
•avelliiig
it ])airol
id and a
)re. So,

easing the sail, we brought our shallop before the wind.
It was very dark, and there was a heavy surf running;
but we had to take our fortune as it came, and we let
drive for the unknown shore, for it was all alike to us.
Presently, as wo ran close in, our boat came hanl upon a
rock, which bulged her bows open. Taking what i)rovis-
ions we could, we left our poor craft upon the rocks, aud
fought our way to safety.

We had little joy that night in thinking of our shallop
breaking on the reefs, and we discussed the chances of
crossing overland to Louisburg ; but we soon gave u]) that
wild dream : this river was the oidv wav. AVhen davliuht
came, we found our boat, though badly wrecked, sliil held
together. Now Clark rose to the great necessity, and said
that he vmuld patch her up to carry us on, or never lift a
hammer more. With labour past reckoning we dragged
her to shore aiul got her on the stocks, and then set about
to find materials to mend lier. Tools were all too few — a
hammer, a saw, and an adze were all we had. A piece of
board or a nail was a treasure tlien, and when the ti.nDers
of the craft were covered, for oakum we had to rcsoj't to
tree-gum. For caulking, one spared a handkerchief, an-
other a stocking, and another a piece of shirt, till she was
stuffed in all her fissures. In this labour we pass^ed eight
days, and then were ready for the launch again.

On the very afternoon fixed for starting, we saw two
sails standimj: down the river and edii'in2^ towards our
shore. One of them let anchor go right olf the place
wdiere our patched boat lay. We had prudently carried
on our work behind rocks and trees, so that wo could not
be seen, uidess our foes came ashore. Our case seemed
desperate eiu')ugh, but all at once I determined on a dar-
ing enterprise.

The two vessels — convoys, I felt sure — had anchored
some distance from each other, aiul from their mean ap-

THE SKATS OF THE MIGHTY.

pcaraiico I did not tliiuk tluit they would have a large
fi'eiij^ht of UK'U and arms; for tlioy seoiiied not ships from
Franco, but vcssols of the country. If I could divide the
force of cither vcssi'l, and (piictly, under cover of night,

steal

til

1 would trust

de^

esi)erate

courage, iind o[)(Mi the war which soon (General Wolfe and
Admiral Sauiulcrs were to wage up an '. down this river.

I luid brave fellows with me, and if we got our will it
would be a thing worth remembrance. So 1 disclosed my
l)lan to .Ml'. Stevens and the others, and, as 1 looked for,
they had a line relish for the enter})rise. I agreed u})on a
signal with tiiem, bade them to lie close along the grouiul,
picked out the nearer (which was the smaller) shi[) for my
l)ur|)ose, and at stinset, tying a, white handkerchief to a
stick, came marching out of the woods, upon the shore,
liring a gwn at the same time. rre;:ently a boat was put
out from the sloop, and two men aiul a boy came rowing
towards m(\ Standing off a little distance from the shore,
they ask(>d what was wanted,

" The King's errand," was my reply in French, and
I must be carried down the river by them, for which I
woidd pay generously. Then, with idle gesture, I said
that if they wished some drink, there was a bottle of rum
lu'ar 7ny lire, above me, to which they were welcome; also
some game, which ihey might take as a gift to their cap-
tain and his crew.

This drew them like a magnet, and, as I lit my jnpe,
their boat scr!i})ed the sand, and, getting out, they hauled
her up and came towards me. I met them, and, pointing
towards my lire, as it might apjiear, led them up behind
the rocks, when, at a sign, my men sprang up, the fellows
were seized, and were forbidden to cry out on peril of
their lives. 1 compelled them to tell what hands and
what arms were left oti boarv. The sloop from which
they came, and the schooner, its consort, were bound for

5 a large
ips from
ivide the
)f night,
lt'Si)L'rato
\)li'e and
IS river,
iir will it
losL'd my
)ked for,
d upon a
i ground,
p for my
hief to a
le shore,
was put
e rowing
he shore,

ch, and
which I
, I said
of rum
me ; also
leir caj)-

my l^ipe,
y hauled

lointing
behind
3 fellows

peril of
nds and
n which
lund for

ADMIRAL SAUjXBEKS.

THE LORD OF KAMARASKA.

275

Gaspe, to bring provisions for a thoiisfincl Indiuns assem-
bled at Miraniiclii and Aristiguish, wlio were to go by
these same vessels to re-eiiforce the garrison of Quebec.

The sloop, they said, liad six guns and a crew of
twenty men ; but tlie schooner, which was niudi larger,
carried no arms save muskets, but had a crew and a guard
of thirty men.

In this country there is no twilight, and with sunset
came instantly the dusk. Already silence and dark in-
closed the sloo}). I had the men bound to a tree, and
gagged also, engaging to return and bring them awny safe
and unhurt when our task was over. 1 chose for i)ilot the
boy, and presently, with great care, launching our })atchcd
shallop from the stocks — for the s]ii])-boat wus too small
to carry six safeh^ — we got (piietly away. Jiowing with
silent stroke we came alongside the sloop, Xo light
burned save that in the binnacle, and all hands, except
the watch, were below at supper and at cards.

I could see tlie watch pacing forward as we dropped
silently alongside the stern. My object was to catch this
fellow as he came by. 'J'liis I would trust to no one but
myself; for now, grown stronger, J had the old spring in
my blood, and I had also a good wish that my plans sliould
not go wrong through the bungling of otliers. I motioned
my men to sit silent, and then, when the fellow's liack was
toward mo, coming softly up the side, I slid over ({uietly
and drew into the shadow of a boat that hung near.

He came on lazily, and when just past me I suddenly
threw my arms about him, claiiping my hand upon his
mouth. He was stoutly built, and he began at once to
struggle, lie was no coward, and feeling for his knife,
drew it, and would have had it in me but that I was
quicker, and, with a desperate wrench, my hand still
over his mouth, half swung him round and drove my
dagger home.

276

THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY.

lie sank in my uriiis witli ii heaving sigh, and I laid
liini down, still and (Uvid, upon tiic deck. Then I whis-
pered up my eoinrades, llie boy leading. As tlie last man
eanie over, his pistol, stuck in his belt, eaugiit the rat-
lings of the shrouds, and it dr()p})ed u[)ou the deek. This
irave the alarm, but 1 was at the eompanion-door on the
instant, as the master came bounding up, sword showing,
and calliug to his meu, who swarmed after him. 1 liied;
the bullet travelled along his spine, and he fell back
stunned.

A dozen others came on. Some reached the deek and
grappled with my men. I never shall foi'gct with what
fiendish iov Clark fouirht that luiiht — those live terrible
minutes, lie was like some mad devil, and by his impre-
cations I knew that he wtis aveni:in!T the bi'utal death of
his infant daui2:hter some vears before, lie was armed
with a loug knife, and I saw four men fall beneath it,
while he himself got but oue bad cut. Oi' the Provin-
cials, one fell wounded, and the other brought down his
man. ^Ir. Stevens and myself held the comjianion-way,
driving the crew back, not without hurt, for my wrist was
slashed by a cutlass, and Mv. Stevens had a bullet in his
thigh. But presently we had the joy of having those be-
low cry quarter.

AVe were masters of the sloop. Quickly battening
down the prisoners, I had the sails spread, the windliiss
going, the anchor apeak quickly, and we soon were mov-
ing down uj>on the schooner, whicdi was now all con-
fusion, commands ringing out on the quiet air. But
when, laying alongside, we gave her a dose, and then
another, from all our swivels at once, swee})ing her decks,
the timid fellows cried quarter, and we boarded her.
With mv men's muskets cocked, 1 ordered her crew and
soldiers below, till they were all, save two lusty youths,
stowed awav. Then 1 had evervthiuii: of value broujiht

WITH WOLFE AT MONTMORENCI.

277

aud I Itiid
leii I whLs-
lu last mail
lit till) rat-
leck. This
our on the
I showing,
1. 1 liiL'd ;
I'l'U back

13 deck aud
witli wliat
ve terrible
liis iinpre-
1 death of
,vas armed
)eneath it,
le Proviu-
doAvn his
111 ion- way,
' wrist was
llet in liis
• those be-

from tlie sloop, together with the swivels, which we fast-
ened to the sciiooner's side ; and when all was done, wo
set lire to the sloop, and 1 stood and watched her burn
with a proud — too proud — spirit.

Having brought our prisoners from the shore, we
])]aced them with the rest below. At dawn I called a
council with Mr. Stevens and the others — our one wound-
ed I'rovincial was not omitted— and we all agreed that
some of our captives should be sent oil in the long boat,
and that a portion of the rest should be used to work the
shi]). So we had half the fellows up, and giving them
tishing-lines, rum, and provisions, with a couple of mus-
kets and ammunition, we sent them oil to shift for them-
selves, and, raising anchor, we got on our way down the
broad river, in perfect weather.

The days that followed are like a good dream to me,
for we came on all the way without challenge and with
no adventure, even round Gaspe, to Louisburg, thirty-
eight days after my escape from the fortress.

XXIII.

batten in £:

e windLiss
were mov-
V all con-
air. But

and then
lu>r decks,
rded her.

crew and
ty youths,
[} brought

WITH WOLFE AT MOXTMOREXCI.

At Louisbur2: we found that Admiral Saunders and
Oeneral Wolfe were gone to Quel)ec. They had passed us
;is we came down, for we had sailed inside some islands
of the coast, getting shelter and better passage, and the
fleet had, no doubt, passed outside. This was a blow to
me, for I hnd hoped to be in time to join General Wolfe
and proceed with him to Quebec, where my knowledge of
the place should be of service to him. It was, however,
no time for lament, and I set about to find my Avay back
again. Our prisoners I handed over to the authorities.
19

278

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

The two rrovincials deciilcd to remain and take service
under General Amlierst; 3Ir. Stevens would join his own
Hangers at once, but Clark would go back with mo to
have his hour with his hated foes.

I paid Mr. Stevens and the two Provijieials for their
shares in the schooner, and Clark and I manned Iier
afresh, and prei)ared to return instantly to (Quebec.
From (Jeneral Amherst I received corres])ondence to
carry to Ceneral Woli'e and Admiral Saunders. Before
I started back, I sent letters to (Jovernor ])inwiddie and
to Mr. (now Colonel) Ceorge Washington, but 1 had no
sooner done so than 1 received others from tliem through
General Amherst. They had been sent to him to convey
to General Wolfe at Quebec, who was, in turn, to hand
them to me, when, as was hoped, I should be released
from captivity, if not already beyond the power of men to
free me.

The letters from these fi-iends almost atoned for my
past sufferings, and I was ashamed that ever I had
thought my countrymen forgot me in my misery; for this
was the first matter I saw when I opened the Governor's
letter :

By tlie House of Hurgesses.
Resolved, That the sum of three hundred ponuds be
paid to Captain Robert Moray, in consideration of his
services to the country and his singular sufferings in his
confinement, as a hostage, in Quebec.

This, I learned, was one of three such resolutions.

But there were other matters in his letter which much
amazed me. An attempt, the Governor said, liad been
made one dark night upoii his strong-room, which would
have succeeded but for the great bravery and loyalty of
an old retainer. Two men were engaged in the attempt,
one of whom was a French num. Both men were masked,

/ ])Oinids he

■at ion of hi.^

riu(js in his

ions.

wliich much
id, had been
which would
id loyidty of
the attempt,
A'cre masked,

WITH WOLFR AT MONTMOUEXCI.

279

like service
nil his own
tvith me to

ds for their
naniied her
to (Quebec,
ondeiice to
;rs. liefore
iwiddie and
it I had no
em througli
n to convey
rn, to iiand
be released
jr of men to

oned for my
ever I had

ery ; for this i
D Governor's

and, when set upon, fou^ijht with cousumnuite bravery,
nnd escaped. It wus found the next day that the safe
of my partner liad also been rilliMl and all my papers
stolen. There was no douht in my mind what this
meant. Doltaire, with some ronej^^ade \irginian who
knew Williamsburg and mysi'lf, had made essay to get
my papers. But they had failed in their designs, for all
my valualjle documents — and tlic'i desired by Doltaire
umoniT them — remained safe in the (Governor's stronir-

room.

I got away again for (^uebee live days after reaching
Louisbnrg. AVe came along with good winds, having no
cheek, though twiee we sighted French sloops, which,
however, seemed most concerned to leave us to ourselves.
At last, with colours flying, we siglited Kamaraskji Isles,
which I saluted, remembering the Chevalier de la l)a-
rante ; then Isle aux Coudres, below which we poor fugi-
tives came so near disaster. Here we all felt new fer-
vour, for the British flag flew from a staff on a lofty point,
tents were pitched thereon in a pretty cluster, and, round-
ing a point, we came plump upon Admiral Durell's little
fleet, which was here to bar the advance of French ships
and to waylay stragglers.

On a blithe summer day we sighted, far off, the Isle
of Orleans and the tall masts of two patrol ships of war,
wliich in due time we passed, saluting, and ran abreast of
the island in the North Channel. Coming up this pas-
sage, 1 could see on an eminence, far distant, the tower of
the Chateau Alixe !

Presently there opened on our sight the great bluff at
the Falls of Montmorenci, and. crownincf it with tents
and batteries, the camp of General Wolfe himself, and the
good ship Centurion standing oil' like a sentinel at a point
where the Basin, the river 31ontmorenci, and the Xorth
Channel seem to meet. To our left, across the shoals, was

280

THE SEATS OP THE MIOIITY.

Major IIanly\s post, on tlio extroino eastern point of tlio
Isle of Orleans; ami aL,^•lin beyond that, in a straiujht line,
Point Levis on the south shore, where lii'i^'ailier-lJenerai
^lonekton's eanip was pitdu'd ; and farther on his bat-
teries, from which shell and shot wei-e ])onred into the
town. How all had elianufed in the two months sinee I
left there ! Around the Seii2:nenr Dnvarnev's manor, in
the sweet villai^e of lieaupoi't, was encamped the French
army, and redoubts and batteries were ran<j^ed where Alixe
and 1 and her brother Juste had many a time walki'd in a
sylvan quiet. Here, as it were, round the bent and broken
sides of a bowl, war raL,^ed, and the centre was like some
caldron, out of which im})s of ships s})rang to hand up
tires of hell to the battalions on the led<a's. Here swnn<x
Admiral Saunders's and Admiral Holmes's divisions, out
of reach of the Fi'ench batteries, yet able to menace and
destroy and to feed the British camps with men and
munitions. There were no French ships in sight— only
two old hulks with guns in the mouth of the St. Charles
River, to protect the road to the jialace gate — that is, the
gate at the Intendanee.

It was all there before me, the investment of Quebec,
for which I had prayed aiul waited seven long y^ars.

All at once, on a lull in the fighting which had lasted
twenty-four hours, the heavy batteries from the Levis
shore opened upon the town, emptying therein the fatal
fuel. Mixed feelings possessed me. I had at first listened
to Clark's delighted imprecations a?id devilish praises with
a feeling of brag almost akin to his own — that was the
soldier and the Briton in me. lint all at once the man,
the lover, and the husl)and s})oke : my wife was in that
beleaguered town under that monstrous shower ! She hiid
said that she would never leave it till I came to fetch her.
Yet might she not be di-ad — or, if living, immured in a
convent? For I knew well that our marriaire must be-

)()int of the
tnii<;ht line,
lic'i'-(i('n('rul
oil his biit-
t'd into the
nths since 1
a niiinor, in
tlie French
wile re Alixe
w a lived in a
und broken
s like sonic
to hiind np
Llere swnng
ivisions, ont
meiuice and
dIi men and
sight— only
! St. Charles
-that is, the

t of Qnehcc,
■ y^iivs.
h had lasted
1 the Levis
ein the fatal
first listened

praises with
,liat was the
ice the man,

was in that
3r ! She had
to fetch her.
mniured in a
,o:e mnst be-

i->

5|vv7( ' /■: li S!'L AW KUNck.

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Falls ofMoiMiiiorciu'i loSillrry ;|
ri'M /At'/>/ft'ni//r//,t <>/'///,'

^</'ii(Am

»->.

fit

'.';■.<.«..

Q«L

<i^t«».

V'C. J/7VK K.

■■.*>'

u >■

'i.J

¥. (

Vt.

.<^^..,./'i'^

ififinfnino

--v^s..

"^ ' .'J^> '?\7„/.''t;'.''''>^"/'' .yv

♦ "C "W!f/,./ •'!'"°">"

:</ Admiral 'C.ih'.mi^Uffi^i ■>. is^«i— ^^ _''

rV^.J/-«A',^,

•«:

Jleivrenccs

3 . Sta fforue .

4jSiptiny/

J. Ttmuf/t^-fu n vH Tnro/itf ry/r^/ih'
Zojtdin^^, a^f t/u FinttBoAi^unt /imI

6 JSaqt'yf t/iat-dt'rti'rtt/ t/u Xriftny^ 0114/
tvn'/iuA thfBoaA/ jnaei-h/ t/uii- /at^
tivfyr/t/uFlfff^/hmnj'Jii^ c^'Ii'rf .

Bn'iiJAMi/M

=*— t

rVCTIO .V g-.iiiuNnnttiprA^iLI.SIt

Kiriifli

Ai'iiiv

^^^^■^■^

» tJI* /.nil'."'" \>' . V >«

'■e /tivj.:^

at tA/.4l/4u/:

7^ CUannel

WITH WOLFE AT M0XTM0RE^X1.

281

come known after I Imd escaped ; tliat she would not, for
iier own good pride and womanliood, keep it secret tlien ;
that it would be proclaimed while yet (jabord and the
excellent chaplain were alive to attest all.

Summoned by the Centurion, we were passed onbeyoud
the eastern point of the Isle of Orleans to the admiral's
ship, which lay in the channel oil the point, with battle-
sliips in front and rear, and a line of frigates curving
towards tlie rocky i)eninsu]a of Quebec. Then came a
line of buoys beyond these, with numned boats moored
alongside to protect the fleet from Are rafts, which once
already the enemy had unavailingly sent down to ruin and
burn our fleet.

Admiral Saunders received me with great cordiality,
thanked me for the dispatches, heard with applause of my
adventures with the convoy, and at once, with dry humour,
said he would be glad, if General Wolfe consented, to
make my captured schooner one of his fleet. Later, wlien
her history and doings became known in the fleet, she was
at once called the Terror of France ; for she did a wild
thing or two before Quebec fell, though from first to last
she had but her six swivel guns, which I had taken from
the burned sloop. Clark had command of her.

From Admiral Saunders I learned that ]5i<jot had re-
covered from his hurt, which had not been severe, and of
the death of Monsieur Couriuil, who had ridden his horse
over the clilT in the dark. From the admii-al I came to
General Wolfe at jMontmorenci.

I sliall never forget my first look at my hei'o, that
flaming, exhaustless spirit, in a body so ;/((firJte and so un-
shapely. When I was brought to him, ho was standing
on a knoll alone, looking through a glass towards the bat-
teries of Levis. Tlie first thing that struck me, as he
lowered the glass and leaned agjiinst a gun, was the mel-
ancholy in the lino of his figure. I never forget that, for

282

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

it seemed to me even then thut, whatever glory there was
for British arms ahead, there was tragedy for him. Yet,
as he turned at the sound of our footsteps, I almost
laughed ; for his straight red liair, his face defying all
regularity, with the nose thrust out like a wedge and the
chin falling back from an tdl'ectionate sort of mouth, his
tall, straggling frame and far from athletic shoulders, all
challenged contrast with the compact, haiulsome, gracious-
ly sha})ed Montcalm. In Montcalm was all manner of
things to charm — all save that which presently tilled mo
with awe, and showed me wherein this sallow-featured,
pain-racked Briton was greater than his rival beyond
measure : in that searching, burning eye, which carried
all the distinction and greatness denied him elsewhere.
There resolution, courage, endurance, deep design, clear
vision, dogged will, and heroism lived : a bright furnace
of daring resolves, which gave Englaiul her sound desire.

An ollicer of his stalf presented me. The General
looked at me with piercing intelligence, and then, pres-
ently, his long hand made a swift motion of knowledge
and greeting, and he said :

" Yes, yes, aiul you are welcome, Captain Moray. I
have heard of you, of much to your credit. You were for
years in durance there.'"

lie pointed towards the town, where we could see the
dome of the cathedral shine, and the leaping smoke and
flame of the roaring batteries.

" Six vears, vour Excellcncv," said I.

"Papers of yours fell into CJeneral Braddock's hands,
and they tried you for a spy — a curious case — a curious
case! Wherein were they wrong and you justified, and
why was all exchange refused V"

I told him the main, the bare facts, and how, to force
certain papers from me, 1 had been hounded to the edge
of the grave, lie nodded, and seemed lost in study of the

WITH WOLFE AT MONTMORENCI.

283

V there was
him. Yet,
, I almost
defyiiiff all
ic:e and the
mouth, his
[Oulders, all
e, gracious-
manner of
ly tilled me
\v-i'eatared,
val bovond
ich carried
elsewhere,
esign, clear
^ht furnace
md desire,
he General
then, pres-
knowledge

Moray. I
on were for

)uld see the
smoke and

)ck's hands,
— a curious
istified, and

ow, to force
to tlie edge
study of the

mud-flats at the Beauport shore, and presently took to
beating his foot upon the ground. After a minute, as if
he had come back from a distance, he said : " Yes, yes,
broken articles. Few women have a sense of national
honour, such as La Tompadour none! iVn interestiuir
matter."

Then, after a moment : " You shall talk with our
chief engineer ; you know the town ; you should be use-
ful to me. Captain Moray. What do you suggest concern-
ing this siege of ours?"

" Has any attack been made from above the town, your
Excellency ? "

He lifted his eyebrows. " Is it vulnerable from there ?
From Cap Rouge, you mean ? "

"They have you at advantage everywhere, sir," I
said. " A thousand men could keep the town, so long
as this river, those mud-flats, and those high cliffs are
there."

" But above the town "

" Above the citadel there is a way — the only way : a
feint from the basin here, a sham menace and attack, and
the real action at the other door of the town."

" They will, of course, throw fresh strength and vigi-
lance above, if our fleet run their batteries and attack
there ; the river at Cap Eouge is like this Montmorenci
for defence." lie shook his head. " There is no wav, I
fear."

" General," said I, " if you will take me into your serv-
ice, and then give me leave to liandlc my little schooner
in this basin and in the river above, I will prove that you
may take your army into Quebec, by entering it myself,
and returning with that as precious to me as the taking
of Quebec to you."

He looked at me piercingly for a minute, then a sour
sort of smile played at his lips. " A woman ! " he said.

284

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY,

" Well, it were not tlie first time the love of a wench
opened the gates to a nation's victory."

" Love of a wife, sir, should carry a man farther."

He turned on mo a commanding look. " Speak
plainly," said he. " If we are to use vou, let us know you
in all."

He waved farther back the ofliccrs with him.

" I have no other wish, your Excellency," I answered
him. Then I told him brieliy of the Seigneur Duvarney,
of Alixe, and of Doltaire.

"Duvarney! Duvarney!" he said, and a liglit came
into his look. Then he called an otlicer. " A\'as it not
one Seigneur Duvarney who this morning jirayed ])ro-
tection for his chateau on the Isle of Orleans?" he asked.

" Even so, vour Excellencv," was the renlv; "and he
said that if Captain ]\Ioray was with us, he would sundy
speak for the humanity and kinilness he and his house-
hold had shown to British prisoners."

"You speak, then, for this gentleman?" he asked,
with a drv sort of smile.

" With all my heart," I answered. " But why does he
ask protection at this late day?"

"New orders are issued to lay wjistc the country;
hitherto all property was safe," was the Cenerars reply.
' See that the Seigneur Duvarney's suit is granted," he,
added to his officer, " and sav that it is by Caj)tain ]\Iorav"s
intervention. — There is another matter of this kind to
be arranged this noon," he continued: "an exchange of
prisoners, among whom are some ladies of birth and breed-
ing, captured l)ut two days ago. A gentleman comes
from General ^Montcalm directly uj)on the point. You
might be useful herein," he added, " if you will come to
my tent in an hour." lie turned to go.

" And my ship, and permission to enter the town, your
Excellency ? " I asked.

f a wencli

•ther."

'^ Speak
i know you

[ answered

Duvarnev,

iglit came
\ as it not
rayed pro-
' lie asked.
; "and lie
•uld surcily
his house-
lie asked,
liy does lie

country ;
al's iv])lv.
Lilted," he,
in iMorav's
is kind to
:ch;inge of
md breed-
laii conies
int. You
11 come to

:own, your

WITH WOLFE AT MONTMOUKNCT.
What do you call your— shii)?" he asked a li

285

ittle
grimly,

I told him how the sailors had already clii'istened her.
He smiled. "Then let her prove her title to Terror of
France," he said, " by being pilot to the rest ol' our iluet up
the river, and you. Captain Moray, be guide to a fooling
on those heights"— he pointed to the towu. "Then this
army and its General, aiul all J^nglaiid, plense (.od, Avill
thank you. Your craft shall liave commission as a ro\er
— but if she gets into trouble?"

" Slie will do as her owner has done these six years,
your Excellency : she will tjglit lier way out alone." "

Jle gazed long at the town and jit the Levis sliore.
" From above, then, thei-e is a way ':' "

"For proof, if I come bark ;dive "

"For proof that you hav(i be(Mi " he answered

meaningly, with an amused ihi.^h ol' liis vyor^^ tlioiigli at
the very moment a spasm of i)ain crossed liis face, for lie
was suffering from an incurable disease, and went about
his great task in daily misery, vet cheerful and insnirin"-

"For proof, my wife, sii'I" said L

lie nodded, but his thoughts were diverted instantly,
and he went from me at bnc(> al)sti-a('ted. Lut airain he
came back. "If you return," said he, "you shall serve
upon my statf. You will care to view our operations," lie
added, motioning towards the intrenchments at the rivei-.
Then he stepped quickly away, and I was taken by an
officer to the river, and though my heart warmed within
me to hear that an attack was ]ursently to be made from
the shore, not far distant from the falls, I felt that the
attempt could not succeed : the f-^reiudi were too Avell
intrenched.

At the close of an hour I returned to the (lenerars
tent. It was luncheon-time, and they were about to sit as
I was announced. The CJeneral motioned me to a seat.

