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K. ini>-i-|> 1S98 Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight, by William Briggs, at the Department of ARriculture. IN LOVING MEMORY OF nd of H fISSotbcv WHO WAS INSPIRATION, FRIEND AND COMFORTER. PS ^5 tiS PREFACE. 'J^HIS story is an attempt to make known the men and women who once lived and loved and suffered amid these very scenes wherein we are now enactmg our own life stories. In dealing with historical events and character, it seems only fair to the reader to avow what liberties have been taken with facts, and to state exactly to what extent this tale is founded upon history. The Le Ber family were prominent figures among heir contemporaries, Jacques Le Ber, brother-in-law to the redoubtable Charles Le Moyne, was one of the richest merchants of New France. A hardy and ;ntrep,d soldier, he was ennobled by Louis XIV ■n 1696. In speaking of him M. Dollier de Casson says : .. M. Jacques Le Ber has in this way rendered valuable services to the colony, exposing him.self very often in canoe, on the ice, or in the woods, carrymg despatches." His only daughter, Jeanne Le Ber, was considered PREFACE. ! I i a great heiress. At seventeen she determined to offer herself as an expiatory offering for the sins of her country. During the fifteen years following she remained in seclusion in her father's house, and was never seen but once, and that exactly as described in this story. Later, this fair enthusiast decided to give the Sisters of the Congregation sufficient money to build their church, if they would provide her a cell behind the altar in which she could spend the remainder of her days. This cell, divided into three storeys, and extending the whole length of the build- ing, was from ten to twelve feet deep. The original deed, containing these conditions — drawn up by Bassett, a notary of Ville Marie, and signed by the principal nuns of the Congregation, as well as by M. Dollier de Casson, Superior of the Seminary — may still be seen in the Registrar's office in Montreal. The Le Ber family proved substantial benefactors to the Sisters of the Congregation. Pierre Le Ber the eldest son, left them a legacy of two thousand francs, and his sister remembered them handsomely. Pierre Le Ber joined Charon de la Barre in found- ing L' Institut des Freres Hospitaliers de Ville Marie. He was the only one of Charon's associates who remained faithful to the end. He appears to 4 3 PRKFACK, )rs Jer Ind id- llle [es to have been the first Canadian artist, and painted por- traits of le Sieur Bourgeois, St. Paul, Ste. Therese, and the Virgin Mary, for different churches. He died in 1707, and his heart was buried in the Church of the Congregation. Lydia Longloy, a New England girl, was taken prisoner by the Abenaquis in 1694. She was bap- tized a Roman Catholic in Ville Marie on April 14th, 1696. The Chevalier de Crisasi was a veritable personage. Charlevoix says of this gentleman : " One does not know which to admire most, his skill in war, his sagacity in council, his fertility of resource, or his presence of mind in action." The elder brother, the Marquis de Crisasi, was appointed Governor of Three Rivers ; the Chevalier, neglected by his friends and forgotten by the Court, died of a broken heart. Madame de Monesthrol, her niece, and Nanon can lay no claim to be considered historical, but have been drawn after clost, and extensive study of the types portrayed in the histories and memoirs of the time. It may be objected that the expedition of Diane and Lydia to Mount Royal is improbable ; but it must be remembered the road to the Mountain fur- nished the most popular pilgrimage of that period, 5 PREFACE. and the dangers which beset the enterprise only heightened its merits. At a still earlier date Madame d'Aillebout and her sister climbed the mountain-side nine days in succession in order to make a neuvena before the cross erected by Mai- son neuve. Four Iroquois were actually burned at Montreal in the manner described, but the event occurred in 1 70 1. Dubocq's exploit is likewise historically cor- rect, but it also occurred some years later than I have taken the I'berty of placing it. In these, as in some other instances, the actual chronology has not been strictly followed, but has been altered to suit the exigencies of the tale. Blanche Lucile Macdonell. I CONTENTS. Chapter. I. The Seigniory of Senneville II. A Fortified Residence - III. An Iroquois Attack IV. An English Captive V. A Canadian Home - VI. Madame's "Apartement" VII. A Forest Adventure VIII. ViLLE Marie - - - - IX. An Occasion of Rejoicing - X. The Council - - - - XI. The Annual Fair - XII. A Canadian Bushranger XIII. Pierre's Temptation XIV. An Awakening XV. Nanon's Lovers XVI. A Vice-Regal Banquet - XVII. The Matshi Skou^ou - 7 Page. 9 • 17 ■ 25 - 32 - 43 - 54 - 64 - 81 - 92 - lOI - no - 118 - 127 - 137 - 142 - 157 - 164 CONTENTS. ; 1 ! Chapter. Page. XVIII. Saintly Protection - 174 XIX. A Woman's Loyalty - 179 XX. Preparing for the Expedition - 192 XXI. Baptiste Finds His Wits - 202 XXII. The Departure . . . - - 207 XXIII. Suspense - 211 XXIV. A Pilgrimage to Mount Royal - - 217 XXV. Tidings at Last . . . . - 227 XXVI. Du Chesne's Return - 237 XXVII. A Completed Sacrifice - - 246 I hi iM 8 If! Pace. - 179 192 202 207 211 217 227 237 246 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. CHAPTER I. THE SEIGNIORY OF SENNEVILLE A LANGUID summer day was that of the 3rd cf ^^ August. ,690. A h-ght mist lay like a vei upon the St. Lawrence, spreading out \n grand a.td generous swell, the Lake of Two Mountains Zn." ■ng m the distance like a silver shield. Tteve mgered on noble heights, sunny slopes and deep trting'ha:;.''"'*^'^ ^'-^ ^-^ ™^"- ^^--^^ ^he timt' tL^?""-'"'' °r' ''" ^^""^"■"'^ 'his was a bu.sy -^:^r^^;:— d'"i--L-r^ penuryhehad contrived to accum a te g atTeTlI To h.m the New World had proved 'vonderSy DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. profitable. The Western fur trade had led to fortune. Indomitable energy and sound judgment aided him to overcome the difficulties under which the new country labored, while experience, joined to natural shrewdness, taught how to steer safely between the varying official interests which in turn directed the colony. The ravages of the caterpillars had left little har- vest to gather, and had it not been for the marvellous incursion of squirrels, which fairly swarmed over the land, many of the people must have starved. Broken, uneven fields stretched to the borders of the forest. Amidst the stumps and prostrate trees of the un- sightly clearing, the colonists pursued their labors, protected by a body of regulars whom the merchants had brought from Ville Marie. At short distances sentinels were posted to give the alarm at any sign of approaching danger. These were troublous times for the handful of French settlers scattered amidst the savage hordes and half-reclaimed forests of the New World. Amid tangled thickets and deep ravines, in the shade and stillness of columned woods, behind woody islets, everywhere there lurked danger and terror. The fierce and cruel Iroquois were on the war-path. These tireless savages owed their triumphs as much to craft as to their extraordinary boldness and bravery. They rarely approached the settlements in winter, when the trees and bushes had no leaves to conceal their advance, and when their movements would be to THE SEIGNIORY OF SENNEVILLE. betrayed by the track of their snovvshoes, but they were always to be expected at the time of sowing and harvest, when it was possible to do the most mischief Sr^.rcely one of the little party collected at Senne- ville but had passed through scenes of grim horror. Though they chattered over their work with true Gallic light-heartedness and vivacity, most of them could have related experiences of the unsleeping hatred and cruelty of the Iroquois and the hardships of forest life. Only two years before, Louison Guimond's young brother had been butchered before her eyes, and with the remains of the mutilated body the dazed and miserable woman had journeyed alone through the wilderness to secure Christian burial for her dead. Sans Quartier, an old soldier, returning from an expedition, had found his home in ashes and his young wife and child carried away captive. Another soldier, Frap d'Abord, held his musket awkwardly (though none could do better service) because his finger had been burned in the bowl of an Indian pipe> one of the many ingenious forms of torture prac- tised by the Iroquois. Baptiste Bras de Fer, a hardy Canadian voyageur and coureur de bois, could tell true tales of peril and adventure in the pathless forest, such as chilled the blood in the listener's veins — stories of forced marches through sodden snowdrifts and matted thickets, over rocks and cliffs and swollen streams, when men, perishing from cold II m 4 m 111! DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. and famine, boiled moccasins for food, and scraped away the snow in search of beech and hickory nuts. The resignation born of long usage, the conviction that these conditions were beyond remedy, that the only thing to be done was to endure, enabled these people to assume a demeanor of calmness and patience. But there was always an hysterical quiver in Louison's shrill laughter. When Sans Quartier was silent the lines of pain deepened in his stern, bronzed face ; the very name of an Indian was suffi- cient to make Frap d'Abord swear long strings of queer, quaint oaths. Nevertheless their chatter usually flowed on cheerily, with much merriment and little complaint. The scanty harvests had been gathered, and the party, with the exception of Gregoire and his wife, Goulet the farmer, and the soldiers left to garrison the fort, prepared for their return to Ville Marie. Though the distance to be traversed was not great, the journey was both toilsome and perilous. In order to escape the turmoil of the Lachine Rapids the canoes had to be shouldered through the forest. The large flat-bottomed boats, being too heavy for such handling, were to be dragged and pushed in the shallow water close to the bank by gangs of men, who toiled and struggled amidst rocks and foam. Just now the danger and inconvenience of transit were considerably increased by the presence of some of the ladies of the Le Ber household who had accompanied the party to Senneville. 12 ! ' THE SEIGNIORY OF SENNEVILLE. Shrewd trader and fearless soldier as was the honest merchant of Ville Marie, he possessed a knightly spirit and had never yet been able to refuse a request urged by his ward, Diane de Monesthrol. When that capricious damsel had determined to accompany the harvesting expedition, and had persuaded Le Ber's nephew, Le Moyne de St. Helene, and his young wife (who as Jeanne de Fresnoy Carion had also been Le Ber's ward,) to join it, it was perfectly understood in the household that opposition was useless, and the merchant, against his better judgment, yielded to the girl's pretty coaxing, " Throw your tongue to the dogs — of what use to argue with our demoiselle ; she has always ten answers to one objection. One fine day she, and we others tied to her heels, will furnish an excellent meal to those sorcerers of Iroquois — faith of Nanon Benest ! " cried Madame de Monesthrol's serving- woman, with the freedom of a faithful and attached French servant. Jacques Le Ber stood close to the shore, where the men, shouting and joking, were loading the boats. His was a round, bourgeois, somewhat heavy type of face, seamed and tanned by work and weather, deco- rated by a slight moustache, and redeemed from commonness by bright, earnest eyes. He wore a three-cornered hat, and over his ample shoulders was spread a stiff white collar of wide expanse and studied plainness. He looked what he was, a well- to-do citizen of good renown and sage deportment. 13 lyf DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. At Diane de Monesthrol's approach he turned hastily. A true and earnest friendship united the busy trader and this young girl of noble birth. No young cavalier (and Diane was said to be the fairest demoiselle in New France) appreciated the fairness of her gracious youth more thoroughly than the world- worn elderly man whose thoughts were engrossed with so many pressing material interests. His most sooth- ing consolations for several years past had come from this eager-eyed, girlish creature who seemed intui- tively to comprehend his feelings. In the midst of his prosperity the merchant had experienced heavy bereavements. He had lost his wife, the thoughtful and sympathetic partner of all his interests. When their only daughter in the early promise of her youth had resolved to withdraw into absolute seclusion, and devote herself as a public offering to God for the sins of her country, spiritual pride had induced him to consent to the sacrifice. He had been assured by his guides in religion that he and his wife were to serve as models to all the parents in the colony ; they would be honored as was Abraham for his sacrifice of Isaac. Still, even with that consolation, the sundering of domestic ties lay heavily on his heart. In the sober wisdom that came with years of disappointment, through the dark experiences that usually isolate men's thoughts, he had found comfort in the frank, simple, and guileless spirit of the girl to whom he had afforded protection. In reality the man had two 14 ill THE SEIGNIORY OF SENNEVILLE. natures : the one practical, ambitious, worldly, which was known to all the world ; the other, rarely sus- pected, was ideal and passionate, and throve apart from all the common requirements of life. The primeval strength and freshness of a new world, as yet uncontaminated by the vices of advanced civilization, seemed to have breathed into this girl an abounding energy which resulted in a rare union of vigor and native delicacy. The transplanted flower had not lost the charm distinctive of her class, and had gained in spirit and character. The warmth of the sunlight, the flush of youth, the fresh breeze of the springtide had crystallized within her. The glory of this undiscovered country, full of grand perils and deliverances, storms to be braved, griefs, joys and labors to be lived through, were in the highest degree congenial to her dauntless temperament. As they made ready to start, Le Ber's eyes rested with satisfied gaze upon the radiant beauty of his young ward. Her complexion was purely pale ; the delicately-cut features, lit up by that undisturbed equanimity which is the inheritance of vigorous minds, were piquant rather than regular. The cheeks were beautified by playful dimples, the short upper lip was fresh as a rose, while the softly-rounded and mutinous chin indicated reserve forces of strength as yet scarcely suspected. Madame de Monesthrol sometimes la- mented that according to the canons of taste her niece's eyes ought to have been brown, yet in defiance of all rule they were intensely blue, and shaded by black 15 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. heavy curling lashes. Her hair, lightly powdered, was partly crimped and partly curled. Her gown of dark cloth opened at the throat, which was veiled by a lace kerchief ; a long waisted corsage fitted tightly over the bust, and flounces of lace finished off the under- skirt and fell from the sleeves. The regard which Diane turned on the world was the frank, friendly and confiding look of a child ; mischievous often it might be, scornful sometimes at the sight of anything mean or paltry, yet always the simple gaze of a soul as yet undisturbed by passion or distrust. " And it has been pleasant to have me with you ? " the girl asked, taking her guardian's arm, and looking up smilingly into his face. The wrinkles under Le Ber's deep-set eyes and the tense lines about his mouth relaxed in an indulgent smile. " That goes without saying, my little one ; your presence carries sunshine. We must remember, how- ever, the nerves of Madame la Marquise, who will doubtless await your return with anxiety. If we would reach Ville Marie by daylight it is time to start ; and not to succeed in doing so would expose us to many dangers. Nanon has at last completed her preparations. St. Helene is anxious to be gone ; experience has taught him the perils of delay. Nor shall I feel at rest until I see you within the walls of the town." i6 CHAPTER II. A FORTIFIED RESIDENCE. (( I SHOULD like the Indians to know that we understand the use of the paddle ! I don't absolutely deny that these savages possess some skill in constructing a canoe ; but, I ask you, have they the address to give it the daintiness of form which renders ours so coquettish as they dance upon the water ? This is not a canoe — it is a feather — a bird that skims the air — a cloud chased by the wind — it should fly ! You may see what marvels of swiftness that of M. du Chesne will perform directly." So spoke a tall Canadian, whose skill as a boatman had gained him the title of " le Canotier." Madame de St. Helene stood cloaked and hooded in black lace, an elegant, dignified figure whose appearance savored too much of the refinement of urban life to be in harmony with this rustic scene. Her two little children, attended by servants, were beside her. " I would we were safe within the shelter of Ville Marie," she said wistfully. " Once we quit the stone walls of the fort who can say what trouble may assail us." 17 f^ lln DIANE OF VILLK MARIE. " Oh ! for that, trouble comes soon enough ; it is not worth our while to search for it, Jeanne," her husband returned lightly. " The question now to be considered is our immediate start. Why, I wonder, do we linger? " The canoes were ready. Soldiers and workmen gathered around them looking expectantly toward the fort. Among these a woman pushed her way, scolding, laughing, gesticulating. Nanon was a comely woman of her class, strong and thick-set, with a face full of piquancy and vivacity. Brown as a berry was this daughter of southern France, with red cheeks and eyes black as sloes. She wore a brown petticoat, a crimson apron with a bib, and a coquettish lace cap with hanging lappets. At every vehement movement her long gold earrings quivered and jingled. " Behold ! Madame, Mademoiselle and these gentle- men all are accommodated, and I but attend the good pleasure of the Sieur du Chesne," she protested in high, shrill tones. " Eh, corbleu ! but no, this good Nanon awaits no convenience of mine," remonstrated a laughing boyish voice ; " there is place in the craft of Sans Quartier for thee, my girl. Diane has promised to share my canoe, father," turning to Le Ber, who stood by an amused listener, " and I have no hesitation in wager- ing that it is we who shall reach Lachine first." " Hein, no ! " Nanon reduced her forehead to an inch of tight cords, crossed her arms, and shook i8 A FOKTIFIKD RKSIDKXCK. herself from side to side in the most approved style of obstinacy. " I have morals, me, even in the wilder- ness. It is necessary to remember Us convenances. In our country ladies are guarded under the care of their mothers, as the hen gathers her chickens under her wings. My demoiselle has been confided to my care by Madame la Marquise ; not a step, not a shadow of a step, moves my young lady without my attendance. Madame counts upon my faith." " It is I who am responsible to Madame la Mar- quise for Mademoiselle de Monesthrol ; nor is it likely that surrounded by friends any harm will befall her. Your faithful attachment to your mistress, my girl, alone excuses the presumption of your inter- ference. Du Chesne, you will take charge of Diane ; Jean and Nanon will follow closely in the larger canoe ; we shall all remain in sight of one another." Thus Le Ber decisively settled the question ; then, holding his hat under his arm, with a profound bow he offered his hand to conduct Madame de St. Helene to the boat. " Now, are you satisfied ? " the young man laughed gaily. " Diane, is it not a joke ? You and I surely might be allowed to take care of ourselves." Nanon was still disposed to be nettled ; she resented Le Ber's rebuke, but no one could ever resist the gay confidence of the trader's youngest son. Jean Le Ber du Chesne might fitly serve as an example of the best type of the colonial youth of the period. Born and nurtured in Canada, thoroughly 19 ^^ II III !i DIANK OF VILLK MARIK. versed in wood-craft, seasoned to toil, fatij^ue and tryinj; extremes of climate, trained amidst dangers and alarms, while yet in his teens he had acquired a reputation for tact and courage. As the sea is the sailor's native element, his cherished career, his pas- sion, so was the forest that of Le ]^er du Chesne. From childhood he had accompanied his cousins, the Le Moynes, a family of heroes, upon the most diffi- cult and arduous expeditions. In the elastic buoy- ancy of early youth, hardship and perils had but developed an uncommon vitality and afforded oppor- tunities for the display of resource and valor. The austerity of the most sombre acetic relaxed at the sight of his debonair face ; the craftiest of Indian diplomats, the most lawless of coureurs de bois were alike moulded to the purposes of the young Canadian. " We shall keep Bibelot with us. Diane and I have no desire to furnish bouillon a r Iroquois ; we .should neither of us relish being thrown into the kettle." Du Chesne's gay inadvertent laugh rang out as he jested with one of the grimmest terrors of colonial life. Three .soldiers rowed the larger craft, occupied by Le Ber and St. Helene with the wife and children of the latter. Several other boats followed, carrying servants, soldiers, workpeople and baggage. " Hasten, then, my son ; follow us clo.sely." Le Ber looked around anxiously. " It is but three years, remember, since Senneville was last attacked by the Iroquois. What has been may happen again, It is 20 A FORTIFIKD RKSIDKNCK. the policy of the savages to attack stragglers. Above all things it is necessary to keep together." The oars were raised high in the air, and as they inoved a shower of crystal drops flashed in the sun- light. At the same time the voices of the" boatmen broke out into a lusty chorus which rang cheerily across the water : " Y'a-t il un etang. Fringue, Fringue sur I'aviron. Trois beaux canards S'en vont baignants Fringue, F'ringue sur la riviere Fringue, Fringue sur I'aviron." Du Chesne was holding the canoe into which Diane was about to step when there arose an outcry from the fort. "Monsieur! Monsieur! Sieur du Chesne !" It was Nanon, her plump figure quivering with excitement, who called in hot haste. " It is that snake of a Gouillon who disputes with the soldiers. Hasten, then, ere there is murder done." " But an instant, Diane. That lazy varlet lives but to do mischief — ^just when we are in haste, too. But he shall pay for his pleasure this time." Diane remained alone upon the shore, watching the rapidl)' disappearing part)', gaily waving a bright- hued silken scarf as long as they were in sight. Gentle fancies, floating vaguely through her mind without ever assuming definite form, were reflected on her face in lines of exquisite sweetness; her delicately 21 UlANK OK VII.LE MARIE. ii fanciful maiden dreams inspired no yearning for future bliss, but only perfect satisfaction with the present. The voyage down the river would be one continuous pleasure. She and the young man were close comrades and firm friends. Heing very young when his mother died, the affectionate lad had grieved deeply. In his loneliness it was his young playmate who had come nearest to his heart; she had taken the place of the sister whom religious en- thusiasm had estranged from all human interests. Diane had become his warmest sympathizer, the coiifidante of countless escapades. The girl, on her part, was conscious that the serenity of the blue sky, the tender greenness and stillness of the landscape, all seemed to borrow a new charm when viewed in his company. The Seigniory had once been called Boisbriant, after the first grantee, Sidrac de Gui, Sieur de Briant, but when it passed into Le Ber's possession, it was renamed Senneville. It was a post of considerable strategic value. The fort, built at the end of the Island of Montreal, where the St. Lawrence and Ottawa Rivers joined, offered effectual protection against the attacks of the Iroquois, and was of great service to the colony. In front the Ottawa flowed, through its picturesque and fertile islands, while on the other side the St. Lawrence rolled like a river of gold. A little to the north-w^est the water expanded into the Lake of Two Mountains, the twin peaks which gave it their name .'A ■I.- - A FORTIFIED RKSIDFXCF appearing in the hazy distance. On lie St. Paul Le Her had erected large storehou.ses. On lie i^errot stood a cluster of buildings constructed by Le Ber's rival and antagonist, Perrot, the ex-Governor of Ville Marie, in order to intercept the Indian tribes from the upper lakes on their way to the annual fair at Mont- real. He Perrot was the rendezvous of soldiers who had escaped from the restraints of a harsh discipline to the freedom of the woods, and of rovers of every description outlawed by the royal edict. The fort at Senneville was remarkably well built ; the material of rough boulder stones, with stone jambs, lintel sills and fire-places. The buildings formed a parallelogram of which the residence was one end, the sides being simply defensive walls, nowhere more than twelve feet high, pierced with loopholes and having a gateway. At the angles stood flanking towers, the first two being connected with a wall which did not come much above the first floor window. The court- yard was nearly square, measuring about eighty feet each way, and looking north-west across the Lake of Two Mountains. The residential part had a frontage of about eighty feet and a depth of thirty-five. In front it was tw(j stories in height, but, as the ground was higher inside the courtyard, at the back it was only a story and a half It had a high pitched roof, tall chimneys and wide fire-places. The walls of the to>vers were strengthened by an outward spread at the base. The towers measured only about twelve feet scjiiare inside; 23 Ill i! DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. they were two and a half stories in height and had large windows in their outer walls, and on the sides, commanding the main walls, small embrasures were mounted with light artillery. In addition to the castle proper there were out- buildings which served more than one purpose. A few hundred yards back from the river the ground swelled to a gently wooded height, crovvaied by a fortified windmill. These picturesque structures were a distinctive feature in the landscape throughout all New France and did good service in protecting the settlers. The mill at Senneville possessed rather an unusual adjunct, a hooded door which served the same purpose as the machicolations of a mediitval castle. The tower was three stories in height, and measured fifteen feet inside, the floor being supported by strong oak beams. The chimney was simply a flue in the thickness of the wall opening to the outer air just below the second story ceiling ; the hood opened before the floor of the same chamber. The roof was of conical form, covered with shingles, the latter always a point of weakness in time of attack. Nature here on every side unfolded panoramic views of loveliness. Flickers of light were reflected in the water ; trailing vines festooned the trees. There were quiet marshes golden with swaying grasses, and, farther away, sombre masses of pine through which opened mysterious shadowy vistas. 34 ''i! id had ; sides, ;s were re out- )se. A ground d by a 2s were lout all ing the ther an /ed the ediitval ht, and ported nply a e outer hood The es, the tack, )ramic Iflected trees, •aying pine las. CHAPTER III. AN IROQUOIS A TTACK. DESPITE^ the beauty of the scene just described, Bibelot, the dog, was plainly dissatisfied with the existing order of things. She was a direct descendant of Pilot, one of a number of dogs sent from France to Ville Marie shortly after its foun- dation in order to assist the brave colonists in their warfare against the Indians. Detesting the savages by instinct, these trusty animals were invaluable in detecting ambuscades. Bibelot now ran here and there, her bushy tail raised high and curled like a feather over her back, her slender, alert head and bright eyes full of keen interest, sniffing among the grass and branches as though solicitous of some trail of fox or rabbit. Game abounded in the woods ; from where she stood Diane could see a great herd (jf elk defile quietly between the water and the forest. The dog's persistent uneasiness attracted Diane's attention. Suddenly the long-drawn, melancholy cr)' of a water-fowl fell upon her ear. The sound might have passed unheeded by faculties less keen and highly strung ; but as she started at the cry. Bibelot, throwing back her head and quivering all over witli DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. rage, uttered a low, deep growl. The call was repeated several times. Could it be a signal ? The dog's excitement seemed to warrant the supposition. As she gazed apprehensively about her, the trunk of a fallen tree, lying on the ground close at hand, seemed to Diane to stir. Was imagination playing her false ? The girl had grown up amidst the constant dangers of the adventurous colonial life. She knew well that the Iroquois roamed through the deserted settlements and prowled continually around the forts. No one could account for the mysterious movements of these agile warriors, nor for the subtilty and malice of their stratagems. She now stood perfectly still as if she were a figure painted on the pale green back- ground. The heart beat high in her breast, the color came and went in her cheek. A gray squirrel with small bright eyes scudded through the grass close beside her. At that instant the log moved again, this time with a hasty, impulsive jerk. There was no doubt but that in the hollow trunk an Indian lay concealed. Immediately the loud clamor of Bibelot's bark rang out, clear and distinct. Quick as a gleam of light the forest was alive with shadowy- figures moving stealthily and silently among the trees. Diane saw that her only chance of escape lay in immediate action, and that the lives of those in the fo'-t might depend upon her presence of mind. She understood but too well the nameless horrors which captivity among the savages meant — death was nothing in comparison. 26 AN IROOUOIS ATTACK, peated dog's 1. As jnk of hand, ing her Mistant 2 knew eserted le forts. ements maHce still as 1 back- st, the squirrel 2 grass •4 moved There w Indian ^ nor of Quick k-t ladowy ig the ■ig escape lose in ^ mind. 1 lorrors ,48 -death 1 '' Aux armes ! aux armes ! " the girlish voice rang out in clear, piercing tones. Bibelot's resounding howls were lost in the din as the Indians, uttering their appalling yells, dashed towards her. Like an arrow from a bow, fleet as a young fawn, Diana sprang forward, several of the dusky braves starting in hot pursuit. She had some advantage of distance in the start, but so close were her pursuers that the slightest hesitation, a false step, a slip on the sun-burnt grass, would prove fatal. The footsteps of her foremost pursuer fell with growing clearness upon her ears. With every muscle strained to its utmost tension on she flew, all the while conscious that the foe was steadily gaining upon her. She had almo.st reached the threshold of the fort when, shouting his own name in the Indian fashion, the Iroquois stretched out his hand to grasp her shoulder. She could feel the touch of his fingers upon the lace border of the kerchief she wore around her neck. At this instant the report of a pistol rang out. With a sharj:), convul- sive .shudder the savage sprang high in the air and fell prostrate to the ground, as Diane, breathle.ss and trembling, was drawn into the fort by du Chesne. A prescient excitement blazed in the young man's eyes. Mis spirited face was full of resolution and confidence. " Fear not, Diane," he said, as he barricaded the door, "there are not a great number of Iroquois gathered outside, and they rarel\' attack a fort. Our most serious danger is that the sound of the guns 27 nr r^ DIANE OF VILLK MARIK i f; may induce my father to return, and that from the shore they will fire upon the boats. We are safe enough here, but we must not allow them to suspect that our garrison is so small. I have already posted the men ; we can only await the attack." Diane sank down faint and sick, yet with a sweet consolatory thought underlying her physical weak- ness. Whatever might happen she would not be obliged to endure alone ; she could depend upon a .sympathy and companionship she highly prized. " And Jean, where is he ? " du Chesne continued, as though he wished to give her time to recover herself " Pasetnbleaii I that lazy varlet has no heart for fighting ; that I'll .swear. Nanon, thou canst manage an arquebus as well as any man among them. My brave girl, we will need thy help." Nanon's black eyes darted furious glances as she ground her teeth in sheer wrath. " Yes, Monsieur, I am capable of that, and may I put an end to one of these sorcerers, these brigands, with every shot I fire ! My hairs are all rubbed the wrong way at the sight of these wolves. Chut ! Mademoiselle, why so pale? I think little ofthe.se affairs, me ; still there is no laughing under the nose when it relates to the Iroquois. Sit far back if you would not see, and for a high-born demoiselle I in-ant — " '■ No, Nanon," Diane interpo.sed, repulsing the well- 'Htentioned offers of assistance. "Whatever befalls ;bf^ others I share, since our lot has been cast to- gciiicr. t$ AX IROOUOIS ATTACK With an exultant throb the £:jirl's sijirit leaped free from its chains. Amidst these perilous circumstances she was conscious of feeling a perfect courage and serenity. Turning his head, du Chesne smiled at her tone. " Place yourself behind me, Diane ; you can help by loading as I fire. We will stand on our defence. These wolves will lurk about and try to climb into the fort under the co\^er of darkness. We must not permit them to approach, lest they set fire to the roof." The Iroquois showed no disposition to retire, but commenced industriously to erect barricades of stones and bushes, as though notwithstanding the check they had encountered they were resolved to begin a pro- longed siege. "It looks as though it may be late before we reach Ville Marie. B-r-r-r-r ! The tongue of our good Nanon goes like the clapper of a mill. Well, she amuses the soldiers, and she is as ready to aid with the hands as the voice. These savages take us for targets, do they ? When the violins play, then is the time to dance." Bibelot kept up a continuous barking, which added to the tumult. Nanon's wrathful denunciations of the enemy delighted the soldiers and soothed her own nerves, even if they failed to annihilate the assailants. Thus the little party contrived to keep up their spirits. Diane, keeping close behind du Chesne, loading one gun as he fired another, standing ready to obey his behests, had time to think of man)' things. Her eyes 99 !i!i DIAXK OF VILLK MARI1< F 1;! if i] ( (ft rested upon the j'oun^ man with growing amazement. It was an hour of revelation. All the carele.ss boyish- ness of his face had been replaced by an expression keen, stern, resolute ; his eyes flamed with a light which was almost cruel in its intensity. There was something splendid in the stalwart 'pride of courage. Watching this novel moulding of the familiar features, the girl was beset b\' a strange sense of unreality. This was no longer her boyish comrade whom she had teased and flattered and cajoled ; this was a man strong to command, to defy fate, who would rise equal to every crisis, and who would grow with every emergency. An absorbing feeling took possession of Diane's mind, her heart swelled with a new spring of impassioned emotion, a subtle intoxication mounted like fire to her brain. It dawned upon her that du Chesne was a hero, and that he had counted her worthy of aiding him in his extremity. This thought flushed her horizon with the sunshine of heroic impulse. Her face was full of a tense eagerness, almost beyond the artifices of concealment. Once speaking, she ven- tured rather breathlessly : " Gentlemen are born to shed their blood for God and the Kintj." "That goes without saying," he replied quietly. Du Chesne had had so much experience of Indian warfare that he accepted encounters such as this as a matter of course. " When the end has to come, a day sooner or later, what does it matter ? " Then his buoyant temperament reasserting itself, he added, 39 AX IROQUOIS ATTACK. "Bah! Diane, our hour is not yet. You looked so pale and .so serious you made me ahnost shiver. This is but a brush with these wolves. Very different would it be were we out in the open, far from the pro- tection of the fort ; then would there be occasion for grimaces. What is that? Look, Diane ! " Then his voice rose in a glad cry. His keen eyes had discov- ered a swarm of canoes, thick as a flight of blackbirds in autumn, on the waters of the Ottawa. " Aid is at hand ! I was not sure that this might not be a reinforcement of Iroquois, in which case we were lost ; but no, these are our own allies. Saved ! Do you hear, Diane ? Saved ! " Diane sank on her knees. Her face shone with that spiritual light with which at moments of supreme feeling the soul illumines its earthly tenement. " The good Lord has saved us from the hands of our enemies." The girl could have wept with thank- fulness and delight, but controlled herself by an effort. " Aye, and our lady of Bonsecours shall have three as fine waxen tapers burning before her shrine as money can buy, and that before the week is out," Nanon protested excitedly. " I make no clamor for all the world to hear, like that vulture Mam'selle Anne, but I make my religion all the same. Never could I believe that the holy saints could be so un- grateful and inconsiderate as to refuse to listen to the prayers of my demoiselle." 