ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 [i] 
 UNIT. OF CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES
 
 ON THE ROCK OF QUEBEC 
 
 : Far away, through these forests and across these cataracts, I 
 
 believe with you there lies a little Kingdom of Content, 
 
 where you and I nill one day reign." [p. 86 ]
 
 ROBERT 
 CAVE LIE R 
 
 The Romance of the Sieur de La Salle 
 
 and His Discovery of the 
 
 Mississippi River 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM DANA ORCUTT 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLOTTE WEBER 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 MCMIIII
 
 Copyright* 1904, 
 BY A. C. MCCLURG & Co. 
 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall, London 
 All Kighta Reserved 
 
 Published April 9, 1904 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 
 
 [iv]
 
 To my Wife 
 
 Louie Thompson Orcutt 
 In Token of Comradeship 
 
 [v] 
 
 21317B7
 
 PAGE 
 FOREWORD xi 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A Novice Challenges the Holy Order of Jesus .... 3 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 The Novice Becomes a Priest without a Change of Heart 16 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 The Assumed Priest Becomes a Fugitive upon Strange Seas 30 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 The Birth of a Mystical City 42 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 The Hero Becomes an Explorer ' . 60 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 The Hero Contents Himself with Haifa Loaf .... 82 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 An Attempt is Made to Mix Oil and Water 93 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 The Heroine Discovers an Ally 120 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 The Explorer Finds not That for which He Seeks . . . 128 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 The Hero Meets a Great King 145 
 
 " [vii]
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER XI PAGE 
 
 The Sieur de La Salle Finds a Rare Gem in a False Setting 164- 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 The Power Behind the Throne 180 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 The Great King Accepts the Judgment of the Church . . 197 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Fate Proves Itself more Potent than Strategy .... 209 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 A Fair Maid Returns to New France 222 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 The Sieur de La Salle unexpectedly Resumes his Explora- 
 tions 237 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 The Explorer Discovers a Great River and Satisfies his 
 
 Ambition 251 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 The Priest Throws off his Cassock 264 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 The Savages Foil a Greater Savage . ..... .283 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 The Priest Becomes the Supplicant and the Explorer Claims 
 
 His Own 299 
 
 EPILOGUE . 311
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 ON THE ROCK OF QUEBEC. Frontispiece 
 
 " Far away, through these forests and across these cataracts, I 
 
 believe with you there lies a little Kingdom of Content, where 
 
 you and I will one day reign." [ p. 86 ] 
 
 IN THE HOUSE OF THE NOVICES. Facing page 14 
 "I will wrench myself free in spite of all, just so sure as God 
 lives and is my witness." 
 
 ANNE INTERRUPTS THE CONFERENCE. Facing page 66 
 
 " The hood of her cape had fallen back, permitting the wealth of 
 
 chestnut hair, in its disarranged beauty, to form a frame to 
 
 the fair face beneath." 
 
 THE FETE AT VERSAILLES. Facing page 166 
 " The King and the Queen led the assemblage down the broad 
 walk to the edge of the grand canal." 
 
 Louis XIV. AND MME. DE MAINTENON. Facing page 186 
 " They call the popes ' Your Holiness,' and kings ' Your Majesty.' 
 You, Madame, should be called ' Your Solidity.' " 
 
 THE DISCOVERY OF THE MISSISSIPPI. Facing page 262 
 " In the name of Louis the Great, I do now take possession of this 
 great river of the Mississippi." 
 
 #** Cover Design and Chapter Decorations by 
 Frederick Garrison Hall. 
 
 [ix]
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 HEN SO HIGH AN 
 
 authority as Sir Robert Wai- 
 pole exclaims : " Anything 
 but history, for history must 
 be false," the modern author 
 
 surely has the privilege of 
 
 1 W F= *W accepting what he chooses 
 
 and of discarding that portion which fits not 
 into the .weaving of his plot ; yet so much re- 
 mains to us of authentic knowledge concerning 
 the life and labours of Robert Cavelier de La 
 Salle that there is little temptation to depart 
 from the most reliable authorities. 
 
 Henri de Tonty gives us a vivid account of 
 the expedition in which he himself took a 
 prominent part ; and Nicolas de La Salle, 
 "little Nicolas," as he is known in history, 
 contributes a narrative which, while less inter- 
 esting, is perhaps no less reliable. Parkman 
 has gathered together the testimony of the 
 various witnesses for and against La Salle's 
 
 [xi]
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 honours in such a manner as to leave little for 
 later chroniclers to add, and to him is due an 
 acknowledgment of gratitude from all students 
 in the fascinating field which he has so admi- 
 rably covered. 
 
 No one, however, can read what these and 
 others have written of La Salle without becom- 
 ing conscious that throughout his exciting and 
 adventurous career ran a thread of romance, 
 intensified by the persecution of the Jesuits 
 and the treachery of his brother, Father Jean 
 Cavelier. In this story the author has en- 
 deavoured to pick this thread apart from the 
 others which make up the warp and the woof 
 of his life, adhering closely to the historical 
 facts in such portions of the hero's adventures 
 as have been retained, but throwing the light 
 more strongly upon the characteristics which 
 raised him above the aspirations of a mere 
 adventurer. 
 
 The relations of Louis XIV. to New France 
 form an important part in the history of his 
 remarkable reign, and the influence which 
 Madame de Maintenon wielded over the 
 " Sun King " changed the destinies of the 
 world. In the present narrative the author 
 has considered this wonderful woman as the 
 tool of the Jesuits in the accomplishment of 
 their defined purpose, but absolutely conscien- 
 
 [xii]
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 tious in what she believed to be her Divine 
 mission. 
 
 The picture of Versailles and its life and 
 that of the women of the French Court is 
 drawn largely from the fascinating contribu- 
 tions of Saint-Simon and Saint- Armand upon 
 these subjects, and to them the author ac- 
 knowledges his obligation. 
 
 iii J
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 [i]
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 CHALLENGES 
 THE HOLY^ORDER 
 JESUS 
 
 HE TAPERS HAD LONG 
 
 been snuffed out in the House 
 of the Novices in Paris, and 
 the professed and the novice 
 alike had thrown their erring 
 bodies upon the hard floors 
 of the cells for their much- 
 needed rest, save those who had penance to 
 perform or lost sanctity to regain. 
 
 Yet not all, for in one cell, where the novice 
 was supposed to be thankfully accepting his 
 opportunity to relax himself from the ever- 
 lasting vigils, the grey light of morning, just 
 creeping in through the small barred window, 
 betrayed the occupant rapidly pacing up and 
 down the narrow compass. His tall, strong fig- 
 ure, even through the novitiate gown, showed 
 him to be a man well built and vigorous, and 
 his face displayed determination and the am- 
 bition of youth. His hands were clenched 
 tightly together until the nails almost brought 
 the blood, and upon his forehead stood great 
 
 [3]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 beads of perspiration, though the cell was bitter 
 cold. Back and forth he strode, now with his 
 arms behind him, now waving them wildly in 
 the air, until the breaking dawn warned him of 
 the elapsing time. 
 
 Suddenly he stopped, and resting his shoulders 
 against the cold stones looked abstractedly out 
 of the window. He felt the cool air upon 
 his face, and it seemed to calm the passion 
 which controlled him. He pressed his fore- 
 head with both his hands, and then seated him- 
 self upon the edge of a rude stool, the only 
 furniture the cell contained. He remained sit- 
 ting for a moment as if in meditation, and then 
 the pent-up fury burst forth again. 
 
 " I cannot, and I will not," he cried. " To 
 live a lie like this is worse than death. Why 
 should I surrender my liberty, renounce my 
 ambition, and relinquish my will ? And for 
 what ? To be a novice, a scholastic, a co- 
 adjutor, or even a professed! 
 
 " Fool that I was ! " he went on. " Or even 
 a professed ! I cannot and I will not ! I 
 believed that smooth-tongued tutor when he 
 told me that here all the soul's thirsts and crav- 
 ings would be satisfied more fully than in the 
 carnal world ; that here the spiritual ambitions 
 would so far replace the temporal that thought 
 of all outside these four grey walls would be 
 
 [4]
 
 CHALLENGES THE JESUITS 
 
 forgotten. And what do I find ? That those 
 who enter here become human automatons, to 
 be adjusted by the priests with minute exact- 
 ness to the execution of a secret and a terrible 
 work, whose nature they are forbidden even 
 to surmise. That they who were men before, 
 with intellect, soul, reason, and will, become so 
 paralysed by this awful influence, so broken by 
 this mysterious and relentless obedience, that 
 the bodies alone retain human semblance. 
 And into these degraded shells is infused the 
 ' spirit of the Order,' so that mechanically they 
 shall perform whatever task is imposed upon 
 them, ignorant of its purpose, powerless to 
 escape." 
 
 With a final sob which convulsed his powerful 
 frame, the novice threw himself upon the floor 
 of his cell, and waited for the hour of the con- 
 fessional. No sleep visited those roving eyes, 
 but power and self-control came with repose. 
 When he rose, all signs of the conflict had 
 passed, and nothing remained in his face save 
 a determination which was too pronounced to 
 be mistaken. 
 
 In spite of the opposition of the Huguenots 
 and the Jansenists, in spite of the persecution 
 of the government, and in spite of the brilliant 
 but merciless raillery of Pascal, the Society of 
 
 [5]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Jesus, composed of the followers of Loyola, 
 had gained a foothold in France, and had estab- 
 lished its House of the Novices in Paris. Oppo- 
 sition seemed to be the food upon which the 
 new-born prodigy thrived best, and the middle 
 of the seventeenth century found it, though 
 yet in swaddling clothes, full of strength and 
 tenacity. The opportunity offered to its vo- 
 taries to become early martyrs proved irresist- 
 ible to the enthusiastic casuists, who embraced 
 its tenets with a steadfastness and a devotion 
 which brightened in the glare of the stake and 
 the agonies of the torture-chamber. 
 
 By 1666 the antagonism of the government 
 to the sect was reduced to a forfeiture of in- 
 heritance, and the House of the Novices at 
 Paris had received into its faith many of the 
 sons of wealthy and prominent families, who 
 sought refuge from the world's turmoil and 
 sin. The Jesuits had not scattered themselves 
 throughout the country in the capacity of tutors 
 for naught, and the seeds so carefully planted 
 between the leaves of the instruction books 
 were beginning to bear fruit. The enthusiasm 
 of the younger devotees exceeded, if possible, 
 that of their elders, and the fathers offered 
 the marvelous zeal displayed by the novices 
 as further evidence of the divine sanction to 
 their labours. 
 
 [6]
 
 CHALLENGES THE JESUITS 
 
 The novice descended to the chapel, as the 
 matin bell struck, and ranged himself with the 
 others behind the scholastics. He seemed un- 
 conscious of those around him, and was im- 
 patient for the services to conclude. As the 
 solemn procession passed out from the chapel, 
 he fell behind, and, bowing his head upon his 
 breast, astonished the Father Superior by bar- 
 ring the exit. 
 
 " What means this interruption ? " said the 
 priest, sternly. " Have you a sin too grievous 
 for the public confessional that you seek me 
 thus abruptly ? " 
 
 " A sin, yet not a sin, my father," proudly 
 responded the novice. "A sin if I stay on 
 here, a living lie, when all my hopes and 
 thoughts are far beyond ; and not a sin that I 
 confess it now, and ask to be absolved of all my 
 vows, that I may go out once more into that 
 world which is my world, and into that life 
 which is my life." 
 
 The father was silent for a moment. Even 
 in the dim light of the chapel the novice could 
 see the convulsive twitching of his features, as 
 he struggled to hold back the storm which the 
 younger man knew was about to break. 
 
 " What madness is this, my son ? " the old 
 man finally said. " What evil spirit has pos- 
 sessed you that you dare to suggest breaking 
 
 m
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 your sacred vows, and to address your Father 
 Superior with such disrespect ? " 
 
 "This is no madness, father," replied the 
 novice, firmly. " My vows have surely lost their 
 sanctity long since, or my will would not call 
 so loudly for release ; nor do my words contain 
 lack of respect to you other than the fact of my 
 determination." 
 
 The father realised that here was a spirit 
 which perhaps might be moulded, but never 
 broken. His voice assumed a kindlier tone. 
 
 " My son, have you so soon forgotten the 
 example which the life of the saintly Loyola 
 has given us ? Do you not remember that he, 
 like you, was proud and worldly, until God, in 
 His infinite mercy, caused him to be wounded 
 in the breach of Pampeluna ? Have you for- 
 gotten the weeks of physical and mental suf- 
 fering which followed, until, in the cave of 
 Mauresa, the mysteries of Heaven were re- 
 vealed to him ? Think of the joy with which 
 he passed from the agonies of death to the 
 transports of life, in which he devoted himself 
 to his new calling. He was still a soldier, my 
 son, but the battle he waged was for souls, and 
 not for blood. In founding this society of ours, 
 think you that Loyola sought merely to create 
 a company of monks who should aspire to reach 
 Heaven through penance, prayer, and medita- 
 
 [8]
 
 CHALLENGES THE JESUITS 
 
 tion ? Nay, rather to organise a powerful army 
 of might and zeal to subdue the world to the 
 dominion of those truths which had been 
 revealed to him. Is this the inactive, monoto- 
 nous existence which causes you to long for 
 the old life, without purpose, and filled with 
 pitfalls ? " 
 
 " Ah, my father, how plausible it sounds as 
 you speak it ! " replied the novice ; " it was thus 
 that my old tutor talked when he persuaded 
 me to give up my freedom. But he, and you 
 too, veil right skilfully the most important part 
 of all your tenets. You do not tell me, in recit- 
 ing the story of Loyola, that his dying words 
 were of such terrible import, * Let each mem- 
 ber of the Order be in the hands of his superiors 
 but as a corpse.' I did not know this until 
 recently ; I did not realise how definite was the 
 attempt to destroy my individuality. You 
 have sought to stimulate in me, a novice, all 
 those energies which would make me a power- 
 ful instrument in the great purpose of your 
 Order, yet you would rob me of volition. You 
 have endeavoured to excite my enthusiasm to its 
 intensest pitch only that you might command 
 me, in the name of religion, to yield absolutely 
 my intellect and will in slavish abnegation to 
 you, the Father Superior, whom I must recog- 
 nise as God's representative on earth." 
 
 [9]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " Nay, nay, my son," interrupted the Superior, 
 hastily ; " this sacrifice of intellect and will is 
 not to me, but to your Maker, and the more 
 complete the resignation the more glorifying to 
 the individual." 
 
 " A mere differing in the words, as you well 
 know, father," replied the novice. "You will 
 find no difficulty in forcing the wills of the other 
 novices, who have come to you at an earlier 
 age than I, to be subservient to yours, but at 
 twenty-three years of age one's reason is not 
 so easily overthrown. When I was persuaded 
 to enter here I came with no little enthu- 
 siasm, thanks to the zealousness of the tutor 
 whom my brother placed over me. I was ready 
 to accept the life for which I was in part pre- 
 pared ; but as I began to be conscious vaguely, 
 rather than to realise, that every noble thought, 
 every tie of affection, every generous impulse, 
 must be strangled by this crushing submission 
 and obedience, I felt such a chill come over 
 my heart that for a time I became inert and 
 passive, just as you expected me to be. But 
 then followed a self-examination which brought 
 me to a full realisation of the hideous truth. 
 It was death, a living death, for which I was 
 preparing myself, instead of the life spiritual 
 which had been drawn for me in such attractive 
 form. The bandage has fallen from my eyes, 
 
 [10]
 
 CHALLENGES THE JESUITS 
 
 father: the surroundings have become hateful 
 to me, and I ask you to release me from my 
 vows." 
 
 The face of the Father Superior betrayed 
 more clearly than he would have wished the 
 importance he attached to this interview. Rob- 
 ert Cavelier came from such a prominent family, 
 and his conversion had been considered so excel- 
 lent an example to sons of other important 
 families, that to have him sever his connection 
 with the Company with such clear ideas of the 
 principles of the Order, would be a serious 
 misfortune. 
 
 " I have listened patiently to your childish 
 conclusions, my son," said the priest at length, 
 ** because I wished to learn how far you had 
 wandered from the truth. Nothing could be 
 more unfair than for you to leave us with such 
 erroneous conceptions of our purpose. And 
 have you forgotten that before taking your 
 present vows, you were given full opportunity 
 to depart if you so elected ? Then was the time 
 to leave us, my son, for our Order refuses to 
 accept any save those who come freely to its 
 protecting arms. Then was the time, not 
 now, when the day approaches which shall 
 make of you a worthy instrument in the hands 
 of the Lord." 
 
 " It is even as you say, father," replied Rob- 
 [11]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 ert, bitterly ; "I accepted the long term of 
 solitude and trials cheerfully, believing it to be 
 my duty. At the end of this period, knowing 
 me to be utterly exhausted both in mind and 
 body, you told me that I was free to rise and 
 go forth from my cell if I desired. Full well 
 you knew that my only desire at that moment 
 was that merciful death might free me from my 
 sufferings. It was well timed, father, but the 
 cleverness of it did not escape me. When my 
 strength returned, and I realised that the mo- 
 ment had passed forever, I hated you and the 
 Order the more. It is useless for us to argue. 
 You yourself have taught me that power is at 
 the centre and not at the circumference, and it 
 is at the centre that 1 mean to be." 
 
 The voice of the Father Superior trembled 
 with anger and apprehension as he spoke. 
 
 "Then you demand of me a release from 
 those vows which bind you to our Order ? " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 "You are willing yourself to break those 
 solemn covenants which you have made with 
 your Creator ? " 
 
 " I am willing to break such covenants as I 
 have made with you under misapprehension, 
 thinking them to be with my Creator." 
 
 " Do you understand fully that while the 
 Order may release you, you are quite powerless 
 
 [12]
 
 CHALLENGES THE JESUITS 
 
 to release yourself ? " asked the priest, ignoring 
 the distinction Robert had made. 
 
 " I understand that I have already released 
 myself, father, by the position which I have 
 taken. I appreciate the importance of an oath, 
 and that is why I come to you and ask my free- 
 dom ; but should you refuse to grant my re- 
 quest, it would make no difference. No power 
 on earth can keep me here, and it is useless to 
 attempt it." 
 
 " Listen, my son," said the priest, thoroughly 
 exasperated ; " if you were to leave this house 
 without my permission you would leave it as a 
 renegade brother of our Order, and with our 
 curse upon your head. Vows taken with us, 
 my son, are not so lightly cast aside. And if 
 you do go from here, whither would you turn ? 
 From your family inheritance the State has al- 
 ready barred you since you entered our doors. 
 Without this, what could you hope to do ? 
 And no matter where you might go, or whither 
 you might turn, you would find us there against 
 you. Before you try this hazardous experiment, 
 my son, it will be well for you to consider the 
 matter carefully ; and in order that the other 
 novices may not be contaminated, I shall place 
 you in solitary confinement, at least until your 
 brother Jean may be summoned. Perhaps he 
 may bring you to your senses." 
 
 [13]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " It is indeed fitting that my brother should 
 be present at the final act of the tragedy which 
 he himself has forced upon me," replied Robert, 
 bitterly. " Place me in solitary confinement if 
 you will, I admit your power; but understand 
 well that not even you, nor Jean, nor stronger 
 walls than these of this prison-house, can keep 
 me long. I will wrench myself free in spite of 
 all, just so sure as God lives and is my witness!" 
 
 " Take not the sacred name of God in 
 your useless boastings," commanded the priest, 
 sternly. " Remove those vestments of the 
 Church, which in your present mood you but 
 defile. Prepare yourself for the punishment 
 which you have so richly merited, and remain 
 in solitary confinement until your brother can 
 be summoned." 
 
 Robert hastened to comply, and quickly tore 
 off the black cassock which enveloped his body, 
 throwing it, with his beads, to the chapel floor. 
 In the mean time the Father Superior sum- 
 moned Father Anselm, and for a moment be- 
 fore breaking the silence the two regarded the 
 angry figure facing them. 
 
 " Father Anselm," said the Father Superior, 
 severely, " into your keeping I give this rebel- 
 lious novice, who has suddenly become bereft 
 of all sober sense. I will instruct you further 
 concerning him at a later hour." 
 
 [14]
 
 
 s*w 
 
 Enyravtd by John Andnic <t Son 
 
 IN THE HOUSE OF THE NOVICES 
 
 " I will wrench myself free in spite of all, just so sure as 
 God lives and is my witness."
 
 CHALLENGES THE JESUITS 
 
 Father Anselm bowed, and motioned to 
 Robert that he was to precede him. 
 
 " I accept your present authority," said the 
 novice, as he moved to obey the priest's ges- 
 ture ; " but the struggle is only just begun. 
 You fight to enslave my soul and I to free it. 
 To-day you are the master, we shall see what 
 the future will bring forth." 
 
 " I do not think that you will easily leave us, 
 my son," replied the Superior, grimly ; " but even 
 so, know well that wherever you may go, be it 
 to the uttermost parts of the earth, this Order 
 will search you out to your destruction. Re- 
 member, you yourself have thrown the gage 
 to earth : no man can challenge the mighty 
 Society of Jesus and live ! " 
 
 The disgraced novice made no reply. Slowly 
 he passed out of the chapel and mounted the 
 narrow steps which his guide indicated. 
 
 [15]
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THENOVICE 
 BECOMES A-PRIEST 
 ITHOUTACHANG 
 OFHEARXSB 
 
 T REQUIRED SOME 
 
 little time for Robert to real- 
 ise his new conditions. The 
 cell into which he had been 
 thrust was no smaller, per- 
 haps, than the one to which 
 he had been accustomed dur- 
 ing his sojourn in the House of the Novices ; 
 but the sudden change from the light of day to 
 the darkness of night, together with the excite- 
 ment through which he had just passed, pro- 
 duced a lethargy which he found difficult to 
 throw off. The heavy iron door closed behind 
 him, and the great key turned noisily in the 
 lock ; the bar clanged as it fell into place, - 
 but still he stood motionless in the centre of 
 the ceU. 
 
 Gradually his eyes became accustomed to the 
 darkness, and the outlines of the cell slowly 
 shaped themselves. Strangely enough, the first 
 sensation Robert experienced as his senses grad- 
 ually regained their strength was that of curi- 
 
 [16]
 
 WITHOUT A CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 osity. The novices had all heard of the horrors 
 of this place of solitary confinement, but his was 
 the first offence during the two years gone by 
 which had been so flagrant as to require its 
 dismal services. The hazy outlines at length 
 became more definite, and Robert could dis- 
 tinguish the four solid stone walls, unbroken by 
 even a barred window. The ceiling of the cell 
 was also of stone, narrow apertures admitting a 
 scanty supply of air but no light. The floor 
 was stone and supported no furniture of any 
 kind. 
 
 The prisoner moved for the first time, groping 
 to find even a handful of straw for his bed, but 
 his search was unavailing. This movement, 
 however, brought him to himself. He straight- 
 ened up to his full height ; and could one have 
 seen him standing thus in the darkness, he 
 might well have wondered at the expression 
 upon his face. The angry lines had given way, 
 the emotion which had controlled him had be- 
 come calm, and in spite of the extremity in 
 which he now found himself, he was possessed 
 of a satisfaction which was noticeably evident. 
 The storm is ever terrible while its pent-up 
 strength increases, little by little, to the point 
 when it must break its bounds ; the moment 
 of the breaking is fierce and uncontrollable, but 
 the calm which follows is the more impressive 
 2 [17]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 because of its contrast. Robert had at last freed 
 his mind from the burden which had made him 
 so wretched, and even though his physical self 
 was in restraint, his mental strength, Antaeus- 
 like, had gained from his seeming defeat. 
 