280

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

and then iiguin, us if on second thought, made as though
to introduce me to some one wiio stood beside him. My
amazement was unbouncknl when I saw, smiling cynically
at me, ^lonsieur Doltaire !

lie was the envoy from Quebec. I looked him in the
eyes steadily for a moment, into nudicious, unsv/erving
eyes, as maliciously and unswervingly myself; and then
we both bowed.

" Captain ]\loray and I have sat at meat together be-
fore," he said, with mannered coolness. " We have played
host and guest also : but that was ere he won our hearts
by bold, romantic feats. fStill, I dared scarcely hope to
meet him at this table."

" Which is sacred to good manners," said I, mean-
ingly and coolly, for my anger and sur^irise were too deep
for excitement.

I saw the General look at both of us keenlv, then his
marvellous eyes flashed intelligence, and a grim smile
played at his lips a moment. After a little general con-
versation Doltaire addressed me:

" We are not yet so overwhelmed with war but your
being here again will give a fdlip to our gossip. It must
seem sad to you — you were so long with us — you have
broken bread with so many of us — to see us pelted so.
Sometimes a dinner-table is disordered by a riotous shell."

lie was bent on torturing me. It was not hard to do
that, for how knew I what had hapjiened ! How was it
he came ba»^-k so soon from the Hastile? It was incred-
ible. Perhaps he had never gone, in spite of all. After
luncheon, tlie matter of exchange of ])risoners was gone
into, and one by one the names of the P'rench prisoners
in our hands — ladies aiid gentlemen a])prehended at the
chdteau — were ticked off, and I knew them all save two.
The General deferred to me several times as to the per-
sons and positions of the captives, and asked my sugges'

.IS ihougli
liiin. ^ly

^ cynieully

liim ill the

msv/erving

uiid then

gether be-
lli ve pUiyed
our hearts
ly hope to

I, mean-
•e too deep

V, then liis
;rHii smile
sncral con-

' but your
. It must
-you liave

pelted so.
;ous shell."
hard to do
low was it
vas incred-
all. After
5 was gone
1 prisoners
ided at the

save two.
to the per-
iiy sugges'

WITH WOLFE AT MONTMOllENCI.

2S7

tions. Immediately I proposed Mr. Waindeet, the chap-
lain, in exchange for a i)risoner, thougli his name was not
on the list, but Doltaire shook his head in a blank sort
of wav.

"Mr. AVainileet! lh\ Wainileet ! There was no
such prisoner in the town," he said.

I insisted, but he stared at me inscrutably, and said
tliat he had no record of the man. Then I spoke most
forcibly to the General, and said that :\rr. Waijilleet should
be produced, or an account of him be given by the French
Governor. IJoltaire then said :

" I am only responsible for these names recorded. Our
General trusts to your honour, jind you to ours, Mon-
sieur le Geiicrale."

There was nothing more to say, and presently the ex-
changes were arranged, and, after compHments, Doltaire
took his leave. I left the Governor also, and followed
Doltaire. lie turned to meet me.

" Captain ^loray and I," he remarked to the officers
near, " are old — enemies; and there is a sad sweetness in
meetings like these. May I "

The ofliccrs drew away at a little distance before the
suggestion was really made, and we were left alone. I
was in a white heat, but yet in fair control.

" You are surprised to see me here," lie said. " Did
you think the Bastile was for me ? Tut I I had not got
out of the country when a piicket came, bearing fresh
commands. La Pompadour forgave me, and in the
King's name bade me return to ^'ew France, aiul in her
own she bade me get your papers, or hang you straight.
And — you will think it singular — if need bo, I was to
relieve the Governor, and Bigot also, and work to save
Kew France with the excellent ^larquis de ^lontcalm."
lie laughed. " Yow can see how absurd that is. I luive
held my peace, and I keep my commission in my pocket."

2SS

THE SKATS OF TllK :MlC.nTV.

I looked lit him iiiiKi/cil that ho should toll mo thi.-;.
lie road mv look, and said :

" Vos, you are my eoufidaut in tlTn. I do not fear
you. Your onomy is Ixjund in lionour, your friend may
seelv to serve himself." Ao-uin lie lauglied. " As if I,
Tinoir Doltaii'e— note the agreeable eondjinatioii of
])easant and genlleman in my name — who held his hand
fi'om and)ition lor large t lungs in 1*' ranee, should stake
a lifetime on this foolisii hazard ! When 1 play, ('ai>tain
^loray, it is for things large and viial. Else 1 renudn
tlie idler, tin- courtier — tlie son of the King."

" ^'et you lend your vast talent, the genius of those
unknown possibilities, to this, monsieur — this little busi-
lu'ss of exchange (d' })risone!'s,''' 1 retorted ironieally.

" That is my whim — a social eourtesy."

" You said you knew nothing of the chaplain," I
broke out.

" Xot so. 1 said he was on no record given mc.
Odicially J know nothing of Idm."

'' Come," said 1, "you know wcdl how 1 am concerned
for him. '^'ou (piiltblc ; you lied to our ("ieneral."

A wi(d<ed light shoiu' in his eyes. " I choose to ])ass
that by, for the moment," said he. " T am sorrv von for-
get yourself ; it were better for you and me to be cour-
teous till our liour of reckoning. Shall we not meet to
purpose some day?" he said, with a sweet hatred in his
tone.

'* Witli ad my heart."

" Ihit where V "

" In yonder town," said I, pointing.

lie lauglied ])rovoking]y. '^ You are melodramatic,"
he rejoined. "I could liold tliat town witli one thou-
sand u.en au-ainst all vour armv and live times vour Heet."

" Y'ou have ever talked and nothing done," said I.
" Will yen tell me the truth concerning the chaplain ? "

WITH WOr.FF. AT MONTMOREXCr.

281)

11 rue thi-s.

() not fciir
'riciul HKiy
''As if I,
nation of
1 his liiind
oiild slaku
y, ('ji})taiii
: 1 roniaiii

8 of tliosn
littk' biisi-
•ully.

apluiii," I

given me.

concerned

I."

se to ])ass

•y yon for-

o be coiir-

ot meet to

red in his

dramatic,"
one llioii-
•oiir licet."
e," said I.
iplain ? "

" Yes, in private the truth you shall hear," he said.
" The man is dead."

" If you speak true, he was mui'dered," I broke out.
" Vou know well why I "

"Ac, no," he answered. " lie was put in prison, es-
ca[)e(l, made for the rivir, was pursued, fought, and was
killed. So much he got for serving you I "

'•Will you answer nu3 one question':'" said I. '^js
my v.ife well ? Is she safe ? She is there set anion"--
villainies."

" Your wife?" he answered, sneering. '' If you uiean
^hidemoiselle Duvarney, siie is not ihere." Then lie
added solemtdy and slowly : '' She is in no frar of voiir
batteries now — she is bi'youd them. When she was ihere,
she was not child enougii to tiiink that fo(dish game
with the vanished chaplain was a nuirriaiie. Did \ou
think to gull a lady so beyond the niinuLe's wildnuss ^
She is not there," he added again in a low voice.

'' She is dead ? " I gasped. " My wife is dead ? "

" Enough of that," he answei-ed with cold llerceness.
" The lady saw the folly of it all, before she had done
with the world. You — you, monsieur! It was but the
pity of her gentle heart, of a romantic nature. You —
von blunderiui]: alien, snv, and seducer I "

AVith a gasp of anger I struck him in the fi\c(\ and
whipped out my sword. IJut the ofhcers near came in-
stantly between us, and I could see that they thouglit me
gross and ill-maniiercd, to do tins thing before the (Jen-
eral's tent, and to an envoy.

Doltaire stood still a moment. Then presently he
willed a little Idood from his mouth, and said :

" ^lessieurs, C^iptain M(»ray''s anger was justified ; and
for the blow, he will justify that in some happier timi —
for me. Tie said that I had lied, and I proved him
wrong. I called him a spy and a sedueer — he sought

290

THE SEATS OF THE MKHITY.

to shame, lie covorcd with sonow, one of the nohlest
fiimilies of New I-'raiiee — jiiul lie liiis yet to prove nie
wrong. As envoy I iiiiiy not li,i,Hit him now, but I nuiy
tell you that I have every eue to send him to hell one
day. He will do me the credit to say that it is not
cowardice tliat stavs me."

"If no eoward in the way of fighting, coward in all
other things," 1 retorted instantly.

'' Well, well, as you may think." He turned to go.
" We will meet there, then?" he said, jiointing to the
town. " And when ? "

" To-morrow," said I.

He shrugged his shouldei as to a boyish petulance,
for he thought it an idle boast. ''To-morrow? Then
come and pray with me in the cathedral, and after that
we will cast np accounts — to-morrow," he said, with a
poignant and exultant malice. A nion: nt afterwards he
was gone, and I w;' • left alone.

Presently I saw a boat shoot out from the shore be-
low, and he was in it. Seeing me, he waved a hand in
an ironical way. I paced up and down, sick and dis-
tracted, for half an hour or more. I knew not whether
he lied concerning Alixe, but my heart was wrung with
misery, for indeed he si)okc with an air of truth.

Dead! dead! dead! "In no fear of your batteries
now," he had said. " Done witli the world!" he had
said. What else could it mean? Yet, the more I
thonght, there ;jame a feeling that somehow I had been
tricked. " I)(>ne with the world ! " Ay., a nunnery — wjis
that it? }^\\t then, " In no fear of your batteries now " —
that, what did that mean but death ?

At this distressful Moment a message came from die
General, and I went to his tent, trying to calm myself,
but overcome with a|iprehension, I was kept another
half hour waiting, and then, coming in to him, he ques-

WITH WOLFE AT MOXTMOREXOI.

201

10 noblest
prove me
)iit I may
) hell one
it is not

ird in all

ed to go.
ig to the

letulauce,
V? Then
after tiiat
l1, with a
rwards he

shore be-

hand in

and dis-

b whetlier

'ling with

butteries
" he had
more 1
had been
lerj — was
3 now " —

from die
n myself,
: another
, he ques-

tioncd mo closely for a littli" time about Doltairo nnd
I told him tlie wiiole story brielly. rresentiy his secre-
tary broiiglit me the commission for my appointment to
specual service on the (Jenerars own stall.

" Your lirst duty," said his I'lxcellency, " will be to — re-
connoitre ; and if you come back safe, we will talk fiirtlier."

Wiiile he was speaking I ke[)t looking at tiie list oi
prisoners which still lay upon his table. It ran thus :

Monsieur and iNriulaino Jdubort.
JVIoiisiour uiid Maduino C'ai't;aiial.
IMadaiiU' lloiisilloii.
I\Iadaino ('liain|iigiiy.
^[oiisic'.ii" I'ipoii.
WadcMioiselle La Rose.
L'Abbo Duraiid.
Monsieur Ilalhoir.
La SiL'ur An<;(''li(|Uo.
La Scour Soraphino.

I know not why it was, but the last three names held my
eyes. Each of the other names I knew, and their owners
also. When I looked close, I saw that where " La Somv
Angeliqne" now was another name had been written and
then erased. I saw also that the writing was recent.
Again, where "ILilboir" was written there had been an-
other name, and the same process of erasure and sub-
stitution had been made. It was not so witii " La Sunir
Suraphine." I said to the General at once, " Your Excel-
lency, it is possible you have been tricked." I pointed
ont what I had noted. He nodded.

" Will you let me go, sir ? " said I. " Will you let me
see this exchange ? "

" I fear you will be too late," he answered. " It is not
a vitid matter, I fancy."

" Perliaps to me most vital," said I, and I explained
my fears.

2"j2

TIIH SKATS OF THE MKillTV

il Ivill.llv. Jli

•kl'

'^ Tlirn ^ijfn, ijfo," lu' Saul kiiidly. J li' (jiiicKly n^jivu (li-
ivctioiis to luivr int! carrit'd to Ailiiiiral Saiimlcrs's slii[),
wiu'iT till' I'Xcliaiiu'c was to 'oi' I'lli'i-ti'il, and at llio saiiio
time I was liaiu'U'ii a L;'fiu'i'al passpoi't.

Ill a few iiioiiiciits wc WITH hard on our wav. Now tho

h'lttcr'u's were sili'iit. I'y tlu' (Jnu'i'ars oi'dri'S, the hoin-
ItartliMciit ci-a.-i'd uliilc tlu' cxcliiii^^v was l)i'iii^- ilTcclcd,
and tlu' !''r('nrli !»at!t'i'ics also stoit])rd llflnLT. A suddoii
(juii'lni'ss si'cnh'd to settle on land and sra, and tlu'i'c was
(»nly licai'd, now and riuMi, tlu- n(»ti' of a hui^iu I'l'oni a sln[)
of war, 'I'lic water in the hasin was moveless, and the air
was ealni and <|Miet. This heraldry of war was all un-
natural in the irojden weather and sweet-sinellini,' land.

I ui'iivd the rowers to their ta.-k, and we Hew on. Wo
passed another hoat loaded with men, .sini,nn,u^ boisterously
a disorderly soil (.f soiiu", culled '^ Hot StulT,*' set to the ;ur
'' Lilies ul' l^'ninee."" Jt was out oi' touch with the gencrul
nuiet :

'• When the LT.'iy I""'()rly-S(>vciit 11 is djishiniif nslioro,
W'liili' ImiIIcN nvr \v!ii>t lini,f nnd cjitmoii.^ (1o I'oar.
Sfiys .Montc;ihii. •Tln>v(. ;ii'(. Sliirlcys — 1 jxiiow lh(> I'lpcis.'
' Voii lie,' siiys Neil lldt wood, ' we swipf for Lnscclics 1
'1'Ii(iiil;1i oiif clniliitiLT is cliniiu'iMl. niid we scout imwdcr-puir,
litre's III vou, Vf s\val)S — here's i;i\t' vou Hot SlulVI'"

"While yet we were ahoiit two mili'S away, I saw Ji hoat
put out from t!ie adniii'aTs ship, then, at the same mo-
ment, one from the Lower 'Town, and they drew towards
eaeli otiier. 1 iiru'ed my men t(» their t:isk, and as we were
jiassiiiL:; ,>ome of Admiral Sannilers's shi[)s, their sailors
elieered us. Then came a silence, and it seemed to me
that all our army and llret, and that at J>e;iuport, and tho
ijarrison of (^uehec, were watchin.u" us; for the ramptirtij
and shore were crowdeil. We drovt' on at an an,ii;le, to
intercept the l)oat that left the admirar.s ship before it
reached the town.

Iv pivu (li-
liTs's ship,

tllO StllliC
\n\v tllO

, t ho hoiii-

X ilTcctcd,

A sihhK'ii

tlii'l'i' Wild

•om ii ship
ihI the air
as all uii-
iLj laud.
V on. Wv
jistc'i'ously
to the air
he general

WITH WOLFK AT MONTMOIIMXcr.
War leaned iij^on its arms and watched a sli

203
duel.

I'U.cls.'

h.'s!
\v(l('f-[)u(T,

I ' "'

^a\v a boat

same nio-

\y towards

IS we were

cir sailoi's

led to me

t, and the

j'auipart;]

au^'le, to

before it

1(1 watched a slrani^e duel.
There waH no authority in any one's hands save niv own
to stoj) the l)(>at, and the two armies must avoid llriu-'
for the peo[»le ot both nations were* here in this space be-
tween—ladies and ^'entk'nien in the French boat '>-(.iu<r to
the town, iMii^dishnien and a p<jor woniau or two eoniiu"
to our own fleet.

My men strained every mustde, but the pace was im-
possible— it could not last ; and the rowers in the French
boat hung over their oars also with enthusiasm. With the
glass of the oMicer near me— Kiii^ah.n of Anstriithcr's
Regiment — I could now see Doltaire standing erect in
the boat, urging the boatmen on.

All round that basin, on shore and clilT and mountains,
thousands of veteran lighters — Eraser's, Otway's, Town-
semrs, Murray's; and on the other side the splendid
soldiers of La Sarre, Languedoc, IJcarn, and (iiiicnne
— wattdied in silence. Well tlicv mi'dit, for in this
fnfr\(ctv was the little wea[)on foi-ged which opened the
door of Xcw France to England's glory. So may the lit-
tle talent or o])portunity make possible the genius of the
great.

The pain of this suspense grew so, tliat 1 longed for
some sound to break the stillness ; but there was nothing
for minute after minute. Then, at last, on the halevon
air of the summer day lloated the Angelus from tlie catlie-
dral tower. Only a moment, in which one could feel, and
see also, the French army praying, then came from the
ramparts tlic sharp, ins})iring roll of a drum, and ])res-
ently all was still again. Nearer and nearer the boat of
prisoners approached the stone steps of the landing, and
we were several hundred yards behind.

I motioned to ])oltaire to stop, but he made no sign.
I saw the cloaked figures of the nuns near him, and I
strained my eyes, but I could not note their faces. My
20

294

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

men worked on tirdently, and presently we gained. But
I saw that it was impossible to reach them before tliey set
foot on shore. Now their boat came to the steps, and one
by "one they hastily got out. Then I called to Doltaire to
stop. The air was still, and my voice carried distinctly.
Suddenly one of the cloaked ligures sprang towards the
steps with arms outstretched, calling aloud, " Kobevt !
Robert ! " After a moment, " Robert, my husband ! "
rang out again, and then a young oflicer and the other
nun took her by the arm to force her away. At the sharp
instigation of Doltaire, some companies of marines filed
in upon the place wJjcre they had stood, leveled their mus-
kets on us, and hid my beloved wife from my view. I
recognized the young oOicer who had put a hand upon
Alixe. It was her hrother Juste.

" Alixe ! Alixe I " I called, as my boat still came on.

" Save me, Hobert ! " came the anguished reply, a faint
but searching sound, and then no more.

Misery and mystery were in my heart all at once. Dol-
taire had tricked me. " Tliose batteries can not harm her
now ! " Yes, yes, thoy could not while she was a prisoner
in our camp. " Done with the world I " Truly, when
wearing the garb of the Sister Angeliqne. But why
that garo ? I swore that I would be within that town
by the morrow, that I would fetch my wife into safety,
out from the damnable arts and devices of Master Devil
Doltaire, as (Jabord had called him.

The captain of the marines warned us that another
boat's length would fetch upon us the fire of his men.
There was nothing to do but to turn back, while from the
shore I was reviled by soldiers and by tae rabble. My
marriage with Alixe had been made a national matter —
of race and religion. So, as my men rowed back towards
our fleet, I faced my enemies, and looked towards them
without moving. I was grim enough that moment, God

THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN.

295

lined. But
ore tliey set
?ps, and one
Doltaire to
I distinctly,
towards the
, "Kobert!
husband ! "

I the other
ut the sliarp
arines filed
. their mus-
ly view. I
hand upon

came on.
^ply, a faint

ODce. Dol-
>t harm her
3 a prisoner
ruly, when
But wliy
that town
into safety,
aster Uevil

lat another
►f his men.
1g from the
nibble. My

II matter —
.ck towards
invds tliem
>ment, God

knows ; I felt turned to stone. I did not stir when— in-
effaceable brutality— the batteries on the heights began
to play upon us, the shot falling round us, and passing
over our heads, and muskct-liring followed.

" Damned villains ! Faithless brutes ! " cried Kingdon
beside me. I did not speak a word, but stood there de-
fiant, as when we first had turned back. Now, sharply,
angrily, from all our batteries, there came reply to the
French ; and as we came on, with only one man wounded
and one oar broken, our whole fleet cheered us. I steered
straight for the Terror of France, and there Clark and I,
he swearing violently, laid plans.

xxiy.

THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN^.

That night, at ..ine o'clock, the Terror of France,
catching the flow of the tide, with one sail set and a
gentle wind, left the fleet and came slowly up the river,
under the batteries of the town. In the gloom we passed
lazily on with the flow of the tide, unquestioned, soon
leaving the citadel beliind, and ere long arrived safely at
that point called Anse du Foulon, above which Sillery
stood. The shore could not be seen distinctly, but I
knew by a perfect instinct the cleft in the hillside where
was the path loading up the mountain. I bade Clark
come up the river again two nights lience to watch for
my signal, which was there agreed upon. If I did not
come, then, with (jJeneral Wolfe's consent, he must show
the General this path rip the mountain. He swore that
all shoukl be as I wished ; and indeed you would have
thought that he and his Terror of France were to level
Quebec to the water's edge.

296

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

I stole softly to the sliore in a bout, which I drew up
among the bushes, hiding it as well as 1 could in the dark,
and then, feeling for my pistols and my knife, I cre])t
ujiward, coming j)resently to the passage in the moun-
tain. 1 toiled on to the summit without a sound of alarm
from above. Pushing forward, a light flashed from the
windmill, and a man, and then two men, appeared in the
open door. One of them was Captain Lancy, whom I had
very good reason to remember. The last time I saw him
was that f'lmous morning when lie would have had me
shot five minutes before the appointed hour, rather than
endure the cold and be kept from his breakfast. I itched
to call him to account then and there, but that would
liave been foolish i)lay. I was outside the belt of light
falling from the door, and stealing round I came near to
the windmill on the town side. I was not surprised to
see such poor watch kept. Above the town, up to this
time, the guard was of a perfunctory sort, for the great
cliffs wero thought impregnable ; and even if surmount-
ed, there was still the walled town to take, surrounded by
the St. Lawrence, the St. Charles, and these massive bul-
warks.

Presently I.ancy stepped out into the light, and said,
with a hoarse laugh, " Blood of Peter, it was a sight to-
day ! She has a constant fancy for the English fdibuster.
' Robert ! my husband ! ' she bleated like a pretty lamb,
and Doltaire grinned at her."

" ]5ut Doltaire will have her vet."

" He has her pinched like a mouse in a weasel's teeth."

" My faith, mademoiselle has no sweet road to travel
since her mother died," was the careless re])ly.

I almost cried out. Here was a blow which staggered
me. Her mother dead !

Presently the scoffer continued : " The Duvarneys
would remain in the city, and on that very night, as they

L I drew up
ti the dark,
fe, I cre])t
the moiin-
id of ahii-m
1 from the
ared in the
horn I had
i I saw him
ve liad me
ather than
i. I itched
that would
i\t of light
,me near to
Lir prised to
up to this
r the great
surmonnt-
L'ounded by
lassive bul-

:, and said,
a sight to-
1 filibuster,
■etty lamb,

sel's teeth."
,d to travel

I staggered

Duvarneys
ht, as they

The Old Oafi's of Quebec.

THE SACRED COUXTERSTGN.

29'

sit at dinner, a shell disturbs them, a splinter strikes
madame, and two days later she is carried to 1

They linked arms and walked on.
It was a dancrer

ler «zrave

fori

^^^.oiis business i was set on, tor i was
sure that I would be hung without shrift if captured.
As I discovered afterwards, I had been prochiinied, and it
was enjoined on all Frenchmen and true Catholics to kill
me ii the chance showed.

Only two things could I depend on : Voban, and my
disguise, which was very good. From the Terror of
France I had got a peasant's dress, and by rubbing my
hands and face with the stain of butternut, cuttins: airnin
my new-grown beard, and wearing a wig, I was well
guarded against discovery.

How to get into the city was the question. I^y the
St. Charles Kiver and the Palace Gate, and by the St. Louis
Gate, not far from the citadel, were the oidv wavs, and both
were difficult. I had, however, two or three plans, and
these I chewed as I travelled across Maitre Abraliam's
fields, and came to the main road from Sillery to the town.

Soon I heard the noise of clattering hoofs, and jointly
with this I saw a figure rise up not far ahead of mo, as if
waiting for the coming horseman. I drew back. The
horseman passed me, and, as he came on slowly, I saw tlie
figure spring suddenly from the roadside and make a
stroke at the horseman. In a moment they were a rolh'ns:
mass upon the ground, while the horse trotted down the
road a little and stood still. I never knew the cause of
that encounter — robljery, or })rivate hate, or paid assault ;
but there was scarcely a sound as the two men stru2:^"led.
Presently there was ffroanins:, aiul both lav still, I hur-
ried to them, and found one dead, and the other dying,
and dacfirer wounds in both ; for the assault had been at
such close quarters that the horseman had had no chance
to use a pistol.

298

THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY.

My plans were changed on tlie instant. I drew tlio
military coat, boots, and cap oilf the horseman, and j)ut
them on myself ; and tlirusting my hand into his waist-
coat — for he looked like a courier — I found a packet.
This I put into my pocket, and tlien, making for the
horse which stood quiet in the road, 1 mounted it and
rode on towards the town. Striking a light, I found that
the packet was addressed to the Governor. A serious
thought disturbed me : I could not get into tlie town
through the gates without the countersign. I rode on,
anxious and perplexed.

Presently a thought pulled me np. The courier was
insensible when I left him, and he was the only person
who could help me in this. I reproached myself for leav-
ing him while he was still alive. " Poor devil," thouglit
I to myself, " there is some one whom his death will hurt.
He must not die alone. lie was no enemy of mine." I
went back, and, getting from the horse, stooped to him,
lifted np his head, and found that he was not dead. I
sjooke in his ear. lie moaned, and his eyes opened.

" What is your nnme? " said I.

" Jean — Labrouk," he wdiispered.

Now I remenibered him. lie was the soldier whom
Gabord had sent as messenger to Voban the night 1 was
first taken to the citadel.

" Shall 1 carry word for yon to any one ? " asked 1.

There was a slight pause ; then he said, " Tell my —
Babette — Jacques Dobrotte owes me ten francs — and — a
le^i: — of mutton. Tell — mv Babette — to irive mv coat of
beaver fur to G.ubord the soldier. Tell "... he sank
back, but raised liimself, and continued : " Tell my lia-
bette 1 weep with her. . . . Ah, mon gvdiid Iwmme de
Calvaire — hon soir!^^ lie sank back again, but I roused
him with one question more, vital to me. I must have
the countersign.

THE SACKED COUNTERSIGN.

299

1 drew tho

n, and put

liis waist-

a packet.

iig for the

ted it and

found that

A serious

tlie town

I rode on,

ourier was
>nly person
If for leav-
," thought
will hurt,
mine." I
ed to him,
t dead. I
ned.

!ier whom
ght I was

=ked I.
LY'll ni}' —
s — and — a
Qv coat of
. he sank
\\ my lia-
liomme de
t I roused
nust have

"Labrouk ! LabroukI" said I shar2)ly.

lie opened liis dull, glazed eyes.