31 T chaptp:r IV. II' i 1 ' 1 , 11 i i i:-. ! ( liL 11 AN ENGLISH CAPTIVE. SUDDENLY the air was filled with yells as, leap- ing from their canoes and advancing through a ridge of thick forest beyond the open fields, scores of half-naked savages swarmed into the clearing. Ensconced behind the ramparts of the fort, the little band watched the proceedings in silence. Through the leafy arches of the woods, over hill and hollow, across still swamp and gurgling brook, rang the war- whoops of the new arrivals as they rushed upon their hereditary foes. " It is now the turn of the wolves to dance, and we can assist at the festivities ! " exclaimed du Chesne, hilariously. " This is a war party of Hurons and Algonquins returning from an expedition," The Iroquois, though taken by surprise, fought with courage and address, leaping and dodging among the trees and rocks until at last, finding them- .selves outnumbered and overborne, they retreated, bearing the wounded and most of their dead with them. As the tumult of the conflict died away, the young Frenchman observed in a tone of satisfaction, " It is settled. Have no apprehensions, Diane ; our AN KNGLISII CAPTIVIC. adversaries have fled, carrying something to remem- ber us by as well." " Is it, then, quite certain, M'sieur, that they have L-^one, but bevond doubt," pleaded a timorous voice from some remote depth of obscurity. " Wretched coward ! of much use thou hast been. And where hast thou hidden thy miserable carcase ? " returned du Chesne in hot anger, " Scaramouch ! screech-owl ! much help thou hast been in saving my demoiselle and me," Nanon mocked one of her most constant admirers. " Oh, that I were entrusted with the wringing of thy unworthy neck. With an insinuating smile on his sleek, fat face the valet crept out from the dark corner which had afforded him shelter. "Ouf! that such should exist!" the young com- mandant cried contemptuously. " Poltroon ! art thou not ashamed to show thy face ? " " But, M'sieur du Chesne ; figure to yourself — it is quite simple," with an affectation of innocent frank- ness. " It is the nature of M'sieur to be courageous, to love fighting — it is well. It is the delight of Nanon to chatter. It is Bibelot's instinct to hate the savages ; you observe even the smell of one throws her into a frenzy. For me, I have an invin- cible repugnance to the scalping knife of the Iroquois. Mad I permitted myself to be killed M'sieur would have lost a faithful servant, and the.se pagans would have added a fresh sin to the list of their enormities. 33 i' .;^i DIANl-: OI' VII. LK MAKIK. May I ask, M'sicur, is it the duty of i;()()cl ("liristiaiis to tcm|)t the heathen ? Should they not rather ^ive an example of patience and resij^nation ? " The new arrivals now claimed attention. Sun- burned warriors the\- were, of tall stalwart build, limbed like statues. Success had crowned their arms, as shown in the imposini^ array of scalj^s and the necklaces of ears and fincjcrs which many of them wore. They looked like painted spectres, f^rotesquely horrible in horns and tails ; their faces painted red or <;reen, with black or white spots ; their ears and no.ses hung with ornaments of iron, and their naked bodies daubed with figures of various animals. The.se fierce, capricious braves smiled upon the fiery young .soldier who.se courage had long since won their approbation. " What, my brother, we have arrived in time to strengthen your arm against our foes ?" exclaimed the principal war chief " The face of our white brother is welcome to the eyes of Howaha." The last time du Chesne had met Howaha was at the annual fair in Ville Marie, when he appeared in a picturesque attire befitting his dignity and rank. He was much less imposing now as he .squatted on the grass after his triumphs, chopping rank tobacco with a scalping-knife. An astute old savage, well trained in arts of policy, he showed every disposition to render himself agreeable to the son of the influential French trader. " But look, du Chesne ! Here is a white prisoner — a woman, too. Oh, surely she is not dead ! " cried Diane. 34 V ii'l AN I'.NC.MSIf ( AI'TIV]'., " No, not (lead, Diane, but evidently overcoine b\' fatigue and fright. Ilowaha tells me she is a New England girl whom the)- have taken. She has been given to one of the chiefs, Xitchoua, to replace a wife he lost during the winter. Had it not been for that she would have been butchered on the spot." " An English heretic ! Take care, then, Made- moi.selle ; she may hcue the evil eye. True sorcerers are these Kngli.sh ; it is said they devour little chil- dren, even to the bones. No doubt the)' are wicked, and of a wickedness truly terrible — yet this one has not the appearance of a veritable monster," continued Nanon with wavering positiveness. In the lethargy of utter exhaustion, her limbs relaxed and nerveless, the girl lay on the grass just as she had been thrown by the Indians. She seemed utterly unconscious of the clamor of voices or of the curious regard directed towards her, as though in the terrible numbness of despair she had grown indifferent to her fate. Her features were delicately formed, her complexion of an exquisite purity, yet so utterly de- void of color that she resembled a beautiful statue rather than a living woman. Diane, feeling that inexplicable attraction which frequently draws together persons of entirely different natures, examined her clo.sely. The novel .sensations and .sentiments so recentl)' awakened within her endowed all existence with a new pathos as well as a new delight. She knelt down beside the captive girl, smoothing the flaxen hair which the sunlight turned 35 iT' rrr- DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. to gold, clasping the cold, passive hands in her own, whispering soft words of comfort and encouragement. The stranger stared vacantly into the French girl's face, while Diane's brilliant eyes dimmed with the .sympathetic moisture of compassion. " There has been a violent dispute concerning the prisoner," explained du Chesne, who understood the Indian dialects perfectly ; " Nitchoua wishes to take her as his wife. Another party want to torture her when they reach their own village, and Howaha has threatened to settle the dispute by a blow with a tomahawk which will terminate at once the discus- sion and the existence of the captive." " How beautiful she is ! She is already half dead with misery and fatigue ; I can scarcely feel her heart beat." A keen compassion pleaded in the intensity of Diane's faltering accents. " You know what cap- tivity among the Indians means. Think of this tender creature submitted to the torture. I should know no rest all the remainder of my life for thinking of it. This might have been our own case had not the Holy Virgin sent us aid. We can never desert her in her extremity — you must find some way of ransoming her, du Chesne — you can surely manage it." " I do not know. There is the merest pinch of hope; but I will do my best to .save her, Diane." The same thought already had crossed the young man's mind. The chief impression made upon him by this stranger was one of helpless beauty and innocence. He was chivalrous and tender-hearted, yet he compre- 36 Ax\ ENGLISH CAPTIVK. hended that the rescue of the prisoner was secondary in importance to propitiating these savage allies. In the one case the fate of an individual depended upon his exertions ; in the other the fate of the whole settle- ment might hang in the balance. In their attempts to resist the encroachments of the Iroquois the French could not do without the help of the other Indian tribes. Du Chesne thoroughly understood the art of dealing with these children of the forest. He could conform to their customs and flatter them with cour- teous address. He understood the uncertain, vacillat- ing temper common to all savages. Unsteady as aspens, fierce as panthers, rent by mad jealousies, they were a wild crew who changed their intentions with the veering of the wind, and whose dancing, singing and yelling might at any moment turn into war- whoops against each other or against the French. There were many difficulties to be considered, but the young Canadian was not easily daunted, and he determined to make the effort. Nerving every faculty for the endeavor, the youth stood forth, his full deep eyes fixed on the savages with the masterful scrutiny with which a tamer of wild beasts might regard the ferocious animals committed to his charge. His dark eyes were aflame ; there was so much of quiet strength suggested in his bearing that, as she listened to his glowing words, Diane's heart beat high with pride. The daughter of a race of soldicr=, she was deeply imbued with admiration for physical courage. With bold adroitness he assured 37 DIANE OF VILLK MARIE. : I' 'ill ,, ;i! m M ill It'!' 11 ;;a ■I lit i Howaha that if his captive had become a subject of dissension among the red-men, he, their white brother, ever ready to oblige his allies, was willing to relieve them of the burden. He imitated the prolonged accents of the savages and addressed them in turn by their respective tribes, bands and families, calling their men of note by name as though he had been born among them. In all he said his voice and gestures answered to the words. The chiefs, silent and atten- tive, with gaze riveted upon the bowls of their pipes, listened with cool, impartial interest. Plainly the im- pression made by the young Canadian's eloquence was favorable ; at every pause in his harangue some sign of approval could be detected. Du Chesne did not, however, gain his object with- out some trouble. At one moment Nitchoua started forward, brandishing his hatchet in the air, declaring furiously that the prisoner belonged to him by right of war ; rather than waive his claim he would kill her as she lay helpless before them. " Has Nitchoua killed enemies on the war-path? His arm is weary with killing, his eye with counting. The scalps of his enemies ornament the wigwam of the great chief in such number that they shelter it from rain in the stormy night," vaunted the fierce savage, proclaiming his own deeds of valor. The English maiden was too far spent to be greatly excited by this new menace. She understood neither the French language nor the Indian dialects, even had she been able to control herself sufficient!}' to listen. 38 1:1 AN KXGLISH CAPTIVK. 3Ject of brother, I relieve alonged turn by ng their 211 born Sfestures i atten- ir pipes, the im- jnce was me sign 2ct vvith- L started ieclaring by right kill her ua killed iry with of his chief in n in the claiming i greatly d neither sven had to listen. ^ 1 Occurrences had been struck off by time in such quick succession that they seemed like some terrible con- tinuous nightmare — an awful void in which every wretchedness was conceivable, and in which there was neither comfort nor solace to be found. She was not by nature endowed with nerve or courage. Within the last few days she had become familiar with scenes of massacre and pillage ; she had seen her home burned to the ground, her relatives butchered before her eyes, had witnessed the cruel torture of friends and neighbors, had endured incredible fatigue, and had realized the uncertainty concerning her own fate. Now the overstrained brain refused to receive fresh impressions, a merciful lethargy deadened sensation. When the excited savage waved his axe above her head, though she believed her last hour had come, even in this extremity she had not sufficient strength to arouse herself Prompted by some instinct, her blue eyes turned to Diane with a mute agonized appeal. The French girl returned the gaze with a sob of excitement and agitation swelling at her throat. " We must take care of you, it is our bounden duty — we could not fail you — trust us," she pleaded, un- conscious or careless of the fact that the strani^er could not know the meaning of her words. There is, how- ever, a language of the soul which the most distraught can comprehend in the face of a great crisis. As she met the kindly glance bent upon her, a ray of comfort penetrated the darkness which had cnv I 'V 39 T tr' !«S , Hi; i!' Idil; ■/> . i' 'i DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. captive's spirit ; it was like an ethereal stimulant quickening all her powers. Finally, on the promise of a rich ransom being given, Nitchoua allowed his wrath to be appeased. He began to dance, holding his hands upraised as though apostrophizing the sky. Suddenly he seized his tomahawk, brandished it wildly, and then flung it far from him. " Thus I throw away my anger," he shouted ; " so I cast away my weapons of blood and war. Let the pale-face girl be led away to the wigwams of the French, since my white brother desires it to be so. We are friends forever. Candwish,* we are brothers," A swift expression of relief, like a flash of light, crossed du Chesne's face. Howaha arose, and with an air of great dignity said : " My brothers, it is well. Farewell, war ; farewell, tomahawk ; no longer have we use for you. We have often been fools, henceforth we will learn wisdom. The PVench are our brothers ; Onontio f is our father. Brother, our covenant with you is a silver chain which can neither breiik nor rust. We are of the race of the Bear, and as long as there is a drop of blood in his veins the bear never yields to force ; but the ear of the bear is ever open to the voice of a friend. Take the prisoner, she is yours ; do with her what you will." "The fawn" — du Chesne pointed to Diane, who =*= Candwish — An Indian word signifying comrade. t Onontio— YxoviXtXidx,. 40 M--^- AN ENGLISH CAPTIVK. still clasped the English girl in her arms, — "will adopt the captive as a sister ; she will find shelter in the lodges of the French." " Aye," Howaha added gravely, " the snow-flower will know peace. Shall the bird in its nest dread the wind and tempest ? shall the child in the arms of its mother know fear ? " Realizing that the whim of the savages might change like a drift of dry leaves, du Chesne had no idea of resting in false security. " We will seize the opportunity of going down the river with Howaha," he decided promptly. Later, as they floated down with the current, the Indians chanted their songs of victory, as an accom- paniment striking the edges of their paddles against the sides of their bark canoes. First one wild voice raised itself in strange discordant tones, now dropping low, then rising again, anon swelling into shrill yelps in which all the others joined. Among them two Iroquois prisoners stood upright, shouting their own war-songs in proud defiance, like men who knew no fear of torture or death, while from seven jKjles raised aloft as many fresh scalps fluttered in the evening breeze. Though the vermilion dusk still lingered over Mount Royal, softly purple in the fading light, the moon, pearly and splendid, swung high in the east, accompanied by a vaguely scintillating star at the zenith. So it came to pass that the Puritan damsel, Lydia Longloy, entered upon a new existence, protected by 41 I 9 ISii iiii: 'il II niANK OF VILLE MARIK. Diane de Monesthrol's tender care, succored by the charity of those French papists the very sound of whose name had until now been a terror to her. The only person who appeared dissatisfied with the turn events had taken was Nanon, who 'e's finger in the bowl of his pipe. This was too much for the Cana- dian's philo.sophy, and without wasting words on the matter he knocked his assailant down. A murmur of approval arose from the spectators. If du Chesne had begged for mercy their hearts would have been hard as stone, but this proof of courage pleased the warrior throng. He even contrived to make friends among the savages, the most powerful of whom was the famous Onondaga orator, Otreouate. " If you destroy the wasp's nest you must crush the wasps or they will sting you," declared the old man, fixing his gaze reflectively on a great mask with teeth and eyes of brass before which the Iroquois performed their conjurations. *' When our young men have sung the war-song they will listen only to the sound of their own fury. I would gladly save you, but it is not in my power to do so." " And what will be the manner of my death ? " the prisoner asked coolly. *' You will run the gauntlet. It has been decided that the young white chief shall furnish entertainment 76 A FOREST ADVENTURK. of 1- fe for the women and children. After that y(ju will be devoured by fire." "It is well," responded the younjij man quietly. That day he gave his farewell feast, after the custom of those who know themselves to be at the point of death. When the company had gathered the condemned man addressed them in a clear voice : " My brothers, I am about to die. Onontio's arm is long, and he will certainly avenge his children. That concerns you, not me. Do your worst ; you cannot make me shrink. I do not fear torture or death." That night the white prisoners were closely watched. Two Indians slept one on either side of them, another being stretclied across the door of the lodge. Du Chesne had formed no plan, he could depend upon no hope of reprieve, yet never did he entirely lose heart. The next evening the captives were led out amidst the shouts of the women and children. The village was all alive with the bustle of preparation. The young white chief would furnish ample entertainment. The Iroquois formed themselves into long double lines, armed with clubs, thorny stocks, or slender iron rods bought from the Dutchmen on the Hudson. The prisoners were started to run between the two lines. They were saluted with yells and a tempest of blows. Bruised and lacerated from head to foot, and streaming with blood, young Bluet fell senseless to the ground. At the sight a sort of frenzy took 77 mm w I I'i I DIANE OF VILLE MARIE ,1 nil! 1^ I 1 .!■: *■! 11 possession of du Chesne. Seizing a club from one of the assailants, he used it with such vigor that his per- secutors fell right and left beneath his blows. It was a valor born of sheer desperation, but it served him well. In their amazement the Iroquois became con- fused, and in the excitement du Chesne darted through an opening in the lines, and seekJng shelter behind a wood-pile, found beneath it a hole into which he contrived to creep, and which afforded temporary concealment. A howl of furious conster- nation arose from the Indians. The prisoner had suddenly vanished. They ranged fields and forests in vain pursuit, and then concluded that their captive was a sorcerer who had been delivered by his Manitou. From his place of hiding in the deepening darkness du Chesne could see much of what was going on around him. Once a tall savage passed so near that he could have touched him with his hand. The fate that awaited him if he were discovered, and the scarcely less terrible dangers of the wilderness that lay between him and his home, filled him with despair. Spent and exhausted he lay through the night in his cramped hiding-place, creeping out once to grope for a few ears of corn left from the last year's harvest. He wisely judged that his safety lay in remaining there till the savages out in search of him should return. So, though cramped and stiffened, he lay beneath the wood-pile till the following night ; then when all was still, he slipped out, and had reached 78^ f A FOREST ADVENTURE. the outskirts of the village when, to his dismay, he stumbled over a log of wood. A sentinel immedi- ately gave the alarm and the whole village started in furious pursuit. Du Chesne had been the fleetest runner among all his companions. He now had the advantage of a start and kept in advance of his pur- suers, who took up the chase like hounds seeking game. When daylight came he showed himself from time to time to lure them on, then yelled defiance and distanced them again. At night all but two had given up the chase. Seeing a hollow tree, du Chesne crept into it, while the Iroquois, losing the trace in the dark, lay down io sleep near by. At midnight he merged from his retreat, brained his enemies with a club, and continued his journey in triumph. Du Chesne directed his course by the sun, and for food dug roots or peeled the soft inner bark off the trees ; sometimes he succeeded in catching tortoises in muddy brooks. He had the good fortune t find a hatchet in a deL,erted camp and with it made one of those wooden implements which the Indians used for kindling fire by friction. This sa\ed him from his worst suffering, as he had but little covering and was at night exposed to tortures from cold. Building a fire in some deep nook of the forest he warmed him- .self, cooked the food he had found, and slept till day- break, taking the precaution to throw water on the embers lest the rising smoke should attract attention. Through all hope beckoned him on. I>ife held so many prizes, offered so many delights, that at no time could he give way to despair. 79 ■m I isr DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. Once he found himself near a band of Iroquois hunters, but he lay concealed, and they passed with- out perceiving him. Du Chesne followed their trail back, and found a bark canoe which they had hidden near the banks of the river. It was too large for his use, but he reduced it to convenient size, embarked and descended the stream. After that progress was comparatively easy. Finally, after enduring many hardships, he reached Ville Marie, where he was wel- comed as one restored from the dead — the main ex- pedition having, on returning from its successful attack on Schenectady, reported his capture by the Iroquois, from whom no mercy could be expected. 80 •II ^ CHAPTER VIII. V/LLE MARIE. BEAUTIFULLY situated as it was between Mount Royal and the St. Lawrence, at that early date Ville Marie could scarcely be termed im- posing in appeaiance. It was busy and bustling, and Pad been described as " a place which makes so much i.oise, but is of so little account." A frontier town at the head of the colony, it was the natural resort of desperadoes of every description, offering a singular contrast between the rigor of its clerical seigniors and the riotous license of the wild crews which invaded it. Its citizens were mostly disbanded soldiers, traders and coureurs de bois — a turbulent population, whose control taxed to the utmost the patience, tact and ingenuity of the priestly governors. While a portion of the residents were given up to practices of mystical piety, others gambled, drank and stole ; if hard pressed by justice they had only to cross the river and place themselves beyond seigniorial jurisdiction. Limited as was the sphere of action, here existence offered many striking contrasts. In love with an ex- quisite ideal, men and women struggled to attain purit) and unselfishness : they nursed the sick, fed 6 8i % % iHil m vj I h \i : '1 r 1 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. the hungry, loved and forgave, lived in godly fear and died fortified by eternal hope ; and this side by side with those who yielded themselves up with bound- less license to the worse passions of the human heart. While scarcely more than a village in dimensions, the preponderance of large buildings, churches and convents imparted to the town a substantial appear- ance which the number of the population and its scanty resources scarcely warranted. Quaint steeples and turrets cut the misty pallor of the sky. Ville Marie wore an aspect half military, half monastic. At sunrise and sunset a squad of soldiers paraded in front of the citadel ; at night patrols marched through the streets ; church bells, deep and sweet mouthed, rang out the Angelus morning, noon and night. On the river-front were numerous taverns, in front of which boats and canoes were drawn up on the shore. Here voyageurs swaggered and swore, and Indians, whom what Charlevois quaintly terms " a light tinge of Christianity" had scarcely redeemed from savagery, squatted in sullen apathy or quarrelled with brutal ferocity. A row of small compact dwellings extended along a narrow street then, as now, called St. Paul. Some of the houses were of stone, but the majority were of wood with stone gables, as required by law, the roofs covered with shingles. All outlying houses were pierced with loop-holes and fortified as well as the slender means of their owners would permit. Gardens were mostly fenced by pointed cedar stakes, with the poles firmly li * VILLE MARIE. "i: ri tied together. P^ields studded with scarred and blackened stumps stretched away to the bordering forest, crowding gloomy and silent on the right side and on the left. The green shaggy back of the Moun- tain towered over all. Crowning the hill on the right stood the Seignior's windmill, built of rough stone, and pierced with loop- holes to serve in time of need as a place of defence. This mill had a right to claim one-third of the grain brought to be ground ; of which portion the miller received one-third as his share, and the Seminary re- quired that the inhabitants should have all their corn ground there, or at one of the other mills owned by the priests. Toward the left, on an artificial elevation, at an angle formed by the junction of a swift-glancing rivulet with the St. Lawrence, was a square-bastioned .stone fort. This was the citadel of Ville Marie. About 1640, M. d'Ailleboust had removed the palisade of stakes which had formerly protected it, and had fortified it by two bastions. The fort was provided with artillery, and here, in command of a portion of the Carignan-Sali^re regiment, resided the military governor appointed by the Seminary. Overlooking the river appeaicd the church of Notre Dame de Bonseco^rs, whose walls of rough grey stone have shone as a symbol of hope to the yearn mg eyes of many a weary voyageur, many a travel-worn emigrant. Above the entrance stood a statue of the Virgin, below which ran the inscription : 83 ^•!;i m i\' i DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. i^ ill.' fi l!|i'& " St f amour de Marie Dans ton caur est gravis En passant ne foublie De lui dire un ave.'^ The Hotel-Dieu, founded in 1644 by Madame de Bouillon, fronting on both St. Paul and St. Joseph (now St. Sulpice) street.s, was an abode of much charity, tender devotion and heroic self-abnegation. The nuns, a devoted sisterhood, nobly conspicuous in the annals of the colony, excelled in acts of kindness whicli had become sacramental symbols of faithful obedience to God and loving brother- hood with man. Unde" their snow-white wimples beat hearts as brave as ever stirred under the robe of statesman or gorget of soldier. The church stood on St. Paul street, and was of stone in Tuscan style, sur- mounted by a triangular pediment and cross. The buildings consisted of hospital, convent and church. On a geath- welling knoll west of the citadel stood the edifice erected by M. Charon as a hospital. Far- ther back, to the left, was the Jesuit church, fronting on Notre Dame street. Adjoining this was the College, a very small structure with large and care- fully cultivated gardens attached. The buildings of the Congregation of Notre Dame faced on St. Paul street, while the back windows overlooked the river ; they were surrounded by a high stone wall. Here Marguerite Bourgeois, assisted b}' a band of noble women, labored for the conversion of the savages, and here the young girls of Ville Marie received all the 84 VILLE MARIE. il i instruction they were likely to obtain. Back of the settlement ran from the citadel a rough country road, which is now Notre Dame street. Fronting the river on the line of the street were the enclosures and buildings of the Seminary, fortified, a.s was the Hotel-Dieu, to resist the attacks of the Iro- quois. The ancient edifice was of the same shape as the present, forming three sides of a square, sur- rounded by spacious grounds. The priests' gardens were alread}' renowned for the delicious quality of their fruit. The air of thrift and comfort which characterized the belongings of the clergy presented a painful contrast to the extreme penury of the col- onists. With them, method, industry and frugality had resulted in abounding prtjsperity. The jDarish church of Notre Dame was directly in the centre of Notre Dame street. It was a low edifice, built of rough stone, pointed with mortar ; the high-pitched roof, covered with tin, reflecting the sunshine in dazzling brightness. The principal entrance was at the south end, and on the south-west corner was a tower, surmounted by a belfry. The public tnarket was near the river, directly facing the Seminary pro- perty. This was a favorite rendc^zvous for all I'Ditererr., as were also the the public wells, which, to suit ttie general convenience, had been placed near the Sem- inary, at the market-place, and in the Jesuits' garden. Here the citizens gathered. The women enjoyed the opportunities of gossiping at the well, their ton;^ues movinq^ as swiftly as the running water, their whole 85 h'l ;;u ':JI 11 ^1 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. I 1 t l' i 1- 1 1 ■,{ ■ '1' ■ ) ■f k 1 I bodies aiding with an endless variety of appropriate gestures. The men, with a vivacity that never diminished, held choleric arguments, or repeated marvellous stories. They tapped their foreheads, clasped their hands, clutched impetuously at perruques that pre- sented a wonderful impunity from becoming dis- arranged. They discussed how Jean Louis had strained his right arm and fallen under the power of a sorcerer ; how the good St. Anne had rescued Pierre Boulot and his comrade from shipwreck be- cause they had made a vow in her honor ; how Mere Bouillette had been tormented by the lutin in the shape of a will-o'-the-wisp, and the good Mere Ber- bier, of the Congregation of Notre Dame, had pre- sented Madelon with a scapulaire as a charm against fever. It was whispered that it was feared that Georgeon and his fifty wolves, invisible when hunted by honest men, were driving the colts about at night. With bated breath they spoke of the dreaded scourge, the Iroquois, and then, with tears still glistening in their eyes, they broke into merry laughter at some careless jest. The rigor of the climate prevented much indulgence in that pleasant outdoor life in which the French peasant delights, but as soon as the late northern spring broke forth, and the air became soft and balmy, the natural instincts reasserted them- selves. To the east of the town, where Viger Square now stands, stretched a swampy marsh where the bulrushes 86 VILLE MARIE. raised their tall heads and the stately purple iris bloomed in profusion ; there the long-drawn plaintive cry of the water-fowl echoed through the stillness in melancholy cadences. Back of the settlement, par- allel with Notre Dame street, a stream with mimic rush and roar urged its way to the river. Between this and the street, removed from the noise and bustle, lay the quiet cemetery. Some distance away, to the left, nestling at the foot of the mountain, was situated the Mission village e 'ablished by St. Sulpice for the Christianized Indians. It was dominated by two round stone towers, which afforded considerable pro- tection to the colony ; a few French soldiers were always stationed here. Near at hand, in winter half buried in peaked drifts and massive banks of snow, was the shrine of Notre Dame des Nieges. Opposite the city, on the south bank of the St. Lawrence, extending from Longueuil to Laprairie, lay the fief acquired by that brave colonist Charles Le Moyne, the brother-in-law of Jacques Le Ber. His son, the Baron de Longueuil, notwithstanding the conditions of painful change and fluctuation that at- tended the fortunes of the colony, reigned like a feudal noble at Longueuil. His stone fort, flanked by four strong towers, resembled a fortified French chateau. A church and various substantial stone buildings clus- tered around it. On St. Helen's lovely isle, rising with gently wooded slopes out of the water, the troops often camped. Opposite La Salle's Seigniory at La Chine, on the south bank, was Sault St. Louis f Caugh- nawaga), an Indian mission station. 