 " At last I am my own master ! " he cried 
 exultantly, as if forgetful of the walls which 
 confined him ; "at last I am a man and not a 
 hypocrite ! A prisoner truly, but this cannot 
 endure forever ; and the father knows full well 
 that naught can force me back into the old 
 life." 
 
 Robert stretched out his arms almost implor- 
 ingly as the reaction came upon him in its full 
 force. " A man ! a man ! a man ! " he cried in- 
 coherently, " at last a man 1 " His strength 
 failed, and he sank upon the stone floor, rest- 
 ing his head upon his hands. Little by little 
 he went over in his mind the events of the past 
 few years, which seemed like a nightmare to him. 
 He dimly remembered his mother and her de- 
 votion to him while she lived. He remembered 
 the change which came over the home when she 
 went out of it. His father, always reserved, 
 had become even more self-absorbed after his 
 wife's death, and had given over the two boys 
 so wholly to the charge of their tutor that they 
 almost forgot his existence. Jean, ten years 
 Robert's senior, eagerly assimilated the Jesuitical 
 
 [18]
 
 WITHOUT A CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 teachings of the clever instructor, and left home 
 while his brother was still a child to pass through 
 the training necessary to become a priest. The 
 old-time pain came back to Robert's heart as he 
 thought of the cruel neglect which both father 
 and brother had bestowed upon him since 
 that time. Jean had always possessed that 
 supremacy over Robert which so often exists 
 where several years separate two brothers. When 
 he commanded the younger boy, therefore, abso- 
 lutely to obey the urgings of his tutor, and the 
 father had remained indifferent, it was not 
 strange that Robert's somewhat visionary nature 
 should have been convinced that his only salva- 
 tion lay in following in his brother's footsteps. 
 As it was in doing this that so much suffering 
 had come to him, Robert naturally attributed 
 a large portion of the blame to Jean ; and the 
 prospect of again seeing him, and under the 
 present conditions, was most distasteful. 
 
 From the past his thoughts overtook the 
 present and ran on to the future. He found 
 himself wondering what he should find the world 
 like after having been apart from it for so long 
 a time. Still musing upon this uncertainty, his 
 tired nerves relaxed, and sleep came to relieve 
 the heavy tension. How long he slept Robert 
 could not estimate, as day and night were now 
 the same. The noise of the great key being 
 
 [19]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 thrust into the lock awoke him with a start, 
 and it was a moment before he could collect his 
 thoughts sufficiently to comprehend the situ- 
 ation. During that moment the heavy door 
 swung open, and Robert recognised the forms 
 of two priests in the dim light. Father Anselm 
 deposited upon the floor the meagre supper 
 intended for the prisoner and then withdrew ; 
 but the Father Superior remained behind, his 
 eye wandering about in the darkness to locate 
 the disgraced novice. 
 
 " Have you aught to say to me," he asked, 
 " now that you have had several hours in which 
 to meditate upon the effrontery of this morn- 
 ing ? I have been wondering at the imagination 
 which could have carried you into such depths 
 of error." 
 
 " How far was I from the truth, father ? " 
 replied Robert, boldly. 
 
 "You still insist upon insulting our Order, 
 my son. May I not ask you upon what informa- 
 tion you base your most unhappy conclusions ? " 
 
 Robert hesitated for a moment, but his mind 
 was quickly made up. He spoke with terrify- 
 ing directness to the older man before him. 
 
 " You have come to worm out of me the 
 name of him who confirmed the convictions 
 which had become all but certainties in my 
 heart. Do not deny it, that is the real ques- 
 
 [20]
 
 WITHOUT A CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 tion which you wish to ask. But contrary to 
 your expectation, I will answer it, since it can- 
 not harm him now, and it will prove to you 
 that it is hopeless to endeavour to draw me back. 
 Now listen well. You have not forgotten 
 Father Le Fevre, who died two months ago ? 
 His was the only true and noble soul I have 
 known since entering this accursed place. He 
 had been induced to come here by the same 
 false hopes which were later held out to me, but 
 he did not awake to the terrible purpose of the 
 Order until too late. Step by step he was 
 drawn into the net until you all supposed that 
 the manhood had been crushed out of him, and 
 that he was entirely subservient to the work 
 assigned to him. You gave him the truths a 
 little too soon, father ; had you but waited 
 another month, he would perhaps have been in 
 such helpless condition that the full realisation 
 of their purport would not have come to him." 
 
 " Did Father Le Fevre tell you this ? " asked 
 the Superior, sternly. 
 
 " From consternation, his feelings turned to 
 mortal regret, which finally killed him," contin- 
 ued Robert, not heeding the interruption ; " but 
 before he died we had several conversations to- 
 gether. He had evidently seen in me those 
 signs of discontent which had escaped my other 
 instructors, and to me he disclosed the princi- 
 
 [21]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 pies of this Company as they had been given to 
 him, which but confirmed the convictions I had 
 already formed. From the hour of his death I 
 have had but one hope, but one desire, and 
 that I expressed to you this morning. Father 
 Le Fevre did what he could to undo the error 
 of his life, and he will be rewarded for it." 
 
 " He will be everlastingly damned as a trai- 
 tor," almost shouted the Superior, in his wrath. 
 " It is now my turn to speak, my son. I had 
 hoped to find that the statements which you 
 made this morning were but the result of hallu- 
 cination, and that we could show you the error 
 of your way. Now, however, the matter has 
 become of serious moment. What you have 
 just told me makes it absolutely dangerous for 
 us to allow you to depart, and your own words 
 have pronounced your sentence. Out of respect 
 to your brother, who is a true son of Loyola, 
 I shall await his arrival before making my final 
 decision ; but so long as that spirit of yours re- 
 mains untamed, so long as I see in you an 
 enemy to our cause, you will remain here in 
 this cell. I advise you, my son, to pray God 
 to give you a softer and a more receptive 
 heart." 
 
 The old man abruptly took his departure, 
 and Robert was again left alone with his reflec- 
 tions. It was evident that he had made a seri- 
 
 [22]
 
 WITHOUT A CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 ous mistake in telling the Superior of Father 
 Le Fevre, but it had at least resulted in showing 
 him that his offence was considered more than 
 a breach of discipline ; it was a matter which 
 affected the well-being of the Order itself. He 
 realised fully now that he could regain his 
 liberty only by escape, and in spite of watchful 
 supervision ; and Robert spent hour after hour 
 endeavouring to devise some means to accom- 
 plish it. 
 
 The hours came and went, marked only by 
 the two daily calls made by Robert's jailer. 
 The novice had not abandoned hope, yet thus 
 far no plan for escape suggested itself which 
 gave any promise of success. On the seventh 
 day the prisoner was surprised to hear the noise 
 of the unfastening of the door at an earlier hour 
 than he had become accustomed to look for it. 
 He had forgotten Jean in thinking of other 
 matters, and the interview which he had dreaded 
 was upon him before he realised it. 
 
 The young priest entered the cell with delib- 
 erate step, pushing to the heavy door behind 
 him. He held a candle above his head, and 
 quietly advanced to his brother's side. Even 
 in the flickering light, the resemblance between 
 the two men was striking. The priest was of 
 the same height, but thinner ; the years of 
 ecclesiastical associations had made their im- 
 
 [23]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 press upon his face; the expression was less 
 frank and fearless than his brother's, but the 
 eyes, the nose, the mouth, the general bearing, 
 were the same. 
 
 It seemed an eternity to Robert before Jean 
 broke the silence ; but it was an old trick of the 
 elder brother to intimidate the younger with 
 his eyes. Robert remembered it well. But 
 this time his countenance did not flinch beneath 
 the piercing glance, and Jean was evidently ill 
 pleased by his brother's self-possession. At 
 length the priest spoke. 
 
 " I have no greeting for you, unhappy boy, 
 as you are but receiving well-merited punish- 
 ment. Long years have I borne with you, but 
 now, when my hope of seeing you clad in the 
 garments of the Church is almost realised, I am 
 summoned to witness your degradation and my 
 own humiliation. Have you no manhood left, 
 that you are willing to place this last cross upon 
 me?" 
 
 " It is because there is some manhood left 
 that I find myself in this uncomfortable posi- 
 tion, brother Jean. Did the Superior tell you 
 the nature of my offence ? " 
 
 " He did ; I understand that you have been 
 rebellious and insulting." 
 
 " Did he not tell you that, beyond all this, I 
 am guilty of having learned too fast, and that I 
 
 [24]
 
 WITHOUT A CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 am in possession of facts concerning the purpose 
 of this Order which he dare not have known 
 outside this house ? " 
 
 " So much the worse for you, Robert ! He 
 is convinced that no argument will avail to 
 force you to forget the lying tales of that trai- 
 torous priest, and you yourself must pay the 
 penalty." 
 
 " He is quite right, Jean ; I shall never forget 
 nor cease to be grateful for what Father Le 
 Fevre revealed. But tell me, what must I do 
 to regain my freedom ? I am ready to make a 
 trade if he is." 
 
 Jean looked keenly at his brother for several 
 moments before replying. Then he threw back 
 his head and laughed derisively. 
 
 " It is a waste of time for us to discuss this, 
 Robert. The Superior sent for me, thinking 
 that I should grieve over the misfortune which 
 has befallen my precious brother. On the con- 
 trary, I rejoice in it. You yourself have unwit- 
 tingly played into my hands, and now you are 
 to be removed from my path forever ! You 
 ask me what you must do to regain your free- 
 dom, and I will answer you with utter frankness, 
 die, my brother, die ! You talk of making 
 a trade ; do you suppose for one moment that 
 the Company of Jesus will take any chances 
 of having you tell tales which would bring dis- 
 
 [25]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 credit upon it ? Do not be so simple, I pray 
 you ! You have seen the light of day for the 
 last time, my brother, and I have now only to 
 bid you an affectionate farewell." 
 
 " I do not think so," said Robert, quietly, but 
 taking a quick step to Jean's side and grasping 
 him suddenly by the throat, "I do not think 
 so ! If that is the game we are to play, then I 
 will make the first move ! " 
 
 Quickly he forced the astonished priest to the 
 floor, choking back the cry which he attempted 
 to utter. Slowly the fingers tightened until the 
 resistance ceased. Robert watched his brother 
 closely, and loosened his grip as soon as it be- 
 came evident that the priest was unconscious. 
 Then he took from his own back the only 
 garment which covered it, and with his knee 
 still upon his brother's chest, he tore the linen 
 into strips. With one of these he securely 
 bound his prisoner's mouth, and after re- 
 moving the priest's cassock, he employed the 
 remaining strips in fastening his hands and 
 feet. 
 
 By this time Jean had regained consciousness, 
 and his eyes glared at the active figure before 
 him, which was engaged in putting on the 
 black cassock. Thus clothed, Robert took the 
 candle from the floor, and let the light fall full 
 upon his brother's face. 
 
 [26]
 
 WITHOUT A CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 " Good ! " he said, addressing the prostrate 
 priest ; " I was afraid that my brotherly caress 
 had perhaps been too affectionate. Look at me 
 now, brother Jean : you shall have your wish 
 gratified. You behold me clad in the garments 
 of the Church ! We shall see whether the 
 Superior will recognise the change in his 
 Fathers Cavelier ! " 
 
 Robert lost no time in leaving the cell, care- 
 fully locking the door behind him. At the 
 foot of the steps he extinguished the candle, 
 trusting to the dim light of the chapel to 
 aid him in concealing his identity. As he 
 slowly passed through the chapel, the Father 
 Superior advanced from the sacristy to meet 
 him. 
 
 " Are you now convinced, Father Cavelier ? 
 Do you agree with me that your brother has 
 become a dangerous enemy to our Order ? " 
 
 " Entirely so, father," replied Robert, hand- 
 ing him the great key and assuming a saddened 
 demeanour. He watched the Superior closely 
 to note any recognition, but the old man gave 
 him no cause for uneasiness. " During the two 
 years which have elapsed since I have seen him 
 he has completely changed. I could not have 
 believed such treachery possible." 
 
 " Do you think that he will likely change in 
 his behaviour ? " 
 
 [27]
 
 " I do not think so," answered Robert, with 
 greater sincerity in his reply than the Superior 
 knew. 
 
 " Then there is but one course to pursue," 
 said the Superior, firmly. " I regret the 
 necessity of this severity to one of your own 
 blood, but the boy knows too much of us to 
 make it safe for him to leave us. I have recited 
 to you how clearly he outlined Loyola's policy 
 when he first addressed me. He evidently 
 made the most of his interviews with Father 
 Le Fevre." 
 
 " I am unable to hear your decision without 
 pain, my father," replied Robert, with well- 
 assumed grief, " but we are taught by noble ex- 
 ample that family ties must yield before the 
 necessities of our Order. Years ago you taught 
 me to say, ' I had a father,' and ' I had a brother,' 
 rather than ' I have,' and this training will 
 stand me in good stead now." 
 
 " I admire your Christian resignation, my 
 son," answered the old man, warmly ; " your 
 loyalty shall not pass by unnoticed. And do 
 you still adhere to your determination to set 
 out for Rouen to-night ? " 
 
 " I do, father ; my duties there will admit of 
 no delay." 
 
 " Then farewell, my son ; I will not keep 
 you, for the way is long. I thank you for 
 
 [28]
 
 WITHOUT A CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 coming to me and for your assistance in this 
 sad affair." 
 
 Robert bowed reverently, and passed silently 
 out of the door which the Father Superior held 
 open for him. 
 
 [29]
 
 CHA.PTER III 
 
 THE-FUGITIVE 
 
 BECOMEStA 
 
 VOYAGERUPON 
 
 TBANGE-SEA 
 
 ARIS WAS IN A STATE 
 
 of unsettled conditions in 
 1666. The civil struggles of 
 the Fronde had at last ceased, 
 and Louis XIV., freed from 
 the oppressive influence of 
 Mazarin by the latter's death, 
 was just beginning to show so unexpectedly 
 that indomitable strength of mind and will 
 which afterwards changed the destinies of the 
 world. Already his admiring and obedient 
 subjects, with all the humility shown to Eastern 
 monarchs, accepted the principle by which his 
 life was ruled, " L'e'tat, c'est moi " ; and by 
 skilfully tempering his tyranny with rare judg- 
 ment and the prestige of military glory, Louis 
 was enabled to carry out his ambitious schemes. 
 A part of the King's plan was to reach out 
 across the sea and found a French settlement in 
 the almost mythical New World. A hundred 
 years before, Coligny had sent Villegagnon to 
 establish a colony to check the rival settlements 
 of Spain, and after various vicissitudes, France 
 
 [30]
 
 A VOYAGER UPON STRANGE SEAS 
 
 had succeeded in supplanting her once-powerful 
 opponent. Louis entertained great expecta- 
 tions concerning this unknown territory. In 
 it he foresaw a wonderful opportunity not 
 only to extend his territorial limits, but also 
 to replenish his depleted treasury. His policy, 
 therefore, carefully nursed by Colbert, was to 
 favour all projects which tended to strengthen 
 the settlements, freely granting territory and 
 power, but endeavouring to make certain that 
 financial returns to the Crown should be assured. 
 
 This was the immediate world into which 
 Robert Cavelier, the escaped novice, walked 
 that night when he rapidly left the House of 
 the Novices behind him. The change in his 
 condition had come so suddenly at the end that 
 he had made no plans, and his one thought was 
 to put distance between himself and his recent 
 prison-house. He was safe enough from pur- 
 suit until morning, as the exchange of prisoners 
 would not be discovered until Father Anselm 
 made his regular visit, but even this advantage 
 was small enough, and Robert increased his 
 speed, turning down a side street which led to 
 the river. As he did so, he came into violent 
 collision with a man walking hurriedly in the 
 opposite direction. 
 
 " A murrain on ye ! " growled the man, half 
 in pain, half in startled anger. 
 
 [31]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " 'T was an accident," said Robert, quickly ; 
 " I trust you are not hurt." 
 
 " Your pardon, Reverence," replied the man, 
 removing his cap and bowing awkwardly as he 
 observed the cassock. 
 
 Robert flushed hotly at the mistake, having 
 forgotten until now that he was still enveloped 
 in Jean's garment. 
 
 " 'T is a fortunate meeting, father," continued 
 the man, seriously ; " I myself was hurrying to 
 find a priest to say a prayer over my poor mess- 
 mate before he dies. Will you come, sir ? " 
 
 " Willingly," replied Robert, seeing no alter- 
 native. He followed the man's lead until they 
 reached a wretched dwelling, close to the water's 
 edge, wondering at the ease with which his 
 guide picked his way up the broken stairs in 
 the utter darkness. 
 
 " Have a care, sir ! There 's a step after the 
 door opens." 
 
 A moment more and Robert found himself 
 in a small garret, partly filled with men and 
 women of the lowest stamp, who had gathered 
 to watch the final struggles of a poor wretch 
 lying upon a bundle of rags on the floor in the 
 extreme corner of the room. The voices ceased 
 in their babel as Robert quickly pushed his way 
 through the throng and knelt beside the dying 
 man. 
 
 [32]
 
 " You 're only just in time, father," said the 
 man, faintly, a gleam of satisfaction lighting the 
 coarse, grizzled face as his dim eyes fell upon 
 the priestly garments ; " you 're only just in 
 time. I've had no use for priests in my life, 
 father, but somehow I felt as tho' I 'd stand a 
 better chance when I got over the other side if 
 I had a prayer said for me now." 
 
 Robert repeated the prayer for the dying. 
 
 " Thank 'ee, father, thank 'ee," said the 
 wretch, with scarcely audible voice, " I don't 
 know as how 't will do me any good, but it 's my 
 last chance. Tell the captain why 1 did n't keep 
 my promise. Tell him I 'd rather go to New 
 France with him than to hell in my own ship. 
 Tell him " The voice ceased, the body was 
 convulsed with a final agony, and the soul had 
 gone to plead its own cause. 
 
 " He is dead ! " Robert answered to the in- 
 quiring looks of the men and women who 
 crowded the squalid pallet to take a last fare- 
 well of their comrade ; but his thoughts were 
 not of the lifeless body before him. Those last 
 words of the dying man had brought him an 
 inspiration. 
 
 " Who was this man ? " he asked abruptly, 
 turning to his first acquaintance. " What 
 did he mean by speaking of ships and New 
 France ? " 
 
 3 [33]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " Jacques Moulin, sir. He was a sailor, like 
 me, sir, and if he 'd lived he 'd have sailed to- 
 morrow for New France." 
 
 " Is there a ship sailing for New France 
 to-morrow ? " 
 
 " There is, sir, soon after daybreak." 
 
 " And are you going on her ? " 
 
 " Not me, sir ; I 'd rather take poor Jacques' 
 chances of sailing straight to hell, as he said, 
 sir, than go to New France 1 " 
 
 " Can you take me to the ship ? I wish to 
 send a message by the captain. But first let 
 me change these garments, else I may be 
 stopped again before I get there." 
 
 " I '11 be glad to serve you, sir. Here is poor 
 Jacques' old kit ; he '11 have no further use 
 for it." 
 
 Robert quickly doffed the cassock and slipped 
 the loose sailor costume over the few clothes 
 which remained beneath. Thus arrayed and 
 with his companion of the night still serving as 
 guide, he again found himself in the street, 
 and less than an hour later the dark outline 
 of a ship, quietly riding at anchor in the river, 
 greeted his sight. Robert waited until daybreak 
 brought .the ship's boat to shore, when he re- 
 ported to the captain. Jacques Moulin had 
 ended his earthly voyages, but his substitute, 
 bearing the same name, made good his con- 
 
 [34]
 
 A VOYAGER UPON STRANGE SEAS 
 
 tract for the hazardous journey to the New 
 World. 
 
 Robert's depressed spirits rose at once. Here 
 was the opportunity he sought. Little cared 
 he where or what the New World was. So 
 long as it differed from the old one, so long as 
 it was distant from the scenes of his existence 
 thus far, he welcomed it with outstretched arms. 
 And hours later, as the ship slowly sailed away 
 from the shores of France, Robert Cavelier, 
 drawing in the bracing salt air, realised almost 
 for the first time that he was a man grown, 
 with a man's liberties and a man's ambitions. 
 
 Not until the ship was well under way did 
 Robert feel fully satisfied that he was beyond 
 all possibility of pursuit, but as the land gradu- 
 ally faded away in the distance, his happiness 
 knew no bounds. Events could not have hap- 
 pened more fortunately, as even a few days on 
 shore would have meant certain hardship to 
 him, being without money and not daring to 
 disclose himself to any of his old-time friends. 
 More than this, no one would think of search- 
 ing for him in that vast wilderness across the 
 seas. Neither the rough commands of the 
 captain nor the curses showered upon him 
 because of his ignorance of sea duties served to 
 lessen the keen delight of the experience. For- 
 tunately several of those who had shipped for 
 
 [35]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 this uncertain voyage were as little skilled as 
 himself, or " Jacques Moulin " would have lost 
 his reputation as a sailor forever. 
 
 The elements refused to take advantage of 
 the ill-equipped little ship and her strangely 
 assorted crew. The days followed one another 
 with little to vary the monotony, and Robert 
 had ample opportunity to become acquainted to 
 a greater or less degree as he chose with his 
 fellow-voyagers. The larger portion of these 
 went to make up a company of fifty soldiers 
 who were being sent out by Colbert in response 
 to a memorial received by him from Governor 
 Courcelle, begging for reinforcements to protect 
 the infant colonies against the Indians. In 
 addition to the fifty soldiers, the mighty 
 army the King sent to uphold his sovereignty 
 in the new country, there were a score of 
 adventurers like Robert himself, who sought 
 the realisation of those wonderful stories of the 
 wealth and beauty of the new land which had 
 reached Paris, and a small company of nuns, 
 intent on aiding in the noble work of their 
 sisters in the wilderness. They were the only 
 women on board save the captain's wife and the 
 wives and daughters of two of the adventurers, 
 who were taking their families with them to 
 Montreal, in the New World. 
 
 The captain had made the voyage once be- 
 [36]
 
 A VOYAGER UPON STRANGE SEAS 
 
 fore, and he was particularly proud of his ac- 
 complishment. Easily persuaded to relate his 
 observations, he delighted and terrified by turn 
 the eager voyagers, who absorbed his words 
 with intense seriousness. It was from him that 
 Robert learned of the new race of men who had 
 been masters of this great domain until the 
 white man had set up his abode in their midst, 
 gradually reaching out until the Indians were 
 forced to forget their former boundaries. From 
 him, too, Robert heard of the trackless forests, 
 the rivers new to man's eye, and the boundless 
 territory into which even the native savages 
 had scarcely penetrated. As he heard these 
 tales he felt a new desire growing stronger and 
 stronger within him. He had entered upon 
 this unexpected voyage accidentally, but it was 
 leading him straight to the opportunity for 
 which his heart craved. Back in the House of 
 the Novices, which time now seemed years 
 ago, he had been conscious of something for 
 which he yearned, but he had not known what. 
 Now he knew. The captain's stories had touched 
 the spring which started the hidden mechanism 
 to work. His visionary nature, made more 
 practical by the trials through which he had 
 passed, now found ample food upon which to 
 feed, and in his dreams he imagined himself leav- 
 ing the settlement behind him, and pushing out 
 
 [37]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 into the wilderness, in search of he knew not 
 what, arriving at last he knew not where. 
 