" Qui va la ? " said 1, and I waited anxiously.

Thought seemed to rally in him, and, staring— alas !
how helpless and how sad : that look of a man brought
back for an instant from the Shadows !— his lips moved.

"France," was the whispered reply.

"Advance and give the countersign!" I urged.

" Jesu " he murmured faintly. I drew from my

breast the cross that Mathilde had given me, and pressed
it to his lips. He sighed softly, lifted his hand to it, and
then fell back, never to speak again.

After covering his face and decently laying the body
out, I mounted the horse again. Ci lancing up, I saw that
this bad business had befallen not twenty feet from a
high Calvary at the roadside.

I was in a painful quandary. Did Labrouk mean that
the countersign was "Jt'cV?^," or was that word the broken
prayer of his soul as it hurried foi'tli? So strange a coun-
tersign I had never heard, and yet it might be used in
this Catholic country. This day might be some great
feast of the Church — possibly that of the naming of
Christ (which was the case, as I afterwards knew). I rode
on, tossed about in my mind. So much hung on this.
If I could not give the countersign, I should have to fight
my way back again the road I came. But I nmst try my
luck. So I went on, beating up my heart to confidence ;
and now I came to the St. Louis (J ate. A tiny fire was
burning near^ and two sentinels stepped forward as I rode
boldly on the entrance.

" Qui va la ? " was the sharp call.

"France," was my reply, in a voice as like a peasant's
as possible.

" Advance and give the countersign," came the de-
mand.

300

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

Anotlicr voice called from the darkness of the wall:
" Come and driuk, comrade ; Tve a brother with Bougain-
ville."

'SA',s'?^" said I to the sentinel, answering his demand
for the countersign, aiul 1 spurred on my horse idly,
though my heart was thumping hard, for there were
several sturdy fellows lying beyond the dull handful of
fire.

Instantly the sentineFs hand came to my bridle-rein.
"7/^////" roared he.

Surely some good spirit was with me then to prompt
me, for, witli a careless laugh, as though 1 had not be-
fore finislied the countersign, "C7/r/*cs7," I added — ^''Jha
Christ!''

AVith an oatli the soldier let go the bridle-rein, the
other opened the gates, and I passed through. I heard
the first fellow swearing roundly to the others that he
would " send yon courier to fires of hell if he played with
him again so." ••^

The gates closed behind me, and I was in the town
which had seen the worst days and best moments of my
life. I rode along at a trot, and once again beyond the
citadel was summoned by a sentinel. Safely passed on, I
came down towards the Chateau St. Louis. T rode ooldly
np to the great entrance door, and handed tlie packet to
the sentinel.

" From whom ? " he asked.

"Look in the corner," said L "And what business
is't of yours ? "

"There is no word in the corner," answered he dog-
gedly. " Is't from :\Ionsieur le Generale at Caj) Rouge? "

" Bah ! Did you think it was from an English wolf ? "
I asked.

His dull face broke a little. "Is Jean Labrouk with
Bougainville yet V "

the Willi :
I liougui Il-
ls demand
lorse idlv,
liere were
iiiidful of

ridle-rein.

to jironipt
d not be-
h1 — "J(\s//-

)-reiii, the

I heurd

s that lie

ayed with

the town
nts of my
?yond the
ssed on, I
idc ooldly
Dacket to

business
1 he doof-
h wolf ? "
■ouk with

THK SACRED COrXTKRSIGN.

301

in-

"lie's done with Bougainville; he\s dead," I j
swered.

'' Dead ! dead ! " said he, a sort of grin i.laviiig on liis
faee.

I made a shot at a venture. " But you're to pay his
wife IJabette the ten franes and the leg of mutro'ii in
twenty-four hours, or his ghost will follow you. Swallov
that, pu(hling-hea(l ! And see you pay it, or every man i.
our eompany swears to break a score of shingles on your
bare back."

" i'il P'\V, I'll pJiy," he said, and he began to tremble.

"Where shall 1 find Jiabette?" asked I. "I come
from the Isle aux Coudres ; I know not this rambling
town."

"A little house hugging the cathedral rear," he an-
swered. "Ikibette sweeps out the vestry, and fetches
water for the priests."

" Good," said I. " 'Pake that to the Governor at once,
and send the corporal of the guard to have this horse fed
and car<3d for, as he's to carry back the (Jovei-nor's mes-
senger. I've further business for the General in the town.
And tell your captain of the guard to send and ])ick up
two dead men in the highway, just against the first Cal-
vary l)eyond the town."

He did my bidding, and T dismoujited, and was about
to get away, when I saw the (^hevalirr de la Darante and
the Intendant appeal- at the door. Thoy paused u[)on the
steps. The Chevalier was speaking most earnestly :

" To a. nunnery — a piteous shame ! it should not be,
your Excellency."

" To decline upon Monsieur Dultaire, then?" asked
Bigot, with a sneer.

" Your Excellency believes in no woman," responded
the Chevalier stiffly.

" Ah yes, in one ! " was the cynical reply.

302

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

" Is it possible ? And she remains a friend of your
Excellency ! " came buck in irony.

" The verv best ; she tinds me nnendnrable."

" Philosoi)hy shirks the solving' of tluit problem, your
Kxcellency," was the cold re[)ly.

" No, it is easy. The woman to be trusted is she wlio
never trusts."

*' The para,i,^on — or i)rodigy — who is slie ? "

" Even Madame .lamond."

" She danced for you once, your Excellency, they tell

»5

" She was a devil that night ; she drove us mad."

80 Doltaire had not given up the secret of that affair !

There was silence for a moment, and then tlie Chevjdier

said, " Her father will not let her go to a nunnery — no,

no. Whv should he vield to the Church in this ? "

Biixot shruc-^red a shoulder. " Not even to hide —

shame ? "

" X.iar — ruflian 1 " said I through my teeth. The

Chevalier answered for me :

" T would stake my life on her truth and purity."
" You forget the mock marriage, dear Chevalier."
" It w\is after the manner of his creed and people."
" It was after a manner we all have nsed at times."
" Speak for yourself, your Excellency," was the austere

reply. Nevertheless, I could see that the Chevalier was

much troubled.

" She forgot race, religion, people— all, to spend still

hours with a foreign fpy in prison," urged Bigot, with

damnable point and suggestion.

" Hush, sir ! " said the Chevalier. " She is a girl once

much beloved and ever admired among us. Let not

your rancour against the man be spent upon the maid.

Nav, more, why should vou hate the man so ? It is said,

*/ / ' ft' •

your Excellency, that this ^Moray did not fire the shot

THE SACUHD COUNTERSIGN.

;ju3

[ of your

lem, your
i slie who

, they tell

uul"

Kit afTjiir !
Chevrlier
nery — no,

to hide —

th. The

rity."
alier."
leople."
imes."
lie austere
vulier was

pend still
igot, with

I girl once
Let not

the maid.

It is said,
5 the shot

that wounded you, but one wlio has less reason to love

you

liigot smiled wiokedlv, but said notliin-^

Tiie Clievalier laid a hand on IJigofs arm. " Will
you not oppose the Governor and the bishops Ik-r fate
is sad enough."

" I will not lift a finger. There are weightier mat-
ters. Let Doltaire, the idler, the Don Aiiiato, the hunter
of that fawn, save her from the holy ambush. Tut, tut,
Chevalier. Let her go. Y'our ne])liew is to marry Ikt
sister; let her be swallowed up — a shame behind llio
veil, the sweet litany of the cloister."

The Chevalier's voice set hard as he said in quick
reply, " My family honour, Franc/ois P>igot, needs no
screen. And if you doul)t that, I will give you argument
at your pleasure." So saying, he turned and went back
into the chateau.

Thus the honest Chevalier ke})t his word, given to me
when I released him from servinix me on the St. Law-
rence.

Bigot came down the steps, smiling detestably, and
passed me with no more than a quick look. I made my
way cautiously through the streets towards the cathedral,
for I owed a duty to the poor soldier who had died in my
arms, through whose death I had been able to enter the
town.

Disarray and ruin met my sight at every haiul. Shot
and shell had made wicked havoc. Houses where, as a
hostage, I had dined, were battered and broken ; public
buildings were shapeless masses, and dogs and thieves
prowled among the ruins. Drunken soldiers staggered
past me ; hags begged for sons or bread at corners; nnd
devoted priests r.nd long-robed Eecollet monks, cowled
and alert, hurried past, silent, and worn with labours,
watchings, and prayers, A number of officers in white

'MU

'VUK SKATS OF TIIK MKIIITV.

lf(

ilo b}-

towunU thu cluit(

iiiul

Lornis rodu uy, ;^^()iiij; lowuius iiiu ciuiieuu, uiui a c

pany of rniirrurs </r hois ciinio \\\> from Mountain Street,

singin.i^ :

•' (jin>Hy i/irdH .' b ntntin [/rami —

Commtnci'2-vouti, rommviu-i :-rous /"

Here and there were fires lighted in the streets, though
it was not cold, and beside tlieni peasants and soldiers
drank, and (piarrelled over food — for starvation was abroad
in the land.

Hy one of tliose tires, in a seehided street — for 1 had
come a roundabout w;iv — were a nutriber of soldiers of
Languedoe's reuiinent (I knew them by their trick of
headgear and their stoutness), and with tiiem reckless
gii'ls, will), in their abandonment, seemed to me like those
revellers in Jlerculancum who danced their wav into the
Cimmerian darkness. I had no thought of staying there
to moralize upon the theme ; but, as I looked, a figure
camo out of the dusk ahead and moved swiftly to-
wards mc.

It was ]\rathilde. Slie seemed bent on some errand,
but the revellers at the fire caught her attention, and she
suddenly swerved towards them and came into the dull
glow, her great black eyes shining with bewildered bril-
liancy and vague keenness, heir long fingers reaching out
witli a sort of challng motion. She did not speak till she
was among them. I drew into the shade of a broken wall,
and watched. She looked all round the circle, and then,
without a word, took an iron crucifix wdiicli liung upon
her breast and silently lifted it above their heads for a
moment. I myself felt a kind of thrill go through me,
for her wild beauty was almost tragical. IFer madness
was not grotesque, but solemn and dramatic. There was
something terribly deliberate in her strangeness ; it was
full of awe to the beholder, more searching and pitiful
than melancholy.

TIIK SACKED COL'XTKH.SKlX,

50J

.iUJ

1(1 a com-
iii Street,

s, tllOUfJ^ll

i sold it' rs
'US abroad

'or 1 had
oldiors of
trick of
1 reckless
like those
*• into the
•iii<^ there
, a ligiire
iviftly to-

le errand,
I, and she

the dull
:'red bril-

hinf^ out
ik till she
)ken wall,
and then,
1110^ npon
ads for a
onf^h nie,

madness
'here was
s ; it was
id pitiful

Coarse hands fell away from wanton waists ; rihallry
hesitated; hot faces drew apart; aiul all at oiice a ;,Mr!
with a eracklinn: lau<rh threw a tin eup of liquor iuloMie
tiro. Kven us she did il, a wretche.l dwarf s^jrani; into
the circlo without a word, and, siiatcliiii«r t|ie cup out of
the llanies, juinix-d hack again iuto tlu^ darkiu'ss, peer-
ing iuto it with a hollow laugh. A soldier raised ji heavy
stick to throw at him; but the girl caught him hv the
arms, and said, with a hoarse pathos, "My CJod, no, Al-
phonso ! It is my Ijrother !"

Here .Mathilde, still holding out the cross, said in a
loud whisper, " \Sh, 'sh ! My children, go not to the
palace, for there is Fran(;ois liigot, and he has a devil,
l^ut if you have no cottage, I will give you a home. I
know the way to it up in th< hills. \\h,v children,
see, I will nnike you hapi)y."

She took a dozen little wooden (,'rosses from her
girdle, and, st"^)ping round the circle, gave each ju-rson
one. No soldier refused, save a young militiaman ; and
when, with a sneei'ing laugh, he threw his into the lli'c,
she stooped over him and said, '' Poor boy I poor boy I "

She put her fingers on her lips and whispered, '' Hi nil
iminacuhtti — miserere viri, /V^v^v," stray jdirases gathered
from the liturgy, pregnant to her brain, order and truth
flashing out of wandering and fantasy. Xo one of tlie
girls refused, but sat there, some laughing nervously,
some silent ; for this mad maiil had come to be sur-
rounded with a su])erstitious reverence in the eyes of the
common people. It was said she had a home in the hills
somewhere, to whicdi she disappeared for days and weeks,
and came back hung about the girdle with crosses; and
it was also said that her red robe never became frayed,
shabby, or tlisordered.

Suddenly she turned and left them. I let her pass
unchecked, and went on towards the cathedral, humming

306

THE SEATS OF TIIF MltHlTV

an old Frcneli chanson. I did this because now and then
I met soldiers and patrols, and my free and careless man-
ner disarmed notice. Oni.e or twice drunken soldiers
stopped me and tUrew tlieir arms about me, saluting
me on the cheeivs t) hi mode, asking themselves to
drink with me. Getting free of them, I came on my way,
and uas glad to reach tlie cathedral unchallenged. Here
and there a broken buttress or a splintered wall told
where our guns liad played upon it, but inside I could
hear an organ playing and a Miserere being chanted. I
wenc round to its rear, and there I saw the little house
described by the sentinel at the chateau. Coming to the
door, I knocked, and it was opened at once by a warm-
faced woman of tlurty or so, who instanfly brightened on
seeing me. " Ah, you come from Cap Rouge, m'sieu',''
she said, looking at my clothes — her own husoand's,
though she knew it not.

" I come from Jean," said I, and stepped inside.

She shut the door, and then I saw sitting in a corner,
by a lighted .able, an old man, bowed and shrunken,
wJiito hair and white beard falling all about him, and
nothing of his features to be seen save high cheek-bones
and two hawklike eyes which peered up at me.

"80, so, from Jean," he said in a high, piping voice.
"Jean's a pretty boy— ay, ay, Jean's like his father, but
neither with a foot like mine— a foot for the court,
said Frontenac to me— yes, yes, I knew the great Fron-
tenac "

The wife interrupted his gossip. " What news from
Jean?" said she. "lie hoped to come one day this
week."

" He says," responded I gently, " that Jacques Do-
brotte owes you ten francs and a leg of mu Ltuu, and that
you are to give his great beaver coat to Gabord the sol-
dier."

r and then
3lcss mau-
11 soldiers
, saluting
1 selves to
a my way,
cd. Here
wall told
le I could
lanted. I
ttle house
ing to the
^ a warm-
htened on
, m'sieu',"
lusoand's,

dde.

a corner,
shrunken,
him, and
eek- bones

mg voice,
ather, but
ho court,
cat Fron-

ews from
day this

THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN.

307

•ques

Do-

, and

that

•d the sol- I

"Ay, ay, Gabord the soldier, he that the English spy
near sent to heaven," quavered the old man.

The bitter truth was slowly dawiung upon the wife.
She was repeating my words in a whisper, as if to grasp
their full meaning.

« He said also," I continued, " ' Tell Babetto I weep
with her.' "

She was very still and dazed ; her fingers went to her
white lips, and stayed there for a moment. I never saw
such a numb misery in any face.

"xVnd, last of all, he said, 'Ah, mo)i grand honimc tie
Calvaire — ho)i soir I ' "

She turned round and went and sat down beside the
old man, looked into his face for a minute silently, and
then said, "Grandfather, Jean is dead; our Jean is
dead ! "

The old man peered at her for a moment, then broke
into a strange laugh, which had in it the reflection of a
distant misery, and said, " Our little Jean, our little Jean
Labrouk ! Ila ! ha ! There was Alllon, Marmon, (ia-
briel, and Gouloir, and all their sons ; and they all said
the same at the last, ' Mo)i gvdtid '//(diuiic — de CaJcairc —
ion soir!' Then there was little Jean, the pretty little
Jean. He could not row a boat, l)ut jv- could ride a
horse, and he had an eye like me. Ha ! ha ! I have seen
them all say good-night. Good-morning, my chil'h-en,
I will say one day, and I will give them all the news, and
I well tell them all I have done these hundred vears. Ila,
ha, ha ! "

The wife put her fingers on liis lips, and, turning lo
me, said with a peculiar sorrow, " ^Vill they fetch him to
me ? "

I assured her that they would.

The old man fixed his eyes on me most strangely, and
then, stretching out his finger and leaning forward, he

308

THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY.

said, with a voice of senile wildness, " All, ah, the coat of
our little Jean ! "

I stood there like any criininjil caught in his shame-
ful act. Though I had not forgotten that I wore the dead
man's clothes, I couJd not tliink that tliey would be rec-
ognized, for they seemed like others of the French army
— white, with violet facings. I can not tell to this day
what it was that enabled them to detect the c.^at; but
there I stood condemned before them.

The wife sprang to her feet, came to me with a set
face, and stared stonily at the coat for an instant. Then,
with a cry of alarm, slie made for the door; but I stepped
quickly before her, and bade her wait till she heard what
I had to say. Like lightning it all went through my
brain. I was ruined if she gave an alarm : all Quebec
would be at my heels, and my puri)oses would be defeated.
There was but one thing to do — tell her the whole truth,
and trust her ; for I had at least done fairly by her and
by the dead man.

80 I told them how Jean Labrouk had met his death ;
told them who I was and why I was in Quebec — how Jean
died in my arms ; and, taking from my breast the cross
that ^lathilde had given me, 1 swore by it that every word
which 1 said was true. The wife scarcely stirred while I
spoke, but with wide dry eyes, and hands clasping and
unclaspi!ig, heard me through. I told her how I might
have left Jean to die without a sign or message to them,
how 1 had put the cross to his lips as he went forth, and
how by coming here at all I placed my safety in her hands,
r.nd now, by telling my story, my life itself.

It was ;i dju'ing and a difficult task. When I had iin-
ished, botli sat silent for a moment, and then the old man
said, "Ay, ay, Jeau's father and his uncle .Mariron were
killed a-horseback, and by the knife. Ay, ay, it is our
way. Jean was good company — none better, mt;,ss over

THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN.

309

lie coat of

lis sliame-

the dead
lid be rcc-
'iicli army
' this day
Dv-^at; but

vith a set
t. Tlien,

I stepped
card what
'oiigh my

II Quebec
defeated.

ole truth,
y her and

lis death ;
■how Jeau
the cross
very word
3d while I
;j)iiig and
,v I might
3 to them,
forth, and
ler bauds,

1 had lin-
D old man
iron were

it is our
mi;,ss over

on a Sunday. Come, we will light candles for Jean,
and comb his hair back sweet, and masses shall be said,
and "

Again the woman interrupted, quieting him. Tlien
she turned to me, and I awaited lier words with a desper-
ate sort of coura2:e.

" I believe yo'^," she said. " I remember you now.
My sister was the wife of your keeper at the common jail.
You shall be safe. Alas ! my Jean miglit have died with-
out a word to me — all alone in the niglit. Jferci f/iiiie
fois, monsicK)' !^^ Then she rocked a little to and fro,
and the old man looked at her like a curious child. At
last, " I must go to him," she said. " My })oor Jean must
be brouGi'ht home."

I told her I had already left word concerning the body
at headquarters. She tlianked me again. Overcome as
she was, she went and brought me a peasant's hat and
coat. Such trust and kindness touched me. Tremblino-,
she took from me the coat and hat I had worn, and she
put her hands before her eyes when she saw a little spot
of blood upon the llap of a pocket. The old man reached
out his hands, and, taking them, he held them on his
knees, whispering to himself.

" You will be safe here," the wife said to me. " The
loft above is small, but it will hide you, if you have no
better place."

I was thankful that I had told her all the truth. I

should be snug here, awaiting the alTair in the cathedral

on the morrow. There was Voban, but 1 knew not of

him, or whether he was open to aid or shelter nu\ His

own safety had been long in peril ; he might be dead, for

all I knew. I tlianked the i)oor woman warndy, and then

asked her if the old man might not betray me to strangers.

She bade me leave all that to her — that I shoidd be safe

for a while, at least.
21

310

THE SEATS OF THE ]\[IGI1TY.

Soon afterwards I went abroad, and made my way by
a devious route to Vobairs house. As I passed, I could
see tlie lights of our fleet in the 15asin, and the camp-tires
of our army on the Levis shore, on the Isle of Orleans,
and even at Montmorenci, and the myriad lights in the
French encampment at Bcauport. How impossible it all
looked — to unseat from this high rock the Empire of
France ! And how hard it woukl be to get out of this
same city with Alixe !

Voban's house stood amid a mass of ruins, itself
broken a little, but still sound enough to live in. There
w^as no light. I clambered over the debris, made my way
to his bedroom window, and tapped on the shutter.
There was no response. I tried to open it, but it would
not stir. So I thrust beneath it, on the chance of his
finding it if he opened the casement in the morning, a
little piece of paper, with one word upon it — the name of
his brother. He knew my liandwriting, and he would
guess where to-morrow would find me, for I had also
hastily drawn upon the paper the entrance of the cathe-
dral.

I went back to the little house by the cathedral, and
was admitted by the stricken wife. The old man was
abed. I climbed up to the small loft, and lay wide-awake
for hours. At last came the sounds that I had waited
for, and presently I knew by the tramp beneath, and by
low laments coming through the lloor, that a wife was
mournino: over the dead bodv of her husband. I lav lonff
and listened to the varying sounds, but at last all became
still, and I fell asleep.

IN THE CATTIEDRAr..

311

ly way by
], I could
lamp-tires
Orleans,
its ill the
uiblc it all
jiiipire of
Lit of this

ins.

itself
n. There
le my way
e shutter,
t it would
lice of his
norning, a
le name of

he would
[ had also

:he cathe-

edral, and

man was

ade-awake

ad waited

1, and by

wife was

I lay long

ill became

XXV.

IX THE CATITEDRAL.

I AWOKE with the dawn, and, dressing, looked out of
tho window, seeing tlic brindled I'ght spread over tlie
battered roofs and ruins of the Lower Town. A bell
was calling to prayers in the battered Jesuit College nut
far away, and bugle-calls told of the stirring garrison.
Soldiers and stragglers passed down the streets near by
and a few starved })easants crept about the cathedral with
downcast eyes, eager for crumbs that a well-fed soklier
might cast aside. Yet I knew that in the Intendant's
palace and among the oflicers of the army there was
abundance, with revelry and dissipution.

Presently I drew to the trap-door of my loft, and,
raising it gently, came down the ladder to the little hall-
way, and softly opened tho door of the room where
Labrouk's body lay. Candles were burning at his head
and his feet, and two peasants sat dozing in chairs near
by. I could sec Labrouk's face plainly in the llickering
lidit : a rouo-h, wholesome face it was, refined by death,
yet unshaven and unkempt, too. Here was work for Vo-
ban's shears and razor. Presently there was a footstep
behind me, and, turning, I saw in tho half-light the wid-
owed wife.

" Madame," said I in a whisper, " I too weep with
you. I pray for as true an end for myself."

" lie was of tho true fairh, thank the good God," she
said sincerely. She passed into the room, and the two
watchers, after taking refreshment, left the house. Sud-
denly she hastened to the door, called one back, and,
pointing to the body, whispered something. The peas-
ant nodded and turned away. She came back into the
room, stood looking at the face of the dead man for a

312

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY

moinciit, and l)oiit over jiiul kissed tlio orueilix clasped
in the cold hands. Then she stepped abont the room,
moving a chair and sweeping n}) a s])eck of dust in a
mechanical \v;iy. TresLMilly, as if she again reniembered
me, she asked mo to enter tlu; room. Tlien she bolted
the onter door of the house. 1 stood looking at the botiy
of her husband, and saiil, " Were it not well to have
Voban the barber V "

'' 1 have sent for him and for Gabord," she replied.
" Gabord was Jean's good friend, lie is with (general
Montcalm. The Governor put him in prison becanse of
the marriage of Mademoiselle J)uvarney, but jMonsieur
Doltaire set him free, and now he serves General Mont-
calm.

" I have work in tlie cathedral," continued the poor
woman, "and 1 shall go to it this morninix as I have al-
ways gone. I'here is a little unused closet in a gallery
wdiere you may hide, and still see all that happens. It is
your last look at the lady, and I will give it to you, as
you gave me to know of my Jean."

" My last look ? " I asked eagerly.

" She goes into the nunnery to-morrow, they say," was
the reply. " Her marriage is to be set aside by the bishop
to-d;iV — in the cathedral. This is her last ni'dit to live
as such as I — tjut no, she will be hap})ier so."

"Madame," said 1, "I am a heretic, but I listened
when your liusband said, ' Mon fjr((])(l liommo de (.'al-
vairc, (mn soir!^ Was the ci'oss less a cross because a
heretic put it to his li})s? Is a marriage less a marri;ige
because a heretic is the husbaiul? Madame, you loved
your Jean ; if he wei'c living now, what would you do to
keep him? 'J'hink, madanie, is not love more than all?"

She turned to the dead l)ody. " J/oy/ pefil Jonnl''^
she murmured, but made no reply to me, and for numy
minutes the room was silent. At last she turned, and

tix clasped
tlio room,
(lust ill ii
iiiienibcrc'd
si 10 bolted
,t the body
11 to have

10 replied,
h (ieneral
because of
j\[oiisieiir
pral Moiit-

tlie poor
I have al-
. a gallery
ens. It is
to you, as

say," was
the bishop
:ht to live

T listened
7' dc Cal-

because a
I marriage
you loved

you do to
h^an all?"
// Jean ! "

for many
riu'd, and

-{-^

IN THE CATHEDRAL.

3i;i

said, " You must como at onec, for soon the priests will
beat the ';liurcli. A liltlo later I will bring you some
breakfast, aiid you must uot stir from there till I come
to fetcli you — no."

'' 1 wish to see \'obau," said [.

She thought a momeut. " 1 will try to fetch him to
you by-aud-bye," she said. She did not speak further,
but liuished the sentence by pointing to the body.

Presently, hearing footsteps, she drew me into another
little room. "It is the grandfather," she said. "He
has forgotten you uireaily, and he must not see you
again."