87 i t ■i: mm -t; n\ n m". h ; ^ DIANE OF VILLK MARIK. Ville Marie was open to attack on all sides. The town had been recently fortified with palisades. The few defences it possessed were in very indifferent con- dition. The country around, and for nearly a hundred miles below it, was easily accessible to the Iroquois by the routes of Lake Champlain and the Upper St. Lawrence. In the unsettled and variable condition of the colony, the clerical influence maintained a certain solidity of aim to the community which they had originated, and in which they certainly were the ruling influence. A Christian outpost established in the wilderness, ravaged by foes, feeble from the exhaustion of a starved and persecuted infancy, Ville Marie still contrived to exist. Amid all the conflicting elements of her new surroundings, Lydia Longloy contrived dexterously to steer her way. In her old home she had been taught to regard the French as " bloodthirsty heathen," but with easy adaptability and admirable tact she now showed herself quite as ready to adopt the faith and opinions of these new friends as she was to follow their fashions and manners. A beguiling innocence was her chief characteristic, accompanied as it was by a soft amiability and teachableness both touching and flattering. Pere de Mereil, of the Seminary, who spoke the English language and devoted himself especially to the conversion of heretics, declared enthusiastically 88 villp: marie. that this youn^ girl was the most interesting convert he had ever been privileged to instruct. If the Eng- lish capiive were occasionally betrayed into frivolity by the levity of youth, the worth}^ priest ascribed these lapses entirely to the worldly influence of Mademoiselle de Monesthrol. Lydia had an easy way of explaining herself to be always in the right, and it would be unjust to attribute the pretty crea- ture's innocent vanity and frank simplicity to other than natural childish frailty. Heedlessly generous with the divine faith of youth, Diane de Monesthrol gave her love to the stranger. During the long illness which followed Lydia's re- moval to Ville Marie, Diane nursed her with tender care, and in her helplessness she had twined herself around the closest fibres of Diane's heart. She might not be either very strong or very wise, but she was her own pet, the joint protege of herself and du Chesne. Lydia's trials and sufferings invested her with a halo of romantic interest. Diane's own glow- ing imagination conferred upon the Puritan maiden qualities of which the stranger had formed no con- ception. Her pure and simple beauty would have shone alike at a cottage door and in the halls of princes. Lydia rejoiced in the sweet and exhilarating con- sciousness of an approving Providence. She found herself placed exactly to her taste. Dreading pain, she was only too well pleased to be allowed to forget the past ; finding herself flattered and caressed, 89 |:| m m ii ■LI! IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V // 1^ ^S^Jk Y ^ ^ m/.. \ 1.0 I.I l;; 1 2.8 i!^ 1^ IIIIIM IIIIIM IIM 1.8 L25 11.4 mil 1.6 V] n ^\ 7 /^ Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716)872-4503 6^ ''■ Mlt M I; , <\i DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. she desired nothing better than to enjoy the pre- sent. An orphan, thrown upon the charity of distant and reluctant relatives, her life had not been happy. She had no enthusiasm, no imagination, no warm human sympathy to render the severe existence of her childhood endurable. Without in the least realizing it, Lydia had been bored to extinction. She hated now to think of those long, unlovely years of repression of her natural faculties. She had been accustomed to be looked down upon by her thrifty New England kindred, who had felt no hesitation in sharply chiding her shortcomings. There her beauty had been of small account ; she had no chance of wearing beautiful clothes, and had never listened to the sweet accents of flattery. Her various misdeeds had been severely visited upon her, her frailties exposed to open scorn, with the cheerful prospect held over her that in another existence these trifling vanities should be still more actively rued in fire and brimstone. Thinking of all this Lydia Longloy rejoiced in her new freedom with the whole strength of her trivial soul. The Puritan settlement of Grotton, near Bos- ton, with its memories of friends and neighbors, its precise restraint and rigid formality, became merely an unpleasant remembrance to be crushed out of sight. All the strict discipline of her New England training fell from her like a cast-off garment. She learned French with rapidity, absorbing the ideas and sentiments of those among whom her lot was cast. 90 VILLE MARIE. She adopted powder and patches, fans and feathers, as though to the manner born. She acquired a deliciously arch imitation of the Marquise's airs ; and if she missed Diane's dainty grace, her coquetry had a touch of sweet naturalness as of a child's affectation and extravagance. Once she found that to be pious was considered essential, thereafter her piety satisfied even Anne Barroy. In the large, hospitable household one more or less made very little difference. Le Ber smiled indulgently upon what he considered his ward's new caprice, but for him the English prisoner had no charms. There were two whose favor she never succeeded in win- ning : these were Madame de Monesthrol and Nanon, who quickly arrived at a very distinct perception of the situation. " Plebeian to the core," Madame nodded her stately head sagaciously, smelling at her flacon as if to keep off infection. " The little one waters a barren field. All that will count for nothing. This English girl will keep all she can get, and she is clever at getting. Yet one is young but once — can one blame her faith ? " Nanon was still more outspoken in her opinion. " Bah ! that crocodile blonde demoiselle. There are two words to a bargain, and our demoiselle will always be a loser, for she is of those who give lavishly with both hands ; this other is a sponge who absorbs all and yields nothing in return." 91 ■. 1 '; i 1 i .* \ * •' 1 •> M ' l! s ■ ji i 1. V I If'' Vf \ I' CHAPTER IX. AN OCCASION OF REJOICING. m THIC existence of the colony depended upon the fur trade, and for nearly three years the Iro- quois, with malicious ingenuity, had contrived to block up the main artery of commerce, the river Ottawa, thus stopping the flow of the country's life- blood. The annual supply of beaver-skins cut off, the settlement was compelled to exist upon credit. During the preceding winter the need had been so great that the authorities were obliged to distribute the soldiers among the inhabitants to be fed. Canada had been reduced to the last extremity, her merchants and farmers were dying of hunger. But relief was at hand. One day, shortly before the annual fair, a mes- senger came in hot haste with the startling informa- tion that Lake St. Louis was covered with canoes. It must be an Iroquois invasion, and if so it was not an impossibility that the whole community might be destroyed. Cannon were fired to call in the troops from the detached posts, the churches were thronged by excited women and children, and the steady march of trained soldiers resounded through the 9i W AN OCCASION OF REJOICING. streets. The authorities meanwhile were engaged in anxious consultation. Suddenly alarm was changed into frantic joy by the arrival of a second scout, announcing that the new comers were not enemies but friends, who in- stead of destruction had come to bring good fortune to Ville Marie. Frontenac's courage and policy had at length succeeded in accomplishing the difficult but absolutely indispensable task of opening the Ottawa. Louvigny and Perrot, the envoys sent to the Indians by the Governor in the spring, whose persuasions had been supplemented by the news of the late victory gained on the Ottawa and the capture of Schenectady, had executed their mission satisfactorily. Despoiled of an English market for their furs, the savages were willing to seek sale for them among the French. Two hundred canoes had come laden with the coveted articles of merchandise which had for so long been accumulating at Michillimackinac. It seemed as though good fortune, like ill-luck, were not to come alone. While three years of arrested sustenance came down from the great lakes of. the West, a P'rench fleet, freighted with soldiers and supplies, sailed up the St. Lawrence. This sight at any time was a reason for rejoicing. It meant news from home, succor from want, encouragement, relief A moment had changed mourning apprehen- sion into the ease and composure of perfect security. Almost dizzy with the sweetness of relief, struggling to retain sober consciousness, men cheered and 93 ill' y: s » . K ; Si' .: !■' jl DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. laughed, while women who had worn a brave smile during the day of trouble now wept hysterically. As they looked into each other's eyes, the colonists realized how terrible had been the strain through which they had passed. As they drew near, the savages, ever delighting in noise, fired their guns, while the deep continuous roar of cannon from the citadel greeted them as they landed before the town — woods, waves and hills re- sounding with the thunder of artillery. A great quan- tity of evergreen boughs was gathered for the use of the Indians, and of these they hastily constructed their wigwams outside the palisades. The Governor- General had come up from Quebec to meet the Indian allies. These negotiations, political ani com- mercial, were of the utmost importance to the settle- ment ; there was scarcely an individual in all the colony who was not keenly interested both in the Council which was now to be held and in the great fair. Moved by the universal impulse, Diane and Lydia, attended by Le Ber du Chesne, the Chevalier de Crisasi, and the Sieur d'Ordieux, started to attend the Council meeting. Nanon, thoroughly enjoying the occasion, walked behind. Nothing escaped the notice of her quick eyes or the comment of her unruly tongue. " It is well said that good blood never lies. Our little partridge holds her own with the best ; those who have taste turn their heads to look at her. Well 94 AN OCCASION OF REJOICING. they may ; a ^reat lady is not a sight to be met with every day in this part of the world, where every trader's wife and daughter would like to perk their heads with their betters. It is an officier bleu, no less, or some great noble at the King's Court, who should claim our demoiselle as his bride, and think himself lucky to get her besides." Diane's gown of heavy coffee-colored brocade had a train which swayed gently behind, not dragging, but caught up gracefully and drawn through both pocket holes, displaying the laced skirt and the pretty shoes on which jewelled buckles glittered. Her cor- sage was long waisted and close fitting ; clouds of lace hung from the sleeves, while a lace fichu was crossed over the bosom and fastened by some fragrant crimson roses. On either side of Mademoiselle de Monesthrol walked the Chevalier and the Sieur d'Ordieux. The first was a remarkably elegant and distinguished- looking man. The thin dark face set within its frame of powdered hair was somewhat languid and supercilious ; the melancholy eyes were almost ori- ental in their depth and intensity of expression. The Marquis de Crisasi and his brother, the Cheva- lier, were Sicilian noblemen who had compromised themselves by taking the part of France against Spain. Their immense possessions were confiscated, and by a sudden turn of fortune's wheel they had been precipitated from the highest pinnacle of pros- perity down to bitter adversity. They had been RSI Mff i ) 1 1 i i i »'■ DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. sent out to Canada in command of French troops. The favor proved, in this case as in many others, a most unreliable dependence. The Marquis had been appointed Governor of Three Rivers, a poor post, where it was almost impossible to keep from starving. The Chevalier, who was regarded by his contempor- aries as a model of every knightly virtue and accom- plishment, neglected and forsaken by his friends at the Court, waited for those marks of royal favor which he was never to receive. " For M. le Chevalier, his day is past," decided Le Ber promptly ; " those who are cast off by the Court have no future." But the Chevalier was one of Madame de Mones- throl's warmest personal friends, valued by her for his high breeding and personal worth. The Sieur d'Ordieux was a little man who, in the desire to increase his stature, used such high heels that he seemed to be walking upon stilts. He wore a long black wig, powdered and curled in front. He was always decked in finery like a woman, steeped in perfumes, glittering with jewelry and ornamented with fluttering ribbons. This youth was a common type of the men who strolled in the gardens of the Tuilleries or in the galleries of Versailles, pulling the strings which set the cardboard toys — th^pantins — in motion ; embroidering at women's frames in women's salons ; gambling away body and soul at the recep- tions given by great Court ladies, or fighting bloody duels at Longchamps on account of frail Court 96 AN OCCASION OF REJOICING. beauties. Many of these men were driven by mis- fortune or their own reckless folly to the New World. When receiving their baptism of fire the high heads , were dauntless and dignified ; these reckless triflers, when brought into contact with real conditions and necessities, proved themselves equal to the occasion — the most graceless young spendthrifts often showing themselves to be brave soldiers and gallant gentle- men. Just now the Sieur d'Ordieux certainly could not be considered interesting. His conversation related exclusively to his own interests and exploits — the Court, the injuries and indignities which his relatives had inflicted upon him, the grandeur of his expecta- tions. The Chevalier walked in dignified silence. His doleful glances inspired Diane with a teasing wish to coax and torment. She was young, thirsting for some deep emotion, moved by swaying currents of feeling of whose origin she had formed no conception. Consequently her smiles encouraged the loquacious youth, whose vanity never at any time required stimulant. ''Misericord! — but they are fools, these men," .soliloquized Nanon, who appreciated the humor of the situation. " This little turkey believes that the world is created for him and his brood to strut and crow in. That poor, good, jealous Chevalier has grown as thin as a nail, and makes such sighs. He is furiously dis- pleased, that one, and he never guesses it is for the grocer's son that our demoiselle plays the coquette. f 97 I I t 1 |!: ii ;| '.I DIANE OF VILLE MARIK. Comment ! but it is inconceivable that the Sieur du Chesne perceives nothing." Du Chesne's handsome young face was shaded by a large musquetaire hat of felt in which a freshly curled white plume waved gaily. He wore a new crimson coat, bordered with a gold band in a fashion called at that time a la bourgogue. Black silk stock- ings displayed the perfect .symmetry of his limb.s. It was a costume not unworthy a young man's vanity. De Crisasi and d'Ordieux both wore swords which clanked at every step. The knowledge that his favorite .son was without one cost Le Ber many a poignant pang. Lydia walked demurely at du Chesne's side. Her fresh face, tinged with excited color, stood out in bewildering contrast to the flaxen hair. The neat dress of dark camlet with its snowy frills and " pinners," which had formed her Puritan costume, had been exchanged for an imitation of Diane's dress- Mademoi.selle de Monesthrol delighted in decking out her proteg(^ in the best she had ; nothing was too good to heighten the charm of the blonde beauty. " This is likely to be an expensive whim," Madame had remarked to Le Ber. "It would have been better, my friend, to have provided Diane with the little negro boy of whom you have so often spoken. The imp would have been less mischievous than this colorless English gir'." Le Ber shook his head. Though a Frenchman he 98 AN OCCASION OF REJOICING. was a man of few words. Many critical issues had been confided to his judgment with advantageous results. Was it possible that a frail, silly girl should have power to thwart the plans which he had labored with a refinement of elaboration to perfect ? As they neared the encampment Lydia gave a frightened start. '* 1 dread the savages. The very glance of these painted monsters makes me faint and ill," she whispered nervously. Diane paused with quick compunction. " It is I who should have thought of that. You have nothing to fear, little one, with du Chesne at your side. Leave her not, even for an instant, my friend. Remember the terrible trial through which she has passed." Lydia reddened to her very throat, and turning around flashed upon the young man such an odd. piteous, pleading glance that it startled him. Her naiv(^te was as novel as her beauty ; every glance had a glamor of magic. She was attractive with that undefinable charm that belongs to some women, a magnetic quality not deper ling upon faultlessness of physical beauty. A very child, she carried herself with an air of innocently transparent indifference, with her ready blushes and her pettish, winning face. She was so petulant that du Chesne was amused, and found his charge extremely interesting. When, some time later, Diane, finding herself at his side, whispered words of thanks for his consideration, he shook his 99 Il L V DIANE OK VILLK MARIK. head in protest, lau^'hin^ in a startled, [gratified sort of way ; then turned from the subject with the careless ease which was one of his characteristics. " It is to you she owes her life. I want you really to like her, du Chesne," the ^irl pleaded warml)-. "It would not be difficult to do that!" and du Chesne laughed again. : ! ■'• 1^' ill I i lOO CHAPTER X TIfE COUNCIL. ALARGIC oblong space was marked out on a common between St. Paul street and the river, and enclosed by a fence of branches. In this enclos- ure the Council upon which such momentous issues de|)ended was held. Some of the Indians who attended had gathered from a distance of fully two th(jusand miles. The assembly presented a strange and gnjtesque appearance. There were Hurons and Ottawas from Michillimackinac ; Pottawatomies from Lake Michigan ; Ojibways from Lake Superior ; Crees from the remote north ; Mascoutins, Sacs, Jujxes, VVinnebagoes and Menominies from Wiscon- sin ; Miamis from St. Joseph ; Illinois from River Illinois ; Abenakis from Acadia, and many allied tribes of less account. These sang, whooped and harangued in their several accents. Their features were different ; so were their manners, their weapons, their decorations, their dances. P2ach savage was painted in diverse hues and patterns, and each ap- peared in his dress of ceremony — leather shirt fringed with .scalp-locks, colored blanket, robe of bison-hide or beaver-skin, bristling crest of hair or long lank tresses, eagle feathers or skins of beasts. A young lOI n r< m ir# 1 i DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. Algonquin warrior, in the dress of a Canadian, was crowned with drooping scarlet feathers and a tall ridge of hair like a cock's crest. A chief of the Foxes, whose face was painted red, wore an elaborate Fiv-nch wig, the abundant curls of which were in a state of complete entanglement. He persisted in bowing right and left with great affability, lifting his wig like a hat to show that he was perfect in French politeness. The Indians, feathered, greased and painted, were seated in close ranks on the grass, braves, chiefs and sachems gravely smoking their pipes in silence. Troops, making the best possible show, were drawn up in lines along the sides. At one side, under a canopy of boughs and leaves, were seats for the spec- tators ; these were occupied by ladies, officials, and the principal citizens of Ville Marie. In front was placed a chair for the Governor-General. The French yielded themselves up readily to the spirit of the occasion. The whole community had recently passed through unheard-of sufferings, yet on the appearance of the faintest gleam of sunshine the colonists were ready to smile, to deck themselves out in their bravest, to seize eagerly all the brightness of the hour. Eyes and jewels flashed, brocades rustled, feathers waved, and here and there was a shimmer of filmy lace. In carf and coif, ladies whose noble man- ners, stately bearing and sparkling wit would have fitly graced the Court of Versailles, whose elegant and ingenious coquetries were the product of the 102 THE COUNCIL. most finished civilization, promenaded, escorted by- officers bedecked with gold and silver lace and all the martial foppery rendered necessary by the eti- quette of the day. " Vive M. le Comte de Frontenac ! It is M. le Gouverneur who has saved us from the clutches of those vultures, the Iroquois ! Yes, and opened the fur trade, that we may not starve ! Vive le Gouvern- eur ! " shouted the crowd. Frontenac's gallantry and open-handed liberality, his success in dealing with the Indians, the prosperity which his policy had brought to Canada, rendered him the idol of the populace, who had not been blinded by jealousy or rent by internal divisions, as were the officials, civil, military and ecclesiastical, all of whom apparently wanted to obtain aid from the Government. In the upper classes every man had a grievance against somebody or something, of which he was continually writing complaints to France. These bickerings and animosities added, at least, a spice of variety to the life of the colony. A detachment of guards in the King's livery pre- ceded the Governor, who was surrounded by a biilliant retinue of young nobles, gorgeous in lace and ribbons. Louis de Buade, Comte de Frontenac, Chevalier de I'Ordre de St. Louis and Governor- General of New France, had already attained his seventieth year, though the alert, decided movements of the bold and impetuous .soldier showed no diminu- tion of vitality. He represented the best type of 103 II. i n DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. li' m I: French courtier and gentleman soldier of the reign of /e Grand Monarque. A fine martial figure, erect and vigorous, the natural distinction of his mien and pose, the assured ease of look and manner, marked him as one familiar with the usages of courts. His keen black eyes shone beneath a broad brow upon which the years, with their many troubles, had traced scarcely a wrinkle. The Roman nose, thin lips, and firm, prominent chin, imparted a severe and imperious expression to his face. He wore a wig, lightly pow- dered, with long ringlets falling on either side of his face, crowned by a three-cornered hat bordered with gold. His fine red surtout and short embroidered vest were of the latest fashion ; his loosely knotted cravat was of point lace, while his white and delicate hands were partly concealed by falling ruffles of the same. He wore shoulder and sword knots. A broad belt, inlaid with gold, fell from his right shoulder, encircling the waist, and held a sword whose hilt, resting upon the left hip, glittered with jewels. His shapely limbs showed to advantage in long black silk stockings and shoes with jewelled buckles. The Gov- ernor had a decided taste for splendor and profusion, delighting in brilliancy of clothing and luxury of service. All his surroundings presented as much pomp and magnificence as the slender resources of the colony would permit. This was an hour of triumph precious to the daring and potent spirit of the French noble, who fully perceived the force of his own position. Some time before he had been recalled 104 iii THE COUNCIL. in disgrace owing to the machinations of his enemies, and during his absence the colony's fortunes had fallen to their very lowest ebb ; he had now returned to taste the sweetness of success, and even his foes were forced to acknowledge the beneficial results which his policy had already achieved. Near the Governor stood the interpreters, whose services where constantly required, while scattered about were a number of Canadian officers nearly every man of whom had been the hero of some mar- vellous exploit. Here was the Chevalier de Calli^re, Governor of Ville Marie, dark and haughty, almost as imperious as Frontenac himself, a man respected by the savages and adored by his own men. His rival, de Vaudreuil, a fluent, voluble Gascon, was in attend- ance upon the beautiful Louise de Joybert of Quebec, who was soon to become his bride, and had little attention to give to the animated conversation of d'Ailleboust de Mousseaux, Civil and Criminal Magis- trate of Ville Marie, and his brother d'Ailleboust de Mantet, who had won laurels at the taking of Sche- nectady. All three courteously saluted Boisberthelot de Becancourt and Augustin le Gardeur de Coutre- manche as they passed. Leaning on his sword stood the Sieur d'Hertel, who at the head of fifty Canadians and savages had taken Salmon Falls during the winter of 1690. Near by, Boucher de Boucherville, who with forty-six Frenchmen had held the fort of Three Rivers against five hundred Iroquois, was holding animated discussion with the Sieur de 105 I (3 .,\-ii ti !' ■ 'i '> 1;, ',, ; 1 I !■ i' 1 1 ii DIANE OF VILI.K MARIE. Montigny, whose body bore traces of conflict in in- numerable wounds, and who in command of only twelve Canadians had taken forcible possession of Portugal Cove, and with M. de Pontneuf, son of the Baron de Becancourt, the preceding winter had gallantly silenced the eight cannon defending Casco. On one side the Sieurs de Beaujeu, de St. Ours, Baby de Rainville, de Lanandiere, De.schambault, Chartier de Lobini^re, d'Estimanville, de la Brossee, Repentigny de Montesson, Captains Subercase, d'Orvilliers, Sieur de Valrennes, and his lieutenant, M. Dupuy, con- versed with something emphatically Gallic in their vivacious gestures and absorbed faces. The clergy were also well represented. Talking to the Marquise de Monesthrol appeared Dollier de Casson, Superior of the Seminary, gigantic in stature, hearty of voice, with bold, brown, earnest face, frank and simple in expression. He had been a cavalry officer, and had fought bravely .under Turenne ; the soldier and the gentleman still lived under the priest's hassock. Father Joseph Denys, Superior of the Recollets, benign and jovial, basking openly in the Governor's favor, eyed jealously askance by the Jesuits, stood close behind Frontenac. Father Denys had to a great extent shared the Governor- General's disgrace ; the period of Frontenac's banish- ment had proved evil days for the Recollets, and their Superior would have been more than human had he not exulted in their present exaltation. In a gioup apart stood Jacques Le Ber, Le Moyne 1 06 THE COUNCIL. de Longueuil, La Chesnaye, de Niverville and Aubert de Gasp6. Some of these men had been the Governor's most resolute antagonists during his first term of office, and were not at all sure of the ground upon which they were treading or the turn which affairs were likely to take. Now ensued a striking scene, an essential prelim- inary to the treaty which the Governor-General hoped to conclude with the Indians. Few white men have ever surpassed the Count in skill in dealing with the aborigines. Those who had succeeded to his position after his recall to France had utterly failed in this direction. The only hope of maintaining this little settlement planted in the wilderness was in in- ducing the other Indian tribes to unite in a deter- mined resistance to the encroachments of the Iro- quois. He now listened to their orators with gravest attention, as though weighing every word that was uttered. When, in his turn, he addressed them with an air of mingled kindness, firmness and conde- scension that inspired them with respect, their ex- pressions of approval came at every pause in his address. Then with the same ceremonious grace with which he might have bowed before Louis the Magnificent, the Governor grasped the hatchet brandished it skilfully in the air, and in a clear, strong voice, intoned the war-song. To a punctilious courtier the position might have seemed utterly absurd, but Frontenac was a man of the world in the widest sense, and as much at home in a wigwam 107 ■1 ! ■ :l:l,! DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. as in the halls of princes ; as a diplomat he retained a clear, logical perception of all the facts of the situation. Many, under such circumstances, would have lost respect by an undignified performance, but the Count's native tact enabled him to harmonize the most incongruous elements ; the faculty of imita- tiveness, the utter absence of self-consciousness, the determination faithfully to execute a disagreeable duty, served his purpose. Instead of exciting ridicule his achievements delighted the Indians, aroused his friends to enthusiasm, and extorted a reluctant admiration even from the most determined of his opponents. " This poor M. le Gouverneur ! he possesses my sincere sympathy. Figure to yourself how these cries and howls, worse indeed than those made by the wild beasts of the forest, must prove trying to the throat," remarked the Marquise, with a sincere appreciation of the loyalty involved in undergoing so very objec- tionable an ordeal. The principal officers present followed the example of their chief ; indeed, not a little ambition was shown as to who should go through the ceremony with the most perfect accuracy, and some of the younger members of the party, who had become familiar with forest life, displayed much agility and derived ap- parent enjoyment from the ceremony. At first the savages stood stolid, silent, making no response to the invitation extended to them. It was an interval of anxious suspense. Suddenly the 1 08 THE COUNCIL. Christian Iroquois of the two neighboring missions rose and joined the Frenchmen ; then, as though im- pelled by some irresistible impulse, the Hurons and Algonquins of Lake Nipissing did the same. One wild tribe after another followed this example, until the whole troop joined in the stamping and screeching like an army of madmen, and the Governor with grave dignity led the dance, stamping and whooping like the rest. The heathen allies at last were thoroughly aroused. With the wildest enthusiasm they snatched the proffered hatchet and swore war to the death against the common enemy. Then came a solemn war-feast. Barrels of wine with abundant supplies of tobacco were served out to the guests. Two oxen and several large dogs had been chopped to pieces for the occasion and boiled with a quantity of prunes. Kettles were carried in, and their steaming contents ladled into the wooden bowls with which each provident guest had supplied himself Seated in a ring on the grass, the Indians began eagerly to devour the food placed before them. It was a point of conscience not to flinch, and they gorged themselves until they fairly choked with re- pletion. It was not a pleasant sight, yet the colonists regarded it with some complacency, seeing that it meant prosperity and security against danger. i 9 109 r I &i III.- ilk: M i I CHAPTER XL THE ANNUAL FAIR. THE following day witnessed the opening of the great Annual Fair. Trade was in full activity ; never had Canada known a more prosperous com- merce than now in the midst of her dangers and tribulations. That very morning, to the overwhelm- ing joy of the citizens of Ville Marie, Le Durantaye, late Commandant at Michillimackinac, arrived with fifty canoes, manned by French traders and filled with valuable furs. Merchants of high and low degree had brought up their most tempting goods from Quebec, and every inhabitant of Montreal of any substance sought by every means in his power to gain a share of the profit. The booths were set along the palisades of the town, and each had an expert interpreter, to whom the trader usually promised a certain portion of his gains. The payment was in card money — common playing cards — each stamped with a crown and d^fleur de lys. The newly arrived French bushrangers were the heroes of the hour and appeared to enjoy their popularity. All the taverns were full. The coureurs de bois conducted themselves like the crew of a no THE ANNUAL FAIR. man-of-war paid off after a long voyage, and their fellow-countrymen, in the prevailing good-humor of the moment, willingly condoned their excesses. Many of them were painted and feathered like their wild Indian companions, whose ways they imitated with perfect success. Some appeared bru- tally savage, but often their bronzed countenances expressed only dare-devil courage and reckless gaiety. " These gentry will live like lords, and set no bounds to their revelry as long as their beaver-skins last ; then they will starve till they can go off to the countries up above there to seek a fresh supply. Swaggering, spending all their gains on dress and feasting, they even try to imagine themselves nobles, and despise the honest peasants, whose daughters they will not marry, even though they are themselves peasant-born," said one priest to another, as he eyed with evident disapproval the noisy, reckless crew. The windows on St. Paul Street were thrown open and crowded with ladies ; the benches before every door were thronged. One woman of tho poorer sort had a half-dressed baby in her arms ; another a lettuce that she was washing ; a third held a little bowl of soup, which she ate in the street, gesticulat- ing with such frantic energy that her sabots rattled on the stones. All dreaded to lose any part of the show. The gathering about the market-place represented all classes and conditions. There were merchants engaged in serious negotiations, grave priests of St. Ill 1 i I I' DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. PI \k : r ?: ^ ■; ')il t ' "i l^: i ill 1 :> B| (W ' 1. ii ^•- |]B i ^jflj vf w -1 1 1 1 s 1 1 Sulpice, suave, smiling Jesuits, plump, good-humored Recollets. Gentlemen critically examined the crowd as it passed, exchanging salutations with friends and acquaintances, commenting with the slyest of chuckles upon the appearance of the ladies. Habitants, in plain, coarse attire, and their brown buxom wives, more gaily attired, chattered volubly. Indians stalked about with stoical and haughty composure. Children, in close caps without borders, and long-waisted gowns and vests, an exact imitation of the dress of their elders, shouted and gambolled with all the exuberance of youth. Plumed soldiers swaggered jauntily about, arquebus on shoulder. Licensed beggars abounded, wearing ostentatiously their certificate of poverty signed by some local judge or cure. French musi- cians with drum, trumpet and cymbal did their best to swell the tumult. " All this tintamarre presages well for the colony," decided Nanon as she followed her mistress. " Beaver- skins and trade and money, it means absolutely the same thing, and all good in their way. I like not the way things are going, either. My poor little generous demoiselle ! That soft, sleek, splendid cat of an Eng- lish girl, for all her feigned innocence, still makes eyes at the Sieur du Chesne. Is it only I who have eyes to spy her tricks ? For me, I waste not my breath on the melancholy ; no patience have I for jeremiads. Tell not your secret in the eyes of the cat, but it is I, Nanon Benest, who will at once sew in the lappet of that gallant's coat an image of St. 112 THE ANNUAL FAIR, Felix to secure him from charms and lead him in the right way. And it was I who dreaded the evil eye from the first." " Oui-da ! oui-da I we are in despair for time, my friends. Shall we then lose the chance of making a sou when it alights at our very door — we who have been breaking our hearts for trade so long," panted a stout woman, followed by two sturdy lads, as she reso- lutely pushed her way through the crowd. " Place, there, ma bibiche." Nanon reddened and flouted like an enraged turkey gobbler at this unceremonious address. " Thy bibiche ! indeed, that were an honor to be coveted. I know thee, wife of Chauvin the younger, whose son Louis was turned back from his confirma- tion for running the woods when he should have been ringing the bells. And old Pepin, who is like a sour crab-apple. Scaramouch ! knowest thou to whom thou speakest ? " The struggling, jesting, good-humored assembly found no lack of diversion. Two men, who had been arrested for theft, were exposed in the pillory, each having on his chest a record of the offence committed. One, a sturdy rogue to whom such correction was likely enough not a novelty, looked boldly around with a certain humorous appreciation of the situa- tion ; the other, younger and more sensitive to the shame of his position, sat with bowed head and downcast eyes, while a herald, after beating a drum to call attention to the announcement, proclaimed aloud: 113 8 rrl III I'M DIANK OK VILLE MARIE. I:!