 After eight long weeks, the anticipated day 
 arrived when the welcome sight of land was 
 promised, and the eager voyagers crowded the 
 bow of the ship, shouting to one another in a 
 delirium of joy as what is now known as St. 
 Paul Island came gradually into view. The 
 barren mica ledges, bleak as they were, seemed 
 a token of reward after their long patience. 
 On through Cabot Strait, a few hours later, 
 could be seen the perpendicular cliffs of Bird 
 Rocks. 
 
 " Snow, snow ! " ran from mouth to mouth, as 
 the ship sailed nearer, and each looked to the 
 other for an explanation of the phenomenon. 
 Nearer and nearer the ship approached, until 
 with cries which were startling because unex- 
 pected, thousands of white-plumed gannets rose 
 in a flock from every ledge and fissure of the 
 cliffs, leaving them as barren as the island just 
 left behind. 
 
 On the following morning new wonders 
 presented themselves. Perce Rock, high and 
 precipitous, with its great hole beaten through 
 by the waves, was marveled at as the ship 
 passed close beside it ; but real delight came to 
 the tired voyagers when anchor was cast in 
 Gaspd Basin, and a small boat was put off to 
 
 [38]
 
 A VOYAGER UPON STRANGE SEAS 
 
 shore for a supply of fresh water. The fortunate 
 ones selected to go on land were watched with 
 jealous eyes by those who were obliged to re- 
 main behind, contenting themselves with longing 
 glances cast up and down the shore, from the 
 narrow convex point of sand over to the bold 
 contour of the inner harbour. 
 
 The delay here, however, was not long. The 
 sails were again hoisted, and the little ship pro- 
 ceeded on its journey toward its haven. Grad- 
 ually, as the land became visible upon both 
 sides, the ship's company realised that they had 
 exchanged salt water for fresh. High cliffs on 
 one side, rolling meadows on the other, brilliant 
 in the season's verdure, made a pleasing pano- 
 rama, and served to lessen the impatience for 
 arrival. Then the anchor chains again rattled 
 out, as the ship paused at its first point of im- 
 portance, with the settlement of Quebec high 
 above it. The voyagers' attention was equally 
 divided between the first rude signs of human 
 habitation and the little boats which had put 
 out from the shore to welcome the rare arrival 
 of a ship, filled with settlers eager to exchange 
 news and comment. 
 
 But here, too, the stay must needs be short, 
 as the ship had been equipped entirely for Mont- 
 real. With a full southwest wind, head on, 
 the little vessel sailed slowly out of the harbour 
 
 [39]
 
 and started up the St. Lawrence on the last leg 
 of her long voyage. This final week, buffeted 
 by head winds and the adverse current of the 
 river, proved most tedious of all, but at length 
 the destination was in sight and the end at 
 hand. 
 
 As the ship drew nearer, the roofs of the 
 small dwellings, built closely together, could be 
 clearly seen. To the right on the hill was the 
 stone windmill of the seigniors, pierced with 
 loopholes to be used for defence in case of 
 necessity. On the other side, at the junction of 
 the river St. Lawrence with a small stream, 
 stood the stone, square-bastioned fort where 
 lived the military governor and the few soldiers 
 of the Carignan regiment. In front and in line 
 with the street could be seen the enclosure and 
 the buildings of the Seminary of St. Sulpice, and 
 near by those of the Hotel Dieu, both pro- 
 vided with defences against an Indian attack. 
 And rising above the hospital enclosure was the 
 rude spire of the one small church which served 
 the spiritual needs of the entire settlement. 
 
 This was the sight of Montreal which first 
 greeted Robert's eager gaze as he stood at the 
 bow of the vessel, watching her sail up to her 
 anchorage. This was the new land to which he 
 had come that he might carve out for himself a 
 name and a fame worthy of a man's endeavour. 
 
 [40]
 
 A VOYAGER UPON STRANGE SEAS 
 
 But Robert's face wore a look which did not 
 bespeak happiness, and in his heart he felt a 
 strange foreboding. Was this due to the aus- 
 terity of the welcome, to the evident signs of 
 a dreaded foe, or was it caused by the sight of 
 the rude cross, standing high above the little 
 Jesuit church in the distance ? Who shall say ? 
 
 [41]
 
 CHAPTER TV 
 
 THE-BIIITH 
 
 HE LITTLE SETTLE- 
 
 ment of Montreal owed its 
 existence to a strange chain 
 of romantic circumstances. 
 Nearly twenty-five years be- 
 fore Robert Cavelier and his 
 shipmates landed upon its 
 shore, this child of the New World had been 
 conceived and nurtured in the minds of certain 
 enthusiastic devotees of mystical tendencies 
 far across the water, in the old city of Paris. 
 Jerome le Roger de la Dauversiere was at his 
 devotions one day, after having scourged his 
 shoulders with small chains until they were raw 
 and bleeding, wearing the belt, ingeniously man- 
 ufactured with twelve hundred sharp points, to 
 complete his torture, when he received a com- 
 mand from Heaven to establish a hospital and 
 a new order of hospital nuns across the seas 
 upon the island of Montreal, in New France. 
 Dauversiere pondered long over the revela- 
 tion. The island of Montreal was a wilderness, 
 
 [42]
 
 BIRTH OF A MYSTICAL CITY 
 
 peopled, according to report, by untamed tribes 
 of Indians, who would oppose attempts to in- 
 troduce civilisation with all the forces of sav- 
 age warfare. To obey the voice of Heaven this 
 spot must needs be occupied by a colony, yet 
 how was Monsieur Dauversiere, possessed of a 
 moderate competency and a wife and six chil- 
 dren, to accomplish this miracle ? But the way 
 was opened to him. 
 
 At precisely the same moment that Mon- 
 sieur Dauversiere received his revelation, a young 
 priest in Paris, Jean Jacques Olier by name, was 
 upon his knees in the old church of St. Oermain 
 des Pre's, and he distinctly heard a heavenly 
 voice proclaiming to him that he was to become 
 a light unto the Gentiles. Further revelations 
 instructed him to establish a company of priests 
 upon the island of Montreal in the New France, 
 to advance the teachings of the Jesuit Church. 
 Thus it was that Dauversiere and Olier were 
 brought together by a divine agency, although 
 previously wholly unknown to each other ; and 
 their combined strength was now concentrated 
 upon the sacred undertaking. 
 
 The necessary capital for the enterprise was 
 soon forthcoming, and the Sieur de Maison- 
 neuve, a gentleman skilled in arms and pos- 
 sessed of rare chivalry, was selected to take 
 command of the forty-five men who went to 
 
 [43]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 make up their company. Mademoiselle Mance 
 received divine instructions to join them, that 
 she might superintend the establishment of the 
 House of Nuns ; and during the following 
 February this remarkable assemblage embarked 
 for the scene of their consecrated labours, " to 
 establish the banner of Christ," to use Dauver- 
 siere's own words, "in an abode of desolation 
 and a haunt of demons." 
 
 It is not within the province of this narrative 
 to relate the details of their tempestuous voy- 
 age to the New World ; of their cruel reception 
 by the authorities of Quebec, who jealously 
 resented their arrival ; of their unexpected 
 reinforcements in the persons of Marguerite 
 Bourgeoys, whose face and works form the fair- 
 est picture in all that barbaric history, and of 
 Madame de la Peltrie, most zealous of all in her 
 devotion to the Faith. It is not for us to pass 
 judgment upon these enthusiasts, adventurers 
 though they were, who sacrificed all that was 
 dear to them in life in fulfilling what they be- 
 lieved to be the call of Heaven. Their heroism 
 has meant more to our own past and present than 
 can easily be imagined, and we are bound to hon- 
 our them for the steadfastness of their devotion. 
 
 We can imagine the little fleet, comprising 
 a pinnace, a flat-bottomed sail-boat, and two 
 row-boats, as it approaches Montreal. The 
 
 [44]
 
 weary company are singing a hymn of praise 
 and thanksgiving. They strike the shore at 
 last. Maisonneuve springs from his boat and 
 falls upon his knees on the bank, quickly fol- 
 lowed by other members of his company. The 
 stores are landed, and at once an altar is erected 
 in tribute to the guiding hand which has safely 
 steered their course. Father Vimont, the Su- 
 perior of the Jesuit missions, takes his place 
 beside it, while all the company kneel before 
 him. He is clad in the full rich raiment of 
 his office, and the old man presents a striking 
 figure in the picture. The Host is raised and 
 the rite performed, and now the priest addresses 
 the little company. 
 
 " You are a grain of mustard seed, that shall 
 rise and grow until its branches overshadow the 
 earth. You are few in number, but your work is 
 the work of God. His smile is upon you, and 
 your children shall inhabit the land." 
 
 This is his benediction. The daylight fast 
 fades into twilight, and twilight into night. 
 Here and there flicker myriads of fireflies, 
 which are captured and imprisoned together 
 into garlands with which to adorn the sacred 
 altar, as the thick darkness falls over all. Again 
 the voices are raised in hymns of praise and in 
 prayers for the future welfare of this child 
 whose birth we have attended. 
 
 [45]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 It was perhaps not strange that Robert Cave- 
 lier, the escaped novice, should instinctively feel 
 the presence of these associations as his foot first 
 trod the new land, even though twenty-five 
 years had passed. It was perhaps not strange 
 that he should have felt misgivings he could not 
 define, and for that reason to be feared. 
 
 The arrival of a ship from France was an 
 event of no small importance to the self-exiled 
 people of Montreal. Months had passed since 
 the last evidence had come to them that they 
 were not entirely forgotten. The severity of 
 their daily life, the terror inspired by the In- 
 dians, and the exposed position of the settle- 
 ment made the arrival of a company of soldiers, 
 small though it was, and the addition of new 
 colonists, a matter of tremendous import. It 
 was natural, therefore, that almost before the 
 rattle of the anchor-chains ceased, the vessel 
 was surrounded by the rudely constructed boats 
 of the settlers, filled with men eager to welcome 
 the strangers to their midst. 
 
 Curiosity was the ruling passion of the mo- 
 ment. The colonists were eager to scan the 
 features of the new-comers for a possible famil- 
 iar face, and the chance of a crumb of news 
 from relatives and friends long since left behind. 
 The voyagers, face to face with new scenes 
 and unknown conditions, strove to penetrate 
 
 [46]
 
 BIRTH OF A MYSTICAL CITY 
 
 the stolid expressions of the weather-beaten set- 
 tlers, there to read the true story of their lives 
 in this almost isolated wilderness. Was there 
 fear or despair behind that outward calm ? If 
 so, the new arrivals failed to find it. Was 
 there confidence or hope ? If so, upon what 
 could it possibly be based ? Even the hardiest 
 of the adventurers marveled at the serenity in 
 the faces of their welcomers, which shone forth 
 with added lustre because of the darkness of its 
 background of austerity and danger. 
 
 Few words were spoken to break the silence, 
 as the small boats made their trips between 
 the ship and the shore with the passengers and 
 cargo. The former, few in number, were soon 
 landed, but several days would be required to 
 place on shore the arms and supplies which 
 were to serve the augmented colony for perhaps 
 many months to come. The soldiers were at 
 once marched with much show of military im- 
 portance to the small fort, where they were 
 gladly welcomed by their brothers-in-arms of 
 the Carignan regiment. The women were taken 
 in charge by the hospital nuns, and the men 
 found themselves quartered in a long, narrow 
 building, erected after the plan taught the 
 settlers by the civilised Indians. Its frame was 
 formed of stout saplings, planted in a double 
 row to make the two sides of the house, with 
 
 [47]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 their tops bent together until they met. Poles 
 were lashed across the saplings, and large sheets 
 of bark securely fastened over all to form the 
 roof and sides. A narrow aperture at the top 
 acted both as entrance for light and exit for 
 the smoke of the cooking, which was done over 
 fires built down the centre. On either side 
 were shelves which served as such by day, but 
 were transformed at night into bunks for 
 sleeping. 
 
 It was in this house, if thus it may be digni- 
 fied, that Robert was lodged on his first night 
 in the New World. His companions of the 
 voyage were there also, but they did not in- 
 terest him. He was watching the strange, 
 swarthy creatures who moved silently and 
 noiselessly in and out of the building, serving 
 their conquerors with apparently no ill-will 
 because of their subjection. These were the 
 civilised Indians of the settlement, first cap- 
 tured by force during some raid of the soldiers, 
 and later bound with the stouter cords of Chris- 
 tianity by the zealous Jesuit fathers. Robert 
 could not understand their servility. Had he 
 once been master of this wide domain, savage 
 though it was, he would have yielded life it- 
 self sooner than the possession of it. His 
 sympathy was unconsciously enlisted in their 
 behalf, for here was the submission and obedi- 
 
 [48]
 
 BIRTH OF A MYSTICAL CITY 
 
 ence which had been so unbearable to him in 
 the Old World, and because of which he had 
 been driven to embrace the dangers of the 
 New. 
 
 He listened to the many tales of adventure 
 and privation related by the older settlers. 
 These stories did not tend to relieve the anxie- 
 ties of the new-comers, but to Robert they were 
 but fuel to feed the flames of his new ambition. 
 There was danger to be met ; so much the 
 better, since he would be forced to face less 
 competition. There were unknown wilder- 
 nesses to be traversed, and mighty rivers to be 
 forded ; this was but the opportunity he craved. 
 lJut the tales of the settlers did not tell him 
 how or where this opportunity was to be found, 
 and this was the problem which he undertook 
 to work out for himself. 
 
 Robert awoke early the next morning, after a 
 restless sleep. He was glad to escape from the 
 smoky, ill-smelling enclosure into the glorious air 
 of a perfect September day. The settlers were 
 not yet astir, and Robert was unobserved as he 
 walked past the square-bastioned fort, and south- 
 ward along the shore. Quite unmindful of 
 danger, his rapid steps soon took him beyond the 
 rough clearings and into the majesty of the prime- 
 val forest. On the left, though he could not see 
 the water, he could hear the loud roar of the 
 * [49 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 rapids. Intoxicated with the joy of his sur- 
 roundings, and heedless of the elapsing time, he 
 pushed eagerly forward, until after some five 
 hours' tramping the mighty St. Lawrence lay 
 spread out before him, widened into that broad 
 expanse which has since been called the Lake 
 of St. Louis. 
 
 This indeed was life ! Robert's eyes sparkled 
 as he drew in long breaths of the invigorating 
 air. He threw himself down at the foot of a 
 tree, and gave his imaginings full play. Here 
 was the definite purpose for which his life had 
 been created, and to which it was now conse- 
 crated. The New World lay before him in all 
 its pristine beauty. It was for him to tame its 
 savagery, to explore its secrets, and to proclaim 
 its wonders. But in the midst of his ecstasy 
 again came the practical question of how and 
 whence, rudely shattering his brilliant day- 
 dream. Sobered but not disheartened, he slowly 
 rose to his feet, and cast a long, eager look upon 
 the scene before him. Then with a deep sigh 
 he turned his back upon its beauties, and started 
 to return to the settlement. 
 
 It was not difficult for Robert to retrace his 
 steps, for the roar of the river was a certain 
 guide. He was so absorbed in his thoughts, 
 however, that without a moment's warning he 
 came full upon two struggling Indians, locked 
 
 [50]
 
 in close embrace and fighting a mortal combat. 
 Each was so intent upon watching every move 
 of his antagonist that neither observed Robert, 
 who stood spell-bound as the strong, lithe 
 bodies struggled this way and that, now down 
 on the ground, rolling over and over, then up 
 again, but never once relaxing that deathlike 
 grip. It was such a contest as the ancient 
 Romans must have delighted to watch in their 
 bloody arena ; and perhaps the savagery in 
 Robert's nature had not been wholly eradicated 
 by the ages of civilisation, for he keenly enjoyed 
 the spectacle. He recognised one of the con- 
 t~stants as a convert named Piskaret, whom he 
 had seen at the settlement the night before, 
 while the other Indian was an Iroquois upon 
 the war-path, for he was bedecked with the 
 feathers and paint which had become such 
 dreaded emblems to the colonist. 
 
 As the battle became fiercer, the combatants 
 broke away from each other for a moment, but 
 almost instantly they were together again. In 
 that moment, however, both of the Indians saw 
 Robert, and the struggle took on a new interest. 
 
 " Run, friend, run ! " hoarsely ejaculated Pis- 
 karet, whose breath was nearly spent ; " I will 
 hold him while you run ! " 
 
 The Iroquois redoubled his efforts. Here 
 was an opportunity for a white man's scalp as 
 
 [51]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 well, for he had quickly noted that Robert was 
 unarmed. Both the Indians were on the ground 
 now, Piskaret underneath and fast weakening. 
 Robert had not thought of entering into the 
 conflict until he saw the Iroquois slowly moving 
 one hand toward the knife in his belt, while the 
 other held Piskaret firmly by the throat. He 
 hesitated no longer ; throwing himself fiercely 
 upon the Iroquois, he seized the hand which 
 now grasped the knife. 
 
 Robert Cavelier's life during the past three 
 years had given him no chance for developing 
 the splendid physique with which Nature had 
 endowed him. When the battle turned, there- 
 fore, from the two Indians to the Indian and 
 the white man, the latter found himself as a 
 child in the hands of his active opponent. 
 Robert realised his danger, and knew that his 
 one hope lay in keeping control of that hand 
 which held the knife. But little by little the 
 Iroquois forced Robert's grip, and little by little 
 it was borne in on Robert that his hour had 
 come. It was his first struggle toward the con- 
 quest of the unknown world, and it was to be 
 his last ! This, rather than the danger in which 
 he knew his life stood, was what caused the 
 pain in his heart. The disappointment of his 
 hopes, the thwarting of his ambitions so recently 
 aroused, but no less keen in their intensity, 
 
 [52]
 
 BIRTH OF A MYSTICAL CITY 
 
 this was what made him so desperate, but all 
 in vain. His grip upon that wrist of iron was 
 surely weakening, and when it loosened all 
 would be over. 
 
 But Robert had forgotten Piskaret. When 
 the Iroquois' attack had been diverted, Piskaret 
 had nearly ceased breathing, but the fingers at 
 his throat were released just in time. Slowly 
 strength came back to him, and at a glance he 
 realised Robert's danger. Piskaret was un- 
 armed, but the Iroquois' tomahawk still stuck 
 in his belt. Could Robert hold that wrist until 
 the weapon could be secured ? That was the 
 question. It was answered when Robert's grasp 
 at last gave way and at the same time the warm 
 blood spurted over his face. He wondered where 
 he had been struck, as he felt no pain. Then 
 his antagonist fell at his feet, and he saw the 
 impassive Piskaret standing before him with the 
 dripping tomahawk in his hand. 
 
 " Good ! " grunted the satisfied Indian ; " good ! 
 You save Piskaret 's life ; Piskaret save your 
 life. We be friends while the sun warms and 
 the wind blows." And he held out his hand 
 after the fashion he had learned at the settlement. 
 
 Robert grasped the hand outstretched over the 
 body of the dead Indian. Little did he realise 
 that this union with the red man was to prove 
 the means for which he searched ; little did he 
 
 [53]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 know that in this tableau was pictured the hope 
 of his future success. It was the Indian, with 
 all his wiles, yet freed from the white man's 
 jealousy, who was to give Robert Cavelier the 
 first true friendship and real assistance of his 
 life. 
 
 Piskaret's companionship was the influence 
 which changed Robert's imaginings into definite 
 certainties. The Algonquin was a man of un- 
 usual experience, and he possessed such marked 
 intelligence that it had been considered a stroke 
 of great good fortune when he accepted the Jesuit 
 teachings and adopted a civilised life. Robert 
 found in him just those characteristics which he 
 most needed, and the Indian, first bound by ties 
 of gratitude, later gave to his friend an absolute 
 devotion which knew no wavering. 
 
 As Robert became better acquainted with 
 Piskaret he unfolded to him his plans, indefi- 
 nite though they were. The Indian entered 
 heartily into them, and from him Robert learned 
 of that trackless forest which stretched away 
 toward the setting sun ; of the mighty river 
 which the Indians called the Ohio, and which 
 we now know as the Mississippi, rising in the 
 land of the Senecas and flowing to the sea, but 
 at so distant a point that it would require a 
 year's journey to reach its mouth. The appar- 
 ent accuracy of this information sobered Robert 
 
 [54]
 
 BIRTH OF A MYSTICAL CITY 
 
 in his outward bearing, even though it fanned 
 his imagination into flame ; and he spent days 
 and nights in determining the geographical bear- 
 ing of his new learning. There could be no 
 doubt about it : this was the long-looked-for 
 passage to the Southern Sea ; this great river 
 must empty into the " Vermilion Sea " and grant 
 him a western passage to China. 
 
 But Piskaret told Robert of other things than 
 these. He impressed upon him that it was ab- 
 solutely necessary for him to learn the Indian 
 language before he could hope to be successful ; 
 he urged upon him that his company must be 
 made up of hardy and intrepid men who feared 
 neither danger nor privation ; and he also per- 
 suaded Robert's impatient soul that the approval 
 of " Onontio," the Governor of New France, 
 must be obtained to carry weight with such 
 tribes as had signed treaties of peace with the 
 white men. 
 
 Robert could but see the wisdom of the sa- 
 gacious Indian's advice. It meant a vexatious 
 delay, but he admitted to himself that it made 
 the success of his undertaking the more assured. 
 He therefore set about to establish himself for 
 the next two or three years in such a manner as 
 might make the term of postponement as brief 
 as possible. 
 
 The Seminary of St. Sulpice, controlled by 
 [55]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 the Jesuit corporation of priests, had supplanted 
 by this time the association of devotees which 
 Maisonneuve had established years before, and 
 was now in the position of proprietor and feudal 
 lord of Montreal. Robert Cavalier's dread of 
 the Jesuits had largely vanished, as no one here 
 knew of his past experiences, nor was his history 
 likely to be discovered. At all events, Robert 
 was ready to take advantage of any stepping- 
 stone to the accomplishment of his purpose, and 
 he therefore eagerly accepted the opportunity 
 afforded him by them to become the feudal pro- 
 prietor of the large tract of land located at what 
 was later derisively termed " La Chine," because 
 of Robert's early belief that he had found the 
 western passage to China, just where he had 
 first gazed upon the Lake of St. Louis before 
 his meeting with Piskaret. It was important 
 to the seminary that this point be protected 
 against Indian attack, and the terms upon which 
 it was granted were exceedingly generous. 
 
 Here it was that Robert Cavelier became the 
 seignior of a little colony of settlers, establish- 
 ing a palisaded village, and receiving a yearly 
 revenue from each colonist. One might have 
 thought him contented there, respected by 
 his less fortunate neighbours, beloved by his 
 constant companion Piskaret, and with his 
 seigniory located in the choicest spot in all New 
 
 [56]
 
 BIRTH OF A MYSTICAL CITY 
 
 France. But Robert's neighbours could not 
 hear the Song of the Sirens which came to 
 him from the broad surface of Lake St. Louis, 
 as its wave beat upon his shore ; nor could 
 they understand the promises which the wind 
 brought him from beyond the forests of Cha- 
 teauguay and Beauharnais across the lake. 
 Robert forced himself to be content for the 
 time being that his body should be restricted to 
 the limitations of his seigniory, while he mas- 
 tered the Indian language, and laid aside sou by 
 sou from his revenue, the capital which was 
 to gather together that company of bold and 
 intrepid spirits who would work out as his 
 agents the plan which controlled his life. But 
 his mind recognised no bounds, and day after 
 day and night after night it wandered across 
 the lake and the forests, painting pictures of 
 the great beyond which at times almost com- 
 pelled him to break his resolution. 
 