We saw the old man hobble into the room we h;id left,
carrying in one arm Jean's coat and hat. lie stood still,
and bowed to the body ami nuunbled to himself; then
he went over and touched tlie hands and forehead, nod-
ding wisely ; after which he came to his armchair, and,
sitting down, spread the coat over his knees, put the cap
on it, and gossip[)ed Avitli himself.

" In oiM our idlr fancies all return,
The mind's eye cradled by tlie open grave."

A moment later, tlie woman passed from the rear of
the house to the vestry door of the cathedral. After a
minute, seeing no one near, I followed, came to the front
door, entered, and passed up a side aisle towards the choir.
There was no one to be seen, but soon the woman came
out of the vestry mid becdvoned to me nervously. I fol-
lowed her quick movements, and was presently in a narrow
stairway, coming, ;ifter fifty steps or so, to a sort of clois-
ter, from which we went into a little cubiculum, or cell,
with a wooden lattice door which opened on a smnll
gallery. Through tb*" lattices tiie nave and elujir could
be viewed distinctly.

Without a word the woman turned and left me, and

314

TIIK SEATS OF TIIK MIGHTY.

I sat down on a little stone Ix-ncli und waited. I saw
the acolytes eonie and *^o, and })riests move baek and
forth before the altar ; 1 smelt the «i rate I'ul incense as it
rose when mass was said, and walehed ilie people gather
in little clusters at the diil'erent siirines, or soeiv tho
confessional, or kneel to receive the blessed sacrament,
^lany who can j were familiar — among them Mademoi-
selle JiUcie Lothiniere. Lucie j)i :ye(' long before a
shrine of the Virgin, aiul when she rose at last her
face bore signs of weeping. Also I noticed her sud-
denly stai't as she moved down the aisle, for a iigure
came forward from seclusion and touched her arm. As
he half turned 1 saw that it was Jnste J)uvarney. Tho
girl drew back from hini, raising her haiul as if in pro-
test, and it struck me that her grief and her repulse of
him had to do with putting Alixe awtiy into a nnnnery.

I sat hungry and thirsty for quite three hours, and then
the chnrch became empty, and only an old verger kept
his seat by the door, half asleep, though the artillery of
both armies was at work, and the air was laden with the
smell of powder. (lentil this time our batteries had
avoided firing on the churches.) At last I heard footsteps
near me in the dark stairway, and I felt for my i)istols,
for the feet were not those of Labrouk's wife. I waited
anxiously, and was overjoyed to see Voban enter my hid-
ing-i)lace, hearing some food. I greeted him warmly, but
he made little demonstration. ]Ie was like one who, oc-
cupied with some great matter, passed through the usual
affairs of life with a distant eye. Immediately he handed
me a letter, saying :

" ]\rsieu', I give my word to hand you this — in a day
or a year, as I am able. I get your message "to me this
morning, and then I come to care for Jean Labrouk, and
vso I find you here, and I give the letter. It come to me
last night."

IN THE CATIIEDIIAL.

315

. I saw

jjiL'k and
I'Hsc as it
\o gather
KC'i'k the
Lcrainent.
iladcinoi-
bufore a
last licr
licr sud-
a il<^ure
inn. As
vy. The
f in pro-
epiilse of
iniiery.
and tlieu
u^er kept
tillery of
with tlie
ries had
footste})s
y })istols,
1 waited
my hid-
■nily, but
who, 00-
lie usual
e handed

-in a day
me this
ouk, and
LC to me

The letter was from Alixc. I opened it with haste,
and in the dim light read :

My iu:lovi:d IIl'shand: Oh, was there no ^lower in
eartli or heaven to bring me to your arms to-day V

To-morrow they eonie to see my marriage annulled
by the Chureh. And every one will say it is annulled —
every one but me. 1, in Uod's name, will say no, though
it break my heart to oppose myself to them all.

AVhy did iuy brother come baek? lie has been hard
— Robert, he has been liard upon me, and yet I was
ever kind to him ! My father, too, he listens to the
Church, and, tliough he likes not ]\Ionsieur Doltaire, he
works fo'i him in a liundred ways without seeing it. I,
alas ! see it too well, and my brother is as wax in mon-
sieur's liands. Juste loves Lucie Lotbiniere — that should
make him kind. She, sweet friend, does not desert me,
but is kept from me. .She say3 she will not yield to Juste's
suit until he yields to me. If — oh, if Madame Jamond
had not gone to Montreal !

... As I w^as writing the foregoing sentence, my
father asked to see me, and we have had a talk — ah, a
most bitter talk !

" Alixe," said he, " this is our last evening together,
and 1 would have it peaceful."

" My father," said I, "it is not my will that this even-
ing be our last ; and for peace, 1 long for it with all my
heart."

lie frowned, and answered, " You have brouglit me
trouble and sorrow. ^Mother of God ! was it not possible
for you to be as your sister Georgette? I gave her less
love, yet she honours me more."

" She honours you, my father, by a sweet, good life,
and by marriage into an honourable family, and at your

310

TIIH SKATS OF TIIK MUillTV.

word hIic ;^iv(\s lu-r hand to Aroiisiuiir Aiiguste du la Da-
runte. She iimrrit'S to your j)U'!isuro, tlierul'ore she hun
pcju'o jiiid your h)ve. I marry a man of my own choos-
in<^, a bitterly wronged geiitloman, and you treat nu; as
some wicked thing. Js tliat liki; a father wiio loves his
child?"

" Tile wronged gentU.^ian, as you call him, invaded
tluit whieh is the i)ride of every honest gentleman," he
said.

"And what is tliat?" asked I quietly, thougli I felt
the blootl beating at my temples.

"- My family honour, the good name ai.'d virtue of my
daugliter."

I got to my feet, and looked my father in the eyes
with an anger and a coldness that hurt me now when 1
think of it, and I said, " 1 will not let you speak so to me.
Friendless though I be, you shall not. You have the
power to oppress me, but you shiiU not slander me to my
face. Can not vou leave insults to mv enemies?"

"I will never leave you to the insults of this mock
marriage," answered he, angrily also. " Two days hence
I take command of five hundred burghers, and your
brother .Tuste serves with fJeneral Montcalm. There is to
be last fighting soon between ns and the English. T do
not doubt of tlie result, but T may fall, and your brother
also, and. should the Kjiglish win, T will not leave yon to
him you nail your husband. Therefore you shall be l\e{)t
safe where no alien hands may reach you. The Church
will hold you close."

I calmed myself again while listening to liim, and I
asked, "Is ther*^ no other way?"

lie shook his head.

" Is there no ^[onsieur Doltaire? " said I. " He has a
king's blood in his veins ! "

He looked sharply at me. " You are mocking," he

IN TIIH CATIIKDIIAL

10 la Dii-
hIio 1iu8

11 clioos-
it nic! us
loved his

invadrd
nun," ho

r]i I felt

lie of my

the eyes
V when 1
so to me.
liuve the
no to my

is mock
vs hence

1(1 your
lere is to
:li. I do

hrother
e yon to

be kept

Church

n, and I

To luis a

mg," he

n^plied. "No, no, that is no way, cither. >r()nsieiir l)ol-
taire must never luatc with daiiglilcr of iiiine. 1 will take
cure of that; llie ('huich is u pci'Tcrt if ni-mjc jiiiK.!-."

I could hi'ar it, no louder. 1 kinll to liiiu. I he^^i^cd
him to iiave pity on inc. I pleaded with him : I iccalled
tile days when, as a child, 1 sat ii[ion hi,^ kiicc.-iiid li.-tciicd
to the wonderful tales \iv told; I hcLi'Lrcd hiin, l»v the niciii-
ory of all the vears wlu'ii he and 1 wcri' such ti'iic fririKks
to be kind to me now, to be nici'ciful — even tlioii;:ii he
thought 1 had done wrong — to be iiici'ciful. J a-ked him
to remember that 1 was a niothci'lcss girl, ai'd that if l
had missed the way to liappiiicss he ought not to make
my path bitter to the end. J begged him to give mc bat k
his love and conlidcnce, and, if 1 must for evermore he
parted from you, to let me be with him, not to put me
away into u convent.

" Oh, how my heart leaped when I saw ins face soften I
"Well, well," he said, "if J live, you shall be taken from
the convent; but for the pn^scnt, till this lighting is over,
it is the only safe i)lace. There, too, you shall be safe
from Monsieur Doltaire."

It was poor comfort. " I'Ut should you be killed, and
the Eno-lish take Quebec?" said 1.

"When I am dead," he answered, " wlieii I am dead,
then there is your brother."

" And if he speaks for ]\[onsieur Doltaire?" asked I.

"There is the Church and God always," he an-
swered.

"And mv own husband, the man who saved your hie,
mv father,"' I urged irently; and when he would luive
spoken I threw myself into his arms-the first time m
such lonir, lonir weeks I-and sto]»pii>,i:- ^'i^ li]»^ with my
fingers, burst into tears on his breast. 1 think much ot
his anger against me passed, yet before he left he said he
could not now prevent the annulment of the marriage,

'•■).

318

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

even if ho would, for other powers were at work ; which
powers I supposed to he the CJovernor, for cei'tiiin reasons
of enmity to my fatlier and me — akis ! how changed is
he, the vain old man! — and ^Monsieur Doltaire, wliose
ends I knew so well. So they will nuwed us to-morrow,
Eobert ; but be sure that I shall never be unwed in my
own eyes, and that I will wait till I die, hoping you will
come and take me — oh, Kobert, my husband — take me
home !

If I had one hundred men I would fight my way
out of this city, and to you ; but, dear, I have none, not
even Gabord, who is not let come near me. There is
but Vobar, Yet he will bear you tliis, if it be possible,
for he comes to-night to adorn my fashionable brother.
The poor Mathilde I have not seen of late. She has
vanislied. AVlien they began to keep me close, and car-
ried me off at last into the country, where we were
captured by the English, I could not scg Jier, and my
heart aches for her.

God bless you, Robcic, and farewell. How we Ghall
smile when all this misery is done ! Oh, say wc shall, say
we shall smile, and all tliis misery cease ! Will you not
take me home ? Do you still love thy wife, thy

Alixe ?

I bade Vol)an come to me at the little house behind
the church that night at ten o'clock, and by then I
should have arranged some plan of action. I knew not
whether to trust Gabord or not. I was sorry now tliat I
had not tried to bring Clark with me. lie was fearless,
and he know the town well ; but he lacked discretion,
and that was vital.

Two hours of waiting, then came a scene which is
burned into my brain. 1 looked down upon a mass of
people, soldiers, couriers of the woods, beggars, priests,

v ■■

IN THE CATHEDRAL

^ork ; which
•tuin reasons
chauged is
taire, wlioso
5 to-morrow,
Qwed iu my
ing you will
d — take me

;lit my way
e none, not
!. There is
be possible,
ble brother.
She has
se, and car-
•e we were
or, and my

)w we ijhall
i'l' shall, say
^ill you not

Alixe ?

mse behind
by then I
I knew not
now that I
^^as fearless,
discretion,

le which is
. a mass of
irs, priests,

311)

camp followers, and anxious gentlefolk, come from seclu-
sion, or hiding, or vigils of war, to see a host of powers
torture a young girl who throu-li suiTcring had been made
a wonuxn long before her time. Out in the streets was
the tramping of armed men, together with the call of
bugles and the sharp rattle of drums. Presently I heard
the hoofs of many horses, and soon afterwards there
entered the door, aiul way was nuide fof him up the
nave, the ^Larquis de Vaudreuil and his suite, with the
Chevalier de la Daraute, the Intendant, and— to my
indignation — Juste Duvarney.

They had no sooner tcdvcn their places, than from a
little side door near tlie vestry there entered tlie Seio-n-
eur Duvarney and Alixe, who, conring down slowly, took
places very near the chancel steps. Tlie Seigneur was
pale and stern, and carried himself with great dignity.
His glance never shifted from the choir, where the priests
slowly entered and took their places, the aged and feeble
bishop going falteringly to his throne. Alixe's face was
pale and sorrowful, and yet it had a dignity and self-
reliance that gave it a kind of grandeur. A buzz passed
through the building, yet I noted, too, with gladness, that
tliere were teors on many faces.

A figure stole in besiile Alixe. It was ]\rademoise]le
Lotbiniere, who immediately was followed by her mother.
I leaned forward, perfectly hidden, and listened to the
singsong voices of tlie jiriests, the musical note of the
responses, heard the Kyrie Eleison, the clanging of the
belfry bell as the host was raised by the trembling bishop.
The silence which followed the mournful voluntary played
by the organ was most painful to me.

At that moment a figure stepped from behind a pillar
and gave Alixe a dee}), scrutinizing look. It was Dol-
taire. He was graver than 1 had ever seen him, and was
dressed scrupulously in black, witii a little white lace

320

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

showing at the wrists mid neck. A handsomer figure it
would be ha.'d to see ; and I hated him for it, and won-
dered what new devilry was in his mind, lie seemed to
sweep the church with a glance. Nothing could have
escaped that swift, searching look. His eyes were even
raised to where 1 was, so that 1 involuntarily drew back,
though 1 knew he could not see me.

1 was arrested suddenly by a curious, even sneering
smile which played upon his face as he looked at Vau-
dreuil and Hi<j:ot. There was in it more scorn than mal-
ice, more trium})h than active hatred. All at once I re-
membered what he had said to me the day before : that
he had commission from the King, through La Pompa-
dour, to take over the reins of government from the two
confederates, and send them to France to answer the
charo-es made airainst them.

At last the bishop came forward, and read from a
paper as follows :

" Forasj))ur/i as tl/e ircll-hdovcd cldJil of our llohj
Churchy MademoisellG AJixe DnvaniPij^ of the parisli of
Beaypnrt and of this cathrdral pfwish, in this province
of Xeic France, forijcttinfj her nut n if est dnt// and our
sacred wacliinii, did iUefitdlij and in sinful error make
feigned contract (f inarriat/e with one Robert Moray,
captain in a Virfjinia rcfjiment, a heretic, a spij, and
an enemij to our cni/?/trj/ ; (Oid forasmucli as this icas
done in violoice (f all nice hatnt and comnicndahle
ot)edience to Mtdher Church and our national vses, we
do herelj// declare (/nd make void this alliance until such
time as the ILili/ Father at liome shall finally approve
our action and proclaiuiiny. Jud it is enjoined upon
Mademoiselle Alixe Duvarney, on peril of her souVs
salvation, to uhoy us in this matter, and neither by
word or deed or thought have commerce more with this
notorious and evil heretic and foe of our Church and of

IN THE CATIIEDRiNL.

321

or figure it
t, and won-
) seemed to
could have
were even
drew back,

n sneering
ed at Vau-
i than mal-
t once I re-
?fore : that
^a Ponipa-
:)ni tlie two
inswer the

ad from a

on 7' Holy

parish of
's province
'/ and our
rrur make
rt Moray ^

f^py^ and
-; i/tis was
amcndalle
I nses, v'c
intlil sfir//
'y approve
ined upon
Iter soaVs
icilher by

loith this
'ch and of

our country. It is also the plain duty of tlie faithful
children of our Holy Cliurch to regard tit is Captain
Moray ivith a pious Itafred, and to destroy liiui leit/t-
out pity ; and any good cunning or enticement irt/ich
sliould lure him to tlie punishment tie so maeli deserves
shall he approved. Furthermore, Mademoiselle Alixe Dn-
varney sludl, nntil such times as there shfdl be peace in
this land, and the molesting English be driven bac/c with
slaughter— and for all time, if the heart of our sister in-
cline to penitence and love of Clirist—be lioiised within
the Convent of the UrsuUnes, and cared fur with great
tenderness.''^

He left off reading, and began to address himself to
Alixe directly; but she rose in her place, and while
surprise and awe seized the congregation, she said :

" Monseigneur, I must, at my father's bidding, hear
the annulment of my marriage, but I will not hear this
public exhortation. I am only a poor girl, unlearned in
the law, and I must submit to your power, for I have no
one here to spei k for me. But my soul and my con-
science I carry to my Saviour, and I have no fear to
answer Him. I am sorry that I have offended my
peoj)le and my country aud Holy Cimrch, but I do not
repent that I love and hold to my husband. You must
do with me as you will, but in this I shall never will-
ingly yield."

She turned to her father, and all the people breathed
hard ; for it passed their understanding, and seemed scan-
dalous that a girl should thus defy the Church, and an-
swer the bishop in his own cathedral. Her father rose,
and then I saw her sway witli faintness. I know not what
might have occurred, for the bishop stood with hand up-
raise(i and great indignation in his face, about to speak,
when out of the desultory firing from our batteries there
came a shell, whicu burst even at the cathedral entrance,

322

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

tore away a portion of the wall, and killed and wounded
a number of peo2)le.

Then followed a panic which the priests in vain tried
to quell. The people swarmed into the choir and through
the vestry. 1 saw Doltairc and Juste Duvarney spring
swiftly to the side of Alixe, and, with her father, put her
and Mademoiselle Lotbiniure into the pulpit, forming a
ring round it, preventing the crowd from trampling on
them, as, suddenly gone mad, Ihcy swarmed past. The
Governor, the Intenuant, and the Chevalier de la Darante
did as much also for J\[adame Lotbiniere ; and as soon
as the crush had subsided a little, a number of soldiers
cleared the way, and I saw my wife led from the church.
I longed to leap down there among them and claim her;
but that thought was madness, for 1 should have been
food for worms in a trice ; so I kept my place.

XXYI.

THE SECRET OF TITK TAPESTRY.

TiTAT evening, at eight o'clock, Jean Labrouk was
buried. A shell had burst not a dozen paces from his
own door, within the consecrated ground of the cathe-
dral, and in a hole it had made he was laid, the only
mourners his wife and his grandfather, and two soldiers of
his company sent by Cleneral Bougainville to bury him. I
watched the ceremony from my loft, whicli had one small
dormer window. It was dark, but ])urning buildings in
the Lower Town made all liglit about the place. I could
hear the grandfather mumbling and talking to the body
as it was lowered into tlie ground. AVliile yet the priest
was hastily reading prayers, a dusty horseman came rid-
ing to the grave and dismounted.

1 wounded

vain tried
id through
ley spring
ir, put her
forming a
mpling on
)ast. The
a Darante
d as soon
)f soldiers
le church,
laini her;
liave been

rouk was
from his
he cathe-
the only
loldiers of
V him. I
one small
Idings in
I could
the body
he priest
;ame rid-

TIIE SECRET OF THE TAPES'! RY. 333

"Jean," he said, looking at the grave, "Joan Labrouk
a man dies well that dies with his gaiters on, aho ! . . .'
What have you said for Jean Labrouk, m'sieu' ?'" he added
to the priest.

The priest stared at him, as though he had presumed

"Well?" said Gabord. "Well?"

The priest answered nothing, but prepared to cro
whispering a word of comfort to the poor wife. Gabord
looked at the soldiers, looked at the wife, at the priest,
then spread out his legs and stuck his hands down into
his pockets, while his horse rubbed its nose against his
shoulder. He fixed his eyes on the grave, and nodded
once or twice musingly.

" Well," he said at last, as if he had found a perfect
virtue, and the one or only thing that might be said, " well,
he never eat his words, that Jean ! "

A moment afterwards he came into the house with
Babette, leaving one of the soldiers holding liis horse.
After the old man had gone, I heard him say, "Were you
at mass to-day? And did you see all ? "

When she had answered yes, he continued : " It was a
mating as birds mate, but mating was it, and holy fathers
and Master Devil Doltaire can't change it till cock-pheas-
ant Moray come rocketing to 's grave. They Avould have
hanged me for my part in it, but I repent not, for they
have wickedly hunted this little lady."

" I weep with her," said Jean's wife.
Ay, ay, weep on, Babette," he answered.
Has she asked help of you ? " said the wife.
Truly; but I know not what she says, for I read not,
but I know her pecking. Here it is. But you must be
secret."

Looking though a crack in the floor, T could plainly
see them. She took the letter from him and read aloud :

" If Gabord the soldier have a good heart still, as ever

((

S'24:

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

ho hud in tlie past, he will again help a poor, friendless
woman. She needs him, for all are against her. Will he
leave her alone amonir her enemies? Will he not aid her
to lly? At eight o'clock to-morrow night she will be
taken to the Convent of the Ursnlines, to bo there shnt in.
Will he not come to her before that time?"

For a moment after the reading there was silence, and
I could see the woman looking at him curiously. " What
will you do?" she asked.

" My faith, there's nut to crack, for I have little time.
This letter but reached me, with the news of Jean, two
hours ago, and I know not what to do, but, as I stand
scratching my head, here comes word from Crcneral Mont-
calm that I must ride to Master Devil Doltairo with a
letter, and I must find him wherever he may be, and give
it straight. 80 forth I come; and I must be at my post
again by morn, said the General."

" It is now nine o'clock, and she will be in the con-
vent," said th(! womim tentatively.

" Alio ! " he answered, " and none can enter there but
Governor, if holy Mother say no. 80 now goes blaster Devil
there? ' Gabord,' quoth he, 'you shall come with me to the
convent at ten o'clock, bringing three stout soldiers of the
garrison. Here's an order on Monsieur Ramesay the com-
mandant. Choose you tlie men, and fail me not, or you
shall swing aloft, dear Gabord.' Sweet lovers of hell, but
Master Devil shall have swinging too one day." lie put
his thuml) to his nose, and spread his fingers out.

Presenilv he seemed to note soniethin2: in the woman's
eyes, for he spoke almost sharply to her: "Jean Labrouk
was honest man, and kept faitli with comrades."

" And I keep faitli too, comrjide," was the answer.

" Gabord's a brute to doubt you," he rejoined quicklv,
and he drew from his pocket a piece of gold and made
her take it, though she much resisted.

THE SECRET OF TIIK TA1>ESTRV.

325

, friendless
•• Will he
:iot aid her
lie will be
)re shut iu.

ilence, and
^ "What

little time.
Jean, two
IS I stand
sral Mont-
ire with a
3, and give
it my post

n the con-

■ there hut
ister Devil
I me to the
iers of the
y the com-
lot, or you
f hell, but
' lie put
t.

e woman's
1 Jjabrouk

iswer.

d quickly,

and made

Meanwhile my mind was made up. I saw, I thouglit,
through " Master Devil's" i)lau, au<l I felt, too, tluit'Jja-
bord would not betray me. In any case, (Jabord and I
could fight it out. If he opposed me, it wtis his lit'i' or
mine, for too much was at stake, and all my plans were
now changed by his astounding news. xVt tiiat moment
Voban entered the room without knocking. Here was my
cue, and so, to prevent explanations, I crept quickly down,
opened the door, and came in on tliem.

They wiieeled at my footsteps ; tlie woman gave a litlic
cry, and Gabord's hand went to Ids pistol. There was a
wild sort of look in his face, as though he could not trust
his eyes,. I took no notice of the menacing pistol, but
went straight to him and held out mv hand.

" Gabord," said I, "you are not my jailer now."

" I'll be your guard to citadel," said he, after a mo-
ment's dumb surprise, refusiiig my outstretched hand.

" Neither guard nor jailer any more, Gabord," said I
seriously. " We've had enough of that, my friend."

The soldier and the jailer had heon working in him,
and his fingers trifled with the trigger. In all things he
was the foeman first. But now something else was work-
ing in him. I saw this, and added pointedly, "Xo more
cage, Gabord, not even for reward of twenty thousand
livres and at command of Holy Church."

He smiled grimly, too grimly, I thought, and turned
inquiringly to Babette. In a few words she told him all,
tears dropping from her eyes.

"If you take him, you betray me," she said; "and
what would Jean say, if he knew?"

"Gabord," said I, " I come not as a spy; I come to
seek my wife, and she counts you as her friend. Do harm
to me, and you do harm to h^r. Serve me, and you serve
her. Gabord, you said to her once that I was an hon-
ourable man."

326

THE SKATS OF TIIK MUJIITY.

IIo put up his pisto\ "Alio, you've put you head in
the trap. Stir, and chck goes the spring."

" 1 must liave my wife," 1 continued. " Shall the uest
you helped to make go em])ty V "

I worked upon him to sucii pnr])ose that, all bristlinn"
with war at lirst, he was shortly won over to my seheme,
whieh I disclosed to him while tbe Mife made us a cup
of cot>*'^e. Through all o ,' tv' Whan lijtd sat ying us
with a covert interest, ye' rh..i .-■'ug no excitement, lie
had been unable to reaeii Ah .e. She iiad been taken to
the convent, and immediately afterwards her father and
brother had gone their ways— Juste to General Montcalm,
and the Seigneur to tlie French camp. Tims Alixe did
not know that 1 was in Quebec.

x\n hour after this 1 was marching, with two other
men and Gabord, to the Convent of the Ursulines, dressed
in the ordinary costume of a French soldier, got from the
wife of Jean Labrouk. In manner and speech though I
was somewhat dull, my fellows thought I was enough like
a peasant soldier to deceive them, and my French was
more fluent than their own. 1 was i)laying a desperate
game ; yet 1 liked it, for it had a tine spice of adventure
apart from the great matter at stake. If 1 could but
carry it ofl', 1 should have sufllcient compensation for all
my miseries, in spite of their twenty thousand livres and
Holy Church.

In a few minutes we came to the convent, and halted
outside, waiting for ]>oltaire. Pi'esently he came, and,
looking sharply at us all, he ordered two to wait outside,
and (labord and myself to come with him. Then he
sto(jd looking at the building curiously for a moment.
A shell had broken one wing of it, and this portion had
been abandoned ; but the faithful Sisters clung still to
their home, though urged constantly by the Governor to
retire to the Hotel-Dieu, whicli was outside the reach of

^>u head in

ill the nest

11 biist liner
ny SL'henie,
3 us a cup
yinu^ ns
niont. lie
n taken to
atlier and
Montcalm,
5 Alixe did

two other
es, dressed
t from the
L though I
nough like
roncli was
des])crate
adventure
could but
on for all
livres and

nd halted
ajne, and,
it outside,
'^riien he
moment.
)rtion had
ig still to
>vernor to
3 reach of

^^?S§W?:

i I

^^5»tv*:

A*-.

»^ V,

.'.'':!

TIIR SbXMiRT OF TIIK TAPKSTliV

327

shot and shell. This it was their intention soon to do,
for within the past day or so our batteries liad Jiot soii^dit
to spare the convent. As Doltaire looked \\v laii^died to
himself, and then said, "Too quiet for gay spirits, this
liearse. Come, (labord, and fetch this slouching fellow,"
nodding towards me.