- I ,f( , . *"■ u • « ■ |r ■ ■'" . |. ■ 'hi ^to i \i^-- r ' I 1 1 im ^■ I '^ i ' '' De par le rot. Know, then, nobles, citizens, peasants, that by order of His Majesty the King, Candide Bourdon and Xavier Cointet, accused and found guilty of theft, are condemned to two days in the pillory and two hundred livres damages, payable to the religious ladies of the Hotel-Dieu." The crowd cast mud and abuse liberally at the culprits, and Migeon the bailiff, an imposing person- age in the dignity of his uniform, contemplated the whole affair with an easy and affable air of pro- prietorship. Bayard the notary — a man of conse- quence in the town as being thoroughly conversant with everybody's business affairs ; lean and brown and wrinkled, wearing narrow robes with a collar almost ecclesiastical in appearance, and waistband to match, whose brown wig in the ardor of controversy was constantly being pushed crooked — was settling a dispute between two traders, who in their eagerness seemed ready to tear the mediator to pieces. In another spot, to the intense delight of the populace, the effigies of two Indians were being consumed in a roaring fire. Sentence of death had been passed upon two savages, who, escaping, had regained their native haunts. Justice therefore for the moment was obliged to content herself with wreaking vengeance upon their inanimate representatives. Amid all this throng du Chesne found friends and companions of every degree. His father, a man of sound rather than brilliant qualities, was respected, but was too cautious and distrustful to be liked 114 THE ANNUAL FAIR. except by those who knew him well. His brother Pierre was reverenced as a saint but despised as a man. It was du Chesne who monopolized the popu- larity accorded to the family. His charming light- ness of manner expressed confidence rather than carelessness ; he was interested in everybody's con- cerns and carried about with him a buoyancy of spirit which acted like a tonic upon all with whom he came in contact. Jean Ameron, Le Ber's valet, was describing to a .soldier recently arrived from France the burning of four Indian.s, which had taken place not long before at the Jesuit Square. " This is nothing to look at," pointing to the .squirming bundles of clothes rapidly being consumed by the flame.s. " The.se people of whom I am telling you exhibited a marvellous courage and endurance. That is the Indian fashion. But, see you, faith of Jean Ameron, that was something to laugh at. Their agony lasted six hours, during which they never ceased to sing their own warlike deeds. Four brothers, they were, the large.st and handsomest men I ever saw." " Burned to death ? " inquired the soldier. " No, not precisely that. It was a form of torment the Indians themselves have invented. They were tied to stakes, driven deep into the earth, and every one of our savage allies, aye, and some Frenchmen, too — in truth, I myself also took part in the affair, and it requires courage to touch an Iroquois — even "5 I [i 1- 1 ' "■!! I i •!,.] ii':n ^ DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. iMJi V' ■'■ I , I! r II Iji [|. , :M when tied to a stake he might get loose, and their looks are like those of demons. Every one of us, believe you, armed himself with a piece of iron heated red-hot, with which we scorched all the bodies of the heathens from head to foot." " Yes, fault of me, too- well treated were those pagans," interrupted a sunburnt voyageur, whose head was adorned with waving red feathers, " Drink- ing brandy that disappeared down their throats as quickly as though it had been poured into a hole made 1.1 the earth. They were provided with all they desired." " Bah ! that explains itself ; the brandy was to deaden their sufferings," added a woman standing by. '' Better chance had those heathens than many Chris- tians. The Fathers baptized them, addressing merely a few brief words of exhortation (for to do more would be merely washing a death's head), and free from their sins they ascended straight to Heaven." Suddenly, while trade and amusement were in the full tide of activity, high above the babble of chatter- ing and bargaining and the echo of jovial laughter rose the death-cry. Instantly every sound and motion ceased ; it was as though a sudden spell had fallen upon the busy gathering, an awed, breathless silence. Once, twice, eight times it was heard, rising and falling in weird cadences. Its significance was perfectly comprehended by the listeners, most of whom were habituated to modes of savage warfare. This was the signal given by a war-party returning ii6 THE ANNUAL FAIR. in triumph with the scalps of eight enemies. Every man snatched his weapon, and for a time all was confusion. Among the authorities hurriedly whis- pered consultations took place, then, inspired by a sudden and irresistible impulse, soldiers, priests, traders, Indians, women and children, all rushed off in the direction whence the sound proceeded. A man of gigantic stature, painted, greased and feathered like an Indian, and almost as swarthy of complexion, strode forward with a majestic air of composure, as though enjo)'ing a happy sense of his own importance. In one hand he held eight long sticks from which were suspended a like number of lank waving tresses. In front of him, tied together like children in leading strings, walked two squaws with downcast eyes, whose resigned and stoical coun- tenances looked as though carved out of wood. " Who can this be ? " each one asked his neighbor. " He is one of ours, a Frenchman." Suddenly among the voyageurs a cry arose. " It is Dubocq, or his spirit — no, it is Dubocq, yes, truly, Dubocq ! " Then they raised a resounding shout of welcome — "Vive Dubocq ! our brave Dubocq, our champion against our enemies ! " ' 5 ( 1 t . i ill 1 ^'"', 1 Iff t\ i *! § Ifit J 117 i ■,; CHAPTER XII. fi; ■ 1. A CANADIAN BUSHRANGER. DUBOCQ smiled condescendingly upon the enthusiasm with which his appearance was greeted ; he accepted with sedateness the embraces and warm congratulations of his friends, but, perfectly conscious of his own dignity, resolutely refused to divulge any of the particulars of his story until he reached M. de Calliere, Governor of Ville Marie. Lydia, by nature timid, had no idea of controlling her fears when comfort and succor of an especially pleasant description were close at hand. She now clung to du Chesne for protection, her face irradiated by a lovely expression, half smiles, half tears. Did ever sculptor chisel a mouth where all sweet graces curved more bewitchingly ? The young man noted the upward sweep of the long lashes, the exquisite flush deepening in the cheeks and melting into the warm whiteness of brow and chin and throat. How engaging this clinging helplessness was ! " He is a savage ! " the English girl exclaimed with a shiver, " I shall never get over my terror of r". Indians." Du Chesne's glowing eyes rested on her face ; the ii8 A CANADIAN BUSHRANGER. ■ I fervent glance cheered and strengthened her. Lydia required to be supported constantly, and she enjoyed the exhilarating sensation. " No, Mademoiselle, he is of our own country. His grandfather was a Frenchman from Normandy, who married a squaw, Marie Arontio, daughter of the first Huron chief baptized by the sainted Father de Breboeuf Ah ! Mademoiselle, but that was a martyr worthy of the faith ! Sainte Marie Madeleine, a nun of the Ursulines, in Quebec, is Dubocq's sister. He has always been considered one of our best fighters, an adept in Indian modes of warfare, and a man of great courage and extraordinary strength. Some years ago he was taken prisoner by our enemies, and as time went on and nothing was heard of him, all believed him dead. That was a genuine loss for the colony ; we could ill afford to spare one of our best champions ; hence his return occasions so much rejoicing. He has contrived to escape the clutches of the most ferocious savages in the world, at whose hands he could expect nothing but agonizing tor- ments." The crowd, following the bushranger with shouts and cheers, proceeded up St. Joseph Street to the residence of M. de Calliere. The Count de Frontenac, attended by several members of his suite, happened to be within. Disturbed by the noise, the party, led by M. de Calliere, hurried to the door to inquire into the cause of the commotion. " What have we here ? " asked the Governor- 119 m I'M \n .\v ■'■'■4 ;l| m tv 1 1 1 1 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. General, who possessed a singular faculty for endear- ing himself to the populace by being interested in all his surroundings. " Dubocq ! Dubocq has returned ! Dubocq ! Vive our champion, Dubocq ! " The forest rover with composed assurance advanced to exhibit his trophies, and in answer to the Gover- nor's enquiries, recounted the history of his exploits with much natural eloquence. " I was taken prisoner by the Iroquois," he began, '' and for a long time I labored as their slave. They found my strength useful in many ways. For me, I devoured my heart in silence, M. le Comte, for no way of escape seemed possible, and if it was my fate to perish in the hands of those demons, why, there was no more to be said. So I was waiting with what patience I could muster for the fatal moment in which I was to be burnt alive. It happened on an occasion when I was engaged in hunting with eight braves and two squaws " — (here he indicated with a gesture his two female companions, who had never even raised their eyes or given the slightest indication that they knew their fate was trembling in the balance) — " we camped in a spot where they had hidden a quantity of liquor. Having been on two war expeditions in which they had performed prodigies of valor, they had succeeded in enriching themselves at their enemies' expense, and were at the time visiting the liquor as a rest and indulgence after much privation. Desiring to carry nothing with them but their arms 120 A CANADIAN BUSHRANGER. and ammunition, they had been fasting for many days ; so, as you may imagine, M. le Comte, those wolves were not inclined to be very abstemious." "It is the custom of these pagans to swallow brandy at a gulp, easier than we take light wine at our most jovial parties," whispered Jean Ameron to his friend, who was a keenly interested spectator of all that was going on. " After supper," continued the hero of the occasion, " they commenced drinking and singing, according to their own ideas of enjoyment. Considering me as a victim about to be sacrificed to their vengeance, they invited me to join their orgy, with the comforting assurance that it would be my last opportunity, as they had decided to put an end to me at once. Being for the moment all companions in pleasure, they sang loudly, with joyful hearts celebrating their victories. They persisted in forcing quantities of the liquor on me. Though in usual well inclined to drink, I restrained my inclination, knowing that should I become helpless my fate would be at once sealed. After raising the brandy to my mouth I allowed it to spill, and as the wigwam was illuminated only by the uncertain light of the fire, the savages did not notice my evasion of their hospitable intentions. By this means I retained my composure, while by the middle of the night my companions, whose heads were heated by drink and the war-songs they had sung, were overcome by sleep. I made no movement, but feigned to be the drunkest of all the party, though 121 r if J ■Mm II Fj?"^ DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. Il: i^ i). 4,^ ISr ffli IfSf ■, LJf' ^l,i ir- watching quietly like a fox. Faith of Dubocq ! the Iroquois and I, we know each other well, and here it was a question of life and death. I debated seriously whether when I found them all helpless, completely at my mercy, I should profit at once by my liberty, or whether before leaving I should send those ten heathen to the land of souls. As for the braves, that meant eight enemies less for the colony. Then, M. le Gouverneur, ladies, gentlemen and friends," with a grandiloquent flourish of the hand towards the un- happy prisoners, who still stood mute, like bronzed images of resignation, " then I resolved to spare these women as being unworthy a man's vengeance, and also as witnesses of my triumph. " Via ! I commenced by tying the squaws tightly together, comprehending well that, having smaller brains than the men, they were more easily intoxi- cated and consequently more difficult to awaken. And, I assure you, they had not stinted themselves in the use of the liquor. I resolved to make sure, how- ever, trusting my fate to no chance which I had power to provide against. In order to try if their sleep were really so profound as it appeared, I held pieces of flaming wood close to their faces ; but, behold ! not a movement, not so much as the quiver of an eyelash. My opportunity had come ; it but depended upon the strength of my own arm to escape death by torture. ^ h T'o seen that ; I know what it is ; so do many of y ui, iriy friends." r .e crowd responded to this appeal by a quick sympathetic murmur. 122 A CANADIAN BUSHRANGER. " Many of us have witnessed the death of oiir com- rades, many bear scars of the wounds inflicted by those wolves. That thought nerved my heart. Arm- ing myself with a heavy hatchet, I dealt one warrior after another a deadly blow, and that with the greatest rapidity. If one should awaken and give the alarm, then I was lost. Tiens ! it was all finished in a crack. It was a cold butchery, I grant you, M. le Comte, but what will you, then ? The choice lay between my death and theirs. Imagine to yourself when a man fights in the name of his lord the King, his Lord God, the holy saints and angels, and his own safety. I owed the Iroquois man)' a debt, and I endeavored honestly to pay them all. " I tried vainly to awaken the two women, who still slept soundly. Then I sat down to smoke my pipe and indulge in many pleasant memories of the home which I had never thought to see again. We had still a long and dangerous journey before us, so it was necessary to set about making preparations. Next morning when the two women regained their senses I allowed them to perceive that a change had taken place in the position of affairs — that they had at the one stroke become widows and my slaves. I could not suppose that they were pleased by the course of events, but they said little. I assured them that I would spare their lives on condition that they would bear witness to the truth of my story, and they agreed with the best possible resignation. I may make them my compliments on their docility ; never have 123 ■iii\ ml 'm i 'mgt> ■I If m m h '■! ai I m m DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. they troubled me with useless lamentations. When I had adjusted my scalps to my taste — and you will perceive, M. le Comte, that they are arranged in true savage fashion — I took them and my prisoners and started upon my journey." "Vive, Dubocq, who has killed eight Iroquois at a blow ! Vive Dubocq ! " shouted the excited and sym- pathetic crowd. " But they are monsters ! One hears onl>' of shedding of blood." In her agitation Lydia had seized hold of du Chesne's hand, at which a thrill went through the young man's veins. " All this is far removed from you ; it is not fit that you should hear such tales. You should be sur- rounded by scenes of peace and tenderness. Cannot you trust yourself to my care, my sweet Lydia ? " he urged tenderly. The young Canadian felt himself completely fas- cinated by this fair childish beauty. There was something in the girl's guileless expression, the sight of her hair flowing in waves of gold over the shapely shoulders, that ensnared his heart. Then his efforts at consolation were so very successful, and were so gratefully received, that he could not fail to be thor- oughly satisfied. Diane de Monesthrol might accept tribute of general admiration if it pleased her to do so ; for his part, he preferred the sweetly feminine creature who was pleased to receive rather than confer distinction. Frontenac, himself a brave man, had always shown 124 A CANADIAN BUSHRANGER cordial sympathy for the reckless cnura<:jc of the voyageurs and bushrangers. He now readil)' gave utterance to his commendatif)ns. " Ta, ta, ta ! bravel)' done, m)' fine fellow. These are the sort of defenders that Canada requires ; would that we had many more of them. Eight enemies killed at a stroke ! He is a Canadian hero ; we owe him the thanks of the colon)-." "£"/ par le corbeau,'' grumbled Jean Ameron, who made desperate but futile attempts to imitate the soldiers in the jaunty swagger of their manner. " Heroes, like .saints, are cheap in this country. To kill eight Iroquois, that were easily enough done — just one .sharp blow skilfully directed, and all is over. Little more effort is required than for killing a mouse. Thirty livres, no less, is the price paid for each scalp ; two hundred and forty livres will this bird of prey receive from the Government. It was but chance that placed the occasion in Dubocq's way. Some are favored by luck ; I could myself do as much as that." " Jean, my friend, thou art not of those whose light is suffered to hide under bushels," protested the soldier. " Maitre Bourdon, hast thou good wine at thy tavern ? " demanded Frontenac. " But yes, plenty, and of the most excellent, M. le Comte ; of many kinds also, to suit all tastes — Vin de Greve, both the white and the red, wine of Xeres, 125 1' il'' r I { DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. Muscat—" the little fat man was delighted to seize the opportunity of proclaiming the prime quality of his wares. " Drink, then, my friends, to the health of His Majesty, and to that of the brave Dubocq, not for- getting the prosperity of Canada, and confusion to our enemies, the Iroquois ! " fN il If- m 126 CHAPTER XIII. PIERRE'S TEMPTATION. THE grounds attached to Jacques Le Ber's house were laid out partly as a flower and partly as a kitchen garden. They were divided by broad grav- elled walks, bordered with fragrant herbs and deli- ciously sweet old-fashioned plants. Orange and oleander trees in green boxes stood here and there. Along the side of the wall grew pear trees, currant bushes and grape vines. Sweetness of fragrance and brilliancy of color were everywhere. Over the garden one morning had hung a dense fog, which, lifting, revealed radiant glimpses of blue sky, distant mountain and shining river. The trees, silvered by the light, seemed to rush gladly out of the mist, and the still fleeing remnants of vapor gave grace and movement to every object over which their trembling shadows passed. The air was sweet with growth and blossom, glad with song of birds, quiver of leaves, and flicker of sunshine and shadow. Pierre Le Ber, strolling leisurely down a shady path with his breviary in his hands, his lips moving in silent prayer, resolutely strove to steel his heart against all the harmonies of nature. His tall, slight figure, 127 ■ 1 I '■'1 llilf I. ■I I ^[..i i f ■' ■ I m DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. emaciated by ceaseless vigils and penances, showed the high and narrow forehead, thin-lipped sensitive mouth, and deep dreamy eyes of the enthusiast. As le walked the scAuid of a tender lullaby broke upon his meditations. Instead of soothing him, how- ever, the gentle strains seemed to produce a strangely disturbing effect upon the ascetic's mind. His brow showed deep corrugations, his lips were compressed in quick irritation. With the warm sunshine and the fresh morning air, laden with the .scent of opening blossoms, there .seemed to glide into his sen.ses, to thrill through every vein and nerve, an instinct of hope and consciousness of pleasure, a sensation of peace and easy indulgence alluring as a child's dream. He had been troubled in mind ; now the very air he breathed seemed to offer consolation. Vainly he tried to forget that he was still young, and that the world was beautiful. He was impatient of his own thoughts, and filled with indignant astonishment that after ceaseless efforts to suppress the claims of the body such trifles should have power to occupy his mind. As these thoughts crowded upon poor Pierre he made a violent effort to fling them from him as some- thing intrusive. He would go away, he would resist this entrancing influence. Turning ha.stily he found himself close to Diane de Monesthrol. She was carrying, easily and lightly, little L^on, the crippled orphan whose parents had both perished at the mas- sacre of Le Chesnaye, and who had himself been grievously maimed by blows from an Indian toma- 128 PIERRE'S TEMPTATION )ocly he ime- lesist •und was .led las- )een |»ma- hawk. His spine was injured, and he had but now been suffering from one of those paroxysms of pain which occasionally tortured him. The violence of the attack over, the child, soothed and exhausted, was falling asleep ; the heavy blue-veined lids were slowly closing, while the girl bent over him with wistful tenderness. She laid the little one down beneath the shade of a vvide-spreading tree, supported by cushions, and then, as she turned, encountered Pierre's earnest gaze. Le Ber's eldest son was seized with a sincere conviction that he would be better away from his father's beautiful ward, yet he stood silent, rooted to the spot. Life ju.st then to Diane was a vague, sweet chaos. Rejoicing in the strength of her ardent youth, it was not easy to accept existence calmly and tranquilly. P^very day the sunshine seemed brighter, the sky above her more blue. It was always to her an amusement to tantalize and provoke Pierre, who was curiously sensitive to every girlish taunt. Professing as he did to despi.se feminine charms, it .seemed a frolic to the girl to show him that he was not so invulnerable as he chose to fancy him.self Diane was aware that Anne Barroy was peering anxiously from a side window, and Anne's sharp, jealous eyes had already detected the weakness which the young man could never have been brought to acknowledge. It was like a child heedlessly playing with fire, for she had formed no conception of what strong human passion might mean. Just to tease Pierre was the 9 J29 ' I ^'^f % HI DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. * It.* Ilil ^ rt- l:i:tf ^ Vf. ■ ^r,'A ^ it' ■ i5f i'i*l: itt 'i' i 1 impulse of the moment — a thing which she had done a hundred times before and never bestowed a thought upon. Long years afterwards, looking back on her life, it seemed to Diane that on that fragrant summer day, in Le Ber's sunny garden, she had taken leave forever of her free and careless youth. "It is thus I would always see you, Diane," Pierre exclaimed eagerly, " engaged in works of charity," " I take charge of the little Leon simply because Nanon is occupied with Madame la Marquise," Made- moiselle de Monesthrol explained carelessly. " You spend so much time and thought on those thirgs which are unworthy of you," the young man could not forbear exhorting her, " lace and low dresses, fontanges and strange trinkets, the immo- dest curls expressly forbidden by St. Peter and St. Paul, as well as by all the Fathers and Doctors of the Church, the pomp of sin, the favorite devices of Satan. In their wish to please men, women make themselves the instruments and captives of the arch fiend." Diane flashed a swift, bright^. audacious glance at him. " Do the ladies try to win your favor, cousin ? I thought they all feared you. You must acknowledge I have never shown any desire to please you." . In the still sunny air, in the warmth and glow of a life which he could not stifle, standing face to face with the loveliest eyes he had ever seen, Pierre found himself engaged in an unusual conflict, and felt he 130 PIERRE'S TEMPTATION. must utter a vehement protest against the fatal, alluring attraction. The peculiar susceptibility to impressions which rendered him pliant to priestly influence al.so gave rise to endless complications against which he had no defence. " Cast from you that levity destructive to the soul," he urged. " But it is levity that I delight in," she replied, tapping a dainty high-heeled shoe upon the gravelled walk. '* One can be young but once. When old age overtakes me I shall devote myself to good works. When that time comes then shall we, perhaps, be better friends ; at that season I may perchance enjoy your sermons, cousin." Pierre strove hard to maintain his tone of gentle superiority and to continue the discussion on a line of persuasive argument, but he was nervously impatient. A tinge of uncertainty was shadowed in his manner, a tumultuous excitement, a badgered, hopeless, still struggling shame. It was not often that he had the opportunity of holding a long conversation with the girl ; he felt obliged to make the best of the occasion. " That is the doctrine of the devil. Canada is in- deed the fold of Christ, but the hosts of this world are beleaguering the sanctuary. Diane, is the glory of the Church to suffer prejudice from your actions ? We are in the midst of sin. Remember that death is close at hand." These words jarred upon Diane's mood. She re- sented Pierre's air of dissatisfied inspection, his 131 ^i I !1 !• ■'•,t pi nm it. A 'it si DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. ■i' i; (li- ;^r 1; In assumption that his own judgment must be funda- mentally and eternally right. " Then let me be happy while I may. All have not the vocation to be saints and martyrs. We are young, the sun shines, life is fair and sweet, and God is good." Pierre looked at her in evident anger, the wrathful disguise of tortured love. His reason was hampered in its action. He was unable to exercise any discrim- inating faculty. There was something pathetic in his insistence, for he plainly perceived that his impor- tunities were unavailing. His desire for sympathy was so urgent and all occupying that he could not thrust it aside. The proud, untamable creature, so arch, so kind, so generous, with her whims and caprices and beauty, alive with spirit and energy, seemed to him the embodiment of all he had re- nounced. Had he only the power to mould her into an entirely different form, to convert her into a blood- less personification of sanctity, he was convinced that he would be saving her soul. " Diane," — he could not control the quivering of his voice — " Diane, the Holy Virgin will transform irito angels all those who have the happiness to abandon the cares of this life. Will you not drink of the living and abounding waters of grace which have flowed so benignly over this land of New France ? Misfortune is about to fall upon this household, how or when I have no power to tell, but it is sorrow and death ; when I would pray, a dark presentiment 132 «i! PIERRE'S TEMPTATION, to weighs my spirit to the earth — there is no escape from it. Diane," he cried with yearning entreaty, " though you have cast in your lot with the world, the robe of God's saints awaits you ; but that means suf- fering deep and terrible, the crucifixion of what is dearest. In my dreams you are ever present, but always among the holy ones, crowned with the ex- ceeding glory of the martyrs worn only by those who have reached the fairest ideal of heaven's attainment, who have risen above all earthly joys and affections." Diane was confused and awed, and withal much annoyed, at this address. It did not touch her as it might have done a woman of wider experience. She had a just faith in her own instincts, and was pos- sessed of all the happy confidence of youth. What had she to do with suffering and misery ? she, Diane de Monesthrol, surrounded by affection, to whom the plant of life was daily blossoming out into fuller per- fection, the happiest girl in all the colony of New France. " Oh ! listen then, cousin, to the tumult in the street." Diane was delighted at the diversion. " Is it the voyageurs ? nay, but it is the gentlemen." •' Vive Henri Quatre, Vive le Roi Vail I ant ^ Ce diable a quatre A le triple talent De boire and de battre Et d^etre un vert galant." 133 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE, m 'Mm- ■ '■ * ' ,1 E5« -m ': i ■ -I t ■ if ml: The jovial strains of the chorus broke on the still- ness of the garden like a disturbing influence. " And the music, cousin, how entrancingly gay ! When I hear the music I must dance ; the desire is stronger than I." Inspired by an impulse of wild mirth and the love of frolic, enlivened by the knowledge that Anne Barroy still kept an inquisitive watch at her shaded window, Diane began to circle and pirouette around the astonished young man. Gradually she sur- rendered herself to the influence of the music, allowing its rhythm to govern her movements. The lithe young form fell into flexible attitudes ; it was a delight to mark the exquisite grace of her gestures, the suppleness of her limbs, the action of her swiftly twinkling feet. This was no wild whirl of abandon- ment ; the smooth, swaying movement was stately and dignified ; but to Pierre it meant the essence of sorcery. Was ever fairer creature formed ? Her at- tractions were vivid, imperious, irresistible. Diane herself was full of intense sensation and susceptibility to every new impression. The color deepened in her soft cheeks. She was no longer a heedless, guileless child ; the soul of a woman, ardent and seductive, flamed in her sweet blue eyes. Pierre flushed with sudden mortification. For an instant he hated the girl and hated himself His glance, first gently pleading, then sternly disapproving, changed swiftly to some keener emotion. He had been toler- ably calm until he reached this point, then the blood 134 PIERRE'S TEMPTATION. began to course hotly through his veins ; he found himself drifting upon wild unknown currents, carried beyond the safe limits of ecclesiastical restraint. " Diane ! Diane ! " he cried, breaking in suddenly as if suffocated. All the girlish fun and mischief faded out of her eyes, Diane de Monesthrol's cheeks flamed with shame and fierce resentment. What did this new light of revelation mean ? In her careless- ness had she cruelly injured the son of one who had been her protector? Who was Pierre that he should dare to look at her with such eyes? She could have killed him as he stood. With the keen quivering of heart and soul she gained a glimpse of some of the deeper things of life. " Hola ! Diane and — and Pierre ! " As he parted the branches of the thicket and stood revealed before the actors in this extraordinary scene, his surprise quite as great as their own, du Chesne's expression of utter consternation was so extremely comic that Diane broke into peals of ringing laughter. This added the last touch to Pierre's misery. A sud- den panic and horror seized him, furrowing his coun- tenance as if with the action of years. As his brother's frank glance rested on him, giddy, as if buffeted by wind and tide in the midst of heat and passion, he paused with a convulsive shiver. He was conscious of falling from a great height to dread discomfiture and humiliation. The girl's beauty had kindled an emotion which glowed in his brain, leaped like wild- fire from conjecture to conclusion, and carried all 135 l!i t'. i hH. DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. before it in an irresistible exhilaration. This was succeeded by the inevitable reaction. A sob, sup- pressed yet unrestrainable, escaped him. All three, the girl and the two young men, moved by a common instinct, glanced apprehensively up at the window whc*" , from the heights of superior sanctity, the reclu.se mi;^ht be looking down upon the trivial worldly passions and interests of her kindred. Pierre disappeared. Diane would have been glad to do the same, but mental! . pulling herself together she con- quered the c'^warar- impulse and sank panting down on the grass, shim«::l to the depths of her soul by du Chesne'.' look c^ mingk;' • vender and reproach. 