 At last the time arrived when Robert knew 
 that he was sufficiently familiar with the Indian 
 tongue to undertake his expedition. The 
 amount which he had been able to set aside was 
 more meagre, to be sure, than he had hoped, but 
 he could sell his seigniory and thus be fairly 
 well equipped. He was therefore ready to 
 make the trip to Quebec with his trusted friend 
 Piskaret, in the hope of interesting the Gov- 
 
 [57]
 
 ernor and the Intendant in the plans he had 
 so carefully perfected. 
 
 What a weight of force and determination 
 that frail canoe contained as it shot from the 
 bank of La Chine early that morning ! The 
 dusky, impassive figure at the bow was merely 
 performing its duty to its master ; but the 
 keen, closely-knitted features of the man at 
 the stern showed factors of far greater import. 
 Robert Cavelier had developed much in the 
 three years which had just elapsed. He had 
 come to the New World with no plans matured, 
 with no definite purpose ; he was now a man in 
 whom burned the passionate fire of ambition. 
 This journey meant to him the reward of his 
 long self-denial, and its importance could not fail 
 to place its impress upon his face. There might 
 be nothing but disappointment ahead for him 
 at Quebec, but that thought had not once oc- 
 curred to him. Success must be at the end 
 of such unalterable determination as his. The 
 world was not dead to him now. The golden 
 sun of promise was rising upon his life after 
 many years of darkness, and the waters of the 
 St. Lawrence, over which the canoe swiftly 
 sped, were gloriously coloured by its radiance. 
 
 Out across Lake St. Louis, straight into the 
 rapids of La Chine, which carried the frail 
 bark like an egg-shell upon the crest of its 
 
 [58]
 
 BIRTH OF A MYSTICAL CITY 
 
 dashing spray, down past the seigniories of 
 Contrecoeur, Varennes, Longueuil, Boucherville, 
 and Vercheres, sped the light canoe impelled by 
 the sturdy paddling of Robert and Piskaret. 
 The rough-hewn stonework of St. Sulpice was 
 dimly outlined in the grey morning light ; the 
 closely-massed wooden houses, the frowning mill 
 of the seigniors, and the Hotel Dieu could be 
 barely distinguished as the still sleeping settle- 
 ment of Montreal was left behind them. By 
 the time the sun rose Robert was well upon 
 his voyage, and the cheering warmth caused 
 his spirits to rise even to a greater pitch of 
 confidence and enthusiasm. The fort of Sorel, 
 the military seigniories of Becancour, Lotbin- 
 iere, and Lussandiere, and others as yet uncom- 
 pleted, greeted his eye as the sixty leagues 
 passed behind him, until at last, five days after 
 he had left La Chine, he reached Quebec, Mont- 
 real's jealous sister, and his first step toward his 
 western aspirations was accomplished. 
 
 [59]
 
 CHAPTER-V 
 
 THE HERO 
 BECOMES 
 
 AN- 
 EXPLORER 
 
 UEBEC NATURALLY 
 
 was a spot of great interest 
 to Robert, and as the canoe 
 shot along beneath the bold 
 promontory, giving him a 
 nearer view than he had 
 gained from the ship three 
 years before, he gazed with undisguised curi- 
 osity. Many were the tales which came to 
 Montreal from the older settlement, exagger- 
 ated by distance and distorted by jealousy ; for 
 between the two there existed undenied discord, 
 ever kept alive by the rivalry between the two 
 Jesuit organisations. 
 
 Success had crowned the efforts of Father 
 Laval to gain the temporal control of Quebec. 
 There was a Governor and an Intendant, to be 
 sure, but the Bishop was in such constant com- 
 munication with his Order in Paris, which in 
 turn kept in such close touch with King Louis 
 and his counsellors, that it was a hardy thing for 
 even the Governor himself openly to thwart his 
 will. Made bolder by the importance which 
 
 [60]
 
 BECOMES AN EXPLORER 
 
 this power brought to their organisation, the 
 priests were almost intolerable in their attitude, 
 not hesitating even to enter the houses of the 
 inhabitants to learn all that went on within, 
 and frequently requiring the worthy house- 
 holder to rise from his table to be confessed. 
 Should they, the chosen representatives of their 
 Order in New France, share with the Sulpi- 
 tians of Montreal the power for which they had 
 striven so zealously ? Far from it. The rival 
 settlement must be endured, because it too was 
 made up of Jesuits, but it must not be encour- 
 aged, since in the minds of the Bishop and his 
 co-workers at Quebec, it constituted an element 
 of disorganisation in the Church. 
 
 Robert lent willing ears to the stories of du- 
 plicity and craft which the settlers and the 
 Sulpitians freely told as characteristics of Que- 
 bec, but this did not lessen the interest with 
 which he eagerly took in with his glance the 
 little settlement before him, - - the weak, 
 ill-garrisoned, poorly protected capital of the 
 colony, which represented the strength of 
 Louis XIV. in the New World. 
 
 Far above him, on the edge of the precipice, 
 he saw the Fort of St. Louis, with the banner 
 of France floating proudly in the breeze. Be- 
 yond this was the cathedral, its cross-mounted 
 tower in silhouette against the sky ; and below 
 
 [61]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 stood the closely-massed houses of the mer- 
 chants. The Upper Town, as it was called, 
 included the priests, the nuns, the government 
 officials, and the soldiers ; and here also were 
 the chateau, the convents, and the seminary. 
 At the foot of the steep rock, along the water's 
 edge, lay the Lower Town, where lived and 
 laboured the commercial representatives of the 
 settlement, engaged principally in the beaver 
 trade, which dominated Quebec. Hither the 
 trapper and the bois-coureur brought together 
 their peltry to be shipped to France. 
 
 The seat of the government was at the Cha- 
 teau St. Louis. Here lived the Governor, and 
 from his lofty outlook he commanded a marvel- 
 ous view of land and water. Even Robert's 
 little canoe could not have been beached with- 
 out his notice, had he cared to gaze out from the 
 chateau over the broad expanse of the St. Law- 
 rence. The soldiers were on guard at the fort, 
 and not far distant stood the Ursuline Convent, 
 where Mother Mary of the Incarnation presided 
 over her charge of pupils and nuns ; and only a 
 little way beyond, Robert saw the Hotel Dieu 
 and the heavily-constrilcted buildings of the 
 Jesuits. Their new church had just been erected 
 opposite the great church of Notre Dame, 
 which stood so long as a memorial to the mas- 
 sive foundations of their tenets. 
 
 [62]
 
 BECOMES AN EXPLORER 
 
 It required no particular diplomacy for Rob- 
 ert to secure an audience with the Governor. 
 Courcelle was an old soldier who had served his 
 King on both sides of the water, and any plan 
 which promised advantage to his sovereign was 
 certain of careful consideration. And no man 
 could have presented his cause more effectively 
 than Robert Cavelier. He had held this pic- 
 ture of the trackless West and its possibilities 
 in his mind for so long a time that it had taken 
 firm possession of him. So real had it become, 
 indeed, that it seemed a task almost accom- 
 plished. 
 
 It was a scene worthy of a master's painting 
 which was witnessed in the low-ceiled room of 
 the old chateau that day. The Governor, with 
 his well-preserved figure, his sunburnt face, his 
 beard and hair closely cut and well turned 
 grey, his dignified and soldiery bearing, was 
 plainly interested, though somewhat incredu- 
 lous. Before him was Robert Cavelier in the 
 proud strength of his youth, drawing for the 
 older man a brilliant picture of what his plan 
 promised. Too eager in his enthusiasm to re- 
 main seated, he poured into the Governor's ears 
 that Song of the Sirens w r hich had come to him 
 so often at his own seigniory across the Lake of 
 St. Louis. 
 
 " Look, Excellency," cried Robert, pointing 
 [63]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 from the window to the broad surface of the 
 St. Lawrence spread out before them, "look at 
 the mighty river which has become the property 
 of our King. Think how he values it, as one of 
 the priceless jewels of his crown. But far away 
 to the westward is another river, beside which 
 this beautiful St. Lawrence is but a stream. It 
 is to be reached only through trackless forests, 
 by fording streams, by enduring hardship, peril, 
 privation, but is it not worth it all ? I will 
 find this river, upon which no white man has 
 ever gazed, I will possess it in the name of 
 France, and I will open up to you the passage 
 to the Southern Sea." 
 
 " But what proof have you of this ? " asked 
 the Governor. 
 
 It was Piskaret who answered. Up to this 
 time he had stood in the shadow of the room 
 with his arms folded, erect, impassive ; and his 
 quick response to the Governor's question was 
 an evidence of the enthusiasm which had been 
 aroused by his association with Robert. 
 
 " Listen, Onontio. Many years ago I was 
 hunting with my people, the Algonquins. We 
 were many days' journey from our wigwams 
 when we came upon a river which no Algon- 
 quin had ever seen before. Quickly we built 
 canoes and set out upon this river, stopping 
 each night and advancing each day until we 
 
 [64]
 
 BECOMES AN EXPLORER 
 
 knew not what space of time had passed ; and 
 yet we came not to the outlet. We journeyed 
 on for many weeks, until we cared to go no far- 
 ther ; then we turned back and rejoined our 
 people, who had thought us dead long since. 
 Seven times had the moon waxed, and seven 
 times had it waned, yet found we not the 
 mouth of that great river." 
 
 Piskaret ceased and drew back into the 
 shadow, again impassive. 
 
 " A marvelous story ! " ejaculated the Gov- 
 ernor, turning to Robert. " You must give me 
 time to think this over, and Talon, the Intend- 
 ant, must hear what you have to say. What 
 you and the Indian have told has much of 
 interest. Remain here as my guest for a few 
 days." 
 
 " Gladly, sir," replied Robert, greatly encour- 
 aged ; " I thank you for your hospitality." 
 
 Governor Courcelle's family consisted of but 
 his daughter and himself. Anne Courcelle was 
 just reaching womanhood, and formed a brilliant 
 contrast to her father. Tall, as women go, her 
 well-moulded figure was in perfect proportion, 
 and even the coarsely-woven garments of the 
 colonists which had replaced the silks and laces 
 she brought from France could not conceal her 
 grace and symmetry. The bracing air of Quebec 
 and her active life out of doors had given her 
 * [65]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 health and colour unknown to the companions 
 she had left behind her when she accompanied 
 her father to his post in the New World, to 
 which the King had appointed him five years 
 before. She was but a child then, thirteen 
 years of age, and she had thought it grand 
 indeed to be a governor's daughter ; but the 
 five years had shown her the other side of the 
 picture, and it sometimes seemed to her as if 
 the monotony of her existence would drive her 
 mad. For her father's sake she accepted the 
 inevitable, concealing how great a sacrifice she 
 was making for him. 
 
 Just as Robert's interview with the Governor 
 was at an end, Anne entered the room unan- 
 nounced. In the dim light she did not observe 
 the visitors, but they could not fail to notice 
 her. The hood of her cape had fallen back, 
 permitting the wealth of chestnut hair in its dis- 
 arranged beauty to form a frame to the fair 
 face beneath. The brown eyes sparkled with 
 enthusiasm, and to Robert she seemed the em- 
 bodiment of loveliness. He drew in his breath 
 quickly, and hastily stepped back into the 
 shadow with Piskaret, keeping his eyes fixed 
 upon the girl before him. 
 
 " Oh, father," she cried, approaching the 
 Governor, " you must leave this dingy room and 
 go up to the summit of the Rock with me. 
 
 [66]
 
 Enyravett Oy Joint Andrew <t Son 
 
 ANNE INTERRUPTS THE CONFERENCE 
 
 " The hood of her cape had fallen back, permitting the wealth of 
 chestnut hair, in its disarranged beauty, to form a 
 frame to the fair face beneath."
 
 The air is glorious, and I have run all the 
 way down here to get you." 
 
 " You do not see our visitor, my daughter," 
 replied the old man, checking her kindly. 
 " This is Master Cavelier, who has come here 
 from Montreal to tell us wondrous tales, and I 
 have asked him to remain at the chateau until 
 I can give the matter proper thought." 
 
 Anne curtsied demurely as Robert advanced 
 into the light. 
 
 " I crave Master Cavelier's pardon for the in- 
 terruption, and trust he will accept our welcome 
 to Quebec." 
 
 " Our interview is ended, daughter, and I 
 suggest that you invite our visitor to be my 
 substitute to accompany you to the summit of 
 the Rock. He can endure the climb far better 
 than can I." 
 
 The invitation was not an unalloyed pleasure 
 to Robert. The only woman who had ever 
 before come into his life had been his mother, 
 and even she was but a memory to him. Anne 
 represented a side of life which was entirely 
 new ; and as he followed her through the gar- 
 den of the chateau and walked beside her up 
 the steep path which led to the summit of 
 the Rock, he felt overpowered by a diffidence 
 which was a sensation as unpleasant as it was 
 novel. The girl, however, quite at her ease, 
 
 [67]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 spoke of one thing after another until their 
 goal was reached, as if unconscious of Robert's 
 embarrassment. 
 
 " There ! " she exclaimed, quite out of breath. 
 " Saw you ever anything more beautiful ? " 
 
 It was indeed a wondrous sight. Below 
 them lay the beautiful St. Lawrence, broad- 
 ened just in front by its junction with the St. 
 Charles. Then it stretched away to the south 
 mile after mile, narrowed down between its 
 banks. Far beyond were great valleys and 
 forests, contrasting their ever-varying shades of 
 green with the pure silver of the water. Robert 
 gazed at it long before he ventured to reply. 
 
 *''Tis beautiful indeed, Mistress Courcelle, 
 and I thank you for giving me this opportunity 
 of seeing it. I know the river well, but never 
 had I thought how fair it was to look upon." 
 
 " My father said that you came from Mont- 
 real," continued Anne, noticing that her com- 
 panion lapsed into silence ; "is it like Quebec ? 
 I have never been there." 
 
 " Nay, nay," responded Robert, " 't is quite 
 different. 'T is less forward less completed - 
 than Quebec." 
 
 " And have you grown accustomed to this 
 new home in the wilderness ? " 
 
 "Yes, Mistress Courcelle," replied Robert, 
 simply. " 'T is the only home I have ever 
 
 [68]
 
 BECOMES AN EXPLORER 
 
 known in which I have found happiness. Yes, 
 I have grown accustomed to it, and I love it." 
 
 Anne was surprised by his intensity and the 
 evident tone of sadness in his voice. 
 
 " I crave pardon, sir," she said quietly, " for 
 having quite unwittingly recalled unhappy 
 memories." 
 
 " Ah, Mistress Courcelle, forgive me for 
 permitting the pain of the past to enter into 
 the pleasure of the present," replied Robert, 
 hastily ; " you could not know how much the 
 freedom of the life here means to me. I have 
 struggled hard and laboured long to bring 
 about the realisation of the one ambition of 
 my life, and now that I am on the verge 
 either of gratification or disappointment I can 
 scarce contain myself. Again I pray you, 
 forgive me." 
 
 " Right willingly, Master Cavelier ; I under- 
 stand full well how trying are uncertainties and 
 delays. I wish you well, sir, in your under- 
 taking, whatever it may be." 
 
 Robert looked into her face with grateful 
 pleasure. These were the first words of sym- 
 pathy which he had heard for years, and they 
 moved him deeply. 
 
 " You are generous, fair mistress, more so 
 than I deserve, and I thank you for it. Your 
 good wishes will help me much." 
 
 [69]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " If I can help you further, I will gladly do 
 so. Your earnestness betokens an important 
 enterprise." 
 
 " The most potent aid lies in your father's 
 favourable decision, but I thank you none the 
 less for what you say." 
 
 Robert relapsed into silence, his eyes stretched 
 to the west. Anne's curiosity was aroused. 
 What could be the quest which had brought 
 this strange, serious young man from Montreal 
 to Quebec, and which so dominated him that 
 he betrayed himself almost by the first words 
 he spoke ? She looked at the figure beside 
 her, gazing out across the water as if entirely 
 unconscious of her presence. - Anne's nature 
 could endure this suspense no longer. 
 
 " What do you see so far to the westward, 
 Master Cavelier ? " she asked, smiling. 
 
 Her words brought Robert to himself, but he 
 was not thinking of her when he replied. 
 
 " What do I see, ask you ? Far to the west- 
 ward I see wondrous beauties waiting to be 
 found ; I see unknown powers waiting for their 
 conqueror ; I see a mighty empire waiting to be 
 claimed." 
 
 The strange words startled Anne, and she 
 regarded her companion keenly. Surely there 
 was something more than vagaries behind the 
 manifest sincerity of the voice which spoke 
 
 [70]
 
 BECOMES AN EXPLORER 
 
 them. At all events, it could do no harm to 
 enter into the same spirit. 
 
 "But are you not looking over the tops of 
 the trees which make up those impenetrable 
 forests, Master Cavelier ? Are there not ob- 
 stacles hidden beneath which the eye reaches 
 not ? " 
 
 " Ay, many obstacles, and perils too ; but 
 should these prevent the attempt when so great 
 a reward awaits beyond ? " 
 
 The girl's evident interest encouraged Robert 
 to unfold to her those plans which lay so close 
 to his heart. His diffidence had vanished now ; 
 he felt at home in the subject which possessed 
 him ; and Anne listened with undisguised ad- 
 miration as he painted his picture with the 
 bold strokes of a master, in glowing colours 
 heightened by the rays of the setting sun. 
 The time passed all too quickly, and both re- 
 gretted that the hour had come to return to the 
 chateau. 
 
 This first visit with Anne to the summit 
 of the Rock was destined to be but the begin- 
 ning of a much longer stay than Robert had 
 anticipated. The Governor, occupied with 
 pressing matters of administration, delayed his 
 visitor's departure until the days turned into 
 weeks. Under other conditions Robert's im- 
 patient spirit would have rebelled, but as he 
 
 [711
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 and Anne day after day exchanged confidences 
 in the chateau garden or climbed to their point 
 of vantage upon the Rock, he realised that a 
 new influence had come into his life, and that 
 the world contained for him more than undis- 
 covered forests and unknown rivers. He found 
 himself an explorer already, but the task which 
 now confronted him was to resolve the mysteries 
 of a maiden's heart. 
 
 Robert had no reason to think that Anne in 
 any way responded to his growing attachment. 
 No word of it had entered into their conversa- 
 tions, which touched upon the intricacies of 
 colonial life and government, of Anne's early 
 days in France, of his own experiences, but 
 most often of his mission to Quebec. Robert 
 delighted to watch her enthusiasm kindle to 
 fever heat as he stood upon the Rock and 
 pointed out to her the path which he believed 
 led to the great river of the Ohio and the pas- 
 sage to the Southern Sea. Of these things they 
 talked ; but Robert ever hesitated to refer to the 
 subject which now overshadowed the one that 
 had so long been the controlling influence of 
 his life. 
 
 One day it happened that Robert was drawn 
 to tell her of his aversion to the Jesuits. To his 
 surprise Anne sprang to her feet with flaming 
 cheeks. 
 
 [72]
 
 BECOMES AN EXPLORER 
 
 " Do you really hate them ? " she exclaimed. 
 " So do I, and so does father ; but you must 
 not speak it in Quebec. Father is obliged to 
 endure their insults and do their bidding as 
 if they were the agents of the King himself. 
 These hateful priests come to the chateau and 
 fawn about as if they were the most humble 
 subjects in all New France, but so soon as 
 father's plans differ from their own, straight- 
 way a letter goes to Paris which is certain to 
 bring a rebuke from Colbert and added inso- 
 lence from the priests." 
 
 " Insolence, say you ? " asked Robert, amazed 
 by Anne's revelation. " Surely they keep their 
 antagonism to the government beneath the 
 surface ? " 
 
 " By no means," replied Anne, warmly. 
 " Why, only a few days before you arrived a 
 complaint was made that Father Raguenneau 
 had entered the household of one of the settlers, 
 and was interfering with his methods of disci- 
 plining his family. Father sent a sergeant to 
 him with a simple request to moderate his 
 efforts. What reply do you suppose came back ? 
 ' Go tell Monsieur de Courcelle that I visited 
 my people before he was Governor, and that I 
 shall visit my people after he has ceased to be 
 Governor.' And father is absolutely powerless 
 to punish him for his insolence." 
 
 [73]
 
 ROBERT CAVEL1ER 
 
 " It is well that your father has Talon to 
 assist him in this difficult business." 
 
 " Talon assist father ? You do not know 
 him ! He is a weathercock, a butterfly ! M'sieur 
 the Intendant is sent here by the King to be 
 a spy upon my father and to send back word 
 to France of all that happens here. Father is 
 the soldier ; Talon is the diplomat. He is al- 
 ways on the winning side, whether it be with 
 the Bishop or with the people, while father is 
 the one to carry out the unpopular measures. 
 You may be sure that no complaint of Talon 
 ever goes to Colbert." 
 
 " But the Jesuits have surely contributed 
 much to the government of the colony in gain- 
 ing such control over the Indians," said Robert, 
 surprised himself that his spirit of fairness made 
 him for the moment the champion of those 
 whom he considered his only enemies. 
 
 "Indeed they have," Anne answered promptly, 
 " and they have done more than that. If they 
 would but keep to their religious work instead 
 of trying to control the politics of the colony, 
 they would be the most valued members of 
 the settlement. They are absolutely tireless in 
 their labours, and pass through all sorts of hard- 
 ships, go without food, tramp great distances 
 through the forests with bleeding feet, even 
 to baptise a dying Indian ; and they suffer 
 
 [74]
 
 BECOMES AN EXPLORER 
 
 torture and even death without a murmur. 
 Why, I remember when Father Jogues was cap- 
 tured by the Iroquois while he was on his way 
 to an Indian mission. His captors beat him 
 until he was unconscious, and then tore off his 
 finger-nails with their teeth. When he came 
 to himself he saw an old Indian lying beside 
 him, and he stretched out his bleeding hands 
 and baptised him. Then the Iroquois beat 
 him again, and pulled out his beard and hair, 
 and laid burning embers upon his body until he 
 fainted. After this they forced him to journey 
 from one Mohawk town to another, cutting off 
 his thumb at one stopping- place and hanging 
 him up by the wrists at another, testing the 
 extent of torture he could endure before he died. 
 Oh, I shudder as I think of it ! " 
 
 Anne covered her face with her hands for a 
 moment before she continued, - 
 
 " Yet suffering as he was, when an ear of 
 green corn was thrown to him for food, he took 
 a few rain-drops which clung to the husks and 
 baptised four Huron prisoners who had just 
 been brought in. Was it not heroic ? And 
 yet Father Jogues escaped and returned to 
 France, only to come back again and to be 
 finally murdered by those very savages for whose 
 salvation he had worked. And this is only one 
 example. Why, why won't they be content to 
 
 [75]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 cany on their noble, self-denying labours, and 
 leave father and the government alone ! " 
 
 Anne's narrative quite exhausted her. Robert- 
 had listened with double interest. Here was an 
 example of that blind obedience which every 
 true disciple of Loyola must possess. Father 
 Jogues was but one spoke in the wheel which 
 was slowly but steadily turning in response to 
 the requirements of that mighty Company. His 
 personal martyrdom was sublime, but the " spirit 
 of the Order " looked upon it simply as a step 
 in the furthering of its great purpose. Robert 
 understood why the Jesuits sought to gain con- 
 trol over the Indians ; he could have explained 
 to Anne why they would never be content to 
 withhold their hands from the government of 
 the colony ; but he feared that the explana- 
 tion would lead too deeply into that portion of 
 his own history which thus far he had kept 
 carefully to himself. 
 