Then ho knocjked loudly. No one came, and he
knocked again jind again. At last the door was opened
by the Mother Su[)erior, Avho was attend( ' by two others.
She started at seeing Doltaire.

" What do you wish, monsieur? " she asked.

" I come on business of the King, good Mother," ho
replied seriously, and stepped inside.

" It is a strange hour for business," she said severely.

" The King may come at all hours," he answered
soothingly : " is it not so? By the law he may enter when
he wills."

" You are not the King, monsieur," she objected, with
her head held up sedately.

" Or the Governor may come, good Mother?"

" You are not the Governor, Monsieur Doltaire," she
said, more sharply still.

" But a Governor may demand admittance to this con-
vent, and by the order of his Most Christian ^lajesty he
may not be refused ; is it not so ? "

" Must I answer the catechism of Monsieur Doltaire? "

" But is it not so ? " he asked again urbanely.

" It is so, yet how does that concern you, monsieur?"

" In every way," and he smiled.

" This is unseemly, monsieur. What is your busi-
ness?"

" The Governor's business, good Mother."

"Then let the Governor's messenger give his message
and depart in peace," she answered, her hand upon the
door.

328

TIIK SHATS OF TllM MKIIITY.

" \()t the (JoviM'iior's inesseiiij't'r, but the Governor him-
self," 1k' ivjoiiicd ^n'jivcly.

lie tunu'd uiul >vjis about to slnit the (h)or, but sho
stopped him. " Tiiis is no house for jt'stiii<:f, monsieur,"
she said. '' I will arouse the town if you j)('rsist. — Sistur,"
sho added to one standin<5 near, " the boll !"

" You fill your oMiei' with f^reat di<,niity and merit,
j\h''re 8t. (ic'ori,^'," he said, as lie })ut out Ids hand and
stayed the fSistcr. "I commend you .for your discretion.
Kv.'ad this," liu continued, handini,^ lu'r a pajx'r.

A SisU-r held a li.ij^ht, and the Mother read it. As
she did so Doltairo nuiile a nu)tion to (Jabord, and he
shut the door (piiekly on us. Mere St. (Jeorge looked
up from the paper, staitled ami frightened too.

" Your Kxcellency ! " she exelaimed.

" Y'ou are the first to call me so," he replied. " I
thought to leave untouched this good gift of the King,
and to let the ^Farquis de Vaudreuil and the admirable
liigot untwist the coil they have made. But no. After
some too generous misgivings, I now claim my own. I
could not enter here, to spejik with a certain lady, save
as tlie Covernor, but as the Governor I now ask speech
with Mademoiselle Duvarney. Do you hesitate?" he
added. " Do you doubt that signature of his Majesty ?
Then see this. Here is a line from the Marquis de
Vaudreuil, tlie late Governor. It is not dignified, one
might say it is craven, but it is genuine."

Airain the distressed ladv read, and a2:ain she said,
" Your Excellency I " Then, " You wish to see her in my
presence, your Excellency V "

" Alone, good Mother," he softly answered.

" Your Excellency, will you, the first ofTicer in tlie
land, defy our holy rules, and rob us of our privilege to
protect and comfort and save V "

" I defy nothing," he replied. " I'he lady is here

cnior him-

or, but slu)
monsieur,"
t.— Sister,"

iind nuM'it,
luuul and
(liserc'tion.

tul it. As
•d, and h(3
rge looked

plied. "I
the King,

admirable
no. After
ly own. I

lady, save
[isk speech
itate?" he
! Majesty ?
flarquis de
nilied, one

I she said,
her in my

cer in the
H'ivilcge to

ly is here

TIIK SI-X-UKT OF TlIK TAPMSTUY.

I'm*'

against her will, a prisoner. She does not desire your
governance and eare. In any case, I must s[)eak with
her; and he assured, 1 honour you the; more for vour
solicitude, and will ask your counsel when 1 have linislied
talk with her."

Was e\cr man so crafty? After a monu'iit's thought
she turned, dismissed th.o others, and kd the way, and
Cah(»rd and I h.llowed. We were hidden to wait out-
side a room, well lighted but bare, as I could see through
the open door. Doltairo entered, smiling, and then
bowetl the nun on her way to summon Alixe. (iahord
and I stood there, not speaking, for l)oth were thiid<ing
of the dangerous game now playing. Jn a few minutes
the .Mother returned, hringing Alixe. The light from
the open door shone upon her face. My lieart leaped,
for there was in her look such a deep sorrow. She was
calm, save for those shining yet steady eyes ; they were
like furnaces, burning up the colour of her clieeks. She
wore a soft bhuk gown, with no sign of ornament, and
her gold-l)rown hair was bound with a piece of hlack
velvet ribbon. Jler beauty was deeper than ] had ever
seen it ; a jjcculiar gravity seemed to have added years
to her life. Passing me her sleeve brushed my arm, as it
did that day I was arrested in her father's house. She
started, as though 1 had touched her fingers, but she only
half turned toward uh for her mind was wiiolly occu|)led
with the room where b. Itaire was

At that moment (hibord coughed sliglitly, and she
turned quickly to him. Her eyes Hashed intelligence,
and presently, as she passed in, a sort of lio])e seemed
to have come on her face to lighte]i its painful ])ensive-
ness. The ^Nfother Superior entered with her, the door
closed, and then, after a little, the Mother came out
again. As she did so I sav; a look of immediate pur-
pose in her face, and her hurrying step persuaded me

330

THE SKATS OF THE MIGHTY.

she was bent on some project of cs|)i;il. So I made a
sign to CJabord and followed her. As she turned the
corner of the hallway just beyond, 1 stepped forward
silently and watched her enter a room that ^^^ukl, I
knew, be next to this we guarded.

Listening at the door for a nu)mcnt, I suddenly and
softly turned the handle and entered, to see the good
Mother with a panel drawn in the wall before her and
her face set to it. She stepped back as I shut the door
and turned the key in the lock. I put my linger to my
lips, for she seemed about to cry out.

" Hush ! " said I. " 1 watch for those who love her.
I lun liei-e to serve her — and you."

" You are a servant of the Seigneur's ? " she said, the
alarm i)assing out of her face.

" 1 served the Seigneur, good ^Fother," I answered,
" and I would lay down my life for ma'm'selle."

" You would hear ? " she asked, pointing to the
panel.

1 nodded.

" You speak French not like a Breton or a Norman,"
she added. " What is your province ? "

" I am an Auvergnian."

She said no more, but motioned to me, enjoining
silence also by a sign, and \ stood witli her beside the
panel. Before it was a ])iece of ta})estry which was mere
gauze in one place, and I could see through and hear
perfectly. Tiie room we were in was at least four feet
liigher than the other, and we looked down on its occu-
pants.

" Presently, holy Mother," said I, " all shall be told
true to yi)U, if you wish it. It is not your will to watch
and hear; it is because you hjve the lady. But I love
her too, and 1 am to be trusted. It is not business for
such as you."

THE SECRET OE THE TAPESTRY.

331

[) I made a

turned the

)ed forward

lit Wwuld, I

iddenly and
^e the good
3re her and
lut the door
[higer to my

ho love her.

slie said, the

I answered,

e."

ing to the

a Norman,"

enjonimg

beside the

1 Avas mere

1 and hear

t four feet

)n its occii-

lall be told

ill to wateli

Hut I love

business for

She saw my implied rebuke, and said, as I thought a
little abashed, " You will tell me all ? And if he would
take her forth, give me alarm in the room opposite yon-
der door, and stay them, and "

" ISt:iy them, holy .Motlier, at the price of my life ! I
have the honour of her family in my hands."

She looked at me gravely, and I assumed a peasant
openness of look. Slie was deceived completely, and,
without further speech, she stepped to the door like a
ghost and was gone. I never saw a hunuii) being so
noiseless, so uncanny. Our talk had been carried on
silently, and 1 liad closed the panel quietly, so that we
could not be heard by Alixe or Doltaire. Now I was
alone, to see and hear my wife in s}>ee. h with my enemy,
the num who had made a strong, and was yet to make a
stronger, light to unseat me in her aiTections.

There was a moment's compunction, in which I hesi-
tated to see this meeting ; but there was Alixe's safety
to be thought on, and what nught he not here disclose
of his intentions ! — knowing which, I should act with
judgment, and not in the dark. 1 trusted Alixe, though
I knew well that this honr would see the great struggle
in her between this scoundrel and myself. 1 knew that
he had ever had a sort of power over her, even while
she loathed his character ; that he had a hundred graces
I had not, place which I hnd not, an intellect that ever
delio-hted me, and a will of iron when it was called into
action. I thought for one moment longer ere I moved
the panel. My lips closed tight, and I felt a pang at my

heart.

Suppose, in tliis contlict, this singular man, acting on
a nature already tried beyond reason, sliould herd it to
his will, to which it was Iti some radical ways inclined ?
Well, if thjit should be, then I would go forth and never
see her more. She must make her choice out of her own

332

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

heart and spirit, and figlit this fight alone, and having
fought, and lost or won, the result should be final, should
stand, though she was my wife and I was bound in
honour to })roteet her from all tluit might invade her
lovaltv, to cherish her through all temptation and dis-
tress. But our case was a strange one, and it must be
dealt with according to its strangeness — our oidy guides
our consciences. There were no precedents to meet our
needs ; our way had to be hewn out of a noisome, path-
less wood. 1 nuule up my mind : 1 would hear and note
all. So 1 slid the panel softly, and put my eyes to the
tapestry, llow many times dW. I see, in the next hour,
my wife's eyes ui)raised to this very tapesh-y, as if apj)eal-
ing to the face of ^ladonna upon it ! IIow many times
did her eves look into mine without knowing it ! And
more than once Doltaire followed her glance, and a faint
smile passed over his face, as if he saw and was interested
in the struggle in her, apart from his own passion and
desires.

When first I looked in, she was standing netir a tall,
high-backed chair, in almost the same position as on the
dav when Doltaire told me of Braddock's death, accused
me of being a spy, and arrested me. It gave me, too, a
thrill to see her raise her handkerchief to her moath as if
to stop a cry, as she had done then, the black sk^eve fall-
ing away from her pci-fcct rounded arm, now looking
almost like nuuhk' against the Lice. She held her haiul-
kerchief to lior lips for rpiite a minute; aiul indeed it
covered more than a little of her face, so that the features
most showing were her eyes, gazing at Doltaire with a
look hard to int(,'rpret, f(jr there seemed in it trouble, en-
treaty, won<ler, resistance, and a great sorrow — no fear,
tre})idation, or indirectness.

His disturbing words were these: "To-nigiit T am
the Governor of this country. You once doubted my

k1 having
111, should

bound in
tivade hor
L and dis-
D must be
nly guides

meet our
)me, path-

and note
ves to the
lext hour,

if appeal-
lany times

it ! And
jid a faint

interested
ission and

loar a tall,
as on the
1, accused
me, too, a
oath as if
eeve fall-
\v lookiui^
ler hand-
indeed it
' features
•(' with a
ouble, en-
— no fear,

ijcht T am
iibted my

THE SECRET OF THE TAPESTRY.

3J]3

power — that was when you would save your lover from
death. 1 proved it in that snuiU thing — i saved him.
AVell, wlien you saw me carried oft' to the liastile — it
looked like that — my power seemed to vanish : is it not
so? We have talked of this before, but now is a time to
review all things again. And once more I say I am the
Governor of !New France. I have had the commission iu
my hands ever since 1 came back. But 1 have spoken of
it to no one — except your lover I "

" My husband I" she said steadily, crushing the hand-
kerchief in her hand, which now rested upon the chair-
arm.

"Well, well, your hnsband — after a fasliion. I did
not care to use this as an argument. I chose to win you
by personal means alone, to liave you give yourself to
Tinoir Doltaire because you set him before any other
man. I am vain, you see; but then vanity is no sin when
one has tine aspirations; and I aspire to you ! ''

She made a motion ^^ith her hand. '' Oh, can you nr,t
spare me this to-day— of all days in my life— your Excel-
lency?"

"Let it be plain 'monsieur,'" he answered. "lean
not spare you, for this day decides ;dl. As I said, 1 de-
sired vou. At first my wish was to possess you at any
cost : I was your hunter only. I am still your hunter, but
in a dilTeren't way. I would rather have you iu my arms
than save Xew France; aiid with ^fontcalm I could save
it. Yauilrcuil is a Idundercr and a fool, lie has sold the
country. l^>ut what ambition is that? Xew France may
come and go, and be forirot_en, and you and I be none the
worse. There are orli 'r p;v-)vinces to conquer. I»ut for
me there is oidy one ])rovince, and I will lift my standard
tliere.and buil.l the grand chateau of my happiness there.
1Miat is mv hope, and tluit is why T come to conrpier it
and not tlie English. Let the English go-all save one.

n?A

THE SEATS OE THE MTr.lITY.

;»U(I he must die. Alrciuly ho is doiid ; ho died to-day at
tho altar of th(^ cathedral "

"^'o, no, no!" hroi<o in Alixe, her voice low and
lirni.

" But yes," he said ; " but yes, he is dead to you for-
ever. The Church has said so; the state says so; vour
people say so ; ri.ee and all manner of good custom say
so ; and I, who love you bettor — yes, a hundred times better
— than ho, say so."

She made a hasty, dojirecatinfj- gesture with her hand.
"Oh, carry this old song elsowliore," she said, "for I am
sick of it." There were now both scorn and weariness in
her tone.

lie had a singular patience, and he resented nothing.
" r understand," he went on, '^ what it was sent your heart
his way. He came to you when you wei-e yet a child, be-
fore you had loarnod the lirst secret of life. He was a cap-
tive, a })risoner, he had a wound got in fair fighting, and
I will i\o him tho credit to say he was an honest man; he
was no spy."

She looked u]) at him with a slight ilush, almost of
gratitude. " I know that well," she returned. " I knew
there was other cause than spying at tho base of all ill
treatment of him. I know that you, you alone, kept him
prisoner here six long years."

"Not [; tho rirande Marquise — for weighty reasons.
You should not fret at those; five years, since it gave you
what you have clierished so much, a husband — after a
fashion. Iwit yet we will do him justice : he is an honour-
able fightoi, !!•' iris parts and graces of a rude order. But
he will never go far in life; ho has no instincts and habits
commoi' w]t'i \'oii ; it has beei!, so far, a compromise,
fouiuled I'j.' i:i tiio (ild-fashioui'd ronnuu^e of ill-used cap-
tive and i-.;!';-'. >-iM'te('' m;iid ; tlie com])assion, too, of the
superior for ihc \y)^\ the free for tho caged."

THE SECRET OF THE TAPESTRY.

to-day at

low 1111(1

3 yon for-

so ; your

istoiii say

lies bettor

licr hand.
' for I am
ariiiess in

I nothing,
•our lieart
child, be-
vas a cap-
iting, and
man ; lie

ilmo.st of
" I knew
of all ill
vept him

' reasons,
irave v(ju
— after a
1 hononr-
ler. lint
nd habits
mromise,
used c;ip-
lO, (^f the

"Compassion such as your Excellency feels for nie, no
doul)t," she said, witli a slow pride.

" Yon are caged, ijiU you may be free," he I'ejoined
meaningly.

" Yes, in the same m.^rket open to him, and at the
same price of hononr," she r<*plied, with dignity.

" Will von not sit down?'' he now said, motionins: her
to a chair politely, and taking one himself, thus pausing
before he answered her.

I was prepared to see liim keep a decorous distance
from her. I felt that he was acting upon deliberation;
that he was trusting to the power of liis insinuating ad-
dress, his sophistry, to break down bari'iers. It was as if
he knew himself at greater advantage, making no emo-
tional demonstrations; so allaying her fears, giving her
time to think; for it was clear he hoped to master her
inti'lligence. so strung a part of her.

8he sat down in the high-backed chair, and I noted
at the moment that our batteries began to play upon
tlie town — an unusual thing at night. It gave me a
strange feeling — the perfect stillness of the holy place,
the ([uiet movement of this tragedy l)et'ore me, on which
broke, with no modifying noises or turmoil, the shon^
ing cannonade. Nature, it "would have seemed, h;i i
forged a mood in keeping with the time, for there v, -is
no jiir stirring when we came in, and a strange sull-
ness had come upon the landsca])e. In the pause, i I
heard a len<x, soft shullllnf^ of feet in the corridor — the
evening procession from the cha]Hd — and a, slow chant :

'•^I (iin ,spf <h)W)i in a wilder iiex.<^ l> Lnrd^ I (/iii dhmo.
If a KtnifKjr voire r/iil^ fc/n-h nn' vliat fo saji : if I Jcn-
ynixlt, (> [lire ine 77/// cii/) fo firnt/r ; sfre//(/f//cn Tfc'i.
WJf !^i)hI. y.o/v/, 1 (U)i like (( spdvrote fur from home ;
hri/n/ }iie fo 77ti)ie I/o)/oifraf)J'' /lonse. Preserve in ij hear I,
eiicoiiriuje me^ (iccordi)i(j to Tlitj trutliy

300

THE SEATS OF THE MKIIITY.

The words ciiniG to vis distinctly yot distantly, swelled
softly, iind died jiwiiy, leavin^^ Alixo and Doltaire seated
and looking at each other. Alixe's bands were clasped in
her la]).

" Your honour is above all price," he said at last in
reply to her latest words. " liut what is honour in this case
of yours, in whi(di 1 throw the ^hole interest of my life,
stake all ? h^)r 1 am convinced that, losing, the book of
fate w ill close for me. AV inning, I shall begin again, and
play a part in France which men shall s[)eak of when I am
done with all. I never had ambition for myself; for you,
Alixe Duvni-ney, a lu-w spirit lives in me. ... I will bo
honest witli you. At llrst I swore to cool my hot face iu
your bosom ; and I would have done that at any price, and
yet I would luive stood by tluit same dishonour honourably
to the end. Xe\er in iny wliole life did I put my whole
heart in any — episode — of admiration : I own it, for you to
think what vou will. Th' re never was a woman whom,
loving to-day " — he smiled — " I could not leave to-morrow
with no more than a ])k'asing kind of regret. Kanies that
I ought to have recalled 1 forgot ; incidents were cloudy,
like childish remembrances. I was not proud of it; the
peasant in me spoke against it sometimes. I even have
wished that I, Indf peasant, had been "

" Tf only you had been all peas;int, this war, this
misery of mine had never been,'' she interrupted.

lie nodded with an almost bovish candour. " Yes, ves,
but I Avas h;df ju'iiiee also ; I had been brought up, one
fo<^t in a cottaire and another in a palace. But for vour
misery: is it, then, misery? Xeed it be so? Ihit lift
your finger, and all will be well. Do you wish to save
your country? AVould tliat be compensation? Then I
will show vou the wav. AVe have three times as many
soldiers as !li»^ English, though of poorer stuff. We
could hold ti.is place, could defeat them, if we were

V, swelled
ire seuteil
ohisped ill

at lust in
II this Ciise
f my life,
le book of
igiiiu, and
•hen I am
; for you,

I will bo
ot face in
priee, and
onoiirably
my whole
for von to
an whom,
o- morrow
limes that
e cloudy,
of it ; the

ven have

war, this

' Yes, yes,

t up, one

for your

But lift
1 to save

Thou I

as many

it A\'e

we were

TIIK SECRET OE THE TAPESTIIY.

united and liad but two thousand men. AVe have fifteen
thousand. As it is now, A'audrcuil baulks Munt(Mliii,
and that Avill ruin us in tliu oiid unless vou iiiak(^ it
otherwise. You would be a patriot? tIicu sliut out
forever this Enn-Hsli ea[)tain from your heart, and. open
its doors io me. To-morrow I will take A'audreuirs place,
put your father in E.igot's, your brotiier in liamesay's—
they are both perfect and capable ; I will strengthen tlio
excellent Montcalm's hands in every way, will inspire the
people, and cause the English to raise this siege. You
aiul I will do this: tlie Chur'^di will bless us, tlie state
will thank ns ; vour home and countrv will be safe and
li'iPPy^ y<^"i' fatiier and brother honoure<l. This, and
far, far greater things I will do for your stdve."

He paused, lie had spoken with a deep ])ower, such
as I knew he could use, ami 1 did not wonder f .ai she
paled a little, even trem])led before it.

" Will you not do it for France ? " she said.

*' I will not do it for France," be answered. " I will
do it for you alone. Will you not be your countrv's
friend ? It is lu) virtue in me to })lead patriotism— it
is a mere argument, a weapon that I use ; but my heart
is behind it, and it is a means to that which you will
thank me for one duy. I would not force you to luiy-
thing, but I would persuade 3our reason, question your
foolish lovaltv to a girl's mistake. Can vou think that
vou are riirht? You have no friend that commends vour
cause; the whole country has aplu'M-ided you, tlie Chureh
has cut you ot! from the man. All is against reunion
Avith him, and most of all your own honour. Come
witli me, and bo commended and blessed here, while
over in France homaae shall be done vou. For vou I
will take from His Majestv the dukedom which he has
oiTered me more than once.''

Suddenly with a passionate tone, he continued : •" Your

338

TlIK SEATS OF TIIM M.^IIITV.

!!■!■

own heart is spuaking for inc. Have I not soon you
trcnil)lo whon I caino near you V ""

lie roso and camo forward a stop or two. " You
thou<jflit it was fear of nio. It was fear, but fear of
tluit in you which was ])k'adin<; for nu', while you had
sworn yourself away to hiui who knows not antl can
never know how to h)ve you, who has nothing kin with
you in mind or lieart — an alien of poor fortune and
poorer birtl^ 'Mid })rospects."

He lixed nis eyes upon her, and wont on, Spoaking
with forceful quietness: "Had tliere been cut away that
mistaken sense of duty to him, which I admire unspeak-
ably — yes, tliough it is misplaced — you and I would have
come to each other's arms long ago. Here in your atmos-
phere I feel myself possessed, endowed. I come close to
you, and sometliing new in me cries out simply, ' I love
you, Alixe, I love you ! ' See, all the damnable part of
me is burned up by the fire of your eyes ; I stand upon
the aslies, and swear that I can not live without you.
Come — come "

lie stopped nearer still, and she rose like one who
moves under some fascination, and I almost cried out,
for in that moment she was his, his — I felt it ; he pos-
sessed lier like some spirit ; and I understood it, for the
devilish golden beauty of his voice was like music, and
he had spoken with great skill.

"Come," he said, "and know where all along your
love has lain. That other wav is only darkness — the
convent, which will keep you buried, while you will
never have heart for the piteous seclusion, till your life
is broken all to })ieoos; till you have no hope, no de-
sire, no love ; and at last, under a (!Owl, you look out
upon the world, and, with ii dead heart, see it as in a
pale dream, and die at last : you, born to be a wife,
without a husband; endowed to be he perfect mother,

TllK SKCRET OF TIIK TAPESTRY

jjao

seen you

(.1

You

t four of

you had

and can

kill witli

tune and

S|/oaking
[I way that

unspeak-
Duhl have
ur atnios-
e close to
y, ' I love
le part of
md upon
lout you.

one who

;riud out,

he pos-

, for tlie

usic, and

m<f your
ess — the
you will
your life
■, no de-
look out
as in a
;i wife,
mother,

witliout a child ; to be the iubuired of princes, a moving,
powerful lis^ure to i?illuen(!e great men, with no sdlon
but the little bare cell wliere you ])ray. With nu', nil
that you should be you will he. You have had n bad,
dark dream; wake, and come into the sun with me.
Once I wished for you as the lover oidy ; now, by every
hope I ever might have luul, I want you for my wife."

lie held out Ids arms to her a:id smiled, and spoke
one or two low words which 1 could not hear. 1 hail
stood waiting death Jigainst the citadel wall, with the
chance of a reprieve hanging between u])lit'ted muskets
and my breast ; but that susitense was less than this, for
1 saw him, not moving, hut standing there waiting for
her, the warmth of his devilish eloquence about him,
and she moving toward him.

" ^ly darling," I heard him say, " come, till death . . .
us do part, and let no man put asunder.""

She })aused, and, waking from the dream, drew herself
together, as though something at lier breast hurt her,
aiul she repeated his words like one dazed — " ' Let no
man put asunder ' ! "

With a look that told of her great struggle, she
moved to a shrine of the Virgin in the corner, and, clasp-
in cr her hands before her breast for a moment, said
something I could iiot hear, before she turned to Dol-
taire, Avho had now taken another ste]) towards her.
IV. his look r knew that he felt his spell was broken;
that his auspicious moment liad passed ; that now, if he
won her, it must be by harsh means.

For she said : " Monsieur Doltaire, you have defeated
yourself. ' Let no man put asunder' was my response to
my husbamrs ^ Whom God hath joined,' when last I met
hun face to face, ^^othing can alter that while he lives,
nor yet when lie dies, for I have had such a sorrowful
happiness in him that if 1 were sure he were dead I

SCARBOROUGH TOWNSHIP
PUBLIC LIBRARY

340

THE SKATS OF THE MKJIITV.

would never leiive tliis lioly pliico— never ! lint he lives,
t'uul 1 will keep my vow. Jloly Clmrcli has pjirUnl us,
but yet we ure not })5irteil. Voii say that to think of him
now is wron<^^ relk'cts u])on me. I tell you, monsieur,
that if it were a wrong a thousand times iijreater I would
do it. To me there ean be no shame in following, till I
die, the man who took mi^ honoural)ly for his wife."

Jle made an imi)atient gesture and smiled ironically.

" Oh, I care not what you say or thiidv," she went on.
" 1 know not of things eanonieal and legal ; the wny
that 1 was married to him is valid ii^ his country and
ioi his people. Bad Catholic you call nie, alas ! J>ut
I am a true wife, who, if she sinned, sinned not know-
ingly, and deserves not this tyranny aiul shame."

" You are possessed with a sad infatuation," he replied
persuasively. " You are not the first who has sulVered
so. It will pass, and leave you sane — leave you to me.
For vou are mine ; wliat von felt a moment airo vou
will feel again, when this ronuintic martyrdom of yours
has wearied you."