1. '1 w il'r i II ■I! |l 136 CHAPTER XIV. AN AWAKENING. (( w AS it a new step you were teaching him?" asked du Chesne. " But, no, it cannot be — not Pierre, who disapproves of worldly amuse- ments." " That melancholy death's head of a Pierre, he pro- fes.ses to despise women ; he is never content with me ; he has dared to sermonize me and I punished him," Diane roused herself to explain defiantly, instinctively resenting the youth's questioning gaze. " But, Pierre — I cannot understand — Pierre is a saint — he will scarcely raise his eyes to look at any human being — his lips utter only prayers." " And they are indeed detestable, these saints," she returned petulantly. " Surely you would respect the virtues of those holy ones. We may not be very perfect, we others, but they accumulate perfections for us. Who can say how much we owe them ? " Du Chesne was staunch to his teaching and tradi- tions. His voice had a caressing sound when he spoke to women. A smile now parted his lips as he threw himself on the grass beside her. 137 DIANE OF VILLE MARIK m. n ■ f • ■ m M i till f II PT :' 8 II " Pierre is like other men," Diane exclaimed with laconic positiveness. The audacity of the reply startled the young man. He watched her with eager, wistful scrutiny. Du Chesne was not an intellectual man, but his percep- tions were swift and keen. Could it be possible that Diane loved Pierre, and that this affection had ren- dered her insensible to the attractions of the numerous lovers who had already sighed at her feet ? It was a startling supposition, overturning some of his fixed ideas, but it would certainly account for many of the caprices which had puzzled him. He was loyal to the core, with a jealous and fervid allegiance both to his brother and to the girl who had held the place of a sister. Pierre was bound by solemn vows to an ascetic life — could he be willing to decline to what he would choose to consider a lower plane? Diane's affection was certainly a prize worth obtaining. No doubt it would all come right in some way. The glamor proceeding from the indefinite brightness of youth, certain bewitching and yet intangible possibili- ties which had enthralled his own imagination, dis- posed him to accept the most hopeful view of the situation. And, after all, the hypothesis might not be built on sufficient foundation. "And Crisasi, too," he continued, speaking without reflection, awkwardly and anxiously. There were curious lines of perplexity on his brow. " Oh ! the Chevalier is really too absurd ; at his best he is only doleful — never amusing. And you 138 Si t AN AWAKENING. know it is the plain duty of a man to show himself amusing." Diane strove to speak lightly, notwith- standing the rising tremor in her throat. Why should there be any restraint in the frank, pleasant comrade- ship which had united them since childhood ? Du Chesne plainly comprehended none. He was so kind, so cordial, so honestly satisfied with his own good in- .tentions, that it was difficult to hold him at a distance. He held an inveterate objection to inconsistencies of every description, and tried to reconcile two appar- ently conflicting tendencies in the girl, to whom he was sincerely attached. A vague resolve that had been floating through his mind suddenly assumed definite proportions. " Crisasi is a brave and gallant gentleman ; none in the colony is more respected. If amusement is a necessity, choose such fops as d'Ordieux, and leave alone the men you have power to pain. Spare the Chevalier, Diane, he is a disappointed and heart- broken man." " You are as bad as Pierre ! That is not like you, du Chesne." Mademoiselle de Monesthrol was sud- denly aroused. The blood in a rich carmine flood mantled over her delicate face ; her eyes dilated, deepened, darkened, until their soft blue changed to black. What was this man's frankly expressed dis- approval to her that she should thrill and tremble at his words. A terrible dread, latent in her heart, now ran through her throbbing veins, her entire being quickened by that thrill of feeling which is at once 139 ill •\ -1' '1': H ' 'it ■f .l;| '■'r 4 ^!^JI -li I 1 ! ! If! m M.>i., i li' Itr it: ^^<. ff. dianf: of ville marie. sweetness and keenest pain. A sentiment which she disowned, which she had fought desperately and per- sistently, inch by inch, had conquered ; yet to hide the wound, to hold up her head, smiling, and, if need be, die hiding it, was the first natural instinct. She did not speak, for her heart was fluttering to her lips and she could not utter a word. Yet to the tender- hearted, wilful creature there was an excitement in, the consciousness of peril. Detection might be worse than death ; still to dare discovery, to push danger to the very verge of exposure, furnished a thrilling agi- tation which offered relief from pain. Raising her head, as though courting rather than avoiding scrutiny, she met du Chesne's searching gaze with cool non- chalance. " Sainte Dame ! and what is that to me ? " with a gesture of haughty repudiation. " Were I answerable for the disappointments of every gentleman of New France my lot would be indeed a sad one." The clear tones of gentle disdain irritated the young Canadian. He could scarcely restrain a movement of impetuous anger ; and yet, with the characteristic trust of his nature, he tried to believe the best. " Diane, you know not of what you speak. It is your inexperience that causes you to appear cruel. Why, I remember you cried yourself sick when your bird died, and again when Bibelot's paw was hurt — and then the devotion with which you have attended little L6on shows you are no heartless woman. It 140 AN AWAKENING. may be your time has not yet come When it comes, as it surely will, you will then comprehend the mean- ing of true love — the happiness, the suffering, the trust and faith." He spoke eagerly, his glowing boyish heart shining in his eyes. Diane could not mistake the evidence of that fire out of which love is born ; her doubt and pride were suddenly swept away. She had no power to confront this precious and bewildering possibility. All existence was sud- denly raised to brilliancy and interest, as with a sparkling draught of sunlit elixir. In a little closet off from Mademoiselle de Mones- throl's chamber stood a miniature altar. A fair ivory image of Our Lady of Sorrows gleamed white amidst the environment of gorgeous color ; a richly chased silver lamp burned dimly before it, and a jar of spot- less lilies was set beside the prie-dieu with its velvet hassock and Book of Hours. In a fervor of devotion the girl sank down before the altar. " Holy Virgin, bless me ! Make me worthy of the great happiness thou hast given me." '! i f P l;ir Mil 141 m( 1 !' h : \\% ^|i ;! 1": if*; (•I.- f ! :S, ■ '■ i5:'' ;• ".' 1 • h ii w u "V. 1 1 1 "; ' It 1 'i ii ! 1 i i %■■■ j 1 j If' ' a !■■ 1 1 r 11 i^- -^ ^i; i'l ' S- ' ■ ■ ' i .'■i i '■'■; '■ I'"' '•:.'. ■ :■ ' I' I i'l 1 V 1' 1 ; 11'' ^^ !j ih M CHAPTER XV. NANON'S LOVERS. ARRTAGEABLE women were at a premium in the colony. Nanon in her comeliness, activity, and audacity had since her arrival in New France attracted many lovers. Most of these followed her for a while, then, discouraged by her disdain, fell away from their allegiance and married some meeker damsel. The two who had remained most persistently faithful to her charms, patiently enduring her tempers and caprices year after year, were Jean the valet and Baptiste Leroux, familiarly known as Bras de Per. Baptiste was an enormous man, over six feet two in height, and stout in proportion. His round face expressed an exaggeration of simplicity. His beard was black, but the long hair he wore floating on his shoulders was a warm auburn. His eyes, which were nearly always half closed, gave him the appearance of stupidity ; but when moved by any unusual emotion they opened wide, their keen brightness changing the whole character of his countenance. The extreme slowness of his movements imparted an air of apathetic indolence to the massive frame. He wore a striped blue shirt and grey trousers, with a red sash 142 NANON'S LOVERS. knotted around his waist, its fringed ends hanging down on the left side. On his head, winter and summer, was a beaver cap. His feet were protected by Indian boots, the upper part, of sheepskin, drawn up over the trousers, and fastened under the knee by narrow strips of sealskin. The sleeves of his jacket were turned up at the elbows, displaying a pair of huge muscular arms tattooed curiously. Malicious people sometimes insinuated that all the good fellow's force lay in his physical powers, and that his intel- lectual faculties were not of the brightest. The eldest of a family of nineteen children born to a poor colonist, Baptiste had been obliged from early childhood to make his way through the w orld as best he could. When still a very young lad he had entered Le Ber's service, where later he had shared the games and escapades of du Chesnc and his cousins, the young le Moynes, teaching the boys the secrets of woodcraft and the delights of forest life. Afterwards he became a noted coureur de bois, wandering at will through the trackless woods of Canada, the great North-We.st and Louisiana, camp- ing, hunting, fishing, fighting, everywhere renowned among white men and Indians for his unerring skill as a marksman and his extraordinary strength and courage. When severe laws were enacted against the bushrangers, prohibiting that lawless, delightful free- dom of the wilderness to which his heart ever clung, Leroux again took service with the Le Ber family, for whom he felt an unswerving devotion. Among the 143 T ! t J ' 'nil : I < . m M 1 -l||S .. i I I I! r \ DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. colonists many marvellous tales concerning Bras de Par's adventures were told. Even allowing for the exaggeration of national pride, it must be admitted that many of these stories had a substantial founda- tion in fact. Once it happened that on the shores of Lake Champlain Baptiste and a younger brother were taken prisoners by the Iroquois. The Indians, in triumph at having secured so redoubtable an adver- sary, fastened their captives to two oaken stakes planted firmly in the ground. Fancying that Bras de Fer, who was much the stronger of the two, would endure torture the longer, they selected the brother as their first victim. A savage heated his hatchet red hot and applied it to the boy's naked breast. Bap- tiste, resigned to his fate, had prepared to chant his death-song with a stoicism borrowed from his Iroquois foes, but the sight of his brother's torture roused him to superhuman effort. " Forty thousand tribes of demons ! " he shouted, bending himself double, and by a supreme effort bursting the bonds that held him ; then tearing the stake out of the earth, with it he struck down four of the Iroquois in quick succession. The assault was so unexpected, and his attitude so terrifying, that the lemainder of the party, believing in their consterna- tion that they were attacked by a species of avenging Manitou, swiftly fled, leaving Baptiste and his brother to make their way home undisturbed. All Bras de Fer's brave exploits, his renown, or the 144 NANON'S LOVERS. friendly consideration with which his employers treated him, seemed unavailing to give him advan- tage over his voluble rival. Baptiste was far too modest to boast of his own merits, and Jean was only too ready to vaunt imaginary virtues which he liber- ally attributed to himself Nanon accepted the homage of both in a sharp, imperious, scornful way, never directly favoring either. Through all Baptiste endured the most hopeless jealousy of Jean's fluent, deceiving tongue. " Aye," Jean declared easily and lightly, "It is the taste of Nanon, as of all women, to coquette. It is their privilege, and I for one would not deny it to them." His charmer was never without a ready retort. " Aye, as it is the wont of all men to be fools and heartless apes, to run to death after any proud turkey, and never to perceive those of real worth." Nothing daunted, Jean continued to smoke his pipe reflectively. " I have never been greatly inclined to matrimony myself. When I picture the perils through which I have passed — aye, I myself, Jean Ameron — with damsels of every description to choose from, brown and blonde, fat and lean, tall and short, all awaiting but a look, and some not absolutely ill-favored ; one, indeed, with a barrel of bacon entirely her own, was offered me, but I found myself obliged to decline, my friends trying in vain to persuade me to accept the King's gift." lo 145 ilii^ f. i I i I;';: I: m •Vf\ 1 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. i ;' 1 r , IE r i.ii •f;.| ' - \^'-\ t i . «! : Bras de Fer was taking his supper in the same room. In general the stalwart voyageur had an in- ordinate capacity for devouring the various colonial dainties, such as eels in sailor guise, pigeons with cabbages, partridges served with onions, soup with plums, eggs and tripe, brown bread and cheese. He had been hungry when he entered the house, but the Frenchman's facility of utterance quite reduced the big Canadian's enjoyment of his food. Were he but master of such captivating eloquence he might long ago have won the desire of his heart. Nanon never appeared more attractive. Her full lips took a richer red, a livelier crimson suffused her sunburnt cheek, there was a dancing merriment in her bright, dark eyes as she asked demurely : " Was it not the damsels who escaped so sad a fate? To me it is equal. I see on every side husbands and wives who quarrel and spit at each other like cats, and where is the gain, my heart? In this country it is not difficult to marry. Brown and lean as a weasel is Mam'selle Anne, yet even she could become a wife if she would." Baptiste felt that to sit silently listening was the hardest trial he had ever endured. He had been no stranger to manifold dangers and adventures, having served as guide in nine expeditions against the Five Cantons. He had killed with his own hand more than sixty Iroquois, had twice been tied to the stake waiting to be burned alive ; had bravely sung the death-song, while the joints of two of his fingers had 146 NANON'S LOVERS. the no dng 'ive lore take the Ihad been broken, after they had been smoked in an Indian pipe ; had in genuine savage fashion learned to mock at his own torments, when a necklace of hatchets, heated red hot, had been suspended round his neck, causing wounds of which he still kept the scars ; yet with all this his valor failed him when he had most need of it. He could have demolished his paltry rival at a blow, yet he dared not contemplate the possibility of having Nanon turn on him with scorn and anger. " Nanon ! " By a tremendous effort Baptiste concentrated his will. Rising, he left his untasted supper with the de- termination to crush his rival's pretensions, plead his own suit, or perish in the attempt ! At the impas- sioned utterance of her name the girl quickly turned her head. When he felt the sharp, bright glance of his beloved resting upon him, the giant's courage oozed away. With a long drawn sigh he sank back on his chair disconsolately. "If you please, Bras de Fer?" Nanon inquired politely. Baptiste shook his head with the most helpless and mournful resignation ; both ideas and words had escaped him ; he felt himself turning hot and cold all over as he gazed at her deprecatingly. Nanon shrugged her plump shoulders with an air of amused amazement. " What wouldst thou sa)'. Bras de Fer ? Surely thou wouldst not make sugar-plum compliments like 147 V 1 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. li ■\r II :\ is;;! those of Jean ? Is it the week of the three Thursdays, that thou shouldst attempt to make compHments ? Even Balaam's ass had the power of speech conferred upon it at times, but thine eloquence is overpowering. Ta, ta, ta ! there would be no peace in Paradise if thou wert there, unless thou couldst contrive to mend thy manners, my friend." Nanon's brown face dim- pled with coquettish smiles, and Jean indulged in a malicious grin for which the Canadian could have found it in his heart to slay him. " It was constancy to thy attractions, it was disin- clination to marriage with another, that prevented me from entering the forest, engaging in warfare against the Iroquois, becoming a renowned fighter, and mak- ing my fortune in the fur trade," pursued the imper- turbable Jean. " Think, then, and is it truly so ? " Nanon inter- posed with exasperating simplicity, " and I had really believed that it was thine own cowardice that made thee prefer the ease of home to ranging the woods with the savages and wild beasts." " Indeed, yes, such is really the case. A cow^ a pair of swine, a pair of fowls, two barrels of salted meat, and eleven crowns in good monry have my own constancy and thine hard-heartedness cost me. Surely some recompense may be considered my due. And during all these long years I have been pursued by a frightful nightmare, a dream of awakening to find myself a husband against my will. Consider how sad a fate, my good Nanon ; and when once the 148 T NANON'S LOVERS. a Ited my I me. lue. lued to ider the ceremony is performed, no redress, for when the Church binds she ties fast ; one fastens a knot with the tongue which the hands cannot untie." Nanon smiled complacently upon all this, until Baptiste, who felt that he had reached the ex- treme limit of endurance, rushed out. Then the girl promptly gathered up her work and prepared to ascend to her mistress's apartment. Jean made another attempt to detain her. " And Nanon, I have observation, me. I see many things. 1 would tell a secret but between ourselves. It is the blonde English demoiselle whom the Sieur du Chesne adores, and not the most noble the demoiselle de Monesthrol." The ruddy peasant face flamed into fiery wrath. That her lady's attractions should be cheapened, that her pretensions should be slighted, infuriated the de- voted maid. Such a dread had awakened in her own mind — would another dare to put it into words ? " Guard thy mouth ! And is it a good-for-nothing of thy species who will dare to compare my demoi- selle — the daughter of great nobles who fought and bled for the King — to any dirt of bourgeois? It is with such as the Comte de Frontenac — except that M. le Gouverneur has already had the ill-luck to make choice of a lady, and if report speaks true, of one not so admirable either — that our demoiselle should mate. Bite ! cease, then, thx- bellowing and mend thy man- ners. Like a serpent thou wouldst bite the hand that nourishes thee." 149 PiiSil ill? ■ h - ,1 r>,' w DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. il. ( ". f ; \i ■■ I 1 .1 Mi :f m m ml III In terror Jean fled from the storm he had evoked. Nanon stood wringing her hands and stamping her feet. " In truth, I know not whether to weep like a watering-pot or to scratch somebody's eyes out. Ah ! if I could but reach that craven -hearted wolf with my nails. The worst sting of all is that it is all true. And this English girl will pay him with his own coin, loving herself always best and last, with but small thought to spare for anyone else. My noble, proud mistress who smiles and is happy, seeing noth- ing, decking that other one in her best, and never weary of praising that one's beauty and sweetness. Sweetness ? — it is the look of the cat at the cream. The neuvena I made in honor of that worthless St. Joseph, with the intention of securing our little lady's happiness, all goes for nothing. That useless image shall no longer delude innocent believers." Like a whirlwind the serving-woman swept to the altar where stood the figure of St. Joseph, serenely unconscious of the enormity of his own offences, or of the storm which was about to descend upon him. It was the work of an instant to snatch him from his eminence, to shake and belabor him viciously, pour- ing out the while a flood of abuse as eloquently vituperative as a fertile brain and fluent tongue could devise, to rush down the garden and with all the strength inspired by fury to hurl him over the stone wall. Then, and then only, when her vengeance was accomplished, did Nanon pause for breath, drawing a long sigh of relief 150 NANON'S LOVERS. " Now shall my eyes, even mine, have the consola- tion of seeing that valueless saint lying in the dust shattered into a thousand pieces." With a bang which was intended as a further vent for her distressed feelings, Nanon threw wide open the side gate leading from the secluded greenery of the garden into the dusty street. Then she stopped suddenly as though she had received a shock ; the gleam of triumphant satisfaction faded from her eyes, her ruddy color turned to gray pallor. The ecclesias- tical authorities would likely view with strong dis- favor any disrespect paid to the saints ; some thought of the consequences of her action began to penetrate Nanon's agitated mind. Looking thoughtfully down at the fragments of the ill-used St. Joseph stood a priest. He was a large, powerfully-built man, in a narrow collar, long dusty black coat and three-cornered hat. As she met his kindly piercing gaze Nanon's wrath faded, and she bent her head while he raised his hands with a slight gesture of benediction before he blessed her. Her quick feminine intuition taught her that she would fare much better with this man than if she had fallen into the hands of the Jesuits. There were few in Ville Marie but had unqualified faith in the gigantic soldier priest. Father Dollier de Casson, Superior of the Seminary of St. Sulpice. " Why, what is this? Didst thou imagine, my good Nanon, that the passers-by were heathen Iroquois, that thou shouldst assault them by means of the holy saints ? " 151 . , ■i" n m lie ! : If?,' ■ m m 'I: 11 BE !!r flHXf'' 'i fllK ' 1 ; 1 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. hi'; Hi ■ i ■ n ■ h' m 1 w., ■ Nanon In the excitement of the moment forgot her fear and recovered her natural audacity. As she re- membered her grievances her breast shook with great sobs ; for a second the passion struggling in her throat could find no utterance. At last she broke forth : " The worthless, deceiving saint ! My little noble, gentle mistress, pure and guileless as the holy saints themselves, cast aside for any tag of rubbish ! Of all the great and noble ladies whom God has sent into this world to beautify His creation, to glorify His name, and for the relief and happiness of their fellow- creatures, none ever fulfilled the object of the Creator more perfectly than our demoiselle. Yet, behold that kite of an Anne, stuck all over with feathers of spite and hypocrisy, her very look enough to turn milk sour, and she boasts that she receives of the saints every favor she demands. And if the saints fail us what is to become of us poor common people who have no other protection ? " The priest listened with silent attention to the con- fused, vehement recital. He was too thoroughly versed in the intricacies of human nature not to readily comprehend the faithful serving-woman's meaning. He had himself a passion for duty and discipline, a genius for command and obedience, while his whole soul loathed dastards and renegades. A good Christian, laboring manfully at his calling, he had made the joys and sorrows, hopes and fears of his flock his own. In the most cordial fashion he 152 NANON'S LOVERS. worked for the people, dogmatized, and stormed at them, but, however strict to his ideal of duty, he never lost patience with human frailty. " Ah, the good-for-nothing saint ! Figure to your- self, my Father, a neuvena in his honor — never a word omitted though the poor bones ached and the eyes were drowsy with sleep — four candles burning perpetually before his altar, and all of the very best. Nothing did I grudge if only the little demoiselle could have her heart's desire. It was I that took her from the arms of her dying mother — me, but a slip of a girl myself — and she has been my charge, my first thought, ever since." Here beating her hands to- gether, Nanon yielded to a new transport of exas- peration. The Sulpician cast a keen glance from under the white eyebrows which contrasted with his hale, sun- burned face. " Voyons, my daughter. You would desire high place and favor in this world for Mademoiselle de Monesthrol." " Oh ! but yes, my Father," she replied, coloring deeply, smoothing down her apron the while with her shapely brown hands. " Perhaps I have not the air of it, but I have seen things in my time. The people here know nothing of all that, but I remember the life over there in France. It is at the Court of our lord the King that my demoiselle should shine, among the great dames and brilliant demoiselles. Ah ! that is what I would have for our little one. 153 hi If; ill 1 ! tl im : :p f ..}■ I : e i r pip i* ,i< • :['^ U iji. DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. To see all the world admire her state, but with reverence, be it understood ; to walk behind, to see and to share her glory, to repay the rebuffs we have received in our fallen fortunes, to hear it whispered as I pass, ' There goes Nanon, serving-woman to Her Grace, Madame la Duchesse de ' — that is as it should be." A smile of irrepressible humor curved de Casson's firm lips. " Thou covetest this world's glory, yet thou wouldst grudge her high place in the Heavenly Kingdom. My brave and loyal Nanon, thou wouldst generously sacrifice much to win happiness for thy mistress. I also would it were God's will that the demoiselle should travel His way by a smooth and sunny road, but if there is no easier path to heaven, then bless her in taking that which is offered, my daughter. The roads leading to perfection are often dark and thorny." " And that is what I cannot bear," sobbed Nanon, as the priest continued thoughtfully as though think- ing aloud : " To love is to serve. If service and affection are considered separately, the very essence of love, that which gives it life, is lost. After all, love, when un- selfish, whether joyous or unfortunate in its results, must be splendid and lofty." Then recalling his attention by an effort he added, " Thy loyal affec- tion, my good Nanon, is not as wise and tender as that of thy Master, who knows all things and judges 154 i NANON'S LOVERS. with clearer eyes than we poor mortals. Thine would deprive Mademoiselle of the crown and f^race of suffering ; His will uphold her amidst the fiery ordeal of tribulation. See to it, Nanf)n. Yield the child's future up to the care of Him who is the loving Father of all." The clear tones had a sort of inspiring ring in them ; the composed, benevolent countenance wa.s illumined by the cheering light of faith and courage. Nanon hung her head. This philosophy, so high and pure, was beyond her comprehension ; what she really craved was assurance of success. " What you say is doubtless all true, M. le Superior, and it has the sound of beautiful language ; it is suited to the quality, of that I am firmly convinced ; but, faith of Nanon Benest, the heavenly glory is too fine, too far off for such as I. I would rather that other, me, that I could touch with the hands, and talk about, and let all the world see. Let Mam'sclle Anne, who is ugly as a spider and cross as an enraged sheep, keep the first ; I grudge it not. If M. le Superior will but give himself the trouble to con- sider, he will certainly perceive that no one thinks of the little one's interests but her own poor servant Nanon. Madam la Marquise made the sacrifice of all when she left her own country, and it appears quite natural to her that others should do the same. The Sieur Le Ber adores Mademoiselle, but keeps steadily in mind his plans for ennobling his own family. M. Pierre would have her a saint and a 155 ; 1 I' \i 'li \i r^< PA I'll ,i«|; ^ii iti 'ips DIANE OF VILLK MARIE. martyr against her will, and now this Enpjlish cuckoo has settled herself comfortably in Mademoiselle's own nest in order to pick the feathers from her at her ease." " Thou wouldst undertake to play the part of I'ro- vidence, and without having the means of doing so at thy disposal. Va, faithless one, it is well the good God should take the child's destiny out of thy rash and reckless hands. What signifies the mode to him who goes to glory — the shorter cut from the battle- field or a little longer way through a world of trouble ? Thy loyal affection will be to thee a crown, but thy pride will prove a thorn to prick thee to the heart, my poor girl." " Not that the most noble the demoiselle de Mones- throl could condescend to wed with the son of the bourgeois Le Ber" — Nanon hastened to qualify her rash admissions, and to vindicate her feminine right of having the last word ; " but of right he .should kneel humbly at her feet, thankful for a glance or a gracious word." W 156 \ii ■ iff CHAPTER XVI. Mf A VJCE-REGAL BANQUET. THE Count de Erontenac entertained the digni- taries of the colony at one of those late suppers which had been so sev'erely denounced by the clerical authorities, but which were so highly enjoyed by the more worldly portion of the community. The service of the table was arranged with elaborate magnificence. Clusters of lights flashed on gold and silver plate. The banquet consisted of four courses. Chicken .soup was served first ; then followed prime legs of mutton garnished with chops, and choice venison pies whose pale gold-colored crust was rai.sed in fanciful .shapes. Between the roasts were dishes of plover, woodcock and partridges roasted on the spit, and strings of larks served by the half-dozen on the little splinters of wood upon which they had been cooked. The third course consisted of entrees, .salad.s, both sweet and salt, perfumed omelettes, blanc-manges, burnt creams, fritters and fruit pies. The fourth was des- sert, for which there were fruits piled in pyramids, cakes, m.acaroons, march-paine and preserves of vari- ous 1 inds, the whole accompanied by the fashionable Frei h wines of the day. 157 •{ «'! ml f mn DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. As a host, stately, brilliant, imposing, the Governor- General was at his best. The winning grace that tempered his strenuous will, the delicate condescen- sion of his bearing, charmed his guests, as they had ever the power to bind his own party into devoted adherence. " A last toast before we leave the table : * To the glory of our arms.' Help yourselves, gentlemen, and here's to you," carrying to his lips a golden goblet engraved with the family arms, " To the glory of our arms." The guests bowed ceremoniously in acknowledg- ment, raising their goblets and repeating, " To the glory of our arms." The room to which the company adjourned was a long drawing-room with curtains of the finest Turkey red, embossed with a damask pattern. The high carved mantel-piece was painted white. There were rich fauteuils and couches, buhl cabinets and spindle- legged chairs. On rosewood cabinets, inlaid with ivory, stood dainty Japanese jars filled with spices and dried rose-leaves. The company was as brilliant as beauty and wit could render it. The fascination and marked indi- viduality which have made of Frenchwomen a power, and rendered them an inspiration to the men of their race, stamped on all around them the impress of their aptitudes, their graces, their charm. Card-tables were set out; the older guests played at lasquenet, hombre, piquet and brelan ; the younger members of the party 158 &:^ A VICE-REGAL BANQUET. i :| revelled in charades and boiitriuics, or listened to the soft strains of the theobe. In this charmed circle Madame la Marquise reigned like an empress. Diane, thoroughly in touch with her surroundings, had never looked more beautiful. From the white and silver brocade of her robe rose a regal head and neck ; beneath the powdered masses of hair her eyes burned deeplv like violet stars, " The fairest favorite of Versailles cannot compare with this peerless flower of New France ! " declared the Governor-General, who was considered a connoisseur in feminine charms. " She has that in her face that would send men to death as to a banquet." " Mademoiselle, will you permit an old man whom your freshness has made young again to pay his devoirs ? Your father was among my early friends, as Madame la Marquise will bear me witness." Frontenac made a low bow, his palms steadying his sword, while his spurs clanked and his plumed hat, held in the right hand, swept the ground. He spoke the accepted language of gallantry, uttering the strained courtesies of the Court and high society ; but the homage offered was palpably sincere, and carried with it a subtle flattery. The Chevalier de Crisasi held his place at Mademoiselle de Monesthrol's side. The Chevalier was owned body and soul by this girl ; there was a pathetic dignity in his very hopelessness. Even to hint at his affection, under the present unfortunate circumstances, would have been* so glaring a departure 159 ii ,.. / 11 vm ti^' ■; ii www. W — T^ I:' 1 ; - , M 1 . i S . if. I ':. :'*.•■ '■■■r 1 ' •; " ; ■ ' Ipl ,|: ji-j f . K^ !': li 1 t DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. from French precedent that the courtly gentleman would have shrunk from attempting it. He could, however, express many varying meanings with his eyes, while the rest of his face remained blandly inex- pressive ; the most rigid propriety could not deny him that privilege. The slow veiling of his eyes was like a silent salutation. Regarding the Chevalier with attention, Diane, by the aid of that new intuition which vitalized all her faculties, perceived a change in the man with whom in high spirits of girlhood she had carelessly trifled. Is this the misery of sleepless nights and weary days — the sick craving of a heart at variance with itself? A swift thrill of misgiving crossed her mind. Was it possible that her witcheries had helped to crush one upon whom the hand of mis- fortune had already been laid heavily ? " But she is a Circe, the Demoiselle de Monesthrol, a superb, magnificent creature whose spells are irre- sistible ; but, alas ! without heart, without soul, like the coquettes of the Court," complained d'Ordieux, who found himself secluded from the circle which surrounded Diane, and whose views of matters in general were in consequence somewhat embittered. " Ah ! softly, my friend, softly, but what a com- parison ! Women of the Circe type to me offer no attraction. I prefer somethmg simple and natural." Du Chesne laughed with easy frankness as his eyes turned to the spot where Lydia sat looking like a pale blush rose, childishly engrossed with all about her. i6o A VICE-REGAL BANQUET. throl, irre- like lieux, kvhich ;rs in ed. com- er no ural." 5 eyes ike a about " ' Simple and natural,' indeed. How you talk, my cousin. And who could be more simple and natural than our Diane? You are blind because you won't .see," sharply interrupted Le Ber's niece, Madame de St. Rochs. Wife and mother at thirteen, the little lady wore her matronly dignity with exaggerated demureness, or sometimes in the wild exhilaration of youthful spirits forgot it altogether. Now, with her piquant, mutinous face, she looked in her rich costume like some pretty, mischievous child masquerading in the stately robes of a grown woman. " Sainte Dame ! who so Lweet to the old and the sick as Diane ? who so patient with the little ones ? When my baby — " " When that baby's mother," mischievously inter- rupted du Chesne, his eyes twinkling with fun, " heartlessly abandoned the poor infant in order to enjoy the amusement of sliding with the children, Diane, moved to pity by its desolate condition, doubt- less took the marmot under her protection. Say, then, is it not so, cousin ? " " Not at all, du Chesne. Could you believe so wicked a falsehood ? I went only to see that no harm befell the little ones, and — " " And were tempted to join in the amusements. What a situation for a matron of experience ! " The young Canadian delighted in provoking his quick- tempered cousin. " And the doll, Cecile, that re- mained so long hidden in the old oak chest that II i6i r^i ! .;i!:S tji M'h ■| 1 I i I f 9 M J! ! h DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. 