 Robert assisted Anne to her feet, and for a 
 little time they stood in silence, gazing far into 
 the west. Neither seemed to look for any re- 
 sponse from the other, but both were wrapped 
 in their own thoughts. Is it not ever so when 
 two personalities are unconsciously drifting 
 toward that moment which is to make them 
 one ? The subconscious appreciation between 
 them becomes more definite, the necessity for 
 
 [76]
 
 BECOMES AN EXPLORER 
 
 spoken thought is less apparent, and the per- 
 fectness of understanding is complete. Robert 
 knew how much more important his long- 
 cherished plan had become since Anne came 
 into his life : he had made promises to her of 
 what that wilderness would bring forth, which 
 must now be fulfilled ; Anne recognised that 
 Robert's visit had removed the load of loneliness 
 and discouragement from her heart, that to her 
 he was no visionary, that his faith had been im- 
 parted to her, and that she shared his sanguine 
 expectations. Yet the moment had not come 
 when either could express these thoughts to the 
 other. 
 
 It was Robert who broke the silence. 
 
 " Do you think that Talon will look favour- 
 ably upon my petition ? " 
 
 " I know not what M'sieur Talon may do ; 
 it all depends upon what outside influence is 
 brought to bear upon him. You are sure of 
 father. He believes in you and will help you 
 all he can, but I have told you how firmly his 
 hands are often tied. I will try to learn from 
 him what attitude the Intendant has taken." 
 
 Slowly and silently they walked together 
 back to the chateau, no word being spoken until 
 they had nearly reached the grey stone walls. 
 Suddenly Robert stopped and the girl beside 
 him looked into his face inquiringly. His gaze 
 
 [77]
 
 was fixed upon her so intently for a moment 
 that her eyes fell. 
 
 " Why do you look at me like that, Master 
 Robert ? Have I offended you ? " 
 
 " Offended me ? " Robert smiled, then his 
 face grew serious again. 
 
 " Nay, not that," he answered ; " I was trying 
 to hold back the words which my heart has been 
 crying out for days, but I can do so no longer." 
 
 Anne gave no evidence that she heard him. 
 Her eyes were fixed upon a slender tendril of 
 ivy which had failed to gain its hold upon the 
 stern old stones. But even in the twilight 
 Robert saw the heightened colour in her cheeks, 
 and it gave him courage. 
 
 " Can you not surmise what those words are, 
 Mistress Anne ? I came here with one thought 
 in my mind, one wish in my heart, but now the 
 great desire which possessed me means nothing 
 unless 1 can take into that wilderness the knowl- 
 edge that you are interested in the success of my 
 undertaking, not for the sake of France, but 
 for my own sake ; unless I may think of you, as 
 I lie upon the ground at night, watching the 
 stars overhead and breathing in the odour of the 
 pines, knowing that far away, perhaps watch- 
 ing the same star, you too are thinking of me 
 and wishing for my safe return. Is it asking 
 too much ? " 
 
 [78]
 
 Robert held out his hand to her and tried to 
 find his answer in the beautiful face which Anne 
 turned toward him. She was quite herself now, 
 but Robert failed to recognise the mischief 
 which sparkled in her eyes. Slyly she laid her 
 hand in his, and Robert grasped it eagerly, but 
 she quickly withdrew it and resumed her de- 
 mure attitude. Then she made him a low 
 curtsy, and said, with half-averted face, - 
 
 "It is not meet that I should share with 
 France the honours of your explorations, Master 
 Cavelier ! " 
 
 Robert took a quick step toward her, but she 
 skilfully eluded him, disappearing within the 
 chateau. For a moment Robert stood bewil- 
 dered, and then he slowly followed his tor- 
 mentor. Was she making sport of him, or 
 could it be true that he had not been too pre- 
 sumptuous, after all ? He could not tell, but 
 he awaited Anne's reappearance at the evening 
 meal with much impatience. 
 
 After supper the Governor, Anne, and Robert 
 walked out into the chateau garden, as was their 
 custom. Soon the old man was summoned to 
 the council-chamber, and Anne attempted to 
 follow her father ; but Robert detained her. 
 
 " Would you run away again, Mistress Anne, 
 after giving me so pert an answer to my 
 question ? " 
 
 [79]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " ' Pert,' Master Robert, say you ' pert ' ? 
 Should I be a loyal subject to my King were 
 I to take for myself that which belongs to 
 France ? " 
 
 " A peace to your jesting, Anne ! T is a 
 matter too serious, to me at least, to treat so 
 lightly. I have no right to ask you for an 
 answer, for I am but a penniless adventurer, 
 with naught but my love and my future aspira- 
 tions to place before the woman I would ask to 
 be my wife ; but the heart knows no judgment, 
 Anne, and I could not keep my secret longer. 
 Anne ! Anne ! reproach me if you will for my 
 presumption, but do not tell me that you love 
 me not ! " 
 
 Robert's arm was about her, but she did not 
 resent it. He drew her to himself, and she did not 
 resist. The jesting mood had vanished now, for 
 she could read in her lover's face the pain which 
 she had caused him. She was too happy to 
 deny herself further the joy of accepting this 
 strong man's devotion, and she was too proud 
 in the winning of it to conceal her gladness 
 longer from him. She looked full into his face, 
 and Robert read in those deep brown eyes the 
 answer that he craved. But the words meant 
 even more to him. 
 
 " I cannot tell you that I do not love you, 
 Robert, for to do so would be false. I do love 
 
 [80]
 
 BECOMES AN EXPLORER 
 
 you, and I have loved you ever since I learned 
 to know how true a heart and how brave a soul 
 were yours." 
 
 Robert held her face in his hands and gazed 
 into the depths of her expressive eyes. Then 
 he pressed his lips upon her forehead in silent 
 thankfulness and joy. Anne was startled by 
 the intensity of his love, but was reassured by 
 the devotion which shone from his eyes. 
 
 " I only wish I were a man," said Anne at 
 last, " that I might join you in your expedition, 
 and push with you through the forest mazes 
 until the great river of the Ohio greeted our 
 gaze." 
 
 "Nay, nay, dear Anne," answered Robert, 
 with a satisfied smile ; "be content to remain 
 your own fair self, that I may take you as the 
 ideal for which to strive in all my labours." 
 
 The world had again changed for Robert 
 Cavelier. What was once the-all-absorbing pas- 
 sion of his life now became a means, and not an 
 end. He would win the laurels which his ex- 
 plorations might bring to him, but not alone 
 for France. He would win them for the sweet 
 privilege of placing them upon the brow of the 
 girl beside him, whose future was indissolubly 
 linked with his own. 
 
 [81]
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE^HERO 
 CONTENTS -HIMSELf 
 
 HEN ROBERT MET 
 
 Anne upon the Rock the fol- 
 lowing morning he was sur- 
 prised to find her angry and 
 excited. Hardly waiting to 
 r greet him, she exclaimed, 
 " There has been treachery, 
 Robert, and M'sieur Talon is the traitor. I 
 had a foreboding that that man would mar our 
 hopes." 
 
 Robert was entirely unable to understand the 
 meaning of her words except as threatening to 
 thwart his petition, but the one word " our " 
 which she unconsciously used served to lessen 
 the shock in no small degree. 
 
 Anne did not wait for Robert to question 
 her. 
 
 " I have wondered why father delayed giv- 
 ing you an answer for so long a time, but I was 
 selfish enough to be glad of any cause which 
 should postpone the day of your departure. I 
 knew that he thought favourably of your plans, 
 
 [82]
 
 CONTENT WITH HALF A LOAF 
 
 and I supposed that the Intendant had been so 
 engaged with other matters that he had been 
 unable to discuss them with him. But when I 
 talked with father last night he appeared much 
 troubled, and this morning I learn that he dis- 
 cussed your petition with M'sieur Talon the 
 very night of your arrival. The Intendant 
 asked for a day or two to consider the matter, 
 and has invented one excuse after another to 
 make delay, until last night he told father that 
 the Jesuits were planning a similar expedition, 
 and that if you undertook the journey at all he 
 strongly favoured the joining of the two parties." 
 
 " The Jesuits planning a similar expedition ! " 
 exclaimed Robert, incredulously. " There must 
 be some mistake, for they cannot have learned 
 as I have from Piskaret what the great West 
 contains. That would be too great a coinci- 
 dence to be believed." 
 
 " But that is where the treachery comes in ! 
 Don't you see it all ? M'sieur Talon hears 
 about your plans from father, makes a delay so 
 that he may communicate with the priests, finds 
 them only too glad to take advantage of the 
 suggestion, and then ' strongly favours joining 
 the two expeditions,' which is the same as say- 
 ing that no other plan will receive his support. 
 It is no coincidence, Robert ; it is treachery 
 through and through." 
 
 [83]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " What can be his object ? He bears me no 
 enmity, and if I am successful it will reflect 
 credit upon him, as upon all officials of the 
 Crown." 
 
 " But not to the extent it would if the expe- 
 dition is fitted out at his suggestion, as he plans 
 this one to be ; and more than this, he wishes 
 no success to come to the Crown save through 
 Jesuit channels." 
 
 " Did you not tell me that the present 
 labours of the fathers here in Quebec require 
 every priest of the Order, and that they are 
 calling loudly for reinforcements from Paris ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and it is true. The importance of 
 the expedition must appeal to them strongly 
 when they forget their rivalry and their jealousy 
 enough to call upon the Sulpitians at Montreal 
 to undertake the work." 
 
 " The Seminary priests at Montreal ! Do 
 you know that this is so ? " asked Robert, even 
 more astonished. 
 
 " Yes, Dollier de Casson has just arrived 
 from Montreal, evidently in response to the 
 Bishop's message, with a petition similar to 
 yours, and I am sent to summon you to attend 
 the Governor's conference at once. I have al- 
 ready kept you over-long, and you must hasten. 
 Don't blame father, Robert ; he will do all he 
 can for you, but you have no idea of the in- 
 
 [84]
 
 CONTENT WITH HALF A LOAF 
 
 trigue and the disloyalty against which he has 
 to strive." 
 
 " The Sulpitians from Montreal ! " repeated 
 Robert to himself. "Can it be that this is the 
 first step in the fulfilment of the Father Supe- 
 rior's threat ? " The words rang clearly in his 
 ears as if he were again in Paris, in the chapel 
 of the House of the Novices, 
 
 " Know well that wherever you may go, be 
 it to the uttermost parts of the earth, this Order 
 will search you out to your destruction ! " 
 
 It could not be ; it must not be ! When 
 those words were uttered they affected him 
 alone ; now they also concerned the woman he 
 loved, thus adding to his determination to win 
 in spite of all. He raised his head and looked 
 straight into the eyes of the girl before him. 
 
 " I fear me this means trouble, Anne ; but 
 this I know : if God grants to spare my life, 
 complications may postpone, but cannot defeat 
 my object. I was sure of that before I came to 
 Quebec, but now, with your faith to aid me, I 
 am doubly sure to find the Vermilion Sea, and 
 to watch in its reflection the sunrise of our 
 hopes. Will you trust me, Anne, and will you 
 wait for me ? It may be years, it may be - 
 faith, your patience must needs last long ! " 
 
 Robert's face betrayed the strong emotion 
 within. Anne had never seen him look like 
 
 [85]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 this before, and she suffered with him. Softly 
 she laid both her hands upon his shoulders and 
 watched him as he became calm under the influ- 
 ence of the devotion which he read in her face. 
 
 ** It will last long, Robert," she said quietly 
 but with determination in her voice, " it will 
 last long ; for ever if it must be so. I knew not 
 life until you came here ; I had no hope, no 
 happiness, beyond that little line which marks 
 our horizon. But now I live beyond that line, 
 for all my hopes are. there. Far away through 
 those forests and across those cataracts I believe 
 with you there lies a little Kingdom of Content 
 where you and I will one day reign. With you 
 my King, Robert, and I your Queen, what 
 matters it to us what marks the limits of our 
 empire, or where it lies ? " 
 
 Robert touched his lips to the pale face so 
 near his own. 
 
 " Ah, Anne, with faith like yours, kingdoms 
 could indeed be won ! But, come, let us know 
 the worst. M'sieur the Intendant may not be 
 so base a traitor as you paint him ! " 
 
 Together they returned to the chateau, where 
 Robert left Anne and entered the great council- 
 chamber, dark with its heavy oaken beams 
 and wainscoting and massive furniture, the 
 most ambitious room in all Quebec, intended 
 to express to all beholders the majesty of that 
 
 [86]
 
 sovereign whose representatives administered 
 the King's justice within. 
 
 The three men were waiting for Robert's 
 arrival, engaged in earnest examination of a 
 carefully-constructed map which lay upon the 
 great table before them. Both Talon and 
 Dollier de Casson were known to Robert by 
 sight, but this was his first opportunity to 
 study them closely. The personal appearance 
 of the Intendant was effeminate, completely 
 concealing the masculine force beneath. His 
 face was oval, his complexion delicate, and a 
 wealth of curls fell to his shoulders. He 
 formed a marked contrast to the rugged, sol- 
 dierly bearing of the Governor beside him, 
 and Robert readily understood how poorly 
 fitted Courcelle was to hold his own at Court 
 against this clever diplomat. 
 
 Dollier de Casson was a tall man with a com- 
 manding presence. He had been an officer of 
 cavalry under Turenne before coming to Mont- 
 real, and since his arrival had proved his bravery 
 in various Indian campaigns. So this experi- 
 enced soldier was to be his rival, to be the 
 agent of the Jesuits to rob him of the fruits of 
 his long-cherished aspirations ! Robert's mind 
 was filled with bitterness as he entered the 
 council- chamber and awaited the Governor's 
 invitation to join the group about the table. 
 
 [87]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " Approach, Master Cavelier," said the Gov- 
 ernor, kindly ; " I have discussed at much 
 length with M'sieur the Intendant the petition 
 regarding your proposed expedition, and have 
 decided to grant you the letters-patent you 
 desire." 
 
 " I thank you, sir," said Robert, simply, as the 
 Governor paused for a moment, grateful for the 
 evident effort which the old man was making to 
 temper the disappointment which he knew was 
 about to fall upon this young enthusiast to 
 whom he had already become attached. 
 
 " In order to add strength to the undertak- 
 ing, however," continued the Governor, "we have 
 deemed it wise to join with you in your endeav- 
 ours a party represented by Master Dollier, who 
 comes to us with a similar request. Master Dol- 
 lier has had much experience with the Indians, 
 and the addition of his party will make your 
 chances of success the stronger. These letters 
 which M'sieur the Intendant will hand to you 
 will commend your company to our brother 
 governors within whose jurisdiction you may go, 
 and Master Dollier will bear with him letters 
 from Father Laval to any Jesuit you may meet. 
 The King will expect much of you, Master Cave- 
 lier, and of Master Dollier, and our good wishes 
 go with you." 
 
 It was fortunate that Robert had been pre- 
 [88]
 
 CONTENT WITH HALF A LOAF 
 
 pared for a proposition so different from that 
 which he had originally expected. Surely the 
 hand of Fate was binding strange factors to- 
 gether, but there seemed to be no alternative. 
 If Robert withdrew, the Jesuit party would push 
 on without him ; if he consented to the plan, he 
 might work out some solution of the difficulty. 
 Submission, apparent at least, was all that re- 
 mained to him, and he determined to play the 
 game with all his skill. 
 
 " I can but accept your judgment, sir, as for 
 the best. I know Master Dollier for a brave 
 man, and I shall value his co-operation. I trust, 
 however, that Master Dollier will accept the 
 plans upon which I have laboured for the past 
 three years, as I have reason to believe them to 
 be correct." 
 
 " In so far as they accord with mine own judg- 
 ment, Master Cavelier," responded Dollier, with 
 a stiff bow. 
 
 Robert bit his lip to keep back the angry 
 w r ords which struggled for utterance. The com- 
 bination was indeed impossible, but it was none 
 the less inevitable. Robert would start with 
 them, for this was commanded, but not Dollier 
 nor the Governor nor Talon himself should pre- 
 vent him from breaking away from them at the 
 earliest opportunity, and then he would push on 
 without help or hindrance. 
 
 [89]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 The Governor signified with a wave of the 
 hand that the conference was at an end. 
 Robert was glad to escape from the overpower- 
 ing atmosphere of the room into the open air, 
 which calmed his conflicting emotions. Anne 
 was anxiously waiting for him in the garden, 
 and ran to meet him as he approached. 
 
 " You are smiling, Robert," she cried, her 
 face lighting up with pleasure ; " I was wrong 
 in thinking that M'sieur Talon would try to 
 thwart you." 
 
 " Nay, sweet Mistress Anne, you were but 
 too correct in your suspicions. It is all as 
 you surmised. The Governor, your father, has 
 granted me letters-patent for my expedition as 
 I besought, but with Master Dollier affixed 
 thereto as a seal. In faith, methinks I '11 break 
 the seal when opportunity permits, and read my 
 letters with myself alone for company ! " 
 
 Robert's buoyancy was contagious, but it did 
 not conceal from Anne the real suffering which 
 lay beneath the careless speech with which he 
 greeted her. 
 
 " My brave Robert," she exclaimed admir- 
 ingly, " my heart rejoices that your spirit is so 
 strong. Success will mean the more to you 
 and to me because you are able to surmount the 
 obstacles. Was it decided when the expedition 
 is to start ? " 
 
 [90]
 
 CONTENT WITH HALF A LOAF 
 
 " Not definitely, but T must leave for Montreal 
 at once. When you see the moon rise over the 
 St. Lawrence to-night, dear Anne, listen for the 
 paddle-beats far up the river. I and my Indian 
 will ply the blades as never before, since that 
 frail canoe takes me nearer to the realisation 
 of my hopes. To-night I must leave you. 
 When shall I see you again ? " 
 
 " Oh, Robert, how can I let you go ! I 
 know not nor do you into what dangers you 
 will run. How know I that you will ever 
 come to me again ? " 
 
 "Can you doubt, dear heart ? That kind 
 fate which has lessened my disappointment by 
 giving you to me could not be so cruel as to 
 separate us thus. You are right in saying that 
 I know not into what dangers I may run ; you 
 are right in wondering when the time will come 
 again for me to gaze into your eyes and see 
 there all that the world holds dear for me ; but 
 you are wrong if in your heart there rests one 
 doubt that that sweet time will not surely come. 
 This certainty will guide my footsteps in safe 
 courses, and will bring me back to you." 
 
 " God grant it, Robert ! You have taught me 
 happiness ; now you must teach me strength ! " 
 
 Dusk had hardly settled over the landscape 
 when a small canoe containing two men shot 
 
 [91]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 out under the Rock of Quebec and into the 
 river. In the swarthy visage at the bow one 
 could note no change in expression over that 
 which it had worn a month before, when the 
 canoe had first been beached at Quebec ; but 
 in the face of the other, looking back at the 
 dimly outlined figure high above him, was to 
 be seen more than determination, more than 
 confidence, more than courage. One might 
 have discovered there the three combined, 
 made strong and beautiful by the love-light 
 which illumined from within. 
 
 [92]
 
 CfTAPTJSRVII 
 
 ANATTEMPT 
 
 IS-MADE 
 
 TO MIX 
 
 OIL AND/WATER 
 
 HE MORNING OF JULY 
 
 6, 1669, proved dark and dis- 
 mal, and the nature of the 
 elements was reflected in the 
 aspect of the small company 
 of twenty-four men who em- 
 barked in their seven canoes 
 from the shore of Robert Cavelier's seigniory at 
 La Chine. It was evident that the Sulpitians 
 had been enlisted with little previous knowledge 
 and with less preparation, as Dollier de Casson 
 was the only one amongst them all who wore 
 even a semblance of enthusiasm. Piskaret was 
 expressionless, as always, and Robert was biding 
 his time. He had too much in his mind at this 
 moment to do more than make sure that the 
 canoes contained the ill-sorted company whose 
 services he had been able to purchase, a sad 
 contrast to the " bold and intrepid spirits " his 
 imagination had pictured, and the meagre sup- 
 plies with which the expedition was equipped. 
 His way was clearing before him. It might 
 
 [93]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 not come to-day nor to-morrow, but in the time 
 which had elapsed since he had returned from 
 Quebec he had learned how little discipline 
 Dollier had been able to introduce into his half 
 of the company. It would not take much to 
 persuade them at some point that their efforts 
 could be better directed in some other direction 
 than in trying to discover new countries. 
 
 This was his hope, also coupled with a doubt : 
 could he be more successful than Dollier in 
 holding his own company together ? Of Pis- 
 karet he was as sure as of himself, but the other 
 men were mere adventurers, the scum of the 
 settlement, useful in case of encounters with 
 the Indians, but absolutely untrustworthy unless 
 it suited their fancy to be loyal to the man in 
 whose pay they were. Still, if worst came to 
 worst, Robert argued to himself, he and Pis- 
 karet alone would plunge on and take their 
 chances of discovering the great Ohio and the 
 passage to the Southern Sea. 
 
 The little flotilla was led by two canoes filled 
 with Seneca Indians who were returning to 
 their homes. Day after day passed with 
 nothing to break the monotony, the men pad- 
 dling or carrying their canoes until darkness 
 fell, and then bivouacking upon the shores. 
 The food consisted almost wholly of Indian 
 corn, which the men crushed between stones 
 
 [94]
 
 MIXING OIL AND WATER 
 
 and boiled with meat or fish for seasoning when 
 either could be obtained. Life at Montreal, 
 with all its vicissitudes, had never been so severe 
 as this, and when Lake Ontario was reached on 
 the second of August, Robert, Dollier, and Pis- 
 karet were the only members of the combined 
 company who did not suffer from some malady 
 or other. The priests suffered even more than 
 the others, as they were forced to listen to the 
 unrestrained cursing of Robert's men, who 
 spared no words in expressing their disgust with 
 affairs in general and with the priests in par- 
 ticular, to whose presence they insisted on attrib- 
 uting their misfortunes. 
 
 In spite of this, however, Robert and Dollier 
 still possessed sufficient control over their fol- 
 lowers to persuade them to continue their expe- 
 dition ; and on they pushed, with sufferings and 
 privations increasing as they advanced, until 
 seven days later Irondequoit Bay lay before 
 them. Here they met a party of Seneca In- 
 dians who came to meet their returning brothers, 
 and who gave many evidences of friendship. 
 They invited the white men to visit their vil- 
 lages, some fifteen or twenty miles distant, and 
 Piskaret strongly urged Robert to accept this 
 invitation, as it was in a direct line to the upper 
 waters of the Ohio, and guides might be found 
 there to conduct them further along their jour- 
 
 [95]
 
 ROBERT CAVEL1ER 
 
 ney. The priests and the men stoutly refused 
 to make this apparent departure from their 
 route, but Robert prevailed upon Dollier to 
 guard the canoes and stores while he and 
 Piskaret, accompanied by the entire band of 
 Indians, set out at daybreak for the principal 
 village of the Senecas. 
 
 Before evening their destination was reached, 
 and Robert saw before him a rude stockade 
 completely surrounding perhaps a hundred and 
 fifty small, filthy bark huts which made up the 
 village. The strangers were received by a 
 band of old men seated upon the grass, the 
 oldest and feeblest of whom received them 
 with a long discourse. When once within the 
 enclosure, they found themselves surrounded 
 by a crowd of curious savages, many of whom 
 had never before seen a living white man. The 
 largest of the bark huts was hospitably set aside 
 for Robert and Piskaret, and here they received 
 new evidences of apparent good-will. Children 
 brought in pumpkins and berries, and feasts 
 were provided at which the visitors were sumptu- 
 ously regaled upon dog-flesh and maize. 
 
 Robert was greatly interested in the novelty 
 of their reception, and felt much encouraged by 
 the many tokens of friendship ; but Piskaret was 
 wary. Robert was not " Onontio," he argued, 
 yet the Indians were lavishing upon him all the 
 
 [96]
 
 MIXING OIL AND WATER 
 
 favours in their power. Piskaret was an Indian 
 himself, and he knew well that a purpose lay 
 behind the unusual efforts made by the savages ; 
 so both he and Robert were on their guard 
 against sudden treachery. 
 