" Monsieur Doltaire," slic said, with a successful elTort
at calmness, though 1 could see her trembling too, "it is
you wlio are mistaken, and I will show you how. But
first: You have said often that I have uinisual intelli-
gence. You have llattered me in that, I doubt not, but
still here is a chance to prove yourself sincere. I shall
pass bv evi;rv wicked means that vou took first to ruin
me, to divert me to a dislionest love (though I know not
what you nu'ant at the time), and, failing, to make me
vour wife. I sludl not refer to this base means to reach
me in this sacred place, using tlie King's commission for
such a purpose."

" I would use it Jigain, and do more, for the same ends,"
he rejoined, with shameless candour.

She waved her hand im])aliently. " I pass all that by.

TllK SKCIIKT OF TlIK TAPRSTKY.

i4t

>iil h(^ lives,
1)ju'UhI us,
link of him
, monsieur,
ter I would
►willing, till I
wife."

I ironiojilly.
he went on.
I ; the wny
ountry and
jiUis ! J>ut
not know-
c."

," he replied
Ills suiTered
you to me.
it {i<i;o you
)m of yours

essful elTort
too, "it id
how. But
uid intelli-
bt not, but
e. I shall
rst to ruin
J know not
) nuikc me
IS to reach
mission for

;ame ends,"

all that bv.

You rtliall listen (o me us J have listened to yon, n mem-
berinj,' that wiiat 1 say is honest, if it has nut your grace
and elo(|ueiu'e. You say that 1 will yer come to yon, that

1 eart! for vou and have eared tor you always, a!ii| that

that this otlu'r~is a sad infatuation. Monsieur, in part
vou are ri<dit.'"

lie came another step forward, for h'* th()Ui;ht he saw
a foothold airain ; but she drew back to the chiiir, ami
said, liftini^ her hand a.irainst him, "No, no, wait till 1
have (h.)ne. 1 say Ihat you are riuht in i»art. I will not
deny that, against my will, you have always iidhienced
mo; that, try as I would, your presence moved me, and 1
eould never \)\\t vou out of mv mind, out of mv life. At
first 1 did not understand it, for I knew how bad yon were.
I was sure you diil evil because you loved it; that, to
gi'atifv vourself, vou would spare no one: a man without
pity— 1"

" On the contrary," he interrupted, with a sour sort of
smile, " pity is almost a foible with me."

"Not real i»ity," she answered. "Monsieur, I have
lived \o\vx enouii-h to know what i)itv moves vou. It is
the moment's careless whim ; a [)ensive pleasure, a dra-
mati(; tenderness. Wholesome pity would make you hesi-
tate to harm others. You have no principles "

" Pardon me, many," he urged politely, as he eyed her
with admiration.

"Ah no, monsieur; habits, not principles, li'our life

has been one long irresponsibility. In the very maturity

of your powers, you use them to win to yourself, to your

em[)ty heart, a girl who has tried to live according to the

teach inijs of lier soul and conscience. AVere there not

■women elsewhere to whom it didift matter — your al)an-

doned purposes'? Why did you throw your shadow on

my path V You ai-e not, never wer(^ worthy of a good

woman's love."
23

i^^_

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I.I

11.25

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ill 1.8

U 111.6

»>

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'-!*/

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

#% V \

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. 14580

(716) 872-4503

342

THR SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

He liiughed with a sort of bitterness. " Your sinner
stands between two fires — " he sjiid. 81ie looked at him
inquiringly, and he added, " the punishment lie deserves
and the punisliment he does not deserve. But it is inter-
esting to be thus ])ieked out upon the stone, however
harsli the picture. You said I intluenced you — well?"

" ]\[onsieur," she went on, " there were times when,
listening to you, I needed all my strength to resist. I have
felt myself weak and shakini' when vou came into the
room. There was something in you that appealed to me,
I know not what; but I do know that it was not the best
of me, that it was emotional, some strange power of your
personality — ah yes, I can acknowledge all now. You
had great cleverness, gifts that startled and delighted ;
but yet I felt always, and that feeling grew and grew, that
there was nothing in you wholly honest ; that by artifice
you had frittered away what once may have been good in
you. Xow, all goodness in you was an accident of sense
and caprice, not true morality."

" What has true morality to do with love of you? " he
said.

" Y^'ou ask me hard questions," she replied. " This it
has to do with it : We go from morality to higher things,
not from higher things to morality. Pure love is a high
thing ; yours was not high. To have put my life in your
hands — ah no, no ! And so I fought you. There was
no question of yourself and Ivobert Moray — none. Him
I knew to possess fewer gifts, but I knew him also to
be what you could never be. I never measured him
against you. What was his was all of me worth the hav-
ing, and was given always ; there was no change. What
was yours was given only when in your presence, and then
with hatred of myself and you — given to some baleful fas-
cination in you. For a time, the more I struggled against
it the more it grew, for there was nothing that could in

r sinner
d at liim
deserves
, is inter-
however
v(A\ ? "
es when,
:. 1 lijive
into the
ed to me,
b the best
;r of vour
)w. You
eliglited ;
^rew, that
3y artifice
n good in
t of sense

you?" he

« This it
er things,

is a high

e in your
'liere was
ne. Him
n also to
ured him
the hav-
re. What
, and then
aleful fas-

d against
t could iu

THE SECRET OF THE TAPESTRY.

343

fluence a woman which you did not do. Monsieur, if you
had had Robert Moray's character and your own gifts, I
could — monsieur, I could have worshipped you ! "

Doltaire was in a kind of dream, lie was sittinc: now
iu the high-backed chair, his mouth and chin in his hand,
his elbow resting on the chair-arm. His left hand grasped
the otlier arm, and he leaned forward witli brows bent
and his eyes fixed on her intently. It was a figure singu-
larly absorbed, lost in study of some deep theme. Once
his sword clanged against the chair as it slipped a little
from its position, and he started almost violently, though
the dull booming of a cannon in no wise seemed to break
the quietness of the scene. He was dressed, as in the
morning, in plain black, but now the Star of Louis shone
on his breast. His face was pale, but his eyes, with their
swift-shifting lights, lived upon Alixe, devoured her.

She paused for an instant.

" Thou shalt not commit — idolatry," he remarked in a.
low, cynical tone, which the repressed feeling in his face
and the terrible new earnestness of his look belied.

She flushed a little, and continued : " Yet all the time
I was true to him, and what I felt concerning you he
knew — I told him enough."

Suddenly there came into Doltaire's looks and manner
an astounding change. Both hands caught tlie chair-
arm, his lips parted wnth a sort of snarl, and his white
teeth showed maliciously. It seemed as if, all at once, the
courtier, the flimeur, the man of breeding, had gone, and
you had before you the peasant, in a moment's palsy from
the intensity of his fury.

" A thousand hells for him ! " he burst out in the rough
patois of Poictiers, and got to his feet. '' You told him
all, you confessed your fluttering fears and desires to him,
while you let me play upon those ardent strings of feel-
ing, that you might save him! You used me, Tinoir

U4:

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

Dultciire, son of a king, to further your amour with a
bourgeois Englishman ! And ho hiughed in his sleeve,
and sootlied away those dangerous intUiences of the ma-
By the (lod of heaven, Kohcrt Moray and I have

gieian !

work to do! And you — you, with all the gifts of the
perfect courtesan "

" Oh, shame ! shame ! " she said, breaking in.

" But I speak the truth. You berate me, but you used
incomi)arable gifts to hold me near you, and the same
gifts to let me have no more of you than would keep me.
I thought you the most honest, the most heavenly of
women, and now "

" Alas ! " she interrupted, " what else could I have
done? To draw the line between your constant attention
and my own necessity ! Ah, I was but a young girl ; I had
no friend to help me ; he was condemned to die ; I loved
him ; I did not believe in you, not in ever so little. If I
had said, ' Y^ou must not speak to me again,' yon would
have guessed my secret, and all my purposes would have
been defeated. So I had to go on ; nor did I think that
it ever would cause you aught but a shock to your vanity.'*

He laughed hatefully. " My faith, but it has shocked
my vanity," he answered. " And now take this for think-
ing on : Up to this point I have pleaded with you, used
persuasion, courted you with a humility astonishing
to myself. Kow I will have you in spite of all. I will
break you, and soothe your hurt afterwards. I will, by
the face of the ^ladonna, I will feed where this Moray
would pasture, I will gather this ripe fruit ! "

With a devilish swiftness he caught her about the
waist, and kissed her again and again upon the mouth.

The blood was pounding in my veins, and I would
have rushed in then and there, have ended the long strife,
and have dug revenge for this outrage from his heart,
but that I saw Alixe did not move, nor make the least

THE SECRET OF THE TAPESTRY.

345

r with a

is sleeve,
' the ma-
ul I have
ts of the

you used

tlie same

keep me.

avenly of

d I have

attention
irl ; I had
I loved
ttle. If I
vou would
ould have
think that
\r vanity."
is shocked
for think-

you, used
stonishing
ill. I will

I will, by
his Moray

about the
mouth,
d I would
long strife,
his heart,
) the least

resistance. This struck me with horror, till, all at once,
he let her go, and I saw her face. Jt was very white and
still, smooth and cold as marble. She seemed five years
older in the minute.

"Have you quite done, monsieur?" she said, with
infinite, quiet scorn. " Do you, the son of a king, find
joy in kissing lips that answer nothing, a cheek from
which the blood fiows in affright and shame ? Is it an
achievement to feed as cattle feed ? Li^;ten to me, Mon-
sieur Doltaire. No, do not try to speak till I have done,
if your morality — of manners — is not all dead. Through
this cowardly act of yours, the last vestige of your power
over me is gone. I sometimes think that with you, in the
past, I have remained true and virtuous at the expense of
the best of me ; but now all that is over, and there is no
temptation — I feel beyond it : by this hour here, this hour
of sore peril, you have freed me. I was tempted — Heaven
knows, a few minutes ago I was tempted, for everything
was with vou : but God has been with me, and you ana
I are now no nearer than the poles."

" You doubt that I love you ? " he asked in an altered
voice.

" I doubt that any man will so shame the woman he
loves," she answered.

" What is insult to-day may be a pride to-morrow,"
was his quick reply. " I do not repent of it, I never
will, for you and I shall go to-night from here, and you
shall be my wife ; and one day, when this man is dead,
when you have forgotten your bad dream, you will love
me as you can not love him. I have that in me to make
you love me. To you I can be loyal, never drifting,
never wavering. I tell you, I will not let you go. First
my wife you shall be, and after that I will win your
love ; in spite of all, mine now, though it is shifted for
the momcut. Come, come, Alixe "— -he made as if to

340

THE SEATS OF TJIE MIGHTY.

take her liiintl — " you Jiiul I will learn the splenditl
secret "

She drew back to the shrine of the Virgin.

" Mother of (Jod ! Mother of God ! " I heard her
whisper, and then she raised her hand against him.
**No, no, no," she said, with sharp anguish, "do not
try to force me to your wishes — do not ; for I, at least,
will never live to see it. I have suffered more than I
can bear. I will end this shame, I will "

I had heard enough. I stepped back quickly, closed
tlie panel, and went softly to the door and into the hall,
determined to bring her out against Doltaire, trusting to
Gabord not to oppose me.

XXVII.

A SIDE-WIXD OF REVEXGE.

I KNEW it was Doltaire's life or mine, and I shrank
from desecrating this holy place ; but our bitter case
w^ould 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 Su-
perior.

" lie 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 ]\[other turned to me, and seemed
startled by my look. " What is it ? " she whispered.

" He would carry her off," I replied.

" lie shall never do so," was her quick answer. " Her
father, the good Seigneur, has been wounded, and she
must go to him."

A SIDE-WIXI) OF RKVENC.R.

347

splendid

card lier
ist Lini.
' do not
at least,
e than I

V, closed
the hall,
Listing to

I shrank
:'ter case
quickly
re stood
ther Su-

t sorely
he rafts,

1 seemed
ed.

. « Her
and she

" I will take her," said I at once, and 1 moved to
open the door. At tliat moment I caught (lahord's eye.
Tliere I read what made me pause. If I declared my-
self 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. I could not do that,
for the man had done me kindnesses dangerous to him-
self. 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 per-
turbed " 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 confuvsed murmur of voices, through
which ran twice, " Xo, 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 Alixo
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 the Church's care ? "

" If the Seignv3ur 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 otiier 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—

348

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

" And I also, niademoiscllc, with my life," interposed
Doltaire.

" (Jod will protect me," Alixc repeated ; " I have no
fear.''

" I will send two of onr Sisters with mademoiselle
to nurse the jxjor Seigneur," said Mere St. (Jeorge.

I am sure Doltaire saw the move. " A c^reat kind-
ness, holy ^lother," 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 stepi)ed 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, ho must be
^ ight," 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 readv to start. Dol-
taire turned and bowed with a well-assumed reverence
to the Mother Superior. "To-night's affairs hero arc
sacred to ourselves, ^lere 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."

A STDM-WrXD OF REVENGE.

349

[itorposcd

[ have no

emoiselle
)rgo.

uit kind-

see they

3e. The

id ho and

0. I fell
le, " send
and have
)uvarnev,
must be

le did so

' said he ;

whisper,
lord went
whom ho

and the
rt. Dol-
I'cverenco
here arc

■ned and
3 Mother
3me back
3 to her,

Doltairo nodded, glancing at mo. " Surely ho shall
attend you. Mere St. George," ho said, and then stei)ped on
with Alixe, Gabord and the other soldier ahead, the two
Sisters behind, and myself beside these. Going quietly
through tlio disordered Upper Town, wo came down Pal-
ace Street to the Intendance. Here Doltairo had kept his
quarters despite his now desperate quarrel with liigot. As
we entered he inquired of the servant where 15igot was,
and was told he was gone to the Chateau St. Louis. Dol-
tairo shrugged a shoulder and smiled — ho knew that
Bigot had had news of his deposition through the Gov-
ernor, lie 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 ho was answered that Monseigneur was at
Charlesbourg, and could not bo 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 apart-
ments, and there Doltairo 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 request.

AYhen the door closed, Doltaire turned to Gabord, and
said, "You shall come with me to bear letters to General
^lontcalm, and you shall send one of these fellows also
for mo to General Bougainville at Cap Rouge." Then he
spoke directly to me, and said, " You shall guard this pas-
sage till morning. No one but myself may pass into this
room or out of it, save the Sisters of :Mercy, on pain of
death."

I saluted, but spoke no word.

350

THE SEATS <)E THE MIGHTY.

" You uiidorstiind me?" he repeated.

" Alto<ifetlier, monsieur," 1 answered in a rough, poas-
antlike voice.

lie turned and walked in a leisurely way through the
passage, and (lisaj)])eared, telling (iabord to join him in a
moment. As he left, (Jabord said to me in a low voice,
"Get back to CJeneral Wolfe, or wife and life will both be
lost!"

I caught his hand and pressed it, and a minute after-
wards I was alone before Alixe's door.

An hour later, knowing Alixo to be alone, I tapped on
her door and entered. As I did so she rose from a prie-
dieu where she had been kneeling. Two candles were
burning on the mantel, but the room was much in
shadow.

" What is't you wish?" she asked, approaching.

I had oil my hat ; I looked her directly in the eyes
and put my fingers on my lips. She stared painfully for
a moment.

"Alixe,"said I.

She gave a gasp, and stood transfixed, as though she
had seen a ghost, and tlien Iv. an instant she was in my
arms, sobs shaking her. " Oh, Robert ! oh, my dear, dear
husband ! " she cried again and again. I calmed her, and
presently she broke into a whirl of questions. I told her
of all I had seen at the cathedral and at the convent aiid
what my plans had been, and then I waited for her an-
swer. A new feeling took possession of her. She knew
that there was one question [it my lips which I djired not
utter. Slie became very quiet, and a sweet, settled firm-
ness came into her face.

" liobert," she said, " you must go back to your army
without me. I can not leave my father now. Save yourself
alone, and if — and if you take the city, and I am alive,
we shall be reunited. If you do not take tlie city, then,

A srOK-VVlNi OK HI<:VI-:X(}K.

.-^51

ugh, pcas-

irough tlio
I liim in a
low voice,
ill both bo

into after-
tupped on
oni a prie-
ndles were
much in

I the eyes
infuily for

hough she
vas in my

dear, dear
d her, and

I told her
►nvent and
)r her an-
She knew

dared not
:tled firm-

^our army

ve yourself

am alive,

city, then,

whether my father lives or dies, I will come to you. Of
this bo sure, that I shall never live to ho the wife of any
other num — wife or aught else. You know me. You
know all, you trust mo and, my dear husband, my own
love, we must part once more. (Jo, go, and save yourself;
keep your life safe for my sake, and may CJod in heaven,
may (lod "

Here she broke off and started back from my embnice,
staring hard a monu-nt over my shoulder ; then her face
became deadly pale, and she fell back unconscious. Sup-
porting her, I turned round, and there, inside the door,
with his back to it, was Doltaire. There was a devilish
smile on his face, as wicked a look as 1 ever saw on any
man. I laid Alixo down on a sofa without a word, and
faced him ngain.

" As many coats as Joseph's coat had colours," he said.
" And for once disguised as an honest man— well, well ! "

" Beast ! " I hissed, and I whipped out my short sword.

" Not here," he said, with a malicious laugh. " Y^ou
forget your manners : familiarity " — ho glanced towards
the couch — " has bred "

" Coward ! " I cried. " I will kill vou at her feet ! "

" Come, then," he answered, and stepped away from
the door, drawing his sword, " since you will have it here.
But if I kill you, as I intend "

He smiled detestably, and motioned towards the couch,
then turned to the door again as if to lock it. I stepped
between, my sword at guard. At that the door opened.
A woman came in quickly, and closed it behind her. She
passed me, and faced Doltaire.

It was Madame Cournal. She was most pale, and
there was a peculiar wildness in her eyes.

" You have deposed Fran(;ois Bigot ! " she said.

"Stand back, madame; I have business with this fel-
low," said Doltaire, waving his hand.

;^V2

TUK SKATS OF THK MKUITY.

" >ry businoss cornea firnt," she ropliod. " Voii you

dare to depose Fnnu;ois lii^^ot ! "

" It iiei'ds no diiriiif;/' he sjud nonchuhuitly.

" Vou sluUl put him buck in his phiee."

''('(uno to nie to-niorrow mornin<^, (U'jir mmljime."

" I tell you lie must ho put buck, Monsieur Doltiiire."

"Onee you caUed me Tinoir," he said meaningly.

Without a word she caught from her cloak a daircrer
and struck him in the breast, though he threw up his
hand and partly diverted the blow. Without a cry he half
swung round, and sank, face forward, against the couch
where Alixe hiy.

Jtaising himself feebly, blindly, he caught her hand
and kissed it; then he fell back.

Stooping beside him, I felt his heart, lie was alive.
Madame Couriud now knelt beside him, staring at him as
in a kind of dream. I left the room cpiickly, and met the
Sisters of Mercy in the hall. They had heard the noise,
and were coming to Alixe. I bade them care for her.
Passing rapidly through the corridors, I told a servant of
the household what had occurred, bade him send for
Bigot, and then made for my own safety. Alixe ^vas safe
for a time, at least — perhaps forever, thank God ! — from
the approaches of Monsieur Doltaire. As I sped through
the streets, I could not help but think of how he had
kissed her hand as he fell, and I knew by this act, at
such a time, that in very truth he loved her after his
fashion.

I came soon to the St. John's Gate, for I had the
countersign from Gabord, and dressed as I was, I had no
difficulty in passing. Outside I saw a small cavalcade
arriving from Beauport way. I drew back and let it
pass me, and then I saw that it was a company of soldiers
bearing the Seigneur Duvarney to the Intendance.

An hour afterwards, having passed the sentries, I stood

Voil— you

uimo.
Voltaire."

!vv up his
!ry lie half
the couch

her haud

was alive.

at liiui as
ul met the

the noise,
e for her.
servant of

send for
:e was safe
-)d ! — from
d through
w he had
his act, at

after his

[ had the
, I liad no
cavalcade
md let it
3f soldiers
ce.
es, I stood

"TO ClIKAT TIIK DKVII. Vinv

353

on u loneW point of the shori^ of the liowci' Town, iuul,
seeirg no one near, I slid into the water. As I did so 1
Ilea d a challenge hciiind nie, and when 1 made no answer
there came a shot, another, and another ; for it was tiioiiglit,
I doubt not, that 1 was a deserter. 1 was wouiuk'd in tlie
shoulder, and had to swim with one arm ; but though boats
were put out from the shore, I managed to evade them
and to get witbin hail of our lleet. Challenged there, 1
answered with my name. A boat shot (uit from among
the ships, and soon 1 was hauled into it by Clark himself;
and that night I rested safe upon the Terror of France.

XXVIII.

"TO CIIKAT THE DEVIL YET."

My hurt proved more serious than I liad looked for,
and the day after my escape I was in a high fever. Gen-
eral Wolfe himself, having heard of my return, sent to
inquire after me. He also was ill, and our forces were
depressed in consequence ; for he had a power to inspire
them not given to any other of our accom})lished generals.
He forbore to question me concerning the state of the
town and what I had seen ; for which I was glad. My
adventure had been of a private nature, and such I
wished it to remain. The General desired me to come
to him as soon as I was able, that I might proceed with
him above the town to reconnoitre. But for many a
day this was impossible, for my wound gave me much
pain and I was confined to my bed.

Yet we on tlie Terror of France served our good
General, too ; for one dark night, when the wind was
fair, we piloted the remaining ships of Admiral Holmes's
division above the town. This move was made on my

354

THE SEATS OF TIJE iMIGHTY.

constant assertion that there was a way by which Quebec
might be taken from above ; and when General Wolfe
made known my representations to his general officers,
they accepted it as a last resort ; for otherwise what ho2)e
had they ? At ]Montmorenci our troops had been re-
pulsed ; tlie mud ihits of the Beauport shore and the St.
Charles lliver were as good as an army against us; the
Upper Town and Citadel were practically imjn-egnable ;
and for eight miles west of the town to the cove and
river pt Cap liouge there was one long precipice, broken
in but one spot ; but just there, I was sure, men could
come up with still climbing, as I had done. Bougainville
came to Cap Kouge now with three thousand men, for he
thought tluit this was to be our point of attack. Along
the shore from Cap Rouge to Cape Diamond small bat-
teries were posted, such as that of Lancy's at Anse du
Foulon ; but they were careless, for no conjectures might
seem so wild as that of bringing an army up where I had
climbed.

" Tut, tut," said Coneral ^lurray, when he came to
me on the Terror of France, after having, at my sug-
gestion, gone to the south shore opposite Anse du Fou-
lon, and scanned the faint lino thiit marked the narrow
cleft on the cliff side — " tut, tut, man," said he, " 'tis the
dream of a cat or a damned mathematician."

Once, after all was done, he said to me that cats and
mathematicians were the only generals.

With a belligerent pride Clark showed the way up
the river one evening, tlie batteries of the town giving
us plunging sliots as we went, and ours at Point Levis
answering gallantly. To me it was a good if most anx-
ious time : good, in that I was having some sort of com-
pensation for my own sufferings in the town ; anxious,
because no simple word came to me of Alixe or her father,
and all the time we were pouring death into the place.

5h Quebec
ral Wolfe
il officers,
wliiit liope
been re-
nd tbe St.
5t us; tbe
)rognable ;
cove and
!e, broken
len could
uguinville
en, for he
Along
small bat-
Anse du
res might
I ere I had

I came to
my sug-
du Fou-

le narrow
" 'tis the

cats and

) way up
n giving
int Levis
lost anx-
i of com-

anxious,
n- father,

place.

"TO CHEAT THE DEVIL YET."

355

But this we knew from deserters, that Vaudreuil was
Governor and Bigot Intendant still ; by which it would
seem that, on the momentous night when Doltaire was
wounded by Madame Cournal, he gave back the govern-
orship to Vaudreuil and reinstated Bigot. Presentlv,
from an officer who had been captured as he was setting
free a lire-raft to run among the boats of our fleet, I
heard that Doltaire had been confined in the Intend-
ance from a wound given by a stupid sentry. Thus the
true story had been kept from the public. From him,
too, I learned that nothing was known of the Seio-neur
Duvarney and his daughter; that they had suddenly
disappeared from the Intendance, as if the earth had
swallowed them ; and that even Juste Duvarney knew
nothing of them, and was, in consequence, greatly dis-
tressed.

This officer also said that now, when it might seem as
if both the Seigneur and his daughter were dejid, opinion
had turned in Alixe's favour, and the feeling had crept
about, first among the common folk and afterwards
among the people of the garrison, that she had been
used harshly. This was due largely, he thought, to the
constant advocacy of the Chevalier de la Darante, whose
nephew had married Mademoiselle Georgette Duvarney.
This piece of news, in spite of the uncertainty of Alixe's
fate, touched me, for the Chevalier had indeed kept his
word to me.

At last all of Admirrd Holmes's division was got
above the town, with very little damage, and I never
saw a man so elated, so profoundly elated as Clark over
his share in the business. He was a daredevil, too ; for
the day that the last of tlie division was taken up the
river, without my permission or the permission of the
admiral or any one else, he took the Terror of France
almost up to Bougainville's earthworks in the cove at

35G

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

Cap Rouge and insolently emptied his six swivels into
them, and then came out and stood down the river.
When I asked what he was doing — for I was now well
enough to come on deck — he said he was going to see
how monkeys could throw nuts ; when 1 pressed him,
he said he had a will to hear the cats in the eaves ; and
when I became severe, he added ""hat he would bring
the Terror of France up past the batteries of the town
in broad dayliglit, swearing that they could no more hit
him than a woman could a bird on a fljigstaif. I did not
relish this foolish bravado, and I forbade it ; but pres-
ently I consented, on condition that he take me to Gen-
eral Wolfe's camp at Montmorenci first ; for now I felt
strong enough to be again on active service.

Clark took the Terror of France up the river in
midday, running perilously close to the batteries ; and
though they pounded at him petulantly, foolishly angry
at his contemptuous defiance, he ran the gauntlet safely,
and coming to the flagship, the Sutherland, saluted with
his six swivels, to the laughter of the whole fleet and his
own 2)rofanc joy.

" Mr. Moray," said General Wolfe, when I saw him,
racked with pain, studying a chart of the river and
town which his chief engineer had just brought him,
'' show me here this passage in the hillside."

I did so, tracing the plains of Maitre Abraham, which
I assured him would be good ground for a jiitched bat-
tle, lie nodded ; then rose, and walked up and down for
a time, thinking. Suddenly he stopped, and fixed his
eyes upon me.

" Mr. Moray," said he, " it would seem that you,
angering La Pompadour, brought down this war upon
us." He paused, smiling in a dry way, as if the thought
amused him, as if, indeed, he doubted it; but for that
1 cared not, it was an honour I could easily live without.

_^_:/?::!r^^.'T?A3iiT»:2ni2iiig

wivels into
tlie river,
now well
)ing to see
■cssed him,
eaves ; and
:)iild bring
the town
more hit
I did not
but pres-
iie to G en-
no w I felt

e river in
eries ; and
silly angry
tlet safely,
dated with
eet and his

[ saw him,

river and

ught him,

am, which
tched bat-
1 down for
I fixed his

that you,

war upon

le thought

t for that

without.

"TO CHEAT THE DEVIL YET."

357

I bowed to his words, and said, " ^[ine was the last
straw, sir."

x\gain he nodded, and replied, " Well, well, you got us
into trouble; you must show us the way out," and he
looked again at the passage I had traced upon the chart.
'' You will remain with me until we meet our enemy on
these heights." lie pointed to the i)hiins of Maitre Abra-
ham. Then he turned away, and began walking up and
down again. " It is the last chance ! " he said to himself
in a tone despairing and yet heroic. "Please God ! please
God ! " he added.

" You will speak nothing of these plans," he said to
me at last, half mechanically. " We must make feints of
landing at Cap llouge — feints of landing everywhere save
at the one possible place; confuse both Bougainville and
Montcalm ; tire out their armies with watch ings and
want of sleep ; and then, on the auspicious night, make
the great trial."

I had remained respectfully standing at a little dis-
tance from him. Now he suddenly came to me, and,
pressing my hand, said quickly, " You have trouble, jMr.
IMoray. I am sorry for you. But maybe it is for better
things to come ! "

I thanked him stumblingly, and a moment later left
him, to serve him on the morrow, and so on through
many days, till, in divers perils, the camp at ^lontmorenci
was abandoned, the troops were got aboard the ships, aiul
the General took up his quarters on the Sutherland ; from
which, one notable day, I sallied forth with him to a point
at the south shore opposite the Anse du Foulon, where he
saw the thin crack in the cliff side. From tluit moment
instant and final fttack was his purpose.

The great night came, starlit and serene. The camp-
fires of two armies spotted the shores of the wide river,
24

858

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHT Y.

and the s]iii)S lay like wild fowl in convoys above the town
from where the arrow of fate should be sped. Darkness
upon tlie river, and lirellies u})on the shore. At Beau-
j)()rt, an untirinij^ (Jeneral, wlio for a hundred days had
snatched slccj), booted and spurred, and in the ebb of a
losing game, longed for ids aih)red Candiac, grieved for a
beloved daughter's deatli, sent cheerful messages to his
aged mother and to his wife, and by the deeper protests
of his love foreshadowed his own doom. At Cap Kouge,
a dying commander, unperturbed and valiant, reached out
a finger to trace the last movements in a desperate cam-
paign of life that opened in Flanders at sixteen ; of which
the end began when he took from his bosom the portrait
of his aflianced wife, and sa>d to his old schoolfellow,
" Give this to her, Jervis, for we shall meet no more."

Then, passing to the deck, silent and steady, no signs
of pain upon Ids face, so had the calm come to him, as to
Nature and this beleaguered city, before the whirlwind, he
looked out upon the clustered grou})s of boats filled with
the flower of his army, settled in a menacing tranquillity.
There lay the Light Infantry, Bragg's, Kennedy's, Las-
celles's, Anstruther's Regiment, Fraser's Highlanders,
and the much-loved, much-blamed, and impetuous Louis-
burg Grenadiers. Steady, indomitable, silent as cats,
precise as mathematicians, he could trust them, as they
loved his awkward, pain-twisted body and ugly red hair.
" Damme, Jack, didst thee ever take hell in tow before?"
said a sailor from the Terror of France to his fellow once,
as the marines grappled with a flotilla of French fire-ships,
and dragged them, spitting destruction, clear of the fleet,
to tlie shore. " Xay, but Fve been in tow of Jimmy
Wolfe's red head ; that's hell-fire, lad !" was the reply.

From boat to boat the General's eye passed, then
shifted to the ships— the Squirrel, the Leostaff, the Sea-
horse, and the rest— and lastly to where the army of

"TO CHEAT THE DEVIL YET."

359

e the town
Darkness
At Beuii-
i (liiys Imd
le ebb of u
ioved for a
Jges to liis
vY protests
-'ap Koiige,
eachetl out
)erate cam-
; of which
he portrait
hoolfellow,

more.

y, no signs
> him, as to
irlwind, lie
filled with
ranqiiillity.
ledy's, Las-
igli landers,
lous Lonis-
it as cats,
m, as they
y red hair.
y before?"
ellow once,
1 fire-ships,
)f the fleet,
of Jimmy
e rei»ly.
ssed, then
ff, the Sea-
3 army of

Bougainville lay. Then there came towards him an ofTi-
cer, who said quietly, " The tide has turned, sir." For
reply the (jJeneral made a swift motion towards the main-
top shrouds, and almost instantly lanterns showed in
them. In response, the crowded boats began to cast
away, and, immediately descending, the Ceiieral passed
into his own boat, drew to the front, and drifted in the
current ahead of his gallant men, the ships following
after.

It was two by the clock when the boats began to move,
and slowly we ranged down the stream, silently steered,
carried by the current. Xo paddle, no creaking oar-
lock, broke the stillness. I was in the next boat to the
General's, for, with Clark and twenty-two other volunteers
to the forlorn hope, I was to show the way up the heights,
and we were near to his person for over two hours that
night. No moon was shining, but I could see the General
plainly; and once, when our boats almost touched, he saw
mi, and said graciously, "If they get up, Mr. Moray, you
a"e free to serve yourself."

My heart was full of love of country then, and I an-
swered, " I hope, sir, to serve you till your flag is hoisted
on the citadel."

He turned to a young midshipman beside him, and
said, " How old are you, sir?"

" Seventeen, sir," was the reply.

" It is the most lasting passion," he said, musing.

It seemed to me then, and I still think it, that the
passion he meant was love of country. A moment after-
wards I heard him recite to the officers about him, in a
low, clear tone, some verses by Mr. Gray, the poet, wdiicli
I had never then read, though I have prized them since.
Under those frowning heights, and the smell from our
rojiring distant thirty-two-pounders in the air, I heard
him say :

30il 'I'HE SEATS OF THE MTCUITY.

" Tho cur few tolls tho knoll of parting day ;
Tlio lowing herd wind slowly o'er tho loa ;
Tho ploughman hoinoward jilods his weary way,
And loaves tho world t(» darkness antl to mo."

I liuvo heard finer voices tliuii his — it was as tin beside
Doltairu's — but sonietliing in it pierced me that iiiglit, and
I felt tlio man, the perfect hero, when he said :

" The boast of hoi'aldry, the pomp of j)owor,

And all that beauty, all tliat wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour —

Tlie paths of glory load but to the grave."

Soon afterwards wo iieared the end of our quest, the
tide carrying us in to sliore ; and down from the dark
heights tliere came a challenge, satisfied by an officer, who
said in French that we were provision-boats for Mont-
calm : these, we knew, had been expected ! Then came the
batteries af Samos. Again we passed with the same ex-
cuse, rounded a lieadland, and the great work was begun.

The boats of the Li<i:ht Infantry swunsj in to shore.
Ko sentry challenged, but I knew that at the top Lancy's
tents were set. When the Light Infantry had landed, we
twenty-four volunteers stood still for a moment, and I
pointed out tho way. Before we started, we stooped be-
side a brook that leaped lightly down the ravine and
drank a little rum and water. Then I led the way, Clark
at one side of me, and a soldier of the Light Infantry at
the other. It was hard climbing, but, following in our
careful steps as silently as they miglit, the good fellows
came eagerly after. Once a rock broke loose and came
tumbling down, but plunged into a thicket, where it
stayi 1 ; else it might have done for us entirely. I breathed
freely when it stopped. Once, too, a branch cracked
loudly, and we lay still ; but hearing nothing above, we
pushed on, and, sweating greatly, came close to the top.

way,

s till beside
: niglit, iind

^llVO,

:' quest, the
n the dark
oflicer, who

for Morit-
bn came the
10 same ex-
was beguTi.
n to slioro.
top Lancy's

landed, we
lent, and I
stooped be-
ravine and
way, Clark
Infantry at
^ing in onr
ood fellows
e and came
b, where it

I breathed
ch cracked
r above, we
) the top.

TO CHEAT THE DEVIL YET."

361

Here Clark and I drew back, for such honour as there
might be in gaining the heights first I wislunl to go to
these soldiers who had trusted their lives to my guidance.
1 let six go by and reach the heights, and then I drew
myself up. Wo did not stir till all twenty-four were safe ;
then we made a dash for the tents of Lancy, which now
showed in the first gray light of morning. AVe were dis-
covered, and sliots greeted us; but we were on them in-
stantly, and in a moment I had the pleasure of putting a
bullet in Lancy's heel, aiul brought him down. Our
cheers told the General the news, and soon liundreds of
soldiers were climbing the hard way that we hjid come.

And now, while an army climbed to the hoiglits of
Maitre Abraham, Admiral Saunders in the gray dawn
was bombarding Montcalm's encampment, and boats
filled with marines and soldiers drew to the Boauport
flats, as if to land there ; while shots, bombs, shells, and
carcasses were hurled from Levis upon the town, deceiv-
ing ^lontcalin. At last, however, suspecting, he rode
towards the town at six o'clock, and saw our scarlet
ranks spread across the plains between him and Bou-
gainville, and on the crest, nearer to him, eying us in
amazement, the white-coated battalion of Guienne, which
should the day before have occupied the very ground
held by Lancy. A slight rain falling added to their
gloom, but cheered us. It gave us a better light to
tight by, for in the clear September air, the bright sun
shining in our faces, they would have had us at advan-
tage.

In another hour the gates of St. John and St. Louis
emptied out upon this battletield a warring flood of our
foes. It was a handsome sight : the white uniforms of
the brave regiments, Koussillon, La Sarre, Guienne, Lan-
guedoc. Beam, mixed with the dark, excitable militia, the
sturdy burghers of the town, a band of courcurs de

302

THE SKATS OF THE MIGRTY.

II'!

buis in tlieir rough Inintor's costumo, siiul whooping In-
diaus, painted and fiu-ious, ready to eat us. At last liere
was to be a test of ligiiting in open Held, though tlio
Freneh had in their wliole army twice the number of
our men, a walknl and provisioned city behind them,
and field-pieces in great number to bring against us.

But there was bungling with them. Vaudreuil hung
back or came tardily from Ikviuport ; Bougainville had
not yet arrived ; and when they might have j)itted twice
our number against us, they had not many more than we.
With Bougainville behind us and Montcalm in front, we
miglit have been cheeked, though there was no man in
all our army but believed that we should win the day.
I could plainly see Montcalm, mounted on a dark horse,
riding along the lines as they formed against us, waving
his sword, a truly gallant figure. He was answered by a
roar of applause and greeting. On the left their Indians
and burghers overlapped our second lino, where Town-
send with Andierst's and the Light Infantry, and
C'olonel Burton with the Royal Aniericans and Light
Infantry, guarded our Hank, prepared to meet Bougain-
ville. In vain our foes tried to get between our right
flank and the river ; Ot way's Regiment, thrown out, de-
feated that.

It was my hope that Doltaire mis with Montcalm, and
that we might meet and end our quarrel. I came to
know afterwards that it was he who had induced Mont-
calm to send the battalion of Guienne to the heights
above the Anse du Foulon. The battalion had not been
moved till twenty-four hours after the order was given,
or we should never have gained those heights ; stones
rolled from the cliff would have destroyed an army !

We waited, Clark and I, with the Louisburg Grena-
diers while they formed. We made no noise, but stood
steady and still, the bagpipes of the Highlanders shrilly

"TO CIIKAT Tin-: DKVIL YF/IV

303

oopiiig In-
Vt Jjist liere
lough tlio
11 umber of
ind them,
st us.

reuil buns:
Hville luid
it ted twice
e tlitiu we.

I front, we
10 m;iu in

II the day.
hirk liorse,
us, waving
vered by a
jir Indians
3re Town-
'itry, and
md Lifrht
'' Bougain-

our riglit
'n out, de-

tcalm, and
came to
3ed Mont-
le lieights
1 not been
vas given,
ts ; stones
my!

'g Grena-
but stood
)rs shrilly

challenging. At eight o'clock sharpshooters began firing
on us from the left, and our skirmisliers were tiirown out
to hold tli(!iu in clieck, or drive them from the houses
where they slieltered and galled TownseiKTs men. Tiieir
field-pieces opened on us, too, and yet we did nothing, but
at nine o'clock, being ordered, we lay down and waited
still. There was no restk'ssness, no anxiety, no show of
doubt, for these men of ours were old lighters, and they
trusted their leaders. From bu, les, trees, coverts, and
fields of grain there came that constant hail of fire,
and there fell ujion our ranks a doggedness, a quiet
anger, which grew into a grisly jmtieiice. The only
pleasure we had in two long hours was in watching our
two brass six-pounders play upon the irregular ranks of
our foes, making confusion, and Townsend drive back a
detachment of cavalry from Cap Rouge, which sought to
break our left flank and reach Montcalm.

We had seen the stars go down, the cold, mottled
liirht of dawn break over the battered citv and the
lieights of Cliarlesbourg ; we had watched the sun come
np, and then steal away behind the slow-travelling clouds
and hanging mist ; we had looked across over unreaped
cornfields and the dull, slovenly St. Charles, knowing
that endless leagues of country, north and south, east
and west, lay in the balance for the last time. I be-
lieved that this day would see the last of the strife
between Enghind and France for dominion here; of La
Pompadour's spite which I had roused to action against
my country; of the struggle between Doltaire and my-
self.

The i)ni)lic stake was worthy of our army — wortliy of
the dauntless soldier who had be.irged his physicians to
patch him up long enough to fight this fight, whereon
he staked reputation, life, all that a miin loves in the
world ; the private stake was more than worthy of my

3r4

THE SKATS OF TUK MKJIITY.

long su (Tarings. I tlionght tliut Moiitctilm would have
wiiitt'd for \'jiu(lr(Miil, but no. At Uni o'clock his three
coluuiurf ciiiuc down u[)()n us briskly, nuiking ji wild
rattle; two columns moving upon our right and one
upon our left, liring obli(pu>ly and constantly as they
marched. Then came the (lomnuind to rise, and we
stood up and waited, our muskets loaded with an extra
ball. 1 could feel the stern nudice in our ranks, as we
stood there and took, without returning a shot, that
damnable lire. Minute after minute passed; then came
the sharp conunand to advance. We did so, and again
halted, and yet no shot came from us. We stood there
inactive, a long palisade of red.

At last I saw our CJeneral raise his sword, a command
rang down the long line of battle, and, like one terrible
cannon-shot, our muskets sang together with as perfect a
precision as on a private field of exercise. Then, waiting
for the smoke to clear a little, another volley came with
almost the same ])recision ; after whicli the firing came
in clioppy waves of sound, and again in a })ersistent clat-
terinjr. Then a li^dit breeze lifted the smoke and mist
well away, and a wayward sunlight showed us our foe,
like a long white wave retreating from a rocky shore,
bending, crumpling, breaking, and, in a hundiod little
billows, fleeing seaward.

Thus cliecked, confounded, the French army trem-
bled and fell back. Then I heard the order to charge,
and from nearly four thousand throats there came
for the first time our exultant British cheer, and higli
over all ratig the slogan of Fraser's Highlanders. To
my left I saw the flashing broadswords of the clansmen,
ahead of all the rest. '^J'hose sickles of death clove
through and broke the battalions of La Sarre, and Las-
celles scattered the soldiers of Languedoc into flying
columns. We on the righi:, led by Wolfe, charged the

"TO CI IK AT TIIH DKVII. Yirr."

3C5

^'oiild Imvo
^ Ins tliroo
"^' a Mild
t uiid Olio
Jy as thoy
, and wo
1> an extra
^nks, as wo
f^liot, tliat
then camo
and a<,^ain
tood there

command
le terrible

perfect a
n, waiting

ame with
ring came
stent claL-

and mist
3 our foe,
ky shore,
[icd little

my trem-
;o cliarge,
3re came
Eind higli
ers. To
ilansmen,
ith clove
and Las-
to flying
rged the

desperate and valiant men of Koussillon and <-r,ienno
and the impetuous shar])slu)()ters of tiie militia. As wo
came on I ol)served the (Jeneral sway and pusii forward
again, and then 1 lost sight of liim, for 1 saw what
gave the battle a new interest to me : Doltaire, cool and
deliberate, animating and encouraging the French troops.

I moved in a shaking hedge of bayonets, keeping my
eye upon him ; atid presently there was a hand-to-hand
inelve^ out of which I fought to reach him. I was
uuiking for him, where he now sought to rally the re-
treating columns, when 1 noticed, iu)t far away, (Jaboi'd,
mounted, and attacked by three grenadiers. Jjooking
back now, I see him, with his sabre cutting right and
left, as he drove Ids horse at one grenadier, who slipped
and fell on the slippery ground, while the horse rode on
him, battering him. Obli(pu;ly down swept the sabre, and
drove through the clieek and chin of one foe ; another
sweep, and the bayonet of the other was struck aside ;
and another, which was turned aside as Gabord's horse
came down, bayoneted by the fallen grenadier. But
(labord was on his feet again, roaring like a bull, with
a wild grin on his face, as ho partly struck aside the
bayonet of the last grenadier. It caught him in the
flesh of the left side. He grasped the musket-ba rel,
and swung his sabre with fierce precision. The man's
head dropped back like the lid of a pot, and he tum-
bled into a heap of the faded golden-rod flower which
spattered the field.

At tliis moment I saw Juste Duvarney making
towards me, hatred and deadly purjiose in liis eyes. I
had will enough to meet liim, and to kill him too, yet
I could not help but tliink of Alixe. Gabord saw him
also, ami, being nearer, made for me as wtII. For that
act I cherish his memory. The thouglit was worthy of
a gentleman of breeding ; he had the true thing in his

:m\

Till-: SKATS OV THK MKillTY.

lu'jirt. lie would sjivo iis — two hrotliers — from figliting,
by li«;litiiii; iiic liimsi'lf !

lit' rt'jiclitMl rue (ii'si, jind with jin " An diiihlo !" iimdo
a stroko jit inc. It wjis ji nmtter of sword mid subre now.
Chirk nu'l Justo Unvjirney's rnsh ; und there wo were,
at jis lliu' a ^'aine of i-ross- pur poses as yon can thiidv :
Clark hnn;^^ci'in;( for (Jahord\s life ((Jal)ord liad once been
his jailer too), and .Instc Duvarncy for mine; the battle
faring on aiicad of us. Soon Iht^ two were clean cut
oir from the French army, and must light to the death
or surrender.

.luste Duvarncy spoke oidy once, and tlien it was but
the rancorous word " Uenegade ! " nor did I speak at
all; but Clark was blasphemous, and Cabord, bleeding,
fought with a sputtering relish.

"Fair light and fowl for S])itting," he cried, "do
home to heaven, dickey-bird ! "

Hetwecu ])h rases of this kind we cut and tlirnst for
life, an odd sort of ligbting. I fought with a desj)erate
alortnoss, and presently my sword passed through his
body, drew out, and he shivered — fell — where he stood,
rolla])sing suddeidy like a bag. I knelt beside him and
lifti'd up his head. His eyes were glazing fast.

" dabord ! Cabord ! " I called, grief-stricken, for that
work was the worst I ever did in this world.

He started, stared, and fumbled at his waistcoat. I
quickly put my hand in, and drew out — one of Mathilde's
wooden crosses !

" To clieat — the devil — yet — alio ! " he whispered,
kissed the cross, and so was done with life.

When I turned from him, Clark stood alone beside
me. Dazed as I was, I did not at first grasp the signifi-
cance of that fa(!t. I looked towards the town, and saw
the French armv hustlinc: into the St. Louis (Jate; saw
the Highlanders charging the bushes at the Cote Ste.

••MASTKll DKVIL" DOLTAIUH.

;](;7

I nglitin<r,

t' ! " MlJUlo

N'lbrc How.
w'i) Were,
ail tliiiilv :
oiuH' Ijcen
llie hjittlo

till! death

OeFieviovo, where the hnivo Canadians made tlieir hist
8tand ; saw, not lifly feet away, tlie nobU'st soldier of
our time, even (ieneral Wolfe, (h-ad in the urms of Mr.
Henderson, a voliinleer in the Twenty-secjond ; und then,
almost at my feet, stretehcd out as 1 had seen him lie
in the I'alace courtyard two years before, 1 beheld J usto
Duvarney.

lint now lie was beyond all friendship or recouciliu-
tioii — forever I

it was hut
speak at
bh^eding,

td. "Go

fhrnst for

desj)erate

rongh Ids

he stood,

him and

, for that

?tcoat. I
lathilde's

hispered,

le beside
e signili-
and saw
ate ; saw
Jote Ste.

WIX.

((

MASTKK ni:VIL DOLTAIUE.

TilK bells of some shattered church were calling to
vespers, the sun was sinking behind tlie flaming autumn
woods, as once more 1 entered the St. Louis (iate, with
the grenadiers and a detachment of artillery, the British
colours hoisted on a gun-carriage. Till this hour I had
ever entered and left this town a ca])tive, a price set
on my head, and in the very street where I now walked
I had gone with a rope round my neck, abused and
maltreated. I saw our flag re])lacc the golden lilies of
France on tlie citadel where Doltaire had baited me,
and at the top of Mountain Street, near to the bisho])'s
palace, our colours also flew.

Every step I took was familiar, yet unfamiliar too.
It was a disfigured town, where a hungry, distracted
people huddled among ruins and begged for mercy and
for food, nor found time in the general overwhelming
to think of the gallant ^[ontcalm, lying in his shell-
made grave at the chapel of the Ursulines, not flfty
steps from where ^ had looked through the tapestry on
Alixe and Doltaire. The convent was almost deserted
now, and as I passed it, on my way to the cathedral, 1

368

THE SEATS OF THE :\IIGHTY.

took off my luit ; for how knew I but that she I loved
best hiy there too, as truly a heroine as the admirable
^loiitcalm was hero! A solitary bell was elann^ins: on the
chapel as I went by, and I saw three nuns steal past me
with bowed heads. 1 longed to ask them of Alixe, for
I felt sure that the Chureli knew where she was, living
or dead, though none of all I asked knew aught of her,
not even the Clievalier de la Darante, who had come
to our camp the night before, accompanied by Monsieur
Joannes, the town mjijor, witli terms of surrender.

I came to the chui'cli of the Recollets as I wandered ;
for now, for a little time, I seemed bewildered and in-
capable, lost in a maze of dreadful imaginings. I entered
the door of the church, and stumbled upon a body.
Hearing footsteps ahead in the dusk, I passed up the
aisle, and came upon a pile of debris. Looking up, I
could see the stars shining through a hole in the roof.
Hearing a noise beyond, I v;ent on, and there, seated on
the high altar, was the dwarf who had snatched the cup
of rum out of the fire the night that Mathilde had given
the crosses to the revellers. He gave a low, wild laugh,
and hu2:i2:ed a bottle to his breast. Almost at his feet,
half naked, with her face on the lowest step of the altar,
her feet touciiiug the altar itself, was the girl — his sister
— who had ke})t her drunken lover from assaulting him.
The girl was dead — there was a knife- wound in her breast.
8iok at <\m sight, I left the place and went on, almost
mechanically, to Voban's house. It was level with the
ground, a crum])led heap of ruins. I passed J^ancy's house,
in front of which I had fought with Gabord ; it, too, was
broken to pieces.

As 1 turned away I heard a loud noise as of an ex-
plosion, and I supposed it to be some mtigazine. I
thought of it no more at the time. Voban must be
found ; that was more important. I must know of Alixe

"MASTER DEVIL" DOLTAIRE.

309

he I loved

admirable

:ing on the

il past me

Alixe, for

was, living

[lit of her,

had come

Monsienr

ler.

wandered ;
d and in-

I entered
m a body.
m1 up the
ing up, I

the roof,
seated on
}d the cup
had given
'ild laugh,
'> his feet,
the altar,
-his sister
'ting him.
ler breast.
>n, almost
with the
y's house,
, too, was

of an ex-

izine. 1

must be

of Alixe

first, and I felt sure that if any one guessed her where-
abouts it would be he : she would hrve told him where
she was going, if she had fled ; if she were dead, wlio
so likely to know as this secret, elusive, vengeful watcher V
Of Doltaire I had heard nothing ; I would seek him
out when I knew of Alixe. lie could not escape me in
this walled town. I passed on for a time without direc-
tion, for I seemed not to know where I might find the
barber. Our sentries already patrolled the streets, and
our bugles were calling on the heights, with answering
calls from the fleet in the basin. Night came down
quickly, the stars shone out in the perfect blue, and, as I
walked along, broken walls, shattered houses, solitary pil-
lars, looked mystically strange. It was painfully quiet, as
if a beaten people had crawled away into the holes our shot
and shell had made, to hide their misery. Now and
again a gaunt face looked out from a hiding-place, and
drew back again in fear at sight of me. Once a drunken
woman spat at me and cursed me ; once I was fired at ;
and many times from dark corners I heard voices crying,
" Sauvez-moi — ah^ sauvez-riioi^ hon TJieu!^^ Once I stood
for many minutes and watched our soldiers giving bis-
cuits and their own share of rum to homeless French
peasants hovering round the smouldering ruins of a house
which carcasses had destroyed.

And now my wits came back to me, my purposes, the
power to act, which for a couple of hours had seemed to
be in abeyance. I hurried through narrow streets to the
cathedral. There it stood, a shattered mass, its sides all
broken, its roof gone, its tall octagonal tower alone sub-
stantial Mud unchanged. Coming to its rear, I found Ba-
bette's little house, with open door, and I went in. The
old irraiulfather sat in his corner, with a lighted candle
on the table near him, across his knees Jean's coat that I
had worn. He only babbled nonsense to my questioning.

370

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

and, Jifter calling aloud to T^abette and getting no reply, I
started for the Intendance.

I had scarcely left the honse when I saw some French
peasants coming towards me with a litter. A woman
walking behind the litter carric^d a lantern, and one of
our soldiers of artillery attended and directed. I ran for-
ward, and discovered Voban, mortally hurt. Tlie woman
gave a cry, and spoke my name in a kind of surprise and
relief; and the soldier, recognising me, saluted. I sent
liim for a surgeon, and came on with the hurt man to the
little house. Soon I was alone with him save for Babette,
and I sent her for a priest. As soon as I had seen Voban
I guessed what had happened : he had tried for his re-
venge at last. After a little time he knew me, but at first
he could not speak.

" What has happened — the palace?" said I.

He nodded.

" You blew it up — with Bigot ? " I asked.

His reply was a whisper, and his face twitched with
pain : " Kot — with Bigot."

I gave him some cordial, which he was inclined to re-
fuse. It revived him, but I saw he could live only a few
hours. Presently he made an effort. " I will tell you,"
he whispered.

*' Tell me first of mv wife," said I. " Is she alive ? — is
she alive ? "

If a smile could have been upon his lips then, I saw
one there — good Voban ! I put my ear down, and my
heart almost stopped beating, until I heard him say, " Find
Mathilde."

"Where?" asked I.

"In the Valdoche Hills," he answered, "where the
Gray Monk lives — by the Tall Calvary."

He gasped with pain. I let him rest awhile, and eased
the bandages on him, and at last he told his story :

"MASTER DEVIL" DOLTATRE.

371

no reply, I

me Frencli
A woman
tnd one of
I ran for-
'lie woman
irprise and
d. I sent
nan to the
)r Babette,
?en V^oban
for his re-
but at first

((

je good

ched with

ned to re-
)nly a few
tell you,"

alive ? — i

len, I saw
, and my
ly, " Find

diere the
md eased

L to be gone soon. For two years I have wait for
:imeto kill him — Bigot — to send him and his pal-
ace to liell. I can not tell you how I work to do it. It is no
matter — no. i^'roni an old cellar I mine, and at last 1 get
the powder lay beneath him — his palace. So. But he
does not come to the palace much this many months, and
Madame Cournal is always with him, and it is liard to do
the thing in other ways. But 1 laugh when the English
come in the town, and when I see Bigot fly to his palace
alone to get his treasure-chest I think it is my time. So
I ask the valet, and he say he is in the private room that
lead to the treasure-place. Then I come back quick to
the secret spot and fire my mine. In ten minutes all will
be done. I go at once to his room again, alone. I pass
through the one room, and come to the other. It is a
room with one small barred window. If he is there, I will
say a word to him that I have wait long to say, then shut
the door on us both — for I am sick of Tfe — and watch
him and laugh at him till the end comes. If he is in the
other room, then I have a way as sure "

He paused, exhausted, and I waited till he could again
go on. At last he made a great elfort, and continued : " I
go back to the first room, and he is not there. I pass soft,
to the treasure-room, and I see him kneel beside a chest,
looking in. His back is to me. I hear him laugh to him-
self. I shut the door, turn the key, go to the window and
throw it out, and look at him again. But now he stand
and turn to me, and then I see — I see it is not Bigot, but
M'sicu' Doltaire!

" I am sick when I see that, and at first I can not
speak, my tongue stick in my mouth so dry. ' Has Vo-
ban turn robber?' m'sieu' say. I put out my hand and
try to speak again — but no. ' What did you throw
from the window ? ' he ask. ' And what's the matter,
my Vobau?' 'My God,' I say at him now, 'I thought

372

THE SEATS OP THE MICiIITY.

yon are Bigot!' I point to the floor. 'Powder!' I
wliispor.

" His eyes go like fire so terrible ; lie look to the Avindow,
take a qnick, angry ste]) to me, bnt stand still. Tlien he
jioint to the window. ' Tiie key, Voban? ' he say; and I
answer, ' Yes.' lie get pale ; then he go and try the door,
look close at the walls, try them — qnick, qnick, stop, feel
for a panel, then try again, stand still, and lean against
the table. It is no nse to call ; no one can hear, for it is
all roar ontside, and these walls are solid and very thick.

" ' How long? ' he say, and take out his watch. ' Five
minutes — maybe,' I answer. He pnt his watch on the table,
and sit down on a bench by it, and for a little minnte he
do not speak, bnt look at me close, and not angry, as you
would think. ' Voban,' he say in a low voice, ' Bigot was a
thief.' He point to the chest. ' lie stole from the King
— my father. He stole your ^Mathilde from you! He
should have died. We have both been blunderers, Voban,
blunderers,' he say; 'things have gone wrong with us.
We have lost all.' There is little time. ' Tell me one
thing,' he go on: 'is Mademoiselle Duvarney safe — do
you know ? ' I tell him yes, and he smile, and take from
his pocket something, and lay it against his lips, and then
put it back in his breast.

'" You are not afraid to die, Voban?' he ask. I an-
swer no. 'Shake hands with me, my friend,' he speak,
and I do so that. ' Ah, pardon, pardon, m'sieu',' I say.
' Xo, no, Vobiin ; it was to be,' he answer. ' We shall
meet again, comrade — eh, if we can?' he speak on, and
he turn away from me and look to the sky tlirough the
window. Then he look at his watch, and get to his feet,
and stand there still. I kiss my crucifix. He reach out
and touch it, and bring his fingers to his lips. ' Who can
tell — perhaps — perhaps ! ' he say. For a little minute —
ah, it seem like a year, and it is so still, so still — he stand

Powder!' I

the window,
i. ^J1ien he

say ; and I
ry the door,
k, stop, feel
eaii against
3ar, for it is

very thick,
teh. ' Five
)n the table,

minute he
igry, as you
Bigot was a
n the Kin Of

you ! He
ers, Voban,
ST witli us.
'ell me one
y safe — do
. take from
s, and then

isk. I an-

he speak.

Hi',' I say.

'We shall

ik on, and

irough the

to his feet,

reach out

' Who can

minute —

—he stand

"WHERE ALL THE LOVERS CAN HIDE." 373

there, and then he put his hand over the watch, lift it up,
and shut his eyes, as if time is all done. AVhile you can
count ten it is so, and then the great crash come ! "

For a long time Voban lay silent again. I gave him
more cordial, and he revived and ended his tale. " I am a
blunderer, as m'sieu' say," he went on, " for he is killed, not
Bigot and me, and only a little part of the palace go to
pieces. And so they fetch me here, and I wish — my God
in Heaven, I wish I go with M'sieu' Doltaire !" But he
followed him a little later.

Two hours afterwards I went to the Intendance, and
there I found that the body of my enemy had been placed
in the room where I had last seen him with Alixe. lie
lay on the same couch where she had lain. The flag of
France covered his broken body, but his face was un-
touched — as it had been in life, haunting, fascinating,
though the shifting lights were gone, the fine eyes closed.
A noole peace hid all that was sardonic ; not even Gabord
would now have called him " Master Devil." I covered
up his face and left him there— peasant and prince-
candles burning at his head and feet, and the star of Louis
on his shattered breast ; and 1 saw him no more.

All that night I walked the ramparts, thinking, re-
membering, hoping, waiting for the morning; and when
I saw the light break over those far eastern parishes,
wasted by fire and sword, I set out on a journey to the
Valdoche Hills.

XXX.

"WHERE ALL THE LOVERS CAJs^ HIDE."

It was in the saffron light of early morning that I saw
it, the Tall Calvary of the Valdoche Hills.
25

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.

The night hcforo I had come Tip through a long valley,
overhung witli pines on one side and crimsoning maples
on the other, and, travelling till nearly midnight, had lain
down in the hollow of a bank, and listened to a little
river leap over cascades, and, far below, go prattling on to
the greater river in the south. ^Fy eyes closed, but for
long I did not sleep. I heard a night-hawk go by on a
lonely mission, a beaver slide from a log into the water,
and the delicate humming of the pine needles was a
drowsy music, through which broke by-aud-bye the strange
crying of a loon from the water below. I was neither
asleep nor awake, but steeped in this wide awe of night,
the sweet smell of earth and running water in my nostrils.
Once, too, in a slight breeze, the scent of some wild ani-
mal's nest came past, and I found it good. I lifted up a
handful of loose earth and powdered leaves, and held it
to my nose — a good, brave smell — all in a sort of drowsing.

While I mused, Doltaire's face passed before me as it
was in life, and I heard him say tigain of the peasants,
" These shall save the earth some day, for they are of it,
and live close to it, and are kin to it."

Suddenly there rushed before me thfit scene in the
convent, when all the devil in him broke loose upon the
woman I loved. But turning on my homely bed I looked
up and saw the deep quiet of the skies, the stable peace of
the stars, and I was a son of the good Earth again, a so-
journer to the tents of Home. I did not doubt that Alixe
was alive or that I should find her. There was assurance
in this benignant night. In that thought, dreaming that
her cheek lay close to mine, her arm around my neck, I
fell asleep. I waked to hear the squirrels stirring in the
trees, the whir of the partridge, and the first unvarying
note of the oriole. Turning on my dry, leafy bed, I
looked down, and saw in the dim haze of dawn the beavers
at their house-buildingr.

" WHERE ALL THE LOVERS CAN HIDE."

375

long valley,
ing miiplcs
it, hud lain
to a little
tling on to
ed, but for
go by on a
' the water,
lies was a
the strange
^'as neither
e of night,
ny nostrils,
e wild ani-
lifted up a
md held it
'. drowsing,
•e me as it
J peasants,
y are of it,

!ne in the
upon the
d I looked
e peace of
gain, a so-
that Alixe
assurance
ming that
nv neck, I
ing in the
unvarying
,fy bed, I
le beavers

I was at the beginning of a doop gorge or valley, on
one side of which was a steep, slo[)ing hill of grass and
trees, and on the otlier a huge escarpment of mossed and
jagged rocks. Tlicn, lartlier up, the valley seemed to end
in a huge promontory. On this great wedge grim shapes
loomed in the mist, uiicoutli and shadowv and unnatural
— a lonely, mysterious Brocken, impossible to human ten-
antry. Yet as I watched the mist slowly rise, there grew
in me the feeling that there lay the end of my quest. I
came down to the brook, bathed my fa(;e and hands, ate
my frugal breakfast of bread, with berries i)i('ked from
the hillside, and, as the yellow light of the rising sun
broke over the promontory, 1 saw the Tall Calvary upon
a knoll, strange comrade to the huge rocks and monoliths
— as it were vast playthings of the Mighty Men, the fabled
ancestors of the Indian races of the land.

I started up the valley, and presently all the earth grew
blithe, and the birds filled the woods and valleys with
jocund noise.

It was near noon before I knew that my pilgrimage
was over.

Coming round a point of rock, I saw the Gray ]\Ionk,
of whom strange legends had lately travelled to the city.
I took oif my cap to him reverently ; but all at once he
threw back his cowl, and I saw — no monk, but, much
altered, the good chaplain who had married me to Alixe
in the CluUeau St. Louis. He had been hurt when he
was fired upon in the water as he tried for freedom ; had
escaped, however, got to shore, and made his way into the
woods. There he had met Mathilde, who led him to her
lonelv home in tliis hill. Heeiui^' the Tall Calvarv he had
conceived the idea of this disguise,- and Mathilde had
brought him the robe for the purpose.

In a secluded ca\e I found Alixe with her father, car-
ing for him, for he was not yet wholly recovered from his

376

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHT V.

injuries. There was no waitiiii^ now. Tlie ban of Church
did not lioUl my dear <rirl back, nor did her fatlier do
aught but smile wlieu she came hiughing and weeping into
mv arms.

"Jio))ert, Ivobert, Tiobert !" she cried, 'and at first
that was all that she could sav.

The good Seigneur put out his hand to nie beseech-
ingly. I took it, clas]:)ed it.

"The eityV" he asked.

" Is ours," 1 answered.

" And my son — my son ? "

I told him how, the night that the city was taken, the
Chevalier de la Darante and 1 liad gone a sad journey in
a boat to the Isle of Orleans, and there, in the chapel
yard, near to his father's chateau, we had laid a brave and
honest gentleman who died lighting for his country.

By-and-bye, when their grief had a little abated, I took
them out into the sunshine. A pleasant green valley lay
to the north, and to the south, far oiT, was tlie wall -of
rosy hills that hid the captured town. Peace was upon it
all, and upon us.

As we stood there, a scarlet figure came winding in
and out among the giant stones, crosses hanging at her
girdle. She ap})roached us, and, seeing me, she said :
" Hush I I know a ])lace where all the lovers can hide."

And she put a little wooden cross into my bauds.

THE END.

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the whole ran^ie of liter:, "ure ha\ c we seen the strugule between these forces for
supremacy o\er the man more powerfully, more realistically delineated than Mr. Caine
pictures it." — Boston Home Joutnal.

-^ Alan.

DEEMSTER. A Romance of the Isle of

i2mo. Cloth, $1.50.

" Hall Caine has already given us some very strong and fine work, and * The
Deemster' is a story of unusual power. . . . Certain passages and chapters have an
intensely drarriatic grasp, and hold the fascinated reader with a force rarely excited
nowadays in literature.' — 'I he Critic.

"One of the strongest novels which has appeared in many a day." — San Fran-
cisco Chronicle.

'■ Fascinates the mind like the gathering and bursting of a storm," — llhistrated
London News.

"Deserves to be ranked among the remarkable novels of the day." — Chicago
Times,

HE BONDMAN.

$1.50.

New edition. i2mo. Cloth,

"The welcome given to this stor^' has cheered and touched me, but I am con-
scious that, to win a reception so warm, such a book must have had readers who
brought to it as much as they took away. ... 1 have called my story a saga, merely
because it follow s the epic method, and 1 must not claim for it at any point the weighty
responsibility of history, or serious obliuations to the world of fact. Ijut it matters not
to me what ircland'-rs may call ' 'i'he Fioiidnan,' if thty will honor me by readmg it in
the open hearted spirit .'url with the free mind with which they are content to read of
Grettir and of his hghts with the Troll." — From the Author s Frejace.

A''T'N DAVY'S HONEYMOON.

Yarn. i2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00.

A Manx

"A new departure by this author. Unlike his previous wor'--, this little tale is
almost wholly humorous, with, however, a current of pathos underneath. It is not
Always that an author can succeed eipially well in tragedy and in ccmiedy, bui it looks
as though Mr. Hall Caine would be one of the exceptions." — London Literary
li'ofld.

" Ii is jilcasant to meet the author of ' The Deemster' in a brightly humorous little
story like this. ... It shows (he same observation of Manx character, and much of
the same artistic iikiW." — Fhilaciel/>hia 'Fiines.

New York : D. APPLETON & CO., ^2 Fifth Avenue.

3NS.

D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

ailing has a force
of enduring fame

»f tho^e elements
at fierce waifare

■ one to raise liim

i.ane. Never in
tliese forces for

I tlian Mr. Caine

'/ie Isle of

vork, and ' The
■lapters have an
e rarely excited

." — San Fran-

^■'—Illustrated

^^y."— Chicago

o. Cloth,

hut I am con-
id readers who
a saga, merely
int the weighty
t it matters lujt
by rending it in
tent to read of

A Manx

is Httle tale is
ith. It is not
y, biii it looks
don Literary

umorous little
and much of

lue.

X/^EKL. A Tale of the New York Ghetto. By A. Cahan.
"^ Uniform with "The Red Badge of Courage." i2mo. Cloth,
$i.oo.

" A new and striking tale ; the charm, the verity, the literary quality of the book de-
pend upon its study of character, its 'local color,' its revelation to Americans of a social
state at their very doors of which ttiey have known nothing." — New York Times.

"The story is a revelation to us. It is written in a spirited, breezy way, with an
originality in the telling of which is quite unexpected. The dialect is striking in its
truth to Nature." — Boston Courier.

"Is in all probability the only true picture we have yet had of that most densely
populated spot on the face of the earth— the ghetto of the .netropohs, rathe, the me-
tropolis of the ghettos of the world."— iVfzf York Journal,

"A series of vivid pictures of a strange people. . , . The people and their social life
the author depicts with marvelous success." — Boston 7'ranscriJ>t.

"The reader will become deeply interested in Mr. Cahan's graphic presentation of
ghetto life in New Yor\i."-- M/>inea/>oiis Journal.

"A strong, quaint story." — Detroit Tribune.

" Every feature of the book bears the stamp of truth. . . . Undoubtedly ' Yekl •
has never been excelled as a picture of the distinctive life of the New York ghetto." —
Boston Herald.

y^//£ SENTIMENTAL SEX. By Gertrude War-

DEN. 121110. Cloth, $I.OO.

" The cleverest book by a woman that has been published for months. . . . Such
books as 'The Sentimental Sex' are exemplars of a modern cult that will not be
ignored."— AVw York Co/nniercial Advertiser.

"There is a well-wrought mystery in the story and some surprises that preserve
the reader's interest, and render it, when all is said, a story of considerable charm." —
Boston Courier.

" An uncommonly knowing; little book, which keeps a good grip on the reader up to
the last page. . . . The author's method of handling the plot is adroit and original."—
Rochester Herald.

" Miss Warden has worked out her contrasts very strikingly, and tells her story
in a cleverly flippant way, which keeps the reader on the qui vive for the cynical but
bright say.ngs she has interspersed." — Detroit Free Press.

"Ihe story forms an admirable study. The style is graphic, the plot original and
cleverly wrought out." — Fhiladelphia Evening Bulletin.

New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue.

D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

O/i? MARK. A Tale of the First Capital.
*— ^ RoHEsoN Brown. lOmo. Cloth, 75 cents.

"One could hardly imnqino a more cliarniinc; short liistorical tale,
classic in its simplicity and dignity," — Baltinioyc ^ ews.

By Anna

. . It is almost

^HE FOLLY OF EUSTACh. By R. S. Hichens,

■» autlior of " An Imaginative Man," " The Cireen Carnation,"
etc. i6mo. Cloth, 75 cents.

"In each of these stories the author of 'The dreen Carnation' shows his hand
without intending to. There is the same cynicism, the same epigrammatic wit. Among
the new Enulish story writers there are none more brilliant than Mr. Hichens." —
Chicago r>ibuHe.

LEEFING FLRES. By George Gissing, author
of " In the Year of Jubilee," " Eve's Ransom," etc. iGrno.
Cloth, 75 cents.

" Intense, extremely well told, and full of discriminating study of life and charac-
ter." — Buffalo Cottnncrcial.

TONEPASTURES. By Eleanor Stuart. i6mo.

Cloth, 75 cents.
" This is a strong bit of good literary workmanship." — Philadelphia Public Lc/gcr.

r-'OURTSHFP BY COMMAND. By M. M. Blake.

^ l6mo. Cloth, 75 cents.

" A bright, moving study of an unusually interesting period in the life of Napoleon,
. . . deliciiiusly tuld ; the characters are clearly, stmngly, and veiy delicately modeled,
and the touches of color most artistically done." — A'. J'. (Sojinncrcial Advertiser.

HE WATTER'S MOU\

i6mo. Cloth, 75 cents.

By Bram Stoker.

" Here is a tale to stir the most sluggish natirre. ... It is like standing on the deck
of a wave tossed ship; you feel the soul of the storm go into your blood." — AVw York
Heme Jour>ial.

IK/TASTER AND MAN. By Count Leo Tolstoy.

1 VI With an Introduction by W. D. IIovvells. i6mo. Cloth, 75 cts.

" Reveals a wonderful knowledge of the workings of the human mind, and it tells a
tale that not only stirs the emotions, but gives us a better insight into our own hearts."
— Sa7i Francisco A rgonaut.

LIE ZEIT-GEIST, By L. Dougall, author of
" The Mermaid," " Beggars All," etc. i6mo. Cloth, 75 cents.
Powerful in conception, treatment, and influence." — Boston Globe.

New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue.

)NS.

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% Anna

. • It is almost

. HiCHENS,
Carnation,"

shows bis hand
tic wit. Aniont;
Ir. Hichens.' —

JG, author
etc. i6mo.

life and charac-

T. i6mo.

ruhlicLeiigcr.

s\. Blake.

of Napoleon,
ately modeled,
dveniser.

Stoker.

s: on the deck
' — New York

Tolstoy.

loth, 75 cts.

, and it tells a
own hearts."

Luthor of
1, 75 cents.

BY S. R. CROCKETT.

r^LEG KELLY, ARAB OF THE CITY. His

^'' Progress and Adventures. Uniform with "The Lilac Sunbon-
nct " and " liog- Myrtle and Peat." Illustrated. i2mo. Cloth,
1 1. 50.

" A mastei piece which ^L1rk Twain himself has never rivaled. ... If there ever
v.'as an ideal character in fiction it is this heroic ragamuffin." — London Daily
ChroiiLce.

" In no one of his books does Mr. Crockett give us a brighter or more graphic
picture of contemporary Scotch life than in 'Cleg Kelly.' . . . It is one of the great
Looks." — Boston Daily .liivertiscr.

"One of the most successful of Mr. Crockett's works." — B>ooklyn Eagle.

O G-M YR TLE AND

i2rno. Cloth, $1.50,

PEAT. Third edition.

" Here are idyls, epics, dramas of human life, written in words that thrill and
burn. . . . I'^ach is a poem that has an immortal flavor. They arc frngments of
the author's early dreams, too bright, too gorgeous, too full of the blood of rubies
and the life tf diamonds to be caught and held palpitating in expression's grasp."
—Boston Courier.

"Hardly a sketch among them all that will not afford pleasure to the reader for
its genial humor, artistic local coloring, and admir.ible portrayal of character."—
Boston Home yonrnal.

"One dips into the book anywhere and reads on and on, fascinated by the writer's
charm of manner." — Miniicopoiis Tribune.

n^HE

LILAC SUNBONNET.

i2mo. Cloth, $1.50.

Sixth edition.

" A love story pure and simple, one of the old-fashioned, wholesome, sunshmy
kind, with a pure-minded, sound-hearted hero, and a heroine who is merely a good
and beautiful wom.Tii ; and if any other love story half so sweet has been written this
year, it has escaped our notice." — Xeiu Y'ork Times.

"The general conception of the story, the motive of which is the growth of love
between the young chief and heroine, is delineated with a sweetness and a freshness,
a naturalness and a certainty, which pl.nces 'The I.ilac Sunbonnet' among the best
stories of the time." — A'ctc York AInil and Express.

" In its own Hue this little love story can hardly be excelled. It is a pastoral, an
idyl— the story of l<ive and courtship and marriage of a fine young man and a lovely
girl — no more. But it is told in so thoroughly delightfid a manner, with such playful
humor, such delicate fancy, such true and sympathetic feeling, that nothing more could
be desired." — Boston Traveller.

nue.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue.

D. APPLETON «& CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

THE STORY OF THE WEST SERIES.
Edited by Ripley Hitchcock.

"There isav.ist extent of territory lying between the Missonri River and the Pacific
coast which has barely been skiinmcd over so far. That the conditions of life therein
are umlergoing changes little short olinarvelous will be understood when one recalls
the fact that the first white male child born in Kansas is still living there; and Kansas
is by no means one of the newer States, Revolutionary iiulced has been the upturning
of the old coiuluion of affairs, and little remains dicreot, and less will remain as each
year goes by, uniil presently there will be only tradition of the .Sioux and Conianches,
the cowboy life, the wild horse, and the antelope. Histories, many of them, have been
written about the Western coimtry alhuled to, but most if not practically all by outsiders
vho knew not personally that life of kaleidoscopic allurement. Hut ere it shall ! ave
vanished forever we arc likely to have truthlul, complete, and charming portrayals of
it produced by men who actually knew the life and have the power to describe it." —
Henry Edivatd Rood, in the Mail and Express.

NOW READY.

HE STORY OF THE INDLAN. By George

Bird CIrin.nell, author of " Pawnee Hero Stories," " Blackfoot
Lodge Tales," ete. 121110. Cloth, $1.50.

" In every way worthy of an author who, as an autlioiity upon the Western Indians,
is sec(Mid to none. .^ book full of color, abounding in observation, and remarkable in
sustained interest, it is at the same time ch:n:icteri7.ed by a grace of style which is rarely
to be looked for in such a work, and which adds not a little to the charm of it." — Lon-
don Daily Chronicle.

" Only an author (pialified by personal e.vperience could offer us a profitable study
of a race so alien from our owu as is the Indian in thought, feeling, and culture. Only
long association with Indians can enable a white man measurably to comprehend their
thoughts and enter into their feclin^js. Such a.ssociation has been Mr. Grinnell's.—
New York Sun,

HE STORY OF THE MINE. By Charles

Howard Shixn. Illtistrated. 121110. Cloth, $1.50.

The figures of the prospector and the miner are clearly outlined in the
course of the romantic story of that mine which mf>re than any other em-
bodies the romance, the vicissitudes, the triumphs, the excitement, and the
science of mining life— the Great Com.stock Lode. From the prospector,
throuf^h development and deep-mininj;:, to the last of the stock gambling,
the story is told in a way that presents a singularly vivid and engrossing
picture of a life which has played so large a part in tlie development of
the remoter West.

IN PR EPA R. I TION.

The Story of the Trapper. By Gilbert Parker.

The Story of the Cowboy. By E. Hough.

The Story of the Soldier. By Capt. J. McB. Stembel, U. S. A.

The ^tory of the Explorer.

The Story of the Railroad.

New York: r.-APrU£TON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue.

"/IT'

3952,116

SCARBOROUGH TOWNSHIP
PUBLIC LIBRARY

^erand the Pacific
ions of life tlierein
when one recalls
lere; and Kansas
pen the upturning
ill remain as each
: and Conianches,
fthem, have hecn
ly all by outsiders
t.ere it shall lave
ling portrayals of
to describe it."—

By George
," " Blackfoot

W^estern Indians,
nd remarkable in
le which is rarely
rm o{ k."~Lo//.

profitable study
1 culture. t)nly
omprehend their
Ir. GrinneU's.—

' Charles
50.

utlined in the
any other em-
nent, and the
le prospector,
•ck gambling:,
nd en{,^rossin{j
velopment of

5EL, U. S. A.

enue.