4 : 1 M ' I ■ 10 i n ■ ^i 1 f '■ :i! , "J ■* 1 it ■ ii f Armand, believing it a secret concealed from him, became wildly jealous. When the baby was ill, St. Rochs cradled the marmot on one knee and his wife on the other, singing soothing lullabies to the two babies at once. Was it not so, Cecile?" per- sisted her good-natured tormentor. Madame de St, Rochs flushed angrily. Tears of vexation sprang to her eyes, though she made a determined effort to control herself " Say, then, Cecile, have you heard of the Indian witch who is camped at the foot of the mountain ? " It was Diane de Monesthrol who came to the little mother's relief " Strange things are told of her. She is said to have attained a marvellous age, and to be possessed of extraordinary powers." " She foretold the disasters of the Sieur la Salle," said Crisasi. " Let us organize a promenade to visit her," urged Madame de St. Rochs, who was immediately inter- ested. " Baptiste Leroux can tell us all about her, and guide us to where she is to be found. He is as familiar with the Indian customs as with the five fingers of his hand. A genuine witch, and the sorcery practised by the natives is said to be of the worst possible kind. Cte/I let us go." " Oh, fie ! then, Cecile ; sue ' vagaries are unfitting a dignified matron. Your destiny is already settled. What would you more ? A second husband before you are twenty ? " The glimmer of laughter was shining in du Chesne's eyes, though his face was grave. 162 A VICE-REGAL BANQUET. *' Rest tranquil, cousin, it is about your fate I would concern myself. And, oh ! there are a thousand things I would know. If Armand is soon to rise in the army ? — we have indeed need of a larger income — and Diane? and the Chevalier? and the Sieur d'Ordieux ? — yes, I would know what their fortunes are to be — and whether those wolves of Iroquois will end by devouring us all ? I would know all." Madame de St. Rochs would not include Lydia, whose beauty and tractability had never won her favor, and against whom she had conceived a blind and inveterate prejudice. " Are you so determined to obtain a glance into futurity, Cecile ? " Diane's eyes sparkled with a glance of audacious fun. " Lydia will become a nun of the Congregation of Notre Dame. Cecile will be a great-grandmother before she is forty. The Che- valier will receive a command and win honor and renown. The Sieur d'Ordieux will regain his rights and appear as a great noble at the Court Armand will be a General." " And my cousin du Chesne ? " " Du Chesne will be Governor-General of New France, and subdue the Iroquois and discover new countries for the King," said Diane, with a momentary stirring of impatience, quick and vital. I' 11 n 1 i!li 163 Ji : CHAPTER XVII. THE MATS HI SKOUEOU. AS the party came out into the street the flam- beaux of the servants flared wildly against the solemn sky of night. "It is against the rules of the Church, this ex- pedition," hazarded Lydia, raising the most beauteous of anxious eyes. *' Then risk it not," counselled Madame de St. Rochs, briskly. " There is always a danger of being attacked by the savages, but we shall be well pro- tected. For us, that promenade takes place to- morrow. Just fancy, a witch who talks to the devil face to face ! It is assuredly a sin, but we will do ample penance afterwards, and Father Denys is never severe to those who are contrite for their sins." " There is but evil to be found with the witch of the woods and all others of her tribe, I answer to you for that, Mesdames and Messieurs." Bras de Fer re- moved the pipe from his mouth and gazed around reflectively at the circle of eager faces. Here, where he could pose as an authority, he found no difficulty in expressing his views. " Trust to the experience of a coureur de bois to whom the silence of the forest has 164 \. 1 THE MATSHI SKOUEOU. ;h of you ler re- ■ound Ivhere [culty ice of ;t has taught much that is not found in books. Tales of the most exciting I could tell you of the Lady of the Iris, whom the redskins call Matshi Skoueou." " Tell us, then, I pray thee, good Baptiste," im- plored Madame de St. Rochs. "It is in such tales we delight." " The Matshi Skoueou," the voyageur began, " is in alliance with the Evil One, and this witch must be one of her disciples. Her green eyes possess the power of fascination, like those of a snake. On her head she wears a crown of iris flowers, and she is sur- rounded by flames of fire. She never appears in the light of day, but at midnight she descends upon a moonbeam, and appears in the foam of waterfalls, in the shadow of dark rocks, or among the mists rising in the valleys. Her favorite hour is when all nature reposes, the time when the fire-flies, tho.se spirits of the lost, dance over the rank marshes ; when bats beat the air with their wings, or cling with sharp, slim claws to the rocks ; when the silence is broken only by the croaking of frogs and the hou-hou of night birds. It is then the Matshi Skoueou descends to gather the iris with which to crown herself and to in- voke the great Manitou. " ' Children,' say the old people, and they know that of which they speak, those old ones ; ' never go near the river by moonlight. Hidden behind the rushes the Lady of the Iris watches for her prey ; her voice enthralls the senses, but those upon whom her glance falls are blighted. Woe to him who falls 165 i 1 1 '■■! 'mi n] I m ■ m fM\' m DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. |:| 'fin into her power.' No, no, Mesdames and Messieurs, remain at home and say your prayers ; think not of the witch of the woods." This salutary advice, instead of allaying the young people's curiosity, served only to increase it. Baptiste, much against his better judgment, was forced to serve as guide to the expedition, and the hardy voyageur uttered the most doleful predictions concerning the disasters that would surely follow this traffic with unholy things. Far in the heart of the forest stood the solitary lodge of the Witch of the Woods. The witch her- self was a diminutive old crone, wrinkled and shri- velled like a mummy, in whom the whole force of a vigorous vitality was gathered in a pair of luminous dark eyes. Displaying no surprise at the late hour which the strangers had chosen for their visit, she received them with cringing servility, the chief char- acteristic of her face being a kind of animal cunning. When the merry party found themselves in direct contact with the consequences of their indiscretion, all the fun of the enterprise faded away, and only the undefined sense of terror and mystery remained. In those days superstition reigned supreme ; but at the same time existence was environed with real dangers of so many kinds that it required no effort of imagination to create phantoms of dread. As they stood silently seeking mutual support and encouragement amidst the quiet of the forest, a vague sound made itself heard. At first it was scarcely perceptible, but i66 TIIK MATSMI SKOUEOU the growing more distinct, it rose in waves of tender har- mony, and then receded to die away in the distance. Lydia, frightened and tired, began to cry. Bras de Fer had drawn his rosary from his pocket, and was teUing over his beads assiduously. " The blessed saints will bear me witness that I am here against my will," he protested. " Besides that I am protected by a scapulary and a piece of conse- crated palm against the attacks of evil spirits." As the mysterious sounds were resumed, the bush- ranger looked up gravely from his prayers. "Ah! well, Mesdames and Messieurs, will you now believe the word of a man who has not gained his knowledge from books ? Midnight, the first night of the new moon, that unearthly music ! Voila !" " Bah ! that is a seal on the rocks far in the dis- tance," responded du Chesne promptly. " Mon dieu ! I fear — I would I had not ventured — I dare not !" Madame de St. Rochs turned her troubled childish face towards her companions, her brown eyes moist with tears, when informed that those who would penetrate the mysteries of futurity must, one by one, accompany the witch into still deeper recesses of the forest. Du Chesne jestingly assured her that as matron of the party she should set an example of dignified courage. " Let us return, Cecile," proposed her husband. Young as he was, Armand de St. Rochs had already given incontestible proofs of gallantry, but he had no taste for ghostly terrors and would have 167 fM'l 1 .1, I •'rli I :;i .X'lm i fVT' 1^ l\ I : l>.'i \ 11 1 1! , 1 " i ' ! i! f i i '|i 'i.->r ' I 1 ' r ' 1 1 K I i I DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. avoided them. But the girl-wife's curijsity still exceeded her fear ; she would not consent to abandon her project. " Parblcu ! that is demanding too much of a lady. It is the gentlemen's place to lead the way," proposed Crisasi. " I shall be charmed to venture first. Having little to risk and much to hope — ." " And being, as your friends are well aware, a stranger to fear," interrupted du Chesne, laying his hand upon his companion's shoulder in a friendly persuasive fashion. When after an interval the Chevalier returned to the party his smile was as suave, his tone as bland as usual. No one wou^d have divined that the Sicilian had received, and accepted as irrevocable, his death- warrant. Toward Diane he had gained a new con- fidence ; his manner was respectful, as became a gentleman, but he scarcely withdrew his eyes from her face. The miserable past and doubtful future were forgotten in the rich flavor of the exquisite present, intensified now by the conviction of its brief duration. Du Chesne presently reappeared, looking flushed and annoyed. " It is a cheat ! I saw nothing — but the water was red as blood," he announced. " Mart diable ! I am convinced that no deception exists." D'Ordieux shook his perfumed locks ex- citedly. " I have had the very happiest predictions, far exceeding my expectations, which should naturally be great in a man of my rank — the promise of i68 1 TIIK MATSIII SKOUEOU. realizing my dearest hopes. I entertain no doubt of its truth." " I wish we had not been tempted to come. I shall vow a taper to the Virgin to keep us from harm," whispered Madame de St. Rochs to her husband. " I am persuaded that this is very wicked. I was induced to consent against my sense of right," mur- mured Lydia, her blue eyes swimming in tears. She was so deliciously timid and gentle that in his efforts to reassure her du Chesne was betrayed into .several trifling follies ; but her scruples were not .sufficiently urgent to induce her to relinqui.sh her intentions, and she returned from the interview radiant and flushed. It had finally come to Diane's turn. The shade of the trees was excessively dense, and for an instant the French girl stood confused by the prevailing ob- scurity and the air of unreality in which all things seemed to be wrapped. Presently she perceived the witch, with a long wand in her hand, standing before a fountain of water. She was speaking rapidly in her native tongue, her voice rising and falling in a weird, monotonous recitative, a strange fantastic incantation in which di.stant voices appeared to join, rendered more impressive by the perfect stillness of the forest. She could hear sounding and re-echoing a slow, .solemn chant, dreamy and plaintive, redolent of mys- tery and melancholy — long-drawn sighs, the whisper of angels' voices, the song of the winds, all those magical accents that captivate imagination. Then there was a change. Quick and bright came broken 169 11 it I ^1 t DIANK OF VILLK MARIE. V ■ ? III I'. ft' 'v. notes, rising to a mad, reckless gaiety that set the blood aflame ; then mournful melody like the autumn wind moaning in the branches, deepening and still deepening ; anon rising into the flourish of trumpets on the battle-field, and ending in a funeral hymn floating through the dim aisles of some vast cathe- dral. It was like the entrance into dream-life, for those enchanted strains embodied all the extremes of human joy and suffering, aspiration and yearning. As she listened, the witch's decrepit form expanded, acquiring size, height and dignity ; the crafty, sensual features gained a strange power and majesty. A sudden sense of mystery, of dominant and all but overpowering force, took possession of Diane. Every thought of her heart, to the very depth of her being, seemed familiar to this influence and responsive to its command. She shivered with an excited desperation of feeling, of mingled desire and apprehension, of attraction and repulsion. A rich, heavy perfume, resembling the fragrance of incense, filled the air, and a thick cloud hung over the large basin of water which stood before her. Obeying an imperious ges- ture of the Indian woman, the girl advanced and bent over the basin. Diane's form grew rigid as she stood with eyes fixed on the water, their pupils dilated in a terror- stricken gaze. A light film of pungent smoke arose, which, wreathing itself in airy circles, seemed to catch a fiery color from some unseen flame. Then, grad- ually crystallizing, it assumed definite form. Was it 170 TIIK MATSHI SKOUEOU. *' 1 a tissue of fancy and reality that produced a creation so fantastic ? '/aguely, as in a dream, she perceived remote vistas, all weird and mysterious, peoi)led by spectral shapes, resounding with far-off, uncertain footsteps. Then out of the darkness there glided wavering, shadowy figures, at first faint and indefinite, then gradually becoming more distinct. Clear as a reflection in a mirror, every trifling, delicate detail perceptible, the scene shaped itself before her eager gaze. It was a spacious apartment ; two nuns were moving softly to and fro about the lofty four-post bed ; wax tapers, in tall curiously-chased silver can- dlesticks, shed a softened radiance upon the room. Lying on the bed, still and stately, like the heroic statue of some knight asleep upon his tomb, lay a young man. In the shadow a girl, slender and deli- cately formed, knelt upon ?i prie-dieu^ her head bowed upon her tightly clasped hands. For a time she seemed to be looking on some scene that she had long known and loved, but which had taken on a new aspect. Then as the flickering, uncertain light settled into a clearer reflection. Mademoiselle de Monesthrol asked herself if that aged nun with the sweet, benign expression did not surely resemble the venerable Sister Marguerite Bourgeois ; and that other, taller and more active, certainly must be Sister Berbier, Superior of the Congregation of Notre Dame. The young man's features were con- cealed from her, but the girlish mourner moved, and with the listle.ssness of apathetic suflering turned her head. 171 m H-^ DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. r I' ,)4 A horrible paralyzing dread ran shuddering through Diane's veins, for that face, haggard, bloodless, con- vulsed by inexpressible grief, was her own. Then a thick cloud of darkness passed between her and the mystic scene ; she was conscious only that the glow - ing eyes of the witch were riveted intensely upon her. When, bewildered, she turned to look again, all had collapsed like shadows in a dream ; the basin of water alone remained. Diane did not often lose self-command. In this supreme crisis, when all things seemed to be slipping away fro n her, she fought to persuade herself that what she had seen had been all a creation of her own imagination. A faint smile, like the palest of winter sunshine, curved her lips ; her hands tightened in a silent struggle at self-restraint. When she raised her white face, a proud, confident look shone from her eyes. " Never yet has it been in the power of danger and disaster to daunt the spirit of a de Monesthrol. Others have suffered — I may suffer — yet are we still in the hands of the good God." Drawing herself up with conscious dignity, Diane spoke as though hurl- ing defiance at some unknown and threatening power. The soft sounds of quivering leaves were the only noises that disturbed the silence of the forest ; she seemed to be surrounded by darkling shadows pro- found with fate. The witch crouched low on the ground, her face hidden in the folds of her blanket. " We have been guilty of a folly. It is but an idle jest," Diane said quietl)' as she rejoined her com- 172 mi THE MATSHI SKOUEOU. panions. " We can go home now and do penance for the sin we have committed." " Now that it is over I do not care about our expedition in the least," grumbled Madame de St. Rochs, who was tired and sleepy, and who had not received the flattering predictions which her youthful buoyancy of spirit had led her to anticipate. Crisasi regarded Mademoiselle de Monesthrol earn- estly. The man who loved her alone perceived that the girl was stricken, and that, with hand clenched hard against her heart, she was resolutely striving to control her throbbing pulses. It has, indeed, been tiresome, and not worth the trouble," he said gently. In the serene composure of Diane's outward bearing as she left the scene there was no trace of the tense passion and misery that were gnawing at her heart. She was resolved calmlv to face the future, vhatever it might contain. :i 1 ■! That night, as the French girl I .y awake, a strange flash of realization came over her. Panting with pain and terror, flinging up her hands in the darkness, she cried desperately : " Holy Virgin ! deliver me. That which I never imagined has come upf)n me — has conquered me — that which will never again leave me in peace, all my life long. Something beautiful and terrible — so ter- rible ! Hoi}- Virgin ! thou hast a woman's heart — del" er me from this ! " 173 j ! ' 1 J ■k ! p^ i1- U4- l. it . Ill F».' CHAPTER XVIII. SAINTLY PROTECT/ON. l:' WITH each returning morn the land awoke, glad and fragrant, at the caress of the pale dawn. The rooks clamored in their nests, the fish rose in the lazy streams, the robins sang plaintively among the shrubs. Mount Royal, St. Helen's Island and the St. Lawrence glowed palpitant in the magical summer haze. All nature .seemed to breathe a spirit of tranquil peace. But despite this calm a dark cloud of alarm hung over the colony. The air was full of rumors concern- ing the expedition which it was confidentl)' alleged the English were about to direct against Canada. Priests and tiaders, nobles and bourgeois, bushrangers, and red-skinned children of the forest, were content to forget prejudices and animosities in consideration of the common interest, and to unite in the extremity of their peril. Yet through all, the elements of true Gallic light-heartedness relieved the poignant distress of the moment. It was plainly understood that the situation of the colony was most precarious 174 The garrison of Ville SAINTLY PROTECTION ■I !■ Marie consisted of but seven or eight hundred soldiers, and of these many were posted at various points in the surrounding country to protect the colonists while gathering in the harvest. It was deemed advisable to draw in all of these for the protection of the town. Prolonged echoes reverberated from Mount Royal and across the St. Lawrence as guns were fired to recall the troops. Soon they began to arrive, accom- panied by many of the settlers seeking the protection of the forts. At this crisis the clamor jf fear and anxiety and endeavor penetrated even to the cloistered cell where "■he recluse, Jeanne Le Ber, strove to shut out all ^ign of earth's joys and sorrows, and to devote herself to the contemplation of heavenly glories. Yielding to the urgent entreaties of the Sisters of the Con- gregation, Jeanne Le Ber wrote upon a sacred picture a prayer of her own composing, addressed to the Virgin. This the nuns caused to be fastened up on a barn in the country (owned by the communit}-, and supposed to be peculiarly liable to attack), as a sort of talisman, to preserve it from harm. This was Anne Barroy's hour of triumph ; enjoying it to the fullest extent, her pride swelled to enormous propor- tions. At this moment beauty, birth, breeding and worldly pride could bear no comparison with the temporal as well as spiritual advantages of superior holiness. " Our saint " and " that sainted one " were the mildest terms in which Anne j>ermitted herself to allude to her cousin, and she never wearied of talking. m mt ' l-im i p \m DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. !»-!? I:i r. (. ,i ill m m^^ £• ' " When I enter her apartment," the enthusiast would declare, with impressive solemnity, " I perceive in the air a certain odor of sanctity which gives me the sensation of an agreeable perfume. Truly she speaks like a seraph and is the companion of angels. What a blessing to rest beneath a roof which affords shelter to so perfect a creature, though there may be those not so far away who fail to appreciate their privileges." " For me ! " cried Nanon with a clatter, *' I had no necessity to travel to Canada to make acquaintance with saints. We have them at home, and of superior quality. There was St. Anne d'Auray, Mother of the Blessed Virgin ; and St. Genevieve of Paris, at whose shrine kings and nobles worshipped ; but indeed, I have no taste for home-made articles." Anne continued as though she were not aware of the interruption. She knew that at this moment her words were eagerly listened to. " Indeed, our saint accumulates merits against the day of judgment ; those who are wise would strive to share a small portion of them. From her earliest years she began the study of perfection ; every virtue was seen and admired in her. It is the country of saints, this. Behold the head of the mart)'red French- man, which amazed the Iroquois who had cut it off by scolding them roundly for their perfidy, and threat- ening them with the vengeance of Heaven. Think, also, of the handkerchief of the late Pere la Maitre (may his soul rest in Paradise!) stamped indelibly, as 176 SAINTLY PROTECTION. '!i but the on a piece of wax, with the features of its former owner. The heathen Iroquois have ever since been seen using it as a banner in battle. Should the country be saved, our deliverance will be due to the prayers of our sainted one, who has sacrificed herself as an expiatory offering for Canada." " Might I commend myself to the good prayers of our reverend demoiselle, and particularly to the sacrifice of the Mass for my intention," urged Jean Ameron, with eager subserviency. " And are you quite persuaded, Mam'selle Anne, that our saint's credit with the powers of heaven will be sufficient to protect Canada from thoje sorcerers of English ? " Nanon glared at her adorer, who had so readily gone over to the enemy, but in his fright his mistress' ire had no terror for Jean. Anne hastened to reassure him. " Certainly. Have not the gentlemen of the Semi- nary and tlie blessed Sisters of the Congregation of Notre Dame given ready testimony to her perfection? Can you doubt the power of the saints, given them by the blessed Virgin herself?" " Assuredly not, nor should I dare to presume. Without doubt it is a conve^if^nce to find one's self near a holy saint, if she will but remember the 'h. ads of the poor sinners, and exert her credit with all the heavenly host on our account. Could our sainted demoiselle be persuaded but to write me a little word that I might wear with my scapulary to per- serve me from evil fortune ? Voild, Mam'selle Anne, n 177 I' , «: Li ll ^Pl 1 ; i i DIANE OF VILLE MARIE, m I V If h4 rP',1 if you would have the goodness to remark the fact, like the demoiselle Le Ber herself I have denied myself the happiness of matrimony in order to merit the favor of Heaven." " Ta, ta ! there are saints and saints, my son, and thou vvouldst place thyself among them. Wilt thou then dare to compare thyself to that spotless creature, reverenced by all the world for her holiness, who is an expiatory offering for the sins of her country, and not a refuge for cowardly lackeys ? Out of my pre- sence ! It is that unruly ostrich Nanon who has inspired thee with the thought of such impertinence !" cried Anne with growing fury. " Mam'selle Anne has always reason. Yet doubt- less you will allow that my bones are precious to me, and that it is a duty to take thought for one's self," whimpered Jean. When Jeanne Le Ber's prayer disappeared, stolen from the lifice to which it had been attached, to the consterna: .on of the good Sisters whc; had trusted implicitly in its efficacy, no one suspected the immense solace which Jean derived from having it tucked com- fortably away under his scapulary. I'MI ifi CHAPTER XIX. A WOMAN'S LOYALTY. wm ONE clay scouts coming into the town informed the MiHtary Governor, M. de C'alliere, that Peter Schuyler, with a strong force of English and Dutch troops, accompanied by Mohawks, Wolves and Mohegans, was marching on Ville Marie. Rumor magnified the actual facts to the mf)st exaggerated proportions. A crowd of anxious people blocked the streets in every direction. " Is it true that the invaders are close at hand ? " asked the baker. " But assuredly," responded the grocer, who in his haste had forgotten to remove his blue woollen night- cap, the corner of which dangled rakishly over his left eye. " It is the English who will make mince- meat of us. They have sold themselves to the devil, and bathe themselves in the blood of little children. I already see us all being devoured." " Ah ! my good St. Anne ! " cried a young woman, whose short homespun skirt revealed a trim pair of ankles. " Can anyone tell if they are numerous, these sorcerers of English ? " "Numerous, good woman? Dame! but like the 179 ■4, % 1^^', DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. sands of the sea. A thousand firc-catcrs are close at hand." A soldier who happened to be passing amused himself at the public expense. *' Javotte ! Javotte ! " the woman shrieked, waving her hands excitedly. " Five thousand English are upon us ; we are all to be scalped and taken prison- ers immediately ! " This terrifying prediction spread among the popu- lace, creating consternation which almost amounted to a panic. Meanwhile energetic preparations for defence were being made. All the military and most of the bourgeois were under arms ; among the sol- diers appeared old men and young lads who, in ordinary cases, would have been considered unfit for service. It had become an absolute necessity that anyone who could .shoulder a musket should lend a helping hand. Women and children, who at the signal of alarm had come in from the surrounding country, were busily occupied in carrying their poor posses- sions to the shelter of the citadel or to the convents. Here an invalid with pale face was carried on a hast- ily impiovised stretcher ; there an old man, anxious to preserve the poor remnant of life that remained to him, tottered feebl}-, leaning on his daughter's arm ; yonder a young mother, frantic with terror, flying in search of refuge, bore in her arms a tiny babe, the little one regarding with true infantile calmness the unfamiliar scene of tumult and confusion. " Make way there, good people, make way ! " cried a stout, robust woman, who was bearing a large blue 1 80 A WOMAN'S LOYALTY. wooden chest, into which she had thrown pell-mell everything she could collect — clothing, furniture and cooking utensils all huddled together — and which was so heavy that it seemed a marvel she could move it at all. " It is hard enough to get along with never a man's hand to help, or even to push, without being blocked up as well. Make way there, I say ! " " Make way then yourself, Pctronille," retorted the sharp, quivering voice of a tiny, withered old crone, staggering under tl weight of a feather-bed. " Chut ! screech-owl ! see to it." '' Allons ! Mere Poisson, bite with but one tooth. Rest tranquil, I pray you. At your age it would appear more seemly to rest upon your mattress than to drag it about the streets in the open light of day." " And your rubbish had better be burnt, it is so long since those things have touched water." The shrewish Petronille, enraged by the taunt, roughly jostled her neighbor, who fell against a child carrying a clock ; the glass cracked into splinters, while a nail, standing out from the chest, tore a hole in the covering of the mattress, from which the feathers escaped, flying out in a cloud. The child cried, the old woman loudly lamented the catas- trophe, but Petronille, without even turning her head, and still dragging her chest, pushed her way resolutely on. It was decided b)- the authorities that M. de Cal- liere should encamp at La Prairie, to be in readiness i8i iiHil r ■ 1 1 DIANE or VILLE MARIE. :)MI l' , ■! ■.>■« i ^ it ' j'fV ' ■ ! ■■■ : ^1 i 1 I : \f- 't . . w' 1 1 B™i,.Jl Jr " to meet Schuyler's attack, while Valrenne, an officer of birth and ability, shoula proceed to Chambly with one hundred and sixty regulars and Canadians, a body of Huron and Alg(3nquin converts, and another band of Algonquin converts from the Ottawa, in order to intercept any of the English forces which might chance to come by that way. " Du Chesne goes in command of the Canadians." Jacques Le Ber spoke with a long-drawn sigh, that seemed to come from the depths of his heart. These tragic episodes were interrupti(jns to his own serious interests. More than that, affection for his youngest son was entwined with the closest fibres of his nature, and no one recognized the dangers of forest warfare more clearly than the grave merchant, experienced in such strife, who himself had ever been ready to serve his country. " They are going to lay siege to Paradise, to win it and enter in, because they are fighting for religion and the faith." A sort of passionate insistence con- trasted oddly with the ordinary calm preciseness of Pierre Le Ber's level tones. The words fell upon the father's ear like a prediction which he resented. He regarded his eldest son with a mingling of reverence and impatience, and then turned to seek comfort in Diane de Monesthrol's open, steadfast gaze. " It is but a plain duty, my uncle ; a soldier belongs to his country. It is an honor that du Chesne should have been selected. The men adore him ; there is no one who has as much influence with 182 A WOMAN'S LOYALTY. i them as he. How proud wc all shall be when he returns covered with glory." The liquid voice, speak- ing in tones of deepest compassion and tenderness, penetrated to the core of the man's scheming, worldly nature. " Certainly times may change, my rabbit. Before now we have been reduced to extremities, and have found deliverance. It may happen so again. Which- ever way it goes, there is nothing to be done but make the best of it." Saying this, Le Rer shrugged his shoulders with resigned emphasis, though there were strange nervous twitches about his firm lips. Diane was so young, so buoyant in her hopes, so high-spirited and high-hearted, that neither fear nor shadow of disaster could easily crush her. This was a time of trial, to be lived through as best they could, but it seemed positive that, after all, things must go well. With the sweet agitation of hope and delight dancing in her veins, she felt only elation from the excitement around her. The spectacle of a courage absolutely free from egotism was too common among the devoted Canadian women of the day to attract much attention. Yet it was with some surprise that those about s;iw Mademoiselle de Monesthrol throwing off the dainty air of stateliness which was considered becoming to her station, and growing sweet and womanly in the glory of self-sacrifice. It was difficult to identify the proud and capricious beauty with the gentle girl whose watchful eye and helpful hand were at the service of all, who in a frank, genenuis fashion 1S3 m wmisM ■ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I ^y£ 12.5 ■JO ■^~ N^H ■ 2.2 Hi Ui 1.8 ||L25 ||U |||,.6 ; < 6" ► /^, '/ /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WeST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^.V '^ I DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. dealt out cheer and sympathy to whoever chanced to need it. "This is a change I scarcely expected, a new development," mused the Marquise, always critical and philosophical. " Well, the little one comes of a race born brave and generous." For an instant the keen eyes softened, the delicate features quivered, as warm waves of memory rolled over the proud woman's soul. " Diane, I must talk with you. I can trust you entirely." Du Chesne spoke eagerly. A hot wave of color swept over the girl's face, but she raised her eyes frankly to the young man's. Out of the careless gladness of his youth du Chesne was going forth to meet the solemn future, full of lights and shadows. Nature breathed into his heart an inarticulate thrill of prophecy, a dark foreboding. He paused before advancing lightly to meet that fate, wh3<-everit might be. Grasping the outstretched slender hands so hard that the pressure hurt the girl, he gazed at her with a subdued and silent tenderness, such as he might bestow upon a sister. There was a shadow of anxious care upon the merry, boyish face which no one could ever have associated with du Chesne. He sought assurance and comfort from the companion of his childhood. As he watched the moist red lips close firm and sweet above the delicate chin, he was persuaded that his expectation would not be disappointed. With a sob of excitement and 184 ■H A WOMAN'S LOYALTY. agitation swelling in her throat, Diane returned his gaze A cry of momentary anguish almost escaped her, but she scorned herself for the failure of courage, and forced a smile upon lips that quivered. It was not weak repining, but encouragement to strengthen his heart in time of need, that a man had the right to expect from the woman who loved him. " I have had too much experience of forest warfare not to know that I take my life — aye, and carry it lightly, too — in my hand. A stray shot from behind a tree" — Diane shivered — "a random blow from a tomahawk, and all is over. There are things I would settle in case an accident should befall me. I know you will be a true daughter to my father, who loves you as though you were his own. And for Pierre — our good Pierre," knitting his brows in perplexity over a problem to which he had failed to find a solution, " I don't know. Things arrange themselves, Diane ; don't trifle with him, or lose heart, my dear. I have promised a mass in honor of the good St. Anne that things may go well with you both, though I know not how. You have never trusted me as I mean to trust you." Diane's heart suddenly stilled its fluttering, and sank like lead. Of what interest at this supreme moment were Pierre's concerns that they should be allowed to occupy word or thought. " We have been as brother and sister, truly attached, — is it not so, Diane ? I can remember now exactly what you looked like when my father arrived 185 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. ,! 3 holding you in his arms, saying that you would be my little companion, and that I must be gentle and learn to protect you ; and I was so proud to have a little lady for my playmate. You have, indeed, been a sunbeam in our house. Before we part I would share my secret with you, knowing I can rely upon your sympathy." The conscious face, with its hot color and drooping eyes ; the air of happy confusion that sat so curiously upo'i impetuous, light-hearted du Chesne ; the tender- ness that softened the force and boldness of his features, thrilled the girl who stood beside him. " On my return I shall ask my father's consent to make Lydia my wife. Should success attend our arms it will be a propitious mome/.^ to win a hearing, and I want you to use your influence, which is great, to plead my cause. My father is ambitious ; greatly as he is attached to me, I am by no means certain that his sanction will be easily gained. From the first moment that my eyes rested upon the English captive I have loved her. All through the winter before I met her I had passed through toil and danger and carnage, and then that summer day her tender presence dawned upon me like some star of peace and repose. You, too, have been won by her sweetness. It was together we rescued her, remem- ber, Diane. I never loved you so dearly as when I watched your tender care of the helpless stranger cast upon your mercy. She has the gift of winning all hearts. For my sake I would ask you to protect and care for my treasure." i86 r A WOMAN'S LOYALTY. Du Chesne was so completely engrossed by h's own thoughts and feelings that he paid but slight attention to his companion. Diane's rich color had given place to a strange excited pallor. She looked at him with the wild, hunted eyes of some desperate animal at bay. The world was suddenly upheaving beneath her feet, and her heart stood still as the keenness and sharpness of the shock crushed the spirit within her. Oh, Heaven ! not later than yesterday she had been as a queen, graciously dispensing her favors, smiling tolerantly at Lydia's petty vanities and weak- nesses — Lydia, who had come into her life as a stranger, stirring it to its very foundations, robbing it of peace and happiness, leaving her in return the blank of a great desolation — Lydia, whom she had protected and cherished, who owed all to her gener- osity. Now a flash of lightning had come out of the apparently cloudless sky, smiting her from her ped- estal, precipitating her into this awful void in which every wretchedness was conceivable. Others had not been as blind as herself She remembered her aunt's sarcasm, the hints Nanon had given her, the ill-will to the English girl Cecile de St. Rochs had so often openly expressed. The glare of illumination was intolerable, bringing with it a galling, insupportable mortification. As these bitter truths flashed upon her, Diane clenched her hands, flushing into a sudden rage of bitter humiliation. " Diane, you are surely not surprised ? I thought 187 1 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. that you, who are so quick, would have divined my feeling from the first. I fancied that your kindness to Lydia was inspired by friendship for me, as well as delight in her charms." The trustful glance of the young man's frank, eager eyes melted the fire of pain and rage and jealousy. A piteous little smile cros.sed her lips, as though she were amused at, yet very sorry for, that proud, high- handed girl who had fancied herself supreme, and who was none other than her old self The vehe- ment, hot-blooded creature was overwhelmed by a black pall of shame and self-disgust. What did it matter if the whole world crumbled away, and that her pride and vanity vanished with it ? If du Chesne sought comfort it must be her place, crowned by the glory and agony of self-sacrifice, to supply it. No one could supplant the companion of his childhood in that office. Turning her resolute face to the future, without wasting a single thought upon her own strength or need, she battled against the rush of strong feeling with a fierce, determined energy. Diane could scarcely stand, but she confronted the young Canadian with a brave smile, a dumb denial of her anguish, and even succeeded in assuming an air of gaiety. "You did take me by surprise. I had no thought of this. But I am grateful for your confidence, and shall try to prove myself worthy. And then, my cousin, when you return " " Aye, return, who can tell how that will be." i88 A WOMAN'S LOYALTY. He paled before a supposition to which he dreaded to give form even in his thoughts. Together with a stern sense of his own immediate duty, which was to put through the work in hand steadily and cheerfully, without any careful hesitation or speculation concern- ing the ultimate ethics of the situation, there existed in Le Ber's youngest .son much tenderness of heart towards the weak and unfortunate, and delicate con- sideration for friends and kindred, as well as ardent devotion to the cho.scn one of his heart. Existence was full of hope and generous ambition ; he was sur- rounded by kindly, faithful faces and honest love. In the strength of his early manhood he was con- scious of stirring hopes and untold po.ssibilities, above which shone the thought of his girl-love with her innocent grace and guilelessness. All this was deep- ened by that touch of uncertainty that gives exquisite intensity to affection, and the quickened interest of tragic possibilities. These fancies were followed by wiser and sadder thoughts, and immediate practical considerations. Just as the color grew richer and the pace faster, and life spread before him a full com- pleteness he had never even imagined, was it, he asked himself, to be stained forever by the cruelty of circumstances? A great wave of sadne.ss, a swift dread of advancing pain and disaster, the reaction from his natural buoyancy of temperament, rushed over du Chesne's spirit. " Somehow, Diane, when I try to picture my return, I cannot imagine how it will be. Many times before 189 i DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. have I started on such expeditions without a thought ; this time it is entirely different. I cannot help re- membering — it was less than a year ago — St. Hel^ne's fate. Then De Clermont, Bienville, De Bellefonds, De la Motte, were close friends and trusty comrades, with whom I fought and camped and hunted ; where are they ? Gallant gentlemen, they have laid down their lives, gaily and carelessly, for King and country. Mori dieuf what will you ? A day sooner or later makes but little difference. Shall I make a night- mare of death?" One thing, evident and definite, seemed to clear Diane's dazzled senses — du Chesne had turned to her for comfort. She held his hand with a strong com- pelling pressure which had in it no trace of selfish sentiment. " But there are others, my cousin, whose duty compels them constantly to go upon such expe- ditions, and who have ever returned unharmed." " Yes, but to you I do not mind confessing that for the last few days I have been unnerved by strange fancies. It is because another's fate depends upon my own. V: is for her, so young, so tender and trusting, without protection of friend or relative ; at this thought the heart melts within me, and there is nothing to be done. Diane, you have ever been strong and true ; you could not fail one who trusts you." The strength of one dedicated to a pure and ele- vated purpose flamed into Mademoiselle de Mones- 190 mmmm A WOMAN'S LOYALTY. throl's eyes ; all her face grew nobly luminous. Every word she spoke was crystal clear, coming straight from the heart. " You can trust me, du Chesne. I will be to Lydia a loving sister ; I will place her welfare before my own. With our Blessed Lady's help I will be as true and tender to her as I would be to you." " In life or death I commit her to your charge. You have removed my heaviest care." Du Chesne bent reverently to kiss the warm hand that clasped his own. " I shall have perfect peace in trusting to the loyalty of my brave and tender sister." 191 i ) CHAPTER XX. PREPARING FOR THE EXPEDITION. i : PIERRE LE BER had lately been occupied in painting upon a piece of fair white linen a picture of the Virgin, and this he had embellished with all the beauties which an ardent imagination could suggest. " Ciel!" cried Nanon, regarding the painting atten- tively, " It is a beautiful picture, and in truth it resembles our demoiselle." This speech greatly scandalized Anne Barroy. " It is not sufificient that this proud turkey would claim for her mistress highest rank on earth ; she would fain push her to the front among the heavenly host as well," she whispered to one of her familiars. Jeanne Le Ber, who excelled in embroidery, had made a very beautiful banner for the picture, and it was decided that this emblem of the protectress of the settlement should be presented to the war-party as a safeguard. Recognizing the fact that the panic- stricken settlers required every available encourage- ment that could be derived from both faith and patriotism, the ecclesiastical authorities organized a procession, as imposing as the resources of the colony 19? PREPARING FOR THE EXPEDITION. would allow, to carry the flag to the Parish Church of Notre Dame, where it was to be consecrated by Dollier de Casson. The church was a spacious building. Above the great altar, blazing with lights, rose an immense wooden image of our Saviour suspended on the cross. Behind it the dim glories of the choir deep- ened into golden gloom. From the lofty rood screen dark shadows, thrown by the lights of distant altars, brooded over the space beyond. At the head of the church, near the chancel, was placed diprie-dieu for the Governor of Ville Marie, who was surrounded by a brilliant group of officers. Soldiers thronged the side aisles, and all the intervening space was occupied by the confused movement of the throng of spectators. The eager faces of all turned toward the high altar, with the banner displayed before it, as though therein lay their only hope. Wistful women, scarcely able to restrain their streaming tears, or wrapt in the hero- ism of some higher purpose, gazed, hushed and awed, upon the little band of heroes who for faith and country were wil'"ng to face danger and risk life itself Tears came to haggard eyes looking upon the flag. Patriotism was an inspiring principle, faith a fervent flame, to those who had already made great sacrifices for religion and country ; there was even a thrill of sweetness in the thought of dying for it. A fine and simple courage sustained many a sinking spirit, and in the contagion of popular enthusiasm there was but slight betrayal of individual weakness. 13 »93 UIANE OF VILI.K MARIE. <1 Many were moved to an almost passionate exhilara- tion by the martial music, while others were overcome by the pathos of the brave show, with its implied possibilities of horror, agony and death. The service proceeded with intoning of litanies and chanting of psalms. From a grated gallery, beyond the obscurity of the screen and crucifix, floated the delicate harmony of sweet voices in wave after wave of soft melody, like the measured refrain of an angelic choir, echoes of an eternal voice speaking to the human soul. The choir intoned the libera^ and when the concluding words of the last verse died away in the arched roof, a woman's voice, clear, pure and penetratingly sweet, arose in the miseie- mine : " Miseremine met, miseremine met saltern vos amid met. De proftindis clamavi ad ie, Domine, Domine exaudi vocem meam!' In the deepness of her human anguish, from the longing for strength to sustain a wounded spirit and fainting flesh, Diane de Monesthrol repeated : " Out of the depths I cry unto Thee, oh, my God I " She had come to realize that for herself nothing remained but an absolute, solitary and sorrowful renunciation ; but this was no time for indulgence in sinking of heart or depression of soul. Some spirit stronger than herself took hold of her, giving her the look of an embodied passion, beautiful but terrible. Her figure and her whole attitude were instinct with resolution ; every word and movement was vitalized 194 wm PREPARING FOR THK KXPKDITION, by an inspiration. Her face was full of vehement life — eyes kindling, cheeks flushed, lips trembling, nostrils quivering. Led by some subtle intuition, timid souls crept near her for comfort and support. If an impatient expression broke from her unawares, she quickly controlled herself, and followed it with words of hope and consolation. Suffering was so new to her that any sort of exertion seemed prefer- able to passive endurance. " Don't leave me, Diane ; you inspire me with courage. Oh ! it is fine to be brave and strong as you ; but then you are not risking your heart's dearest ; and you, who laugh at men's follies, and despise their sentiment, you have never known what it is to give your heart to one alone. Hold me fast, then, Diane ; let me feel you close when the time comes to look my last on Armand's face — perhaps for ever. Oh ! I dare not allow myself to think of that possibility. I am a soldier's wife ; do not let me forget it. I promised him to be brave, though my heart should break with the effort ; he must not see me fail," whispered little Madame de St. Rochs, all her childish features quivering in the effort to restrain her grief " My Cecile, your gallant soldier may be proud of your courage. You will do your best to strengthen his heart." An old woman, with two weeping children clutch- ing frantically at the skirts of her gown, paused in mumbling her rosary as Diane passed, and held up her withered hands imploringly. 195 DIANE QV VILLK MARIE, iSi $v I ,* ' li'li I ..It ;: ^ " Oh, Mademoiselle ! it is Pierrot, my youngest, the father of these helpless little ones, who goes with the expedition. Their mother died at Easter. If any- thing happens to him they have but me to look to ; and in these expeditions each man has his share, big or little, according to the size of the cake — " " It is to fight for his country, my poor Mere Bernichou." " His country — but yes, they all say their skin belongs to themselves, and they must dispose of it to their taste ; but when the men are killed what is to become of the old people and the babies, I ask you that ? Three of Pierrot's brothers went the same way, but not one ever returned. He is as strong as a lion, and he worked for us so well. Oh, my good and noble demoiselle ! you are of those who are listened to by the Blessed Virgin and the holy saints ; pray for us, I implore you." Lydia, the tears running down her pretty, piteous face, with so sad a curve of lips that seemed made for smiles, so wistful a glance in the swimming blue eyes, made no effort to control her sorrowful consternation. Trembling and shivering she clung to her friend's arm, and Diane was able to soothe her as a generous woman in her tribulation may seek to console a crea- ture more dependent than herself She could even keep in mind the fact that, though weak and frivolous, Lydia had proved herself neither base nor deliber- ately treacherous ; and she tried loyally to remember that in every kindness she offered the English girl she was lightening du Chesne's burden. 196 I i PREPARING FOR THE EXPEDITION. n U girl As the crowd surged out from the church and flocked down to the beach, the scene was a bright and varied one. The St. Lawrence stretched out Hke a great mirror under the blaze of sunshine, reflecting every floating cloud above. St. Helen's, with banks of velvet softness, arose out of this liquid light ; the Mountain was varied with a hundred restless rays playing upon secluded slopes and woody hollows. The summer sun gleamed brightly upon bayonets and naked swords, and shone on the rich costumes of the gallant French officers, whose nodding plumes shaded hats adorned with gold, and whose lace ruffles, sashes and sword-knots made a brave show. Some of the regulars wore light armor, while the Canadians were in plain attire of coarse cloth and buckskin, their provisions strapped on their backs. Much rivalry existed between the latter and the French. The Canadians had adopted the Indian mode of fighting, while the Frenchmen, accustomed only to civilized warfare, found it difficult to adapt themselves to the methods of the savages. Among the soldiers walked, with a solemn dignity befitting the occasion, the dog which was inscribed on the regimental list as M. de Niagara, and to whom regular rations were granted. The progeny of a dog named Vingt Sols, who had done good service at the fort of Niagara, where he was held in high esteem, this animal had been brought from that place by M. de Bergeres and taken to Chambly, where his master served as commandant. As the roads leading to this 197 fcll B ^^Br^^^^ W ^'1 Km' IP ;' 1 11 H SJ'ii- . Ill If ^!l|i s 'I ! '•( DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. post were often blocked by Iroquois war parties, it was found extremely difficult to send or receive news from Montreal. At this critical juncture M. de Nia- gara solved the problem of how despatches might be conveyed. It was noticed by the garrison at Chambly that the dog found his way of his own accord to La Prairie de la Madeleine. Fearing that some of the French with whom he had started had been captured by their enemies, a letter was written and fastened to the animal's collar, and he was driven out of the fort. He at once took the road whence he had come- Reaching Chambly, the despatch was read, and, with an answer tied to his collar, the dog was sent off again. Thus communication was established between the two posts, and many a life saved. M. de Niagara always took part in reviews, was profoundly conscious of his own importance, and was regarded by the sol- diers with the greatest affection as a true and staunch comrade. A corporal drummer, escorted by two armed sol- diers, marched through the streets beating a rhythmic movement, which, joined with the shrill notes of a fife, thrilled the nerves, while the air resounded with the deep clamor of bells mingling with the fantastic cries of the Indians and bushrangers. The condition of things was so precarious that a courage born of des- peration inspired the colonists, "In order to breathe," they assured one another, " one must hope." It was hard to realize grim possibilities of death and disaster amidst sunshine and music and movement. After 198 PREPARING FOR THE EXPEDITION. all, if the worst were to come, it was better to enjoy the present moment. The spirit of adventure had already made itself felt in the French blood, a rapid current wonderfully susceptible to elation. A wild gaiety began to exhibit itself Not to be subdued by an emergency, certain lively youths could be heard shouting hilariously to one another. " I lost my tobacco pouch," cried Bras de Fer, to whom the prospect of action had restored a com- fortable spirit of self-assertion ; "one quite new, too, made out of the skin of a little seal that I killed on the Island of M. de St. Helene last year. Ah ! if one of those English wizards falls into my claws, and I don't succeed in making a better pouch out of his skin, may I be scalped before All Saints. The fox counts on eating the goose, but there are occasions when things turn the other way ; then it is the goose who gets a chance at the fox. Our hearts are in this affair, and that is something." " It is impossible to content all the world and his father," grumbled an old soldier, " or to take time to enquire what his servants, his ass or his ox may think about. For my part, I enjoy these little skirm- ishes ; they give a spice of variety to life. I don't want to spend my days telling stories in the chimney corner." " My little brother Jaquot, a true imp of the devil, who is only thirteen and can manage the arquebus like a man, says, ' It's the season for plums, and truly we will make them eat the stones. ' No fear but we 199 ii i^'l T-n" ■'(■'■* m fir hi! B ^<5 ;^ ml: IH- i; DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. shall turn out all right. Our captain is brave as the King's sword ; no one need fear to follow his lead. After all, I like better to kill the devil than to permit him to kill me. But pardon, my commandant," — Baptiste took the freedom of an old and trusted ser- vant — " Pardon, but it is an evil day to start on an expedition." " And why, pray. Master Bras de Per ? What are you croaking about there, old bird of ill-omen ? " All shade of melancholy had passed from du Chesne's spirit as soon as practical affairs required his atten- tion. His face was now all alight with martial excite- ment. Amidst the cheerful sounds of human bustle and movement his spirits rose to any height of adventure. " Is not to-day Friday ? Don't laugh, my com- mandant ; we don't learn these things from books, they are what we see and know ; every chance counts. The day of ill-omen, I would it were another day we were starting." " Bah ! old wives' tales," du Chesne laughed merrily. " You will never give a thought to that when once the fight begins. Let me hear no more such nonsense." Bras de Fer shook his head in solemn disap- probation. "A closed mouth never swallows flies. I might have spared my breath. To think that I carried him in my arms and taught him to shoot! The Lord send me plenty such commandants, there are not many like him ; but Friday — I like it not." 200 ' PREPARING FOR THE EXPEDITION. " You have a rage for searching noon at fourteen o'clock, my poor Bras de Per," remonstrated the old soldier. " Saccage—Chien ! I have heard that spoken of— the ill-luck of starting on Friday — but once let us come in sight of those English and we shall think of neither A nor B." 20I |i Wr k i. hi i ; * CHAPTER XXI. BAPTISTE FINDS HIS WITS. NANON, who for the last few days had been as restless as an unquiet spirit, had followed her mistress down to the beach, and now stood close at hand, watching the preparations for departure which were being energetically carried on. She found her- self in a position antagonistic to all her former in- stincts. Those about her were so completely engrossed by their own concerns that no one remarked how greatly Nanon had changed in the last few days. The Frenchwoman's rich brown complexion had turned to dark chalk color ; her cap, usually poised so coquettishly, was pushed carelessly to the extreme corner of her head ; the crushed lappets hung limp over her shoulders, her cheeks had lost their rounded contour, her eyes were red and swollen with crying. A rueful sense of loss was troubling her, and she had even ceased to care whether Anne Barroy suspected the cause of her affliction. " Is it for her sins that poor Nanon is taking thought, or is it the men who are pleased to go that she is weeping for ? " Anne had whispered to a crony, taking care that her voice should be quite loud enough to be overheard. 202 V 1 / BAPTISTK FINDS HIS WITS. The malicious words revived Nanon's spirit. As she spoke there was a blaze of fiery agitation, and a light of pain flashed through the moisture in her eyes. " Yes, it is for the brave men going to their death that I am crying. I am not ashamed of being soft- hearted ; if there were more like me it would be to their credit." " The poor Nanon ! she fears that she may be left to make /a tire on the feast of St. Catharine."* Baptiste, smoking his pipe in silence, eyed Nanon reflectively. He was very slow, but he was very sure, and an heroic re.solve was gradually assuming definite proportions in his mind. Things could not continue as they had been ; any change was better than that. He meditated upon his long, hopeless passion. When did it begin ? He could not decide that ; it seemed always to have dominated him. Away in the forest, amidst toil, hard.ship and privation, when he thought of home, it was Nanon's saucy face that smiled upon him. He thought upon all the wit and sparkling vivacity that rendered his cruel love charming, the oppressive thraldom in which she had held him, the burning pains of jealousy which he had endured. No one knew better the dangers of an expedition such as that upon which he and his comrades were starting, and none dreaded them less than Baptiste Leroux But the thought that he might never again see Nanon confused and depressed his mind ; happily it also *A saying commonly applied to confirmed spinsters. 203 % i ■J, a 1 m DIANE OK VILLE MARIE. M i .■' : ''!! i n*.- DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. Soon the two girls — Diane erect and stately, never for an instant pausing or faltering ; Lydia clinging feebly to her arm — like shadows moving amidst shadows, were traversing the deserted streets. The desolate, dark night was full of visionary terrors and real dangers. The chant of the St. Lawrence filled the air, the river trembling with violet tints and glancing pearly shafts. Presently they crossed a swiftly flowing stream, and emerged upon the open country. Here no vagrant echo, not even the stir of a leaf, disturbed the stillness. The dew was rich with cool fragrance. Now dark trees would close up the path, then it would widen into a world of spar as it passed into the odorous moorland or crossed nttle rivulets tinkling on their way to the river. The moonbeams, piercing through the interlacing branches, threw chequered shadows on the path. Anon, amidst vistas of leafy shade, they caught fleeting glimpses of the illuminated world beyond. As the two girls crept up the slope, under the flickering shadows of the trees, the scene was incred- ibly solitary and mournfal. The path, simply an Indian trail, was long and toilsome. Vegetation was dense, tangled with vines, sombre with gloomy foliage, through which the white light strove to penetrate. Lydia, whose feelings were impressions which rarely deepened into emotion, was rendered helplessly hysterical by terror. All Diane's faculties were ab- sorbed in a sombre, bewildering excitement, as with the English captive sobbing, panting, clinging to her 224 iili A PILGRIMAGE TO MOUNT ROYAL. 7, never :linging amidst ^. The ors and :e filled Its and •ssed a e open \ stir of ch with up the )af as :d little . The inches, amidst ses of :r the icred- >ly an in was •liage, ;trate. •arely lessly ab- with her arm, she made her way through the thicket. Before long she was obliged to support the almost fainting girl. Little did it matter what they endured, if their sufferings might perchance gain the grace to save the young Canadian from a cruel fate. Once the long dewy trail of a creeper caught Diane lightly like the grasp of a restraining hand ; a soft rustle among the leaves caused the heart to leap in her breast ; that long-drawn cry of a bird which broke the stillness in melancholy cadences might be the signal of danger. At last, gleaming white amidst dark, glossy foliage, arose the cross erected on Mount Royal in a vow to God for the conversion of the savages. Lydia, over- come by fatigue, fear, the night air, the strain and agitation of the expedition, now sank down against a boulder. She had ceased to reason, and only desired rest. The wooded gray slope towered immu- tably above them, the^ wind harping in the pines. The moon had dropped below the horizon, familiar objects acquired strangely grotesque forms in the uncertain light, while in the blue sky above trembled a single luminous star. Pressing on, Diane knelt at the foot of the cross. It seemed as though she had at length reached a sure refuge, a power to whose strength and goodness she could confidently appeal. Then her hands clenched and her whole frame began to shake. "It is for du Chesne, for his life, that we have to pray. He is so young and strong ; ; so happy. Holy Virgin Mother, who \ \l come might 15 225 it'T ill ! 111 i'l;;: i i ■-.\". DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. knowest the secret of all love and suffering, I ask nothing for myself; let me suffer, but spare him," The sound of her voice seemed to profane the hush of nature. Its tones hr.d acquired a husky shrillness in which there was a note of presaging horror. " They are too holy, the saints — they despise earthly pains and losses — they think only of their own heavenly bliss — they set themselves against us. Oh ! how can they look calmly on our suffering ? God in heaven, have mercy ! or is He also too high and great to care for our poor, miserable concerns ? I will sacrifice myself — my life — what does anything matter? If he returns in safety I make a vow to enter the Congregation as a novice, to devote myself to the expiation of my sins ; only spare him, oh, God ! " Diane writhed and battled for air as a paroxysm of suffocating sobs came upon her ; then, worn out with wild heart-broken weeping, she lay at the foot of the cross, motionless and exhausted. ?'M iiii h^ 1 i i' 226 V ti J, I ask e him." he hush birillness despise of their linst us. fifering ? 3o high ncerns ? lything vow to myself im, oh, r as a ; then, ; lay at CHAPTER XXV. TIDINGS AT LAST. A S the girls crept wearily homeward, the first rays ^ ^ of the summer dawn were breaking in the east in flushes of saffron and pink ; overhead the sky held quivenng lights, ready to flash into a blaze. A re- freshmg sense of physical renewal was in the cool blueness of the morning; there was dewy fragrance in the atmosphere ; the trees gave out a breath of strength, the golden-rod gleamed in the hollows, the heights were purple bronze. Lydia moved in a state of passive exhaustion, half stupefied. As thev reached home Diane turned to her companion a face which glowed with some subtle inspiration r^i^^^'^^T^ ^^^^ "^^ ^^^-'"^ '^ '^^^- God is good Oh, behold ! that must be a messenger from M. du Plessis, sent by M. de Calliere. See how all the people are gathering to hear what the tidings may be You are so exhausted, Lydia, it were perhaps better to retire to your room. I see my uncle. I will go to him; he will certainly know what has occurred. If there is news I will return to you " An instant later she had joined Le Ber on the shore Is there news of M. de Valrenne's command ? " ! •;!• WBr 1" 1 : Hi '•^ Tlj! m 'i' il: |:^ H>ii, i.t :•■■ ) 1 I-' 0. i.l' • > ? ^ DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. " Yes, news has come at last. Oshawa has been sent to say that they have caught sight of the enemy. M. de Calliere lies ill at La Prairie. M. de Valrenne is stationed between there and Chambly." Jacques Le Ber showed no sign of weakness save a momentary trembling of the lines about the mouth. " Oh ! my uncle, even to-night they may be with us victorious." The trader smiled. It would never do to admit the possibility of disaster. " The sky may brighten for New France, my daugh- ter. I have ever remarked that good as well as ill- luck runs in courses. Our good fortune may now commence." A number of women, who had been attending the early mass, were emerging from the church of Notre Dame. Among them, erect and stately, walked Madame de Monesthrol, attended by Nanon and fol- lowed by Madame de St. Rochs with her baby in her arms. Pierre, thin and dark and sallow, pushed his way through the cr^vvd to where the demoiselle de Mon'^sthrol stood a little apart. " Diane, I have here for you a picture of Our Lady of Pity surrounded by the five wounds of her Son." He tried to fortify himself by recalling the excellence of his intention, but that only increased his nervous agitation. " I have been holding a neuvena in honor of St. Joseph and all the holy saints. For nine days, a number especially dedicated to the holy angels, have I prayed, and no light has dispersed the dark- 228 i as been enemy, '^alrenne ques Le nentary be with ) admit daugh- 1 as ill- ly now ing the ' Notre walked .nd fol- ' in her led his elle de r Lady r Son." ellence ervous honor ^ days, ingels, dark- TIDINGS AT LAST. ness of my soul. Dazzling vi.sion.s, the creation of the Father of Evil, ever appear before my eyes. Instead of the angelic faces which once beamed upon me ,t ,s thine I see, glorified by the crown of martyrdom. ' Until now Diane had had slight patience with fierre s freaks and fancies, considering them effemi- nate and unreasonable. Now, looking at him with wistful eyes, she said quietly : " Dear Pierre, we are all sorely tried by an.xiety and suspense. Try to forget your own temptations, my cousm, m thought for others. Could you not sup- port my uncle, who is alone in this time of trouble ? On every hand you will find those who have need of your kmdly ministrations." In the young man's impatient gesture there -- peared all the petulance of misery. He felt it un reasonable and monstrous that anything save the pamful state of his own concerns should occupy Dianes mind. ^' "I stand alone," he complained. "My father is absorbed in worldly interests ; your heart is engrossed by vanity. What are the trivial affairs of this !ife_ privation, danger, and even death-in comparison with the perils that menace the soul ? " The next day a terrible storm broke over Ville Mane. Great trees groaned and snapped like saplings in the blast, the wind raved, file whole heavens were illumined by the swift electric flashes. 229 !' h lif; ;,ii DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. m h ' Such a storm had never been known in the colony. Nature, in her convulsive throes smote the stoutest heart with terror. Late in the afternoon the tempest ceased. The sun set fair and beautiful, with rays of pu/'r!e and gold smiling on the waters of the river ; the clouds, black with the recoil of tempest, gradually broke into rifts, trailing silvery tints of celestial hue, sublime marvels of color. D'r... * i jined Le Ber as he walked down to the shore. That u-.\ J news had been received, yet it was al- most certan ♦'hai; r*n engagement had taken place. His I'tct' 'vas ;;, • .vith consuming care ; his eyes had a famished ex ore ^...a. The demoiselle de Mones- throl slipped her hand within the arm of her guardian and walked quietly by his side, offering a mute re- sponsive sympathy which was grateful to his soul. " We shall surely have news before night, my daughter. Behold M. du Plessis on the shore ; like ourselves, he looks for tidings from our men." Restless expectation tinged everybody's thoughts. These were anxious moments to the French com- mander. No one understood better than he the reality of the danger that threatened the settlement. His brow was heavy with care, though he endeavored to seem at ease. As she looked out upon the shining waters of the river, a strange perception came to Diane de Mones- throl. It seemed as though the world had broken into fragments and lay crumbling at her feet, while her spirit soared free above the ruins. She already 230 Ill: m^ \i i TIDINGS AT LAST. my like the nes- ken hile jady understood the tragic possibilities of fear and loss and pain ; she had acknowledged the necessity of devotion, self-abnegation, heroism ; now a lightning flash of intuition revealed to her the terrible beauty of self-sacrifice, giving her to realize, though faintly and indistinctly, some conception of a divine help, offered with a human eagerness of sympathy, patient until the feeble mortal hands could reach up and lay hold of it. With this conviction a wonderful peace came to succeed the burning wretchedness. Just then the peals of the Angelus rang out, echoing through the mountain slopes and over the waters. It was the voice of prayer and praise, rising in triumph above all earthly passions of grief and pain. Groups of women, with heavy eyes and care-worn faces, holding their rosaries with fingers which still mechanically pressed the beads as they walked, while their lips moved in silent prayer, came out from the dusky seclusion of the church, where day and night lights burned and prayers were offered. The beadle of the Parish Church, in full uniform, mace in hand, was narrating with much dramatic emphasis all the par- ticulars of a supposed engagement, to a keenly interested group of listeners, when the tide of his eloquence was abruptly checked by a sharp poke in the ribs that deprived him of breath. Nanoa, her face flushed like a peony, the lappets of her cap flying, swept past like a whirlwind. " Seigneur dieu ! I would know the truth, me, after waiting so long — a canoe ! " 231 1 : I il'i I- . 1. » ■ ■ ■ > I sf' w M: DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. " A boat arriving ! — tidings ! — tidings !" The words passed from one to another, and were repeated in a variety of keys, as, moved by a common impulse, the group rapidly dispersed, flying down to the shore, where the whole population of the town seemed to have gathered. Propelled by four strong arms, skimming lightly as foam over the surface of the water, leaving a faint track behind it as it moved, the frail craft advanced- As it came between the eager spectators and the sun, the forms of those it contained .stood out like silhou- ettes against the light. The citizens of Ville Marie waited with quickened breath and beating hearts, hoping, fearing, expecting — they dared not think what. Le Ber gazed with the wrinkles deepening on his brow. The setting sun shone so brilliantly in his eyes that he raised his hand to shade them, and for the moment could see nothing. " Le Canotier and Madouaska — the Blessed Virgin send us good news," du Plessis announced hurriedly, speaking with a catch in his breath. Then again a breathless silence settled on the crowd ; not a sound was heard but the dipping of the paddles and the soft murmur of the waves as they caressed the shore. Silently, swiftly the canoe ad- vanced. Beside the Canotier was an Indian, a tall, superbly built man, whose remarkably regular features might have been sculptured out of Florentine bronze. Over his shoulders was thrown a mantle of caribou skin with pink and lilac border. His head was 232 TIDINGS AT LAST. the 3f the they ad- tall, Lures ■onze. ibou was shaved, with the exception of a tuft on the crown, which was ornamented with hawk feathers, re- sembling the crest of an antique helmet. His face was absolutely impassive in its immobility. As the canoe grated on the shore, a dozen willing hands offered aid in landing her. "All is well?" cried du Plessis, unable longer to restrain his anxiety. Then a shuddering, convulsive sob ran through the ranks of the women as a French officer appeared, bearing, in haggard eye and ghastly pallor, traces of the fatal wound which was rapidly draining his life-blood. Tender hands lifted him from the boat. " It is M. le Capitaine de Breteuil. He is dying ! " The women separated to allow a lady, with three little children clinging to her gown, to push her way to the front. " Carry him home," she said quietly. " At least the good Lord has granted the favor of permitting him to die with me. I must have courage ; he will need me beside him. Let us be together while we may." For an instant she had seemed on the point of breaking into a wild outcry, but quickly checking the impulse, had braced herself for the duty waiting her. Now, as she spoke, the icy composure of voice and manner seemed almost like indifference. A black- robed nun silently detached herself from the crowd, and placed herself at the side of the stricken wife. Dollier de Casson, his brown earnest face all quiver- ing with emotion, solemnly raised his hands in benediction over the living and the dying. 233 I I ■ .1 h • . - 1 T 'I if'' w I sir , j' DIANE OF VILLK MARIE. " You will not grudge the sacrifice, my daughter? It is a hero willingly and gallantly laying down his life for his faith and his King." " There will be plenty of time to consider that later," she answered, very quietly. " Now he needs me. I have no thought to spare for aught el.se." The whole assembly were hanging eagerly upon the accents of le Canotier, who had already delivered the despatches he had brought to M. du Plessis. " We marched straight to Chambly — such were our orders. The object of M. de Valrenne was to permit those devils of English to pass, and then, by placing himself in their rear, to cut them off from their canoes. Our scout.s — and there are none better than Misti, Tshinespek and Mushawana, — soon discovered the advance of the enemy, and then we marched six or seven miles towards La Prairie, on the path by which Schuyler was retreating. The sun stood high ; it was nine o'clock when our scouts met those of the foe, and then — Dianthe ! — the woods resounded with the shrill yells of the Indians as their war-whoops gave the alarm. You all know how that part of the country is buried in forests. We take possession of a ridge of ground that crosses the way of those English wolves. Two enormous trees thrown down by the storm have fallen along the crest of this rising ground, and behind these we crouch in a triple row, well hidden by bushes and thick standing stumps, like wolves ready to spring upon their prey. Believe me, Mesdames and Messieurs, I have witnessed much of 234 I ■ i Ha TIDINGS AT LAST. ff)rest warfare, yet never before have I seen so hot a conflict. The English charged hke devils — (to give them their due they do not lack courage) — and were sent reeling back by a close and deadly volley. Like hail the balls flew — three times were we mingled together, scorching each other's shirts by the flash of our guns. With still greater fury our enemies repeated the attack, and dislodged us from our place of ambush. It was then the veritable struggle com- menced. Figure to yourself that they determined to break through our lines, and our commandant • desired, above all else, to drive them back within the reach of our people at La Prairie. Our muskets thirsted to kill. There, amidst that storm of hell-fire, stood M. de Valrenne, giving his orders, calm and smiling as at a ball. Forty dead they left behind them, those English, yet they managed to cut their way through and drive us from the path." To the anxious listeners the prospect appeared to grow darker and more appalling. There had been a sharp engagement, many lives apparently had been lost, and who could divine whose heart had been smitten, whose home rendered desolate ? " M. le Lieutenant Dumerque ? " asked a timorous voice. " Dead ; shot at my side," responded le Canotier, with the sharp brevity of excitement. " I see a little officer with hair as red as his coat, fighting like a Turk. I .send him a sugar plum — v'td ! — his legs in the air, but not before mon Lieutenant had fallen, pierced by a shot from his hand." 235 I' ! '■'. 1 ' I] DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. There was a faint stifled cry. A pale young girl, who had been listening eagerly, fell on the ground in a nerveless heap ; an elderly woman, with face set in lines of stony composure, bent anxiously over ht then Dollier de Casson, raising the slight form in his strong arms, bore her away to her home. " It is Mademoiselle Adele de Montigny ; they were to have been married in the early days of Sep- tember. And his mother — it is the fourth son she has lost." It seemed that those wh(j listened to the vivid recital could see the dim forests and floating smoke- wreaths, with vague glimpses of the hidden foe. They could imagine the incessant rattle of musketry could see terrible figures looming through the haz and watch the gleaming of the war-axes as the weapons fell clattering from stricken hands. i/ '■ lie;''- 236 H.i*.- ung girl^ Tound in Lce set in ^er he m in his ^ ; they of Sep- ■son she r e vivid smoke- . 2n foe. Jsketry le haz as the "A' CHAPTER XXVI. /)[/ CHESNE'S RETURN. ND M. de St. Rochs?" Cecile was clinging to Diane's gown, trem- bling, shivering, half believing herself already a widow, the soft outlines and fresh bloom of youth contrasting oddly with the pathetic trouble of her eyes. " M. de St. Rochs was safe, Madame, when I left. I was sent away in charge (^^ mon Capitaine before the, fight was fairly over." Like a little tempest, Madame de St. Rochs rushed into Diane's arms, sobbing, laughing, uttering inar- ticulate exclamations of joy. Le Ber's grasp on his ward's arm tightened. She understood that he desired her to ask the question which his own lips could not frame. Twice Diane tried to speak, but her throat seemed to close each time ; the words would not come. It was Cecile who, in a burst of joyful confidence, found voice for the consuming desire of the French girl's heart. "And M. Le Ber du Chesne— he is safe, of course?" " Ah ! yes, Madame, our brave young commandant. 237 m DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. And is it any wonder that the bluecoats love their leader ? He fought like all the king's troops in one, being of a valor truly marvellous." The father caught his breath sharply and drew a hand across his eyes, as if to clear his mind from confused ideas. Diane had been watching the working of le Canotier's scarred and weather-beaten face with vigi- lant scrutiny. The reaction, the sweetness of relief, was almost as poignant a sensation as pain. For an instant she closed her eyes and clung to Le Ber's arm. With what trembling thanksgiving she welcomed this gleam of hope. The Blessed Virgin had granted her prayer ; the Holy Mother had a woman's heart, and was touched by compassion. Though du Chesne would never be hers, yet he would live ; his career, in the brilliancy of its promise, would not be cut short ; he would continue to move in the light of God's earth ; she would be spared the supreme anguish of yielding him up to death. Absorbed in the interest of le Canotier's narrative, and in the incidents attending it, no one perceived the rapid advance of another canoe. The shrill voice of a child proclaimed the fact. " Vot/d ! yet another canoe," exclaimed one of the group. " Truly, more news. It is M. le Chevalier and the Sieur d'Ordieux — yes, and Baptiste Bras de Fer." Le Ber, turning abruptly, withdrew his support. Diane, gazing but not seeing, sickened with a sudden sense of dread. She made a hasty step forward, 238 i DU CHESNE'S RETURN, >ve their s in one, w a hand :onfused ig of le ith vigi- )f rehef, For an ;r's arm. ilcomed granted 3 heart, Chesne ireer, in short ; God's uish of rative, ceived voice of the valier as de 3port. dden ward, staggering Hke one bHnd, then, stretching her hands with a long, gasping cry, that seemed to carry with it the trouble of those last terrible days, recovered her- self by a supreme effort. " Mademoiselle, I have failed in my commission, believe me, through no negligence or fault of mine. I have brought back my brave and faithful comrade. Do me the justice to believe that I would willingly have given my own life in his stead." It was the Chevalier de Crisasi who spoke, the disorder of his dress showing plainly the desperateness of the con- flict through which he had passed. In the midst of this sudden panic, the downfall of all her hopes, Diane had pity to spare for him who felt so much. As he encountered her gaze he bowed his head reverently. At that moment the girl's secret was revealed to him, and the Sicilian gentleman stood awed and abashed before the revelation. "It was but now they said he was safe ; it cannot be du Chesne." Le Ber's shock was so great that he looked piteously into his ward's eyes as she stood v/ith her white lips pressed together. Diane's agitation affected her strangely. She was surprised at her own composure in this supreme crisis. Hastily forming a distinct plan of action, she coolly took command, directing everything. For the first terrible interval she could not even wonder, or doubt, or question. She seemed to have known it all long ago, to have felt the cold creeping to her heart to thrill her with a shiver as of ice, to have 239 m i-' vu t/i: t: ,;. i -; i:;i' i i'>^: I I:'- t i ;-i i l^ ;| r.jill 1,; fl III ■ ^^^^B jlmj|i,j..u, a DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. grown used and deadened to it. It was du Chesne who was being borne away helpless in Bras de Fer's strong arms, surrounded by anxious comrades and kindred — du Chesne, whose eyes were pathetic with the silent protest of life against death, whose bright, boyish face wore that mysterious expression, sweeter, calmer than a smile, that sometimes comes to those who look their last upon life. She saw Cecile drop down to the ground, heard Nanon's noisy grief, was conscious of the stricken look of Le Ber's face, yet she seemed to stand outside and beyond it all. With the hush and awe of natural sympathy, friends and neighbors gathered around, looking with deep pity on the bereavement which might so easily have been their own. Ville Marie was overcast with mourning for the fate of the kindly, genial young fellow. There was one whom the young Canadian sought — his wandering glances revealed the secret. All the force within Diane was torn two ways, so sorely rent as to scarcely leave her any strength for decisive action. Her own affection, jealous, restless, impera- tive, had claims which were irresistible. At such a moment who would remember the helpless stranger's rights ? Not Le Ber, who was absorbed in grief for the destruction of his hopes ; not Madame de Mones- throl, who despised the English captive's weakness ; nor Pierre, engrossed in his prayers and penances ; neither could it be Madame de St. Rochs, nor Nanon, both of whom had conceived violent prejudices against 240 Chesne de Fer's des and tic with : bright, sweeter, o those ile drop ief, was ace, yet all. friends :h deep ily have St with young sought All the ly rent ecisive mpera- such a mger's ief for /lones- vness ; ances ; J^anon, gainst DU CHESNE'S RETURN. the intruder. During all the years of her after life Diane could never think of the strength of that dreadful temptation without a convulsion of her whole being. She had no choice ; the steadfast spirit, holding brave sovereignty over the body and its pangs, must triumph. Hearts, apparently, were made to be crushed and broken. A little more or less, what did it matter in the vast and silent anguish that consumed her ? In the heat of conflict there came a new tide in her veins, a novel force to all her thought. It was she who must break the news of this bereavement to her rival, and she would be required to comfort and sustain. It must be her part to see that du Chesne's desire was satisfied, that the English girl should take her rightful place at her lover's death-bed. Every trace of color died out of Lydia's face as she listened ; she turned on Diane a wild and appealing look. " But it is not true ; it cannot be true. We were to have been so happy together," she insisted des- perately, sobbing out the words in her anguish and terror. In one of those brilliant impulses of generosity, courage and self-sacrifice which bear a noble soul on, heedless of the temptations of the body, to the per- formance of lofty deeds — acts of heroism in which life goes for nothing — Diane supported the pretty, fright- ened creature who clung to her panting and sobbing. " You will come to him. You will try to be calm for his sake," the demoiselle de Monesthrol urged. i6 241 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. 1 m''t' III if' -i But Lydia was overwhelmed with fear. The shock rendered her helpless and hysterical ; she wanted to force her own complaints and grievances upon the attention of others, rather than yield to the claims of the dying man. She was utterly unable to collect her scattered faculties. This frail sufferer, with spec- tral eyes and pain-distorted form, seemed to have no connection with her gay and gallant young lover. She loved strength, brightness, the joy of life, and hated anything that was maimed or gloomy. She shuddered involuntarily as a feeling of repulsion crept over her ; she could not look at him without whitening and shivering. She was not touched by the spectacle of a valor so steadfast, a submission so sweet ; her one thought was to escape the horror of it. Du Chesne lay in a quiet room, while the moments which no human will could arrest swept on. He haa accepted the verdict passed upon him as the most natural thing in the world — "quite simple," as he said. He was still so young and ardent of temperament that even the dark passage to the grave abounded in hopeful portents. He would insist upon being propped up in bed, and being allowed to talk. Affec- tion banished the solemn, wistful look from his face, and gleamed like faint flashes of sunshine from the edges of the dark shadow. The young Canadian was tender and considerate, even on his death-bed. He was wondrously patient 242 DU CHESNE'S RETURN. as iment nded Deing i\ffec- face, the in his pity for Lydia's simplicity and weakness ; his dying eyes followed her ceaselessly, with a faithful love which had been born on earth, but which would last forever. Cecile, outside the door of the sick-room, cried out, launching furious, vehement invectives against the cruelty of Fate ; and Nanon, all glowing red, her eyes blazing with indignation, her lips quivering with gen- uine distress, stood by, with a gaze of wrath and disgust fixed on the stranger's face. But Lydia was too completely absorbed in her own fright and misery to be sensible of criticism, ani- mosity, or even the evidences of tenderest affection. All her complacent little vanities had vanished as, clinging to her friend with piteous, shaking hands, she sought vainly to obtain some inspiration from the desperate bravery of Diane's face. " Diane, be good to her," pleaded the dying man. " You are her only protector. You are strong and tender and loyal. I can trust you, my brave and faithful sister." In the constancy of her courage Diane never either faltered or failed. If she was crushed beneath the cross which was laid upon her, she at least tasted the supreme blessedness of sacrificing self Tender affec- tion gave sight to her eyes, and taught her how to comfort and solace the sufferer, to beguile the pain and tedium of a death-bed, to staunch those wounds for which human art has no remedy. A consciousness came over the household that sad ?43 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE ■ v Ml change and revolution hung over the family. Jean Le Ber du Chesne was going away in the bloom of his days to that unknown bourn of which God alone knows the secret. It was very quiet in the death- chamber, where the young hero lay looking at the distant tapers, the one centre of light in the great gloomy room, gazing with eyes from which all con- flict had departed, abstracted in their wistfulness. He had grown calm in absolute self-surrender, giving a sigh occasionally to what might have been, and feeling perhaps an awakening thrill of anticipation of what was to come. The room was filled with dusky ^ wavering shadows. On a prie-dieu close at hand knelt Diane. The torture of one who had fought a protracted battle was ended by the hard-won vic- tory over self In this solemn hour she felt the stirring of some wider, grander life within, and the human eyes gazed appealingly across the darkness of present things, striving to see, no matter how indis- tinctly, the first faint glimmer of that light which glows beyond the grave. Farther from the bed, two nuns of the Congregation, Sister Marguerite Bour- geois, an aged woman whose serenity of countenance was like a benediction, and sister Berbier, Superior of the Convent of the Congregation, whispered to- gether. Something stirred softly. At the sound of the measured, ill-assured movements, timid yet rushing, with a definite pupose underlying the desperate haste, even Diane raised her head, and the nuns, crossing 244 DU CHESNE'S RETURN. themselves, drew closer together. A wan, hollow- eyed form, gliding from among the shadows, ad- vanced towards the bed, stood for a moment gazing down upon du Chesne's peaceful face, and then dis- appeared as noiselessly as it had entered The strong and subtle tie of kindred had drawn Jeanne Le Ber from the seclusion of years. The spectators were awed by the sight of a mortal, divided from all human hopes and interests, yet still firmly bound to Its mheritance of human woe. Night had passed. The stars paled in the sky hngenng shadows dispersed, the dawn was breakimr in the east. Sister Berbier rose, and crossing the room, threw open the heavy wooden shutters. The fresh, cool air, moist and odorous, rushed in ; and with It a searchmg ray of light, clear and terrible, fell upon the calm dead face on the pillow. 245 t>:S i I \ [ =1?i. 1 ' ^ 1^^^'-^ ^^H if CHAPTER XXVII. A COMPLETED SACRIFICE. " "TV yr Y daughter, when the earthly hope that Hghts IVX existence has faded, and we find it impos- sible to lay down our lives to perish in the grave beside it — when we can neither endure our trouble nor be reconciled to it — we can only disengage our- selves and leave it behind us, dead and buried. The true and genuine portion of our sorrow lives ; the base regrets we must learn to cast from us ; there is no companionship between the living and the dead," Dollier de Casson assured Diane. All had come to an abrupt and ruthless end ; the anxiety and suspense had terminated in dread cer- tainty. Hope and fear had perished with du Chesne, yet the tense throb of anguish survived. The girl was crushed under the cross which had been laid upon her, and which she did not know how to bear. Pleasure and hope had broken off short ; existence was a solitude. Often it struck her as strange that no one had ever suspected that she, as well as the gallant young Canadian, had died. Lydia's forlorn condition attracted much sym- pathy ; the sentimental appreciation of a dramatic 246 A COMPLETED SACRIFICE, girl laid tence that the 5ym- latic situation, so dear to the French heart, operated in her favor. She enjoyed posing as a victim of affliction, and performed the role so modestly and gracefully that she won all hearts. Du Chesne to her would remain a tender, pensive memory, which throughout her life would be capable of affording occupation for an idle hour, comfort for a distressed one, and which would not forbid consolation. Two years later, the Sieur d'Ordieux, by the death of his uncle, became Duke de Ronceval, and tri- umphed over his enemies. Though he had entered upon a great inheritance, and become a peer of France, the pompous little man was faithful in his attachments. He did not forget those who had befriended him in the day of adversity ; his heart remained true to the woman whom he had loved with all the devotion of which he was capable. The future of her niece had furnished the con- suming anxiety of Madame de Monesthrol's exist- ence. If her protector Le Ber should die, what would become of the beautiful portionless girl ? If Diane only had a vocation, that would simplify matters ; she might become a nun, and a safe retreat would be secured from the perils of the world. But Diane had no vocation, and the Duke de Ronceval's affection offered a solution of the difficulty. When an advantageous settlement was in question, it was not the custom in those days to consult the bride's taste. The sacrifice of the individual for the good of the race was then — as it still to a large extent 247 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE, 'fii'i ■ ' H remains — a generally accepted principle among the French. A well-bred damsel, trained in the tradi- tions of the ancient n^gime, would make it a point of honor to accept the fate which her family chose for her, just as a high-spirited girl of our generation would take a pride in rendering herself independent. Youth and hope had perished, but the claims of duty remained imperative ; so when Madame de Monesthrol urged, " By marrying the Duke you will not only secure a great establishment for yourself; you will also purchase peace for me. When I know that you are provided for, I can spend my last days in repose. I have suffered, my child, you will never know how much " — Diane could not turn a deaf ear to the prayer of the kinswoman who loved her well. The annual ship was returning to France, an event always of the deepest importance to the whole colony. Every man, woman, and child who could manage to get to the water-side at Quebec, gathered to view the departure. The most prominent passengers were the Duke and Duchess de Ronceval. Curled, powdered and decorated, the nobleman stormed at his obsequious lackeys, or gesticulated wildly as he jested with his friends. The pale, beautiful bride was composed and dignified. Madame de Monesthrol remarked with satisfaction that her niece bore herself with an air of the very highest distinction. A little desolate group had gathered about Diane- This parting meant the sundering forever of ties 248 -!;■ i\ A COMPLETED SACRIFICE. which had been very close and dear. Jacques Le Ber was there. He had a^ed, and the stern lines of his face were visibly deepened. Madame de Moncs- throl, older, frailer, always bearin*^ her infirmities with suave dignity, leaned upon his arm. Nanon, her comely hcMiest face disfi^^ured by the tears which she made n(j effort to restrain, pressed close to her mistress. "The sunshine of my life goes with thee." Le Ber spoke in a low, moved voice. " It is your desire that I should serve your interests at the Court, my uncle." " My little one, could I but accompany thee ! " Then the Marquise added brightly, " Though the journey is beyond my strength, I can always pray for thy welfare. I can think of thee as occupying thy rightful place in the world, and I can praise the good God that the desire of my heart has been realized. Thy marriage has removed the last trace of anxiety from my mind ; I can await my end in peace. Thy duty lies before thee, my daughter. Let no remembrance of a feeble old woman, whose stormy life is ending in a haven of rest, weaken thy peace. Think of me always as rejoicing in thy prosperity." As the good ship Renoimnce disappeared below the horizon, Nanon lifted up her voice and wept with boisterous vehemence. *' When I looked my last look upon my demoiselle her face was like that of an angel. Never shall I see 249 DIANE OF VILLE MARIE. the like again. My little one, that I cradled in my arms, and who loved me with her whole heart. I am but of the people — if my heart is broken I have no need to look like a stone ; now that she has left me I shall please myself by weeping like a waterspout. She said to me, speaking, oh ! so gently, at the very last, * It is thy duty to stay with Madame, to comfort and care for her, as it is mine to leave her. Neither of us must forget her obligations, we will both strive to fulfil them nobly and faithfully, good and loving Nanon.' Oh ! my brave and beautiful demoiselle, I coveted greatness for her, I wanted to see her set high above all the world, and behold ! Her Grace Madame la Duchess de Ronceval is taken away from my sight. It sounds well, that title, even if my heart is broken. How can I live without her ? what can the blessed saints be thinking of up in heaven there? Behold that blonde English sheep, selfish and cold- blooded as a snake, the happy wife of M. de Gallifet, no less ! No one will ever cry her eyes out for her." < > At the Court of Louis the Magnificent, Diane de Ronceval lived out the years that remained to her The vivifying breath of an utterly unselfish afip^rt' had touched her. All egotism had been ai by the fierce bvveep of a spiritual flame, befo. which every unworthy desire and ambition had peri she' i. In the midst of a corrupt society, she preserved a noble and lofty ideal. With an earnest and simple contriving of gentle charities, she strove to make 250 A COMPLETED SACRIFICE, some rough places smooth. Brave with the in.spira- fy.ng herself with the needs and claims of others .nil. 7"''^ con.scious of a wound which throbbed and bled, of unquenchable longings, of memorie.s which never were to be forgotten, she contrived to carry her cross in such fashion that no other heart should be saddened, no other's joy shadowed. And the world was purer and brighter for one woman's taitn and courage. THE END. 251 Jli in< !'. u it^ Y'> P'-'W If mrs. XTvaiU's Morks PEARLS A.^D PEi^BLES : or Notes of an Old Naturalist. With Biographical Sketch by iMaiy Agues FitzGibbon. Cloth, with portrait, $1.25. " Every papfe of this richly descriptive volume seems loaded with tlie scents of the jfarden and the sounds of the sunnner wooda."— Toronto Globe. "The book reminds one of Githert White, of Selborne, and of John Burrouj-hs, hut has a charm of its own beyond either."— 2'o/'y/il)on) Chamberlin. With botanical descriptions by Mrs Traill. Embellished with ten full-page plates of native wild flowers, drawn and colored by hand by Mrs. Chamberlin. Extra English cloth, with iloral design and title in gold, and with floral title-page in natural colors. Limited edition. Price, i^JG.UO. LOST IN THE BACKWOODS : A Tale of the Can- adian Forest. This story, written in 1846, and whica so many of the men and women of Canada read with delight in the days of chihlhood, uiuler its then title of the "Canadian Crusoes," is still a favorite with the young. Cloth, illustrated, 90 cents. IN THE FOREST : or, Pictures of Life and Scen- ery in the Woods of Canada. As with all Mrs. Traill's works, this story abounds in references to the wild animals and the birds of the Canadian forests. Cloth, illus- trated, 70 cents. ♦♦♦ WILLIAM BRIGGS Wesley Buildings TORONTO, Can ?. i.' ' U::, M' n the Days of the Canada G>mpany «^^«^ ...By... ROBIN A AND KATHLEEN M. L TZARS With Introduction by Rkv. Principal Grant, D.D., LL.D, •^ Price, postpaia - $2.00 CONTENTS: Spirit of the Times— The Father of the Company— Canada as the Company Found It— The Face of the Land— From Champlain to Gooding— The Kings of the Canada Company— The Colborne Clique — Gairbraid— Lunderdton— Meadowlands— The Canada Company vs. The People— The People vs. The Canada Company— A Social Pot- pourri— The Heart of Huron— The Bonnie Easthopes— The Cairn. Personal and Press Comments. " From beiarinning to end the charm of the book holds ua."— Stratford Herald. " It is full of the most readable gossip and the spiciest of sketches."— Stmyorti Beacon. "This is a book purely Canadian, and a credit to our literature." — Edticational Journal. " No more entertaining book has ever been written about earlj life in British North America." — Montreal Witnegs. "Few productions of a woman's pen show sounder judgment, higher culture and better literary taste than this hook."— Mail and Empire. " The authors have thoroughly imbued themselves with the ' spirit of the times ' of which they wrote. Their sympathy is infectious."— OMowa Citizen. " The authors have a keen sense of the ludicrous side of things, and a happy knack of seizing the salient traits of a personality and bringing it strongly before the resider."— Kingston ^ews. " Unquestionably one of the best local histories. It possesses a permanent value as a realistic and thoroughly intelligent record of the condition of pioneer colonial life."— Prok. Mayor, in Massey's Magazine. " It is a lively, interesting and perfectly fresh opening of a field of history of which people in the Old Country know little, and which even to Canadians must be full of the attraction of novelty and originality both in subject and treatment." —Prof. Hkrbert Story, ok Glasgow Univkrbity. WILLIAM BRIQQS Publisher Wesley Buildings TORONTO, CAN. if< '^'Rumours or *37 aRAVE, GAY AND GRIM . . . REBELLION TIMES IN THE CANADAS -By Robina and Kathleen M. Lizars PRICE. $1.25 Postpaid CONTENTS: ^ RESS COMMENTS. in;;^e3[^'SrA?,;t£r '^"^ '■^*°"'^^' -^-- -'^one of deep national thSi^^^striSSL;:^^!!!^^^^^^^^^^^^ -expected lights on a co.edy Que Jn 'came' tfthe'^th^onft'han Verba.' '"""'^L'^" ^^ ^'^^dian society when the Principal Grant, mlZZtoGlobe^^^^^ '"'^ history of the time does "-Rbv peopTe^^^^^^^ Si Of "LZtKSf^^Sl «' the primitive ideas of the of the picture."-Z)fi«roit Frd Pre.T ^ wantmg to make up the grimmer side "The authors are of Frenoh ovtronfi«„ j matic style, which their former ^SKmUiarPlr'"" ^.^ ^y the epigram- openmg chapter of this volume Mlil"Kla' WUneT ^'"''^ ''''^''' ^h^ ^3^"u?rS S whiSL ^tiS^'i^Z^^' il-^ting is conspicuously /JFra^^eTSL^^^^- -^ Journa?sSrer^ cil ^ ?u'gSi^^3'£ J^H^ ^fS-^Sil^^aJiiXs^l^i:!:!^^ o^ t.at confused thZ^K^rLr^rbr?;^^^ in the power which epoch to which they refer.^nd its fnterest ^ - "" ""^ '^^^'^ '^'^ incidents of he the story is told, different in various Zu^o I f "''^"1^'^ ^>' ^^^ "'^nner in wh ch the style of well-bred and accoShshed woml ""l-t^'^t of the ordinary scrib^ effort."-PROF. Wm. Clark, uTZntealSta,- ' '"*""''^' ^'''^ ^'•°'» affectation and WILLIAM BRIGGS, Publisher Wesley Buildings ^^^ Popular Stories by Canadian Authors m ■'V Vi CI The Forge in the Forest. A Romance of Acadia. By Chas. G. D. Roberts. Paper, 60c.; cloth, illustrated $1 25 Around the €amp-Fire. By Chas. G. D. Roberts. Illustrated 1 25 Old nian Savarin, and Other Stories. By Edward W. Thomson. Paper, 50c. ; cloth 1 00 Walter Gibbs, the Young Boss, and Other Stories. By Edward W. Thomson. Illustrated .... 1 25 Between Earth and Sky, and Other Strange Stories of Deliverance. By Edward W. Thom- son. Illustrated 1 25 A Lover in Homespun,'^ and Other Stories. By F. Cliflford Smith. Paper, 25c. ; cloth 50 Miss Dexie : A Romance of the Provinces. By Mrs. W. J. Dickson. Paper, 25c. ; cloth 50 Lion, the Mastiflf. By Annie G. Savigny 50 Etchings from a Parsonage Yeranda. By Mrs. E. JefFers Graham. Illustrated by .J. W. Bengough . 75 €ot and Cradle Stories. By Mrs. Traill. Illustrated 1 00 Barbara Heck : A Story of Canadian Methodism. By W. H. Withrow, D.D 75 Among the Forest Trees; or, How the Bush- man Family €. i Their Homes. By Rev. Joseph H. Hilts 1 00 WILLIAM BRIGGS, Publisher, 29-31T. Richmond St. West, - - TORONTO, ONT. ^ ho rs Acadia, strated $1 25 oberts. I 25 idward 1 0(» >ther d ■ . . . I 2o 1 2o fics. 50 • . . . 50 ■ ■ . . 50 Mrs. gh . 75 ited 1 00 By • • • 75 ev. ••• 1 00 ONT.