 In the meantime darkness had settled over 
 the village, relieved only by the glare of the 
 great fires which the savages had built in the 
 open enclosure around which the rude huts were 
 erected. Preparations were evidently on foot 
 for some great ceremony, for the whole tribe - 
 men, women, and children were gliding about 
 like spectral demons, placing fagots near the 
 blazing fires, filling various dishes and cooking 
 utensils with water, and breaking the stillness 
 of the night with their guttural cries of excite- 
 ment. Robert and Piskaret watched every 
 movement, but to the white man observation 
 brought no enlightenment. 
 
 "What means all this mysterious prepara- 
 tion ? " demanded Robert of his silent com- 
 panion. 
 
 " It is the Ononhara,' the * Dream Feast,' " 
 answered Piskaret ; " they will cast out the evil 
 spirits from the village." 
 
 " Perchance this may include us," suggested 
 Robert. 
 
 Before Piskaret could answer the festival be- 
 gan. Every living being in the village save the 
 i [97]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 visitors seemed seized with a sudden madness. 
 Hither and thither they rushed, shrieking and 
 giving unearthly howls, lighting the fagots and 
 throwing the burning brands in every direction, 
 upsetting everything that came in their way, 
 striking their friends and neighbours, or drench- 
 ing them with water. Every license seemed 
 granted for the time being, and not a few of the 
 revelers took advantage of the opportunity to 
 satisfy personal rivalries and enmities. 
 
 Suddenly the scene changed. Some of the 
 pretended madmen directed their footsteps 
 from hut to hut, calling each owner by name 
 and demanding from him some secret object, 
 the want of which had been revealed in a 
 dream. The person to whom the demand was 
 addressed immediately threw at the applicant 
 any object which chanced to be near at hand, 
 a pipe, a kettle, a tomahawk, and this proced- 
 ure continued until at last the desired object 
 was obtained. A cry of delight announced this 
 fact, and the recipient dropped out of the pro- 
 cession. Those who failed to receive the objects 
 of their dreams became much dejected, as this 
 was a warning that misfortune was near at 
 hand. 
 
 How long the festival would have continued 
 but for an interruption, Robert never knew. 
 Of a sudden the noise ceased, the feigned mad- 
 
 [98]
 
 MIXING OIL AND WATER 
 
 ness was thrown aside, and the savages rushed 
 to the entrance of the stockade to welcome a 
 returning war-party. Silently the newcomers 
 entered the enclosure, bringing with them a 
 number of prisoners, who were received with 
 evidences of great delight. The warriors seated 
 themselves on the grass around the fires, and 
 the prisoners were led away to an adjoining 
 hut. 
 
 Soon two Senecas appeared bearing between 
 them a heavy post, which was set up near the 
 largest of the fires. The entire tribe gathered 
 about to witness the proceedings. Robert and 
 Piskaret were apparently forgotten, but no 
 movement escaped their eager gaze. 
 
 " Burn prisoner ! " exclaimed Piskaret. 
 
 Presently the two Indians who had erected 
 the post again appeared, leading a stalwart 
 brave whose arms were tied behind him. The 
 savages about the fire gave a fierce cry of de- 
 light as the prisoner was quickly bound to the 
 stake, and the fagots piled up at his feet. The 
 face of the victim was perfectly passive, and he 
 accepted the situation with apparent indiffer- 
 ence. The squaws and the children crowded 
 about him to watch his contortions as the tor- 
 tures progressed. His hands were now freed, 
 and he instantly raised them in an attitude of 
 prayer. 
 
 [99]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " A Christian Indian ! " whispered Robert to 
 Piskaret. " Will they dare to burn him ? " 
 
 " They burn us next ! " answered Piskaret. 
 " No friendship Indians when Christians burn. 
 Come ! " 
 
 Piskaret led the way stealthily from the en- 
 trance of the hut into the gloom beyond the 
 light shed by the ever-increasing flames. Little 
 by little they worked their way around the 
 crowd of Indians, who were now intently en- 
 grossed in the spectacle before them, until they 
 nearly reached the entrance to the stockade. 
 Here they paused, crouched in the underbrush, 
 as two savages were standing between them and 
 the opening beyond. 
 
 By this time the wood around the prisoner 
 was lighted and the flames scorched his naked 
 body. Not a muscle moved, and his eyes met 
 those of his persecutors fearlessly. The crowd 
 yelled with delight. Here was no white-heart 
 who would die easily, there was rare sport 
 ahead. The flames mounted high and would 
 end the agony too soon, so water was dashed 
 upon the fire that the entertainment might be 
 prolonged. Part of the water splashed over the 
 victim, and wetting his hand he reached over 
 and baptised a child standing near, who shrank 
 from his touch as if he had been a leper. This 
 was a suggestion for a new torture. A kettle 
 
 [100]
 
 MIXING OIL AND WATER 
 
 was quickly swung across the fire, and water 
 heated until it boiled. Then it was slowly 
 poured over the head and shoulders of the 
 prisoner. 
 
 " We baptise you," they shouted, " that you 
 may be happy in Heaven. Your fathers tell us 
 that the more one suffers on earth, the happier 
 he is in Heaven. We wish to make you happy, 
 and we torture you because we love you ! " 
 
 Three tomahawks had meanwhile been heated 
 red-hot in the embers, and these were slung 
 about the victim's neck as a collar ; but he met 
 his tormentors with the same unflinching gaze. 
 He showed no sign of collapse other than an in- 
 creasing weakness. The savages grew impatient. 
 One threw a tomahawk with such unerring aim 
 that it carried with it the prisoner's right ear ; 
 but the next trial was less accurate. Instead of 
 just grazing his head the sharp blade buried 
 itself in the prisoner's skull, and his agonies 
 were over. This mishap was greeted with a 
 yell of rage, but it did not prevent a rush and a 
 general fight among the strongest of the specta- 
 tors to secure the victim's scalp, and to tear out 
 his heart to be eaten, that its courage might be 
 imparted to the victors. 
 
 The untimely ending of their entertainment 
 left their savage appetite unsatisfied, and they 
 looked about them to find new excitement. 
 
 [101]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " The white man ! The white man ! " the 
 shout was raised, and with a common impulse 
 a rush was made for the hut where Robert and 
 Piskaret had been but a few moments before. 
 
 " Come, quick ! " whispered Piskaret, when 
 he saw the new turn of affairs. 
 
 With a single bound the two men were at 
 the throats of the guards at the entrance of 
 the stockade. Robert buried his hatchet in the 
 brain of one, while Piskaret strangled the second 
 almost before the attack was realised. Out 
 into the darkness they struck, knowing how 
 much even this slight start would mean to 
 them. Robert kept closely behind the clever 
 Indian, who led the way through the tangled 
 underbrush as if it had been daylight, but soon 
 they heard hideous howls of rage as their escape 
 was discovered and the dead bodies of the guards 
 were found. Piskaret was setting a pace which 
 Robert could hardly match, but it was life or 
 death, and he redoubled his efforts. On, on 
 they pushed, Piskaret doubling on his trail, 
 climbing over rocks, dodging behind trees, 
 wading through brooks, with his eye ever on 
 his furious pursuers, and also upon Robert to 
 make sure that he did not become separated 
 from his friend. 
 
 Piskaret 's skill in woodcraft served them both 
 in good stead now, and at length the fugitives 
 
 [102]
 
 MIXING OIL AND WATER 
 
 succeeded in eluding their pursuers. Both 
 Robert and Piskaret were glad enough of an 
 opportunity to throw themselves upon the 
 ground for a half-hour's rest before continuing 
 their tramp back to Dollier and the party 
 which remained behind with the canoes and the 
 stores. Their arrival filled the priests and the 
 men with intense alarm, as they feared an im- 
 mediate attack ; but as no evidences of this were 
 forthcoming, their apprehensions gradually sub- 
 sided, and they listened to Robert's story with 
 fierce indignation. The priests rejoiced in the 
 martyrdom of the convert, but the men thirsted 
 for revenge. 
 
 Robert's hope of securing a guide from the 
 Senecas had been rudely destroyed, but he 
 persuaded Dollier to continue the expedition 
 along the route originally selected. Again the 
 birch canoes were pushed into the waters of 
 Lake Ontario, and again the little company 
 went forward in its search for empire. Along 
 the southern shore of the lake they skirted, past 
 the mouth of the Niagara, where their ears 
 were greeted with the dull roar of the distant 
 cataract, until late in September they reached 
 the Iroquois colony at Otinawatawa, where 
 they were hospitably received by the natives. 
 
 It was necessary to remain here a few days 
 for the sick to recover and to replenish the 
 
 [103]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 stores, and Robert did not fail to improve his 
 opportunity to learn from his hosts all that they 
 knew of the distant Ohio. He was told fas- 
 cinating tales of the beautiful river, perhaps six 
 weeks' journey distant, which would reward 
 his labours and crown his undertaking with 
 success. 
 
 Filled with renewed enthusiasm, Robert has- 
 tened his preparations for departure, and the 
 party was about to set out when news came 
 of a most surprising nature. It was reported 
 that a Frenchman had arrived at a neighbouring 
 village from the opposite direction, returning 
 from an expedition of western discovery. 
 
 Robert's jealousy was at once aroused, and 
 his heart was filled with misgivings. Had 
 he, after all his plans, been forestalled in the 
 gratification of his ambitions ? Who was this 
 stranger, and what part of the western country 
 had he traversed ? He could not endure the 
 suspense, so within an hour from the time he 
 received the news, he, with Piskaret, was on his 
 way to interview the newcomer. 
 
 In spite of his jealousies Robert could not 
 meet a fellow Frenchman in the heart of this 
 wilderness without a feeling of brotherhood and 
 sympathy, and the greetings exchanged between 
 the two men at the entrance to the stranger's 
 hut, even though they were entirely unknown 
 
 ["104 ]
 
 to each other, was a cordial one. The supposed 
 rival proved to be Louis Joliet, and Robert was 
 delighted to learn that the stranger had not 
 visited the Golden Country which he had 
 sworn should welcome the tread of his foot 
 before that of any other white man, but was 
 returning from an unsuccessful attempt to dis- 
 cover and explore the copper mines of Lake 
 Superior. 
 
 Joliet was a young man of about the same 
 age as Robert, and after the first suspicions 
 were removed the two found themselves much 
 in sympathy. The same adventurous blood ran 
 in the veins of both, the same disregard of dan- 
 gers and privations, and the same indomitable 
 strength of purpose guided their lives. Joliet 
 was able to give Robert valuable information 
 gained during his own expedition, and he was 
 much interested in Robert's plans, which the 
 latter unfolded without reserve. Robert urged 
 Joliet to join him, but that was impossible, as 
 Talon required his return within a specified 
 period ; but Robert's new friend offered to aid 
 him by giving him a trustworthy Indian to act 
 as guide. This was good fortune indeed, and 
 Robert gratefully accepted the offer. 
 
 More than that, Joliet offered to assist Robert 
 in hastening the break with the Sulpitians, 
 returning with him to Dollier and the forlorn 
 [105]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 priests. He was received eagerly by the down- 
 hearted fathers, who were thoroughly discour- 
 aged and almost rebellious. Joliet showed 
 them a map which he had made of such parts 
 of the Upper Lakes as he had visited ; and he 
 told them at the same time of the Potta- 
 wattamies and other tribes in that region who 
 were in grievous need of spiritual instruction. 
 This was more to the priests' liking. They 
 were ready to endure privation and to subject 
 themselves to danger in the battle for souls, but 
 were far less enthusiastic in battling for empire. 
 Their duty had been providentially laid before 
 them, and they urged upon Dollier the necessity 
 of changing their route so that light might be 
 shed upon the heathen. 
 
 Robert was rejoiced at the turn which affairs 
 had taken, but feigned opposition, knowing well 
 that this would fan the smouldering fire into 
 flames. Up to this point he had apparently 
 taken little interest in what the stranger had to 
 say, but as soon as he felt that Dollier had suffi- 
 ciently committed himself, he lost not a moment 
 in widening the breach. Watching his oppor- 
 tunity, Robert intercepted Dollier as he was 
 returning from the shore to his tent. 
 
 " A word with you, Master Dollier," said 
 Robert, affably. 
 
 " Well ? " was the interrogative reply. 
 [106]
 
 MIXING OIL AND WATER 
 
 " Surely you are not considering seriously 
 these tales which Master Joliet has told us ? " 
 
 " I am considering them, certainly, but my 
 determination has not yet been made." 
 
 Robert grew earnest at once. He was silent 
 a moment, as if considering his words. When 
 he spoke it was with unusual deference, which 
 threw Dollier completely off his guard. 
 
 " Master Dollier, you and I have received 
 commissions jointly to control this expedition. 
 You are a soldier, older than I in the experience 
 of the service, yet I have served sufficient time 
 to know that the orders of our superiors cannot 
 be lightly disregarded. You and I left Quebec 
 with a definite purpose and under definite in- 
 structions from the Crown, and I grieve to see 
 you influenced by the disloyal desires of a 
 portion of our company." 
 
 The words were bitter ones for Dollier to 
 accept, but they were spoken with so much 
 evidence of friendliness that the older man held 
 back the hot reply. 
 
 " Our duty is to our spiritual Father first of 
 all, Master Cavelier, rather than to our earthly 
 rulers," he said loftily. 
 
 " But this is not a religious undertaking," 
 
 replied Robert, beginning to assume a more 
 
 determined attitude, " and even were it so, 
 
 't would be a reckless thing for us to invade that 
 
 [ 107 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 territory which the Jesuits from Quebec have 
 already visited and which they claim as their 
 own." 
 
 Robert could not have touched upon a more 
 sensitive spot in the heart of the Sulpitian. 
 The ever-increasing jealousy of the weaker for 
 the stronger branch of the Order at once sprang 
 into the foreground, and Dollier's caution van- 
 ished. His face was flushed with excitement. 
 
 " Think you, Master Cavelier," he replied 
 hotly, "that the Sulpitians will forever accept 
 as the field of their labours the vineyards dis- 
 carded or overlooked by their brothers at 
 Quebec ? Shall we forever stand idly by and 
 watch them reap the harvest and the honour, 
 satisfying ourselves with the chaff which they 
 leave for the wind to blow whither it will ? 
 Not so ! My determination is fixed, and to- 
 morrow morning we take the path to which the 
 hand of duty points." 
 
 " Then you and the priests will go alone ! 
 My duty lies to the westward, and I will not be 
 turned from it. If you choose not to follow 
 the orders under which we started out, that 
 is your affair. I shall remain loyal to the 
 Crown ! " 
 
 " T is not a question of loyalty, sir," said 
 Dollier, stung by Robert's imputation ; " 't is a 
 matter of judgment. Were I satisfied that this 
 
 [108]
 
 MIXING OIL AND WATER 
 
 route which I propose would not lead me to 
 the same destination, I might reconsider my 
 determination ; but I have no question that 
 the route to the north, which takes us through 
 the country of which Master Joliet tells us, is a 
 more certain path to our goal." 
 
 " Be it so, Master Dollier ! " replied Robert, 
 with decision. " This is the rock on which we 
 split. The Governor shall pass upon our inter- 
 pretation when we return." 
 
 The priests were gratified by Dollier's de- 
 cision, but the men of Robert's party looked 
 upon the plan with absolute disgust. Their 
 experiences thus far had been distasteful enough, 
 but the thought of becoming parties to the 
 religious work of the fathers was one which 
 they would not consider for a moment. Had 
 the plan contemplated a return to Montreal, 
 Robert would have found himself wholly 
 deserted, but as a choice between two evils they 
 stuck to their leader as firmly as the priests 
 supported Dollier. 
 
 Here was the crisis to which Robert had so 
 long looked forward. He watched the depart- 
 ure of the Sulpitian portion of his company 
 upon the following day with the utmost joy, 
 and as soon as they were out of hearing he 
 turned gratefully to his new-found friend. 
 
 " You have aided me manfully, Master Joliet, 
 [109]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 and I only regret that you cannot join me in 
 my expedition. Were you and I together, I 
 believe that all the denizens of this untamed 
 wilderness, beasts or men, could not turn us 
 back ! " 
 
 " I would I might be with you, Master 
 Cavelier," replied Joliet ; " my heart yearns for 
 further adventure rather than to return tamely 
 to Quebec and announce the failure of my 
 work. But on one point I would warn you : I 
 like not the appearance of your men, and I fear 
 more for your safety in their hands than for the 
 dangers of the journey. Watch them well, 
 Master Cavelier, and make them fear you, for 
 treachery from behind is a most dreaded foe." 
 
 " I thank you, Master Joliet, for your good 
 advice, and I will heed it well. They are but 
 worthless cut-throats, yet I must needs take 
 these or none at all. I will be watchful, but 
 I fear them not. And now, before you go, I 
 have another favour which I would ask of you 
 in the name of friendship." 
 
 Joliet looked at Robert in surprise, seeing him 
 hesitate and his face change colour. Robert 
 recovered himself in a moment, and held out 
 his hand impulsively. 
 
 " Master Joliet, in Quebec, whither you are 
 now returning, within the Governor's chateau 
 there is the fairest maid in all New France. 
 [110]
 
 MIXING OIL AND WATER 
 
 She is Mistress Anne Courcelle, and when I 
 left upon this undertaking she bade me God- 
 speed and a safe return, that I might claim her 
 as my wife. Will you not seek her out, my 
 friend, and tell her that you left me well 
 and hopeful, and that my love for her abides 
 forever ? " 
 
 " That I will, friend Cavelier," replied Joliet, 
 heartily. " I will surely find her and give her 
 tidings of you. I thank you for this oppor- 
 tunity to serve you with a commission so 
 agreeable." 
 
 With a warm embrace the two friends 
 parted. Robert watched the retreating figure 
 until Joliet had vanished in the distance. For 
 several moments he stood there in silence, still 
 looking in the same direction, as if unconscious 
 that his friend had passed beyond his sight. 
 
 What emotions filled his heart ? A yearning 
 to return even to rude civilisation and its attend- 
 ing comforts ? Surely not. The sturdy spirit 
 of Robert Cavelier longed not for comforts, and 
 the unbroken path into the wilderness offered 
 far greater attractions than that which led back 
 to the settlement. But this same spirit, could 
 it have expressed its longing in words, would 
 have told of a fair, smiling face which looked 
 out from its wealth of chestnut curls, and a 
 slender figure which had waved good-bye to the 
 [111]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 youthful but courageous explorer from the 
 Rock of Quebec, as his canoe shot out into the 
 river one summer's night now passed long since. 
 It would have recalled those words which were 
 ever with him : "It will last long, Robert ; for- 
 ever if it must be so." It would have told of a 
 longing, but also of a satisfied happiness ; of 
 a loneliness, but of an inspired certainty ; of a 
 fearfulness, but of a renewed determination. 
 
 Before long, however, Robert was brought 
 back to the realities confronting him. It was 
 Piskaret who disturbed his reveries. 
 
 " The coyote and the bear lie not down 
 together," said the red man, significantly ; 
 "the coyote will bite the heels of the bear 
 no longer." 
 
 Robert smiled at the simile. 
 
 " Right you are, my Piskaret," he answered, 
 his spirits rising as he realised that he was at 
 last rid of his unpleasant companions ; " the 
 bear is now free to hunt his own quarry, and in 
 his own way. Where are the men now ? " 
 
 " Talking together beyond the big fire. Bad 
 men, worse than priests, worse than Indians." 
 Piskaret was unusually communicative. 
 
 " I know it all too well," replied Robert, \vith 
 
 a sigh ; " perhaps my troubles have but just 
 
 begun. We know our danger, at all events, 
 
 and will guard against surprise, but after that 
 
 [112]
 
 MIXING OIL AND WATER 
 
 we have no other choice than to let these 
 villains do their worst." 
 
 Silently they returned to the camp. The 
 men ceased talking instantly upon Robert's 
 approach, and moved about in surly fashion, 
 endeavouring to hide for the time being their 
 all too evident hostility. Robert appeared to 
 take no notice of their .rebellious attitude, and 
 ordered preparations to be made for the meagre 
 midday meal. After this he called his men 
 about him. He would make one last appeal 
 for their loyalty and support, and then he 
 would accept the inevitable. 
 
 " Comrades," he said, " we have journeyed 
 thus far upon our expedition through many 
 perils and privations. I know what you have 
 suffered, for I have endured all with you. We 
 have yet other obstacles to overcome before 
 we reach our goal, but is it not worth all the 
 sacrifice, knowing that at the end we shall win 
 the admiration of our friends and the gratitude 
 of our King ? " 
 
 " Much good this will do those of us whose 
 carcasses are left behind as food for the beasts," 
 growled one of the men. 
 
 Robert glanced about him. It was easy to 
 see that the sentiment just expressed by the 
 man was unanimously shared by his com- 
 panions. Robert could not conceal his disgust. 
 8 [113]
 
 " Am I the leader of a band of cowards ? " 
 he cried. " Ay ! I mean it and repeat it ! " as 
 the angry men started forward at his words. 
 " Such cowards you are that I and my Indian, 
 single-handed though we be, fear you not with 
 all your strength of numbers ! " 
 
 Robert's bearing completely intimidated his 
 mutinous company. Brute strength ever ad- 
 mires and fears intellectual courage. These 
 men had seen Robert's fearlessness tested many 
 times, and knew well that behind the penetrat- 
 ing eyes which faced them without a quiver was 
 a spirit fully matching the spoken challenge. 
 
 " Now listen to what I have to say. You 
 have shown me how little I can depend upon 
 you, and I shall therefore act accordingly. Up 
 to this time I have made myself one of you ; 
 now all is changed. From this time on I am 
 the master, and you will respect my commands 
 or pay the penalty. I shall do no talking, shall 
 give no order twice ; but the first man who 
 shows signs of insubordination I will shoot 
 down like a dog ! Now get you to your work 
 and heed well what I have spoken." 
 
 Robert touched his pistol significantly, and 
 then led the way to the canoes, directing the 
 work of loading the stores and of getting off. 
 But four canoes were left, now that the party 
 was divided, so the matter of preparation was 
 [114]
 
 not a lengthy one. Robert, Piskaret, and the 
 Indian guide went in the first canoe, and the 
 three other canoes followed in ominous silence. 
 
 The journey continued with the monotony 
 which had characterised its earlier portion. 
 Lake Ontario lay behind them, and the frail 
 canoes were now borne upon the waters of 
 Lake Erie. Robert and Piskaret accepted the 
 conditions by day and by night, but the men 
 showed plainly that fear alone held them 
 within bounds, and that the time was near 
 at hand when their pent-up fury would burst 
 its bounds. 
 
 On the fourth night after leaving Lake Onta- 
 rio the little party were bivouacked upon the 
 shores of Lake Erie. The frost in the air made 
 the great fire which they built a necessity even 
 to their comparative comfort. Robert knew 
 that he could hold his grip upon his company 
 but little longer, and his watchfulness increased. 
 He was convinced that on this particular night 
 the crisis was at hand. 
 
 " One of us must keep awake to-night," said 
 he, quietly, to Piskaret, " or there may be no 
 awakening for either of us to-morrow 1 " 
 
 To all outward appearances the party retired 
 for the night as usual. Robert, though feigning 
 sleep, was on the alert, but toward morning 
 Piskaret relieved him, and he sank into the 
 
 [115]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 i 
 
 rest of exhaustion. Hardly had he done so 
 when Piskaret aroused him hastily. 
 
 " Quick ! follow me ! " 
 
 Too dazed to realise fully what was meant, 
 he followed Piskaret blindly. Noiselessly the 
 two men stole to the shore of the lake, and 
 Piskaret motioned Robert to get into one of 
 the canoes. The Indian pushed off quietly 
 and still-paddled a few yards away from the 
 shore, where the darkness completely hid them 
 although they could clearly see all that oc- 
 curred in camp by the light of the smouldering 
 fire. 
 
 Robert was fully awake by this time, and he 
 watched the scene before him with intense 
 interest. All the men were up and about, but 
 were moving with the utmost caution. Their 
 leader was the fellow who answered Robert 
 so insolently at Otinawatawa. He was brave 
 enough now. Twelve against two, and the two 
 supposed to be asleep, should be sufficient odds 
 to enable any coward to make a show of 
 bravery. 
 
 Their plans were evidently matured, for they 
 crept noiselessly to the spot which Robert and 
 Piskaret had just left. The situation was an 
 intense one, but Robert could not repress a smile 
 at the expressions of dismay with which the 
 men looked at each other when they discovered 
 
 [116]
 
 MIXING OIL AND WATER 
 
 that their victims had escaped, and the cries 
 of rage with which they expressed their chagrin. 
 There was but one thing for them to do, and 
 all seemed to think of it at the same moment. 
 With a mad rush they ran to the three re- 
 maining canoes and hastily pushed off into the 
 darkness. 
 
 Robert and Piskaret remained silent until 
 the paddle-beats could no longer be heard. 
 Suddenly Robert bethought himself of the 
 provisions. 
 
 " The wretches ! " he cried. " They have taken 
 all our stores with them. We are indeed left 
 in sorry plight." 
 
 " Piskaret has stores," answered the Indian, 
 quietly, as he paddled back to camp. " Stores 
 all safe. Put in bushes while white men 
 talked ! " 
 
 Leading the way to a dense underbrush, Pis- 
 karet showed Robert that he had removed the 
 provisions from the canoes, and that it was the 
 deserting party which needed to look to itself. 
 
 " You are indeed a company in yourself, my 
 Piskaret," said Robert, gratefully. " You and I 
 alone are left, as we thought might be the case, 
 but verily I believe we are stronger now than 
 ever since we left La Chine. The West is 
 yet before us, and it is for us to learn its 
 secrets." 
 
 [117]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 A footstep caused both men to spring to 
 their feet in alarm, but a glance showed that 
 they had no cause for apprehension. It was 
 the guide Joliet had given Robert, who had 
 been entirely forgotten in the excitement of the 
 moment. He had wisely kept out of the way 
 while the trouble was brewing, but now re- 
 turned to fulfil his duties. Robert welcomed 
 him with delight. 
 
 "Master Joliet knew you well, my friend, 
 when he gave you to me. You are now one of 
 us, and I will trust you as I trust my faithful 
 Piskaret." 
 
 The darkness was giving way to dawn as 
 the three men again lay down upon the ground 
 to complete their interrupted rest. One might 
 have thought that the episode just ended would 
 have been a crushing blow to Robert's expec- 
 tations of continuing his expedition, but this 
 thought had not yet come to him. On the 
 contrary, he felt that his way was rapidly clear- 
 ing before him. Dollier and the Sulpitians had 
 formed an obstacle to the accomplishment of 
 his purpose ; they had voluntarily removed 
 themselves from his path. His rebellious sol- 
 diers had become another obstacle ; they too 
 had taken themselves off, and he was freed from 
 the annoyance and danger of their mutinous 
 presence. The little company was now reduced 
 [118]
 
 MIXING OIL AND WATER 
 
 to three, yet Robert's confidence in his ultimate 
 success was never greater. A lack of judg- 
 ment, say you ? Truly, but no lack of courage. 
 You think it recklessness rather than bravery ? 
 Yes ; but is not recklessness a component part 
 of all heroism ? The Spartans at Thermopylae 
 were reckless, yet history points to their deed 
 as an example of sublime self-sacrifice. They 
 waited in that pass for the dawn to break 
 upon known danger. Does it require less 
 heroism to await those dangers which are 
 unknown ? 
 
 [119]
 
 VIII; 
 
 -THE- 
 
 HEROINE 
 
 DISCOVERS 
 
 ROBERT AND 
 
 experiencing 
 
 HILE 
 
 Dollier were 
 
 their various adventures, 
 affairs had not been stagnant 
 at Quebec. The settlers had 
 been busily engaged in col- 
 lecting and shipping to 
 France the skins of the mink, the beaver, the 
 otter, the silver fox, and the sable, which the 
 country so plentifully supplied ; the soldiers of 
 the Carignan regiment had made their usual 
 excursions against the hostile Indians ; and in 
 the chateau matters of state had undergone so 
 many changes that now they were assuming 
 complicated proportions. Governor Courcelle's 
 relations with the Intendant had not been im- 
 proved by the latter's attitude toward Robert 
 at the time his petition was presented, especially 
 after the devoted father discovered how deeply 
 interested his daughter had become in the 
 fortunes of the young explorer. 
 
 Anne could not conceal her feelings from the 
 Governor's penetrating glance ; and when her 
 [ 120]
 
 HEROINE DISCOVERS AN ALLY 
 
 great secret was once discovered she did not 
 hesitate to tell her father all the petty details 
 of the conspiracy, as known to Robert and her- 
 self, in which he had been made an unwitting 
 tool. The soldier was rapidly replacing the 
 governor in the old man's bearing toward Mon- 
 sieur Talon, and the Intendant was not pleased 
 to note the change. Feeling secure in his 
 position, however, both with the King and with 
 the Jesuits, Talon undertook to ignore the 
 altered conditions, the result being that stormy 
 interviews between the two men came to be 
 matters of daily occurrence. 
 
 One evening after supper Anne was walking 
 in the garden with her father, her hand resting 
 lightly upon his arm, the two engaged in serious 
 conversation. 
 
 " How comes it, my daughter, that this 
 stranger could win your heart in so brief a 
 space ? Methinks it would not have been amiss 
 had he but told me of his leanings." 
 
 " Oh, father, I would that you could know 
 him as I do ! His is the bravest heart, yet the 
 tenderest. I cannot tell you how it came about, 
 but as he told me of his plans and hopes and 
 beliefs, I felt that they, too, were mine ; and 
 later, when we came to know each other 
 better, and he told me all about his boyhood, 
 of the neglect of his father, and of his brother, of
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 the unhappiness of his life at the House of the 
 Novices, and of the persecution of the Jesuits, 
 I could not help thinking of your persecution, 
 wondering if this was the lot of all men. 
 Robert did not force the story on me, father ; 
 I felt myself impelled to ask it of him, and 
 he told it all so modestly yet so manfully that 
 I grew to like him mightily." 
 
 Anne rested her cheek upon her father's arm 
 as she ceased speaking. 
 
 " I see you did, my daughter. I grant you 
 that if Master Cavelier prove as successful in 
 his later quests as in the present one, our King 
 will find in him a valued servant." 
 
 "Jest not, father dear," Anne interrupted 
 seriously. " I cannot make you see him as he 
 is. He will not claim me until he has kept his 
 word with you, and that is why I fear the pres- 
 ence of the Jesuits in his party. Oh, father, if 
 aught befall him now my heart will break ! " 
 
 The tears welled up in Anne's brown eyes, 
 and her father hastened to console her. 
 
 " Tut, tut, my child ; dry your eyes. You are 
 a soldier's daughter, and tears become you not. 
 You know full well that I will never stand be- 
 tween you and the man you love, if he but show 
 himself worthy of you. But surely you cannot 
 think it strange that some little jealousy creeps 
 into my heart to know that from this time on I 
 
 [122 ]
 
 HEROINE DISCOVERS AN ALLY 
 
 must share you with another. Your happiness 
 is all I ask, my child, and you may trust me. 
 Eighteen years have passed since your dear 
 mother placed you in my arms and bade me 
 watch over you in her stead, and all these years 
 you have comforted me in my loneliness. Be 
 patient, daughter, with an old man's weakness." 
 
 Anne's arms were clasped tight about her 
 father's neck, and her soft cheek nestled close 
 to his weather-beaten face. 
 
 " Father, darling, you will break my heart ! 
 Can you think that I should love you less 
 because of this new love which fills my life 
 with happiness ? Ah, you do me wrong ! Say 
 rather that the new love has made more real 
 the old one that can never change. You 
 have been both mother and father to me all 
 these years, and I have loved you, and I love 
 you still, with all my heart. Say not that 
 you are jealous, but that you will share my 
 happiness." 
 
 " You are right, child. 'T was but a mo- 
 ment's weakness. I will rejoice with you, and 
 pray God that Master Cavelier prove a fit hus- 
 band for my little maid." 
 
 The soldier on guard clanked in, interrupting 
 the conversation. 
 
 " Master Joliet is within, waiting to see your 
 Excellency." 
 
 [123]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " Bid him join us here," replied the Governor. 
 
 Louis Joliet quickly responded to the sum- 
 mons, and made a low obeisance as he was 
 presented to the Governor's daughter. 
 
 " Well met, Mistress Courcelle," said Joliet, 
 as he bowed. " By your father's leave I will 
 first deliver to you a message with which I 
 have been charged." 
 
 " For me ? " asked Anne, incredulously. 
 
 " For you," replied Joliet, gravely, " if your 
 father will permit." 
 
 " Right willingly, Master Joliet," said Cour- 
 celle, quite as puzzled as was Anne. "Pro- 
 ceed, I pray you. You have just returned 
 from your investigation at Superior ? " 
 
 " Yes, Excellency, an hour ago. But before 
 I tell you of this, I would say to Mistress 
 Courcelle that one Robert Cavelier, whom I by 
 chance met upon the shores of Ontario, bade 
 me bring to her his greeting and his pledge." 
 
 " Robert ! You have seen Robert ? " 
 
 "Yes, but six weeks back. May I speak 
 freely, sir, without offence ? " Joliet turned to 
 Courcelle for his consent. 
 
 " Speak freely, sir. I understand you not." 
 
 " I thank you, sir. Master Cavelier had not 
 progressed favourably with Master Dollier and 
 the Sulpitians, and when I met him he was sore 
 distressed. I told him of mine own adven- 
 
 [124]
 
 HEROINE DISCOVERS AN ALLY 
 
 tures, and he related his to me. The Jesuits 
 were not in sympathy with the expedition, and 
 at Ontario they left him, themselves continuing 
 to the northward." 
 
 " The priests continued upon the expedition 
 by another route, say you ? " asked Governor 
 Courcelle. 
 
 " Not so, Excellency ; they abandoned the 
 expedition that they might convert the Indians 
 upon the Upper Lakes." 
 
 " But what of their commission of discovery ? " 
 
 " So Master Cavelier asked of them, but they 
 asserted that they recognised no earthly ruler 
 when their faith called them." 
 
 Joliet studied the Governor carefully, and 
 was gratified to see that his words produced 
 the desired effect. He did not know how 
 fully what he said confirmed the suspicions 
 which Anne had so recently confided to her 
 father. 
 
 " Colbert shall hear of this," exclaimed Cour- 
 celle, angrily. " Perhaps Monsieur Talon can ex- 
 plain the eagerness of the Jesuits to join Master 
 Cavelier in his long-studied plans. 'Twas an 
 artifice to prevent a loyal subject from winning 
 honours for his King. Assuredly, Colbert shall 
 hear of this ! " 
 
 Courcelle walked rapidly around the little 
 circle in the garden until he could no longer 
 [125]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 control himself, and then entered the chateau 
 to seek for Talon while his wrath was yet 
 warm. Anne and Joliet were left for the 
 moment by themselves. 
 
 " But tell me, Master Joliet," said Anne, her 
 cheeks colouring a little as she spoke, "did 
 you leave Master Cavelier well and in good 
 spirits ? " 
 
 " I left him well and happy, Mistress Cour- 
 celle ; and who would not be both with such a 
 reward awaiting him ? He bade me say that 
 the thought of you made hardship a pleasure, 
 and he asks that you be of stout heart against 
 the day of his return." 
 
 Anne's face bore telltale marks, but they only 
 added to her charm. 
 
 " Master Cavelier must have liked you much, 
 Master Joliet, to tell you what is known to 
 none but my father and us twain. If he 
 thought so well of you, so indeed must I. 
 You have brought me welcome tidings, and I 
 thank you for them." 
 
 Joliet bowed to press his lips to the hand 
 Anne held out. 
 
 " I thank you for your compliments, fair 
 Mistress. I would that you and he may ever 
 count me amongst your warmest friends." 
 
 Again the conversation in the garden was 
 interrupted, and Joliet was summoned to the 
 
 [126]
 
 HEROINE DISCOVERS AN ALLY 
 
 council-chamber. Anne hardly realised, how- 
 ever, that she was left alone, for her thoughts 
 had been given new food to feed upon. Robert 
 was well and was thinking of her. His hope of 
 being freed from the Sulpitians in the expedi- 
 tion was already realised: this much she now 
 knew. Robert would persevere and would win 
 success, of this she was equally sure. 
 
 Ah ! Woman's faith ! What deeds would 
 yet remain unaccomplished but for thy firm, 
 unquenchable blaze ! Theory cannot change 
 thee, rumour is powerless against thee, even 
 fact recognises thy power. Long mayst thou 
 preserve thy unchangeableness, that thou mayst 
 prompt men to deeds still greater in time to 
 come ! 
 
 [ 127 ]
 
 OUR YEARS HAD 
 
 passed since that eventful 
 night when Robert, Piskaret, 
 and the guide whom Joliet 
 left with them had sought 
 rest after the exciting episode 
 of the mutiny, four years 
 of arduous labour, of physical hardships, of un- 
 wavering perseverance, of undaunted confidence 
 in his undertaking, Through trackless forests 
 Robert and his companions had cut their way ; 
 against hostile traders and more hostile priests 
 the explorer's diplomacy had held its own ; face 
 to face with treacherous savages the trio had 
 matched sagacity against cunning and won the 
 game ; with his passage barred by ice and floods 
 Robert had pushed on and on, surmounting 
 all obstacles by his indomitable will, until the 
 valley of the Ohio and the verdant plains of the 
 Illinois lay before him. 
 
 Here he must stop. He had accomplished 
 much and learned more, but to venture further 
 [128]
 
 FINDS NOT WHAT HE SEEKS 
 
 toward the great river which was his goal 
 could result only in disaster with so small a 
 company. His ambition had been fired rather 
 than subdued by his experiences. He had 
 found the way, and now he might return to 
 Quebec with accurate information at his dis- 
 posal instead of the hopes and expectations 
 which he had previously laid before the Gov- 
 ernor and the Intendant. Surely he could now 
 gather together a goodly company to lead into 
 the glorious valley of the Mississippi. 
 
 And why was it not possible to return to 
 Quebec, if even to remain there a few months 
 while making preparations for the accomplish- 
 ment of his final triumph ? And while in Que- 
 bec could he not make sweet Anne Courcelle 
 his wife ? Ah, Robert, now we learn the truth ! 
 The ice, the floods, the traders, the priests, the 
 savages, ay, even the wilderness itself could 
 not make you turn your face to the right or to 
 the left ; but a pair of deep brown eyes and a 
 bewitching little maid can make your philos- 
 ophy seem even reasonable ! 
 
 So it was that four long years after Master 
 Robert Cavelier had left the shores of fair La 
 Chine, together with Master Dollier and a motley 
 company of priests and vagabonds, this same 
 Master Cavelier returned to Quebec alone save 
 for two swarthy Indians who seemed his shad- 
 9 [ 129 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 ows on right and left. And, strange to say, our 
 bold explorer, after leaving his companions in 
 the Lower Town, paused not until he reached 
 the bastion gate of the Governor's chateau. 
 
 Robert's heart beat hard as he presented him- 
 self at the entrance and asked an audience with 
 the Governor. His mind unconsciously went 
 back to that afternoon when he had first waited 
 before the stone-bound door, little knowing that 
 within he would find that for which he had not 
 sought, yet that for which he would not now 
 exchange a kingdom. Four years of waiting, 
 all concentrated in the few moments he stood 
 there, made the slight delay in the return of 
 the soldier on guard seem interminable ; but at 
 last the suspense ended and Robert was shown 
 into the same dark, low-ceiled room in which he 
 had fought his silent inward battle against Mon- 
 sieur Talon and the Jesuits. 
 
 Robert himself could hardly fail to realise 
 what a change the years had wrought in him. 
 When he left that room before, it was with high 
 ambitions, with youthful enthusiasm, with un- 
 tested confidence. To-day he stood there tried 
 as by fire, with the calm outward demeanour 
 which experience alone can bring. His heart 
 throbbed loudly, it is true, but his eye was firm, 
 and he breathed self-reliance. 
 
 After a few moments' waiting a tall, stalwart 
 [130]
 
 FINDS NOT WHAT HE SEEKS 
 
 man entered the room. Robert started forward, 
 but as quickly recovered himself. 
 
 " You wished to see me ? " the man asked. 
 
 " Nay," answered Robert, " 't was the Gov- 
 ernor whom I sought." 
 
 " I am the Governor," replied the stranger, in 
 surprise, " and who may you be, sir ? " 
 
 " You are the Governor ! " repeated Robert, 
 slowly, putting his hand to his head in bewilder- 
 ment ; " and what of Monsieur Courcelle, sir ? " 
 
 " Monsieur Courcelle was recalled to France 
 some twelve months since ; and I, the Comte 
 de Frontenac, have the honour to serve in his 
 stead." 
 
 Robert bowed low, hiding his intense disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 " I crave indulgence, sir ; I am Robert Cave- 
 lier, who left Montreal four years ago on a 
 journey of exploration under letters-patent from 
 Monsieur Courcelle. And his daughter, sir, - 
 did she return to France with him ? " 
 
 "Ay, Master Cavelier, Monsieur Courcelle 
 and his daughter, Mistress Anne, left Quebec 
 a year ago, and reached Paris in safety, as I 
 know from news returned from there." 
 
 " I thank you, sir. 'T is sudden news to me. 
 I had not thought except to find him here." 
 
 " But what of you? " asked Frontenac. " You 
 have come to make report of your enterprise ? 
 
 [131]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Then tell me of it. Did you not set out with 
 Master Dollier and the Sulpitians ? " 
 
 " Ay, sir." 
 
 It was a mighty struggle, but by this time 
 Robert had himself well in hand. 
 
 " Dollier and the Sulpitians returned some 
 two years since, reporting you dead, as I recall 
 from the records." 
 
 " They knew not of me, sir, from the time 
 when they left me and my party at Ontario to 
 continue by ourselves. I will gladly tell your 
 Excellency the details of the expedition." 
 
 The present situation was one which Robert 
 had not even dimly imagined. He was aware, 
 before his departure, of the constant quarreling 
 between Courcelle and Talon, but he could not 
 have foreseen that the final outcome of this 
 would be so momentous in its bearing upon 
 himself. 
 
 Louis de Buade, the Comte de Frontenac, 
 replaced Courcelle and Talon in 1672, a year 
 before Robert's return, and he had already 
 succeeded in making his impress upon the 
 settlement. Tall, powerful in build, fiery in 
 temper, and fearless in action, he was not a 
 man to be trifled with ; yet in his heart, when 
 once that heart was reached, might be found 
 true sympathy and human kindness. His re- 
 sourceful mind and quick intellect enabled him 
 
 [ 132]
 
 FINDS NOT WHAT HE SEEKS 
 
 to meet the constantly conflicting questions 
 which arose in New France with great diplo- 
 macy and firmness, with the result that he won 
 friends equally among the settlers and the sav- 
 ages. The Jesuits alone were hostile, though 
 secretly so, for with the new Governor at the 
 head of State their temporal influence was 
 seriously checked. 
 
 Frontenac's life was full of romance and ex- 
 citement. His father held a prominent position 
 in the household of Louis XIII., and when the 
 future soldier was born the King became his 
 godfather and bestowed his own name upon 
 him. While still a child, the youthful Louis 
 de Buade showed an unconquerable passion for 
 war, and was sent to Holland to serve under 
 the Prince of Orange. During the next ten 
 years he fought at Hesdin, Arras, Aire, Cal- 
 lioure, Perpignan, Orbitello, and in the Italian 
 campaign, rising in that time to the rank of 
 brigadier-general. Then he returned to Paris 
 and entered Court life. His impetuosity in 
 love was no less than in war, and after caus- 
 ing havoc in the hearts of half the ladies of the 
 palace, he was hastily and secretly married to 
 Anne de la Grange Trianon, whose temper 
 proved a match even for his own. Frontenac's 
 domestic infelicities became Court gossip, and 
 when in taking out his handkerchief one day 
 
 [133]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 there dropped from his pocket a love-letter 
 from Mademoiselle de Mortemart, the future 
 Madame de Montespan, Louis XIV. saw fit to 
 consider favourably his petition for a foreign 
 post. Frontenac's appointment as Governor of 
 New France freed him, therefore, from the un- 
 welcome society of his wife, and provided him 
 with the income which he sorely needed. 
 
 This appointment of Frontenac, however, was 
 a more fortunate event for France than the 
 King realised. The new Governor possessed 
 remarkable fitness for his office. His experience 
 in war, the tact and diplomacy which he had 
 learned at the French Court, his unusually 
 attractive personality, all combined to make 
 of him an ideal ruler. The Indians looked 
 upon him as their " Great Father," the colonists 
 recognised him as a just and fearless official, and 
 the Jesuits found in him an implacable and 
 dangerous foe. Courcelle had lost by trying 
 to please all factions ; Frontenac would please 
 them if he could, but he would please himself 
 first. When the Jesuits finally triumphed over 
 him and effected his recall, France lost its grip 
 upon the New World. 
 
 Frontenac was interested in the youthful 
 
 explorer who stood before him. The evident 
 
 disappointment which his visitor suffered did 
 
 not escape his penetrating eye, and he surmised 
 
 [134]
 
 FINDS NOT WHAT HE SEEKS 
 
 the situation with considerable exactness. It 
 explained to him why Mistress Anne Courcelle 
 left the bleak shores of Quebec with tears upon 
 her cheeks, and why the old Governor had 
 especially urged that Joliet be sent upon a 
 similar mission of exploration that the fate of 
 Robert Cavelier's party might be ascertained. 
 
 As Robert recited the story of his expedition 
 from its beginning, Frontenac could not fail to 
 recognise the plot which the Jesuits had laid to 
 reap whatever benefit might come from his suc- 
 cess. Thinking Robert dead, the Sulpitians 
 had not hesitated to put their own interpreta- 
 tion upon the events which had occurred, fail- 
 ing to agree in many important respects with 
 the facts as Robert related them ; but Fronte- 
 nac was sufficiently familiar with the priests' 
 methods to draw his own conclusions. The 
 Governor studied the younger man with un- 
 questioned interest, listening intently until the 
 narrative was brought down to the time of 
 Robert's return. 
 
 " I congratulate you, Master Cavelier," said 
 Frontenac, when Robert concluded. " Even 
 though you did not realise the full measure of 
 your hopes, yet you have indeed accomplished 
 much, and it suits my plans to aid you in 
 still greater accomplishments. The King shall 
 know of your efforts in his behalf, and per- 
 
 [ 135 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 chance some day you may have the opportu- 
 nity to tell him of them face to face. In the 
 meantime I recommend that you retire for the 
 rest which you need over-much, and return to 
 me two days hence, when I would again talk 
 with you." 
 
 Robert left the chateau with mingled feel- 
 ings of despair and hope. Anne had passed be- 
 yond his reach, for the time being at all events, 
 and he must contain himself in patience ; but 
 on the other hand his interview with Frontenac 
 showed him that the new Governor was in 
 hearty sympathy with him. With his coopera- 
 tion Robert felt certain that the way would 
 be opened to him, and had Anne been still in 
 Quebec he would have welcomed the change as 
 one which boded favour to his fortunes. For 
 the present, however, he could but wait as 
 patiently as possible, ever ready to seize the 
 opportunities as they presented themselves. 
 
 On the appointed day Robert returned to the 
 chateau in accord with the Governor's instruc- 
 tions. The two men, though widely separated 
 in years, found much in common, and at this 
 interview were sown the seeds of a friendship 
 which lasted as long as Frontenac remained in 
 New France. The Governor rejoiced to find a 
 man in whom he could repose full confidence 
 and to whom he could unburden his mind with 
 
 [136]
 
 FINDS NOT WHAT HE SEEKS 
 
 absolute safety. He needed Robert fully as 
 much as Robert needed him. When once pos- 
 sessed of the story of Robert's life, he did not 
 hesitate to announce his own antipathy to the 
 Jesuits and his fixed determination that while 
 he remained governor, he and not they should 
 rule New France. 
 
 As time went on, and Frontenac became 
 familiar with Robert's knowledge of Indian life 
 and warfare, the Governor placed him in com- 
 mand of the military company of Quebec. 
 Robert accepted the post eagerly, as it gave 
 him a definite channel into which to divert the 
 growing impatience over his separation from 
 Anne, besides placing him among the most im- 
 portant personages of the colony. The Indians 
 were sufficiently restless at this time to require 
 frequent incursions into the forests in order to 
 impress them with the superior strength of the 
 white man, thus preventing serious outbreaks. 
 
 The Jesuits in the meantime had great dif- 
 ficulty in maintaining even seeming passivity 
 under Frontenac's administration. He at once 
 appreciated that their great zealousness in their 
 work among the Indians was in reality a defi- 
 nite effort to control the savages sufficiently to 
 make themselves essential to the safety of the 
 colony. While Courcelle was governor, there 
 was a constant fear that the Indians would be 
 
 [137J
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 let loose upon the settlement unless the Jesuits 
 were permitted to participate in the conduct 
 of temporal affairs. Frontenac, to meet this 
 threatened danger, gradually brought the lead- 
 ing chiefs into direct acquaintance with himself, 
 their "Great Father," and even persuaded some 
 of them to send their children to Quebec to be 
 educated. 
 
 This was so flagrant an intrusion upon their 
 own territory that the priests could not refrain 
 from making a formal protest. One Easter 
 morning the Abbe Fe'nelon delivered a dis- 
 course in the little church of the Hotel Dieu 
 at Montreal, which fanned the fire into flames. 
 Speaking of the duties of those who possessed 
 temporal authority, he so obviously directed his 
 comparisons against the Governor that no one 
 could mistake his meaning. 
 
 It so happened that Robert Cavelier was at 
 that time visiting his friend, Jacques Le Ber, 
 in Montreal, and he was in the church when 
 the sermon was delivered. He sat near the 
 door, and as the Abbd proceeded, Robert noisily 
 rose to his feet, showing by his disapproving 
 glances and gestures his evident displeasure. 
 As the Abbe', though disconcerted, continued 
 his sermon, Robert angrily left the church. 
 
 This action was the direct cause of dividing 
 the colony into two factions, but from this time 
 
 [138]
 
 FINDS NOT WHAT HE SEEKS 
 
 Robert stood as the most intimate friend and 
 champion of the Governor. The Jesuits di- 
 rected their intrigues against them jointly, 
 and the fortunes of the two were the more 
 indissolubly connected thereby. Frontenac's 
 popularity, however, gave him the stronger 
 following, and the fathers were still forced to 
 accept his temporal supremacy, although with 
 evident distaste. 
 
 Recognising their need of reinforcements, the 
 Jesuits sent an earnest appeal to France for a 
 larger number of missionaries to be sent to the 
 New World. As a result, a few months later, 
 upon a ship bringing a small number of colo- 
 nists, there arrived at Quebec a goodly number 
 of priests, ready for service. Robert was away 
 at the time the ship arrived, investigating a 
 reported uprising among the Indians, but he 
 received full details from the Governor upon 
 his return. 
 
 On the following day Robert was on his way 
 back to the barracks from the chateau when he 
 saw one of the .new arrivals coming toward him. 
 The priest was tall but spare, and he was taking 
 an evident interest in his novel surroundings. 
 Something attracted Robert toward the stran- 
 ger as the father came in his direction, and he 
 paused for a moment until the new-comer should 
 pass. As he drew near, the priest turned his 
 [139]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 face full upon Robert, and looked at him with 
 a penetrating glance. The recognition was mu- 
 tual, and both men drew back with a cry of 
 surprise. 
 
 "Jean!" 
 
 "Robert!" 
 
 The priest was the first to recover his com- 
 posure, and a cynical smile of satisfaction re- 
 placed the involuntary expression of surprise. 
 
 " So thus it is, my brother, that we meet 
 after these long years ! I have sought you far 
 and near since you forced me to take your place 
 in the cell at the House of the Novices in Paris. 
 I had given you up as dead, and hoped it might 
 be thus ; but here I find you in this citadel of 
 the Devil, strong in body and proud in bearing. 
 Right glad am I to know where you are, that 
 I may also keep watch over your deeds, and 
 perchance pay up the score which has been 
 standing over-long." 
 
 Robert could not resist smiling at the recol- 
 lections which this meeting with his brother 
 brought back. The episode at the House of 
 the Novices had been almost forgotten, but 
 with the victim of his stratagem now before 
 him the details were forcibly recalled. 
 
 "This is indeed an unexpected meeting," 
 replied Robert, still amused by the intense look 
 of hatred upon his brother's face. " I was sorry 
 
 [140]
 
 FINDS NOT WHAT HE SEEKS 
 
 to leave you so abruptly when last we parted, 
 and I have been much concerned lest your 
 labours at Rouen were temporarily interrupted. 
 I trust that Father Anselm treated you with 
 due consideration ? " 
 
 Jean's face was black with rage, and he 
 clenched his hands convulsively. 
 
 " So you have come to join the band of 
 labourers in the new vineyards of the Lord ! " 
 continued Robert, thoroughly enjoying his 
 brother's discomfiture. " What is to be your 
 part ? Will you also make a pretence of con- 
 verting Indians while striking at the govern- 
 ment of Quebec ? Think twice, my brother ! 
 Frontenac is a worthy foe, and he will not re- 
 lease his hold without a struggle." 
 
 " The Devil take you ! " cried Jean, almost 
 before his brother had ceased speaking. In an- 
 other moment he was the priest again, and his 
 words, though threatening, were spoken with 
 the old-time deliberation. 
 
 *' Your speech is quite in keeping with your 
 new-born confidence, Robert ; but do not go 
 too far in your insults to me and to our holy 
 Order. Have you forgotten the curse which 
 the Father Superior laid upon you when you 
 threatened to leave the House of the Novices ? 
 Do you think 't was spoken idly ? Just so sure 
 as yon setting sun will rise again, and just so 
 [141]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 sure as I myself have found you, will the 
 mighty Society of Jesus seek you out to your 
 destruction ! " 
 
 " So be it, Jean ! I can quite believe all that 
 you say. But if aught befall me, the Governor 
 will know well where to place the guilt. I 
 fear neither you nor them, and I defy you both 
 to do your worst ! " 
 
 Robert pushed by his brother and walked 
 with measured step to his destination. Jean 
 stood for a moment watching his retreating 
 figure, with hatred stamped indelibly upon his 
 face, and then strode angrily away in the direc- 
 tion of the Upper Town. 
 
 To Robert this unexpected meeting could 
 not do other than recall the unhappy events of 
 his childhood and youth. As he said, he feared 
 the Jesuits no longer, but they stood to him 
 for all that had been dark in his life. Jean's 
 presence within the restricted limits of the town 
 was certain to be a constant reminder of his 
 past suffering, and undoubtedly his brother 
 would do all in his power to incite the priest- 
 hood still further against him. It was a strange 
 fatality which had brought the two men to- 
 gether again in this far-away part of the world 
 after all those years, but Robert refused to 
 accept it as a catastrophe. 
 
 Jean was indeed surprised to find thus unex- 
 [142]
 
 FINDS NOT WHAT HE SEEKS 
 
 pectedly the object of so long a quest. When 
 the exchange of prisoners at the House of the 
 Novices had been discovered, the Father Supe- 
 rior laid upon him the responsibility of hunting 
 down his erring brother. Jean had earnestly 
 endeavoured to accomplish the task intrusted 
 to him, but was finally obliged to abandon it. 
 Now that he had located the object of his search 
 grown to man's estate, and learned the impor- 
 tant position Robert held in the colony as the 
 Governor's closest friend and adviser, he realised 
 that his brother had become a serious menace 
 to the welfare of the Jesuits. He felt that the 
 responsibility was too great for him to bear 
 alone ; and thus it was that when the ship which 
 brought bin to Quebec returned to France, it 
 bore a long letter from him to the Father Supe- 
 rior, setting forth in full the facts of the unex- 
 pected encounter, and asking advice as to further 
 action. 
 
 When Robert rehearsed the episode to Fron- 
 tenac at their next meeting, the Governor was 
 much more concerned than he cared to show. 
 Robert had become to him the most important 
 ally in all the colony, and his friendship for him 
 was deep and sincere. He knew far better than 
 Robert how tireless would be the efforts of the 
 Jesuits in the accomplishment of their threat, and 
 Frontenac was unwilling to take any chances re- 
 
 [143]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 garding his friend's safety. He quickly formed 
 the plan, therefore, of sending Robert to Paris 
 with missives to Colbert and to the King, seek- 
 ing letters-patent which should give him royal 
 assistance in completing his discoveries. This 
 would remove him for a time from the seat of 
 danger, and should he be successful in obtain- 
 ing the desired permission, Robert could start 
 upon his expedition immediately upon his 
 return. 
 
 Frontenac carefully concealed his real motives 
 from Robert, and had no difficulty in persuad- 
 ing him to undertake the voyage. This was 
 the opportunity for which he had waited, for 
 in France he would again find Anne Courcelle. 
 He eagerly accepted the Governor's suggestion, 
 therefore, and hastened his arrangements so that 
 he could sail upon the ship just ready to return 
 to France. 
 
 So it was that Father Jean Cavelier hastily 
 transcribed another letter to the Father Supe- 
 rior, as a postscript to the first, announcing that 
 this same escaped novice, referred to in his 
 earlier epistle, had taken passage upon the ship 
 which bore the letters. 
 
 [144]
 
 HER<>*MEETS 
 
 GREAT-KI1VO 
 
 N^jg0y"* 
 
 HE EXPERIENCES OF 
 
 the eight vital years which 
 had elapsed since Robert 
 Cavelier set foot upon the 
 soil of his native France had 
 not been such as to prepare 
 him for the Court life which 
 he was about to behold in the fulness of its 
 glory. Yet the inheritance of a noble birth ever 
 holds its own, and the gentle qualities which 
 had scarcely before been called into existence 
 easily marked him for the gentleman he was. 
 No one of those who had known Robert in 
 Quebec, save those who understood him best, 
 would have supposed him capable of throwing 
 aside so completely the brusque imperiousness 
 and the colonial bearing which characterised 
 him in the New France, to become a polished 
 courtier in the midst of such gorgeous splen- 
 dour as that of the Court of Louis XIV. 
 
 The King was at the height of his greatness 
 and popularity. Colbert had contributed largely 
 10 [ 145 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 to this by his retrenchments in the waste of pub- 
 lic moneys and his untiring persecution of dis- 
 honest officials who had gained fortunes in the 
 service of his predecessor. But Colbert did not 
 attempt to curtail the expenditures of his extrav- 
 agant master. The King's demands for recreation 
 were steadily increasing, and Colbert provided 
 the ways and means for his entertainment. 
 
 Versailles was becoming more and more at- 
 tractive to Louis XIV. St. Germain had a 
 shadow over it, in the King's mind. The mag- 
 nificent forest, the wonderful terrace, the per- 
 fection of the location, seemed to all others to 
 make this spot the ideal setting for the Court of 
 such a king. But the others did not remember 
 as did Louis XIV. that it was hither that he 
 had been taken one night many years before, 
 driven from Paris by the troubles of the Fronde ; 
 nor did they realise how suggestively the steeple 
 of St. Denis indicated that final burial-place of 
 royalty. The first thought was an insult to his 
 childish majesty ; the second, a disagreeable 
 reminder of the end of all earthly pretensions. 
 
 St. Germain, then, with all its natural beau- 
 ties, was abandoned, and Versailles became 
 its rival. This was to be a Paradise in which 
 no single Adam and Eve were to bask in the 
 fulness of the sun or in the gentle rays of the 
 moon, but rather an Olympian Jove and 
 
 [146]
 
 MEETS A GREAT KING 
 
 many goddesses. Nor was the Serpent to enter 
 here but once. Art and riches could defeat the 
 barrenness of Old Mother Nature at Versailles, 
 but neither could keep the tempter from enter- 
 ing its confines. Smiles sought to hide jealousy ; 
 courtly salutes endeavoured to conceal hatred ; 
 fair words tried to mask deception, but all 
 in vain. Even the seemingly powerful Monte- 
 span knew in her heart that her influence was 
 waning, and that she walked upon a smoulder- 
 ing volcano. 
 
 Mansard, Levau, and Darbay had already 
 received from the King commissions to prepare 
 plans for the marvelous changes and additions 
 which were to be undertaken. Louis was fairly 
 beside himself with enthusiasm and could think 
 of little else. Colbert must needs plan better 
 than ever before to provide for the unlimited 
 demands upon the public treasury. Colbert 
 must be practical while the King was making 
 his silk purse out of the sow's ear. 
 
 Robert presented himself to the Minister 
 promptly upon his arrival, and Colbert found in 
 the story of his mission a pleasant diversion from 
 the monotony of plans and payments. More 
 than this, Frontenac's letters were too strong 
 in their statements as to the value of Robert's 
 services to permit his visit to pass by without 
 proper consideration. If Versailles grew much 
 [147]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 larger or much more elaborate in the King's 
 mind, Colbert would surely need to levy upon 
 New France for substantial aid ; and " Master 
 Robert Cavelier," so read the letter from Gov- 
 ernor Frontenac, " is more capable than anybody 
 else I know in the colony to accomplish every 
 kind of enterprise and discovery which may be 
 intrusted to him." Surely Master Cavelier 
 must receive an audience and be encouraged 
 in his service for the King. 
 
 Colbert could not fail to be impressed by the 
 interview he had with Robert. The discovery 
 of the Mississippi interested him as a means of 
 extending the name and influence of France, 
 but Robert's suggestion as to the fur-trade and 
 what it might be made to yield interested 
 him still more. 
 
 It was not difficult for Robert to comprehend 
 the situation, and he clearly and boldly outlined 
 his proposition. Forts should be built and in- 
 vested with French soldiers, trading privileges 
 should be sold and not given away, and the 
 Crown itself should enter into partnership with 
 the traders, reaping the lion's share of the gains. 
 Frontenac himself, as Governor, should be in- 
 trusted with the allotment and leasing of ter- 
 ritory, which would increase his value to the 
 King and his importance in the Colony. As 
 an example of the possibilities, Robert himself 
 
 [148]
 
 MEETS A GREAT KING 
 
 proposed to purchase for ten thousand francs a 
 grant in seigniory near Fort Frontenac and to 
 guarantee two-thirds of all the profits to the 
 Crown. 
 
 The plan was an attractive one ; particularly 
 so, as it permitted the Crown to assume the 
 position of Protector and Benefactor, while 
 at the same time an increased income was 
 assured the royal treasury. The Minister has- 
 tened to lay the matter before the King, 
 with the result that Robert was summoned to 
 appear at Versailles. 
 
 Louis XIV. was no sluggard. Eight hours 
 out of every day were devoted to affairs of 
 state, and the King's knowledge of condi- 
 tions and transactions was much more intimate 
 than was generally imagined. Especially was 
 he conversant with what occurred in New 
 France, thanks to the interest inspired by 
 Father La Chaise through Madame de Mainte- 
 non, a source of information of which as yet 
 he had not seen fit to speak to his worthy 
 Minister. 
 
 The royal summons commanded Robert to 
 present himself at the grand lever of the King ; 
 and although this necessitated covering the fif- 
 teen miles between Paris and Versailles before 
 eight o'clock in the morning, Robert found 
 himself in the famous room of the (Eil de 
 
 [149]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Bceuf some time in advance of the hour. The 
 brisk ride from Paris, through the Bois de Bou- 
 logne, along the Seine, past the hamlets which 
 later became St. Cloud, Sevres, and Viroflay, 
 filled him with intense interest and anticipation. 
 As he crossed the river at St. Cloud he saw a 
 ship lying at anchor in the stream, and it 
 brought back earlier memories of the time 
 when he was " Jacques Moulin " and a fugitive. 
 If Jean's words were true, he was no less a 
 fugitive now ; but he refused to treat the 
 threat with even serious consideration. On he 
 galloped through the long park, grand in its 
 artificial and costly beauty, his horse's hoofs 
 ringing loud upon the heavy stones of the Cour 
 Royale. And now he was within the famous 
 palace, a single wall separating him from his 
 most glorious sovereign ! 
 
 Already the room was well filled with those 
 most closely associated with the King, awaiting 
 the moment when Monsieur Bontemps, the 
 first valet, should throw open the great door 
 which separated the reception-room from the 
 royal apartments, thus giving the signal that 
 His Majesty was ready to receive the Court. 
 Robert, being unacquainted with the others 
 who awaited the King's pleasure, retired to one 
 of the two large windows overlooking the Cour 
 de Marbre, from which position he could watch 
 
 [150]
 
 MEETS A GREAT KING 
 
 the late comers, and also keep an interested eye 
 upon what took place within the room. 
 
 Standing or sitting about a long table placed 
 between the second and third window-doors 
 leading into the Galerie des Glaces, an ani- 
 mated group was discussing the plans for the 
 additions and extensions to the palace which 
 just now so occupied Louis' attention. Man- 
 sard, the chief architect, was explaining in 
 detail the magnificent scheme which he had 
 outlined upon a great sheet of paper spread 
 out upon the table, and which he was about 
 to present to the King for his royal approval. 
 With him were Levau and Darbay, his asso- 
 ciates, Le Notre and Blondel, who were to 
 assist in the architectural work, Puget, Cey- 
 sevox, Girardon, and Desjardins, the sculptors 
 in whose hands this portion of the work was 
 to be placed, and Le Brun and Laguerre, who 
 were to execute and supervise the paintings 
 and the decorations. Standing near the fire- 
 place were Racine and Boileau, discussing lit- 
 erature and poetry. At the window next to 
 that at which Robert stood, so near that he 
 could not avoid overhearing the conversation, 
 were Lulli, the composer, and Bensarade, ar- 
 ranging with President de Perigny the details 
 of the coming fete. The assemblage was 
 largely made up of representatives of art and 
 [151]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 letters, this being the King's leaning at the 
 moment. The nobility of the Court yielded 
 precedence to them at Versailles, well knowing 
 that Louis' present devotion would be at best 
 short-lived. 
 
 But Robert had not been wholly unobserved. 
 Somewhat apart from the animated group dis- 
 cussing Versailles and its improvements was a 
 young man whose bearing marked him as a 
 noble of the highest rank. He had grown 
 weary of the subject which now formed almost 
 the only topic of conversation, and awaited 
 the opening of the door with evident ennui. 
 Glancing around the room, his eye fell upon 
 Robert standing by the window, and the 
 strength of the figure, together with the quiet 
 intensity of the stranger's survey of his sur- 
 roundings, at once attracted his attention. Im- 
 pulsively he crossed the room and approached 
 Robert. 
 
 " Pardon me, sir," he said ; " I note that 
 you are a stranger here, and perchance I can 
 be of service to you. I am Louis- Armand 
 de Bourbon, Prince de Conti ; command me, 
 I pray you." 
 
 The name was well known to Robert, and 
 the Prince's courtesy most welcome. He 
 needed little encouragement, therefore, to give 
 his new acquaintance a brief but clear idea 
 
 [152]
 
 MEETS A GREAT KING 
 
 of himself and his errand to the King. The 
 Prince became much interested in the vigor- 
 ous young man before him, even in the brief 
 time they were together, and he invited Robert 
 to seek him again before his return to Paris. 
 
 In the meantime Monsieur Bontemps and 
 the other servants of the King had been per- 
 forming their daily duties within the royal 
 bedchamber. It was an ample apartment, 
 with large marble mantels between the doors 
 at either end. The front wall of the room 
 was broken by three great windows, which 
 would have flooded the chamber with light 
 save for the heavy Gobelin tapestries drawn 
 across them. In the centre stood the splendid 
 canopied bed which, together with the other 
 furniture, cost Simon Delobel, tapissier., twelve 
 years of labour. On either side of this master- 
 piece, upon the high walls, hung Raphael's " St. 
 John " and Domenichino's " David." Around 
 the bed a balustrade was placed, within which 
 none might enter save the King and his first 
 valet. 
 
 On this particular morning, while Monsieur 
 Bontemps was patiently awaiting the moment 
 when the hands of the clock should reach the 
 hour of eight, that worthy functionary was 
 horrified to see the heavy curtains of the bed 
 suddenly separate, and to hear the voice of 
 [153]
 
 his royal master, showing that he had awak- 
 ened without assistance. 
 
 " Bontemps ! " 
 
 " Yes, Sire." 
 
 " Is it yet eight o'clock ? " 
 
 " Not yet, Sire ; it still lacks seven minutes." 
 
 " Never mind ; summon the others. I will 
 arise." 
 
 The first valet hastened to call in from an 
 antechamber, in which they had awaited this 
 moment, the members of the King's household 
 upon whom the various duties fell. The cur- 
 tains were drawn aside, the marvelous counter- 
 pane adorned with the "Triumph of Venus" 
 was laid back, and Louis solemnly kissed the 
 crucifix which Father La Chaise held out to 
 him. As the white-haired ecclesiastic fell back, 
 the noble courtiers to whom the King's toilet 
 was intrusted took temporary possession of 
 his person ; and at nine o'clock exactly, having 
 been dressed, and breakfasted, the King, seated 
 in a large armchair before the fire, was pre- 
 pared for his grand lever. 
 
 One of the great doors leading from the 
 room of the (Eil de Bceuf was thrown open, 
 and the King's chamber quickly filled. Robert 
 kept in the background awaiting the proper mo- 
 ment to present himself. Each one upon enter- 
 ing the room bowed low three times and solemnly 
 
 [154]
 
 MEETS A GREAT KING 
 
 kissed the King's hand. After this ceremony 
 many of the courtiers either again retired to the 
 room of the (Eil de Boeuf or gathered in groups 
 in different parts of the chamber. Robert was 
 the last to salute the King, and as he approached 
 him he was much relieved to see Colbert stand- 
 ing near by. The Minister returned Robert's 
 greeting, and presented him to the King. 
 
 " This is Monsieur Cavelier, Sire, whom you 
 have summoned in response to Governor Fron- 
 tenac's request." 
 
 " From New France, say you ? " asked Louis. 
 
 " Yes, Sire ; these are the documents." 
 
 The King carefully regarded the papers which 
 Colbert handed to him before addressing Robert, 
 giving the latter ample opportunity to remark 
 Louis' incontestable yet manly beauty, both of 
 face and form. His majesty of bearing and king- 
 liness of countenance were not assumed, but 
 were an inalienable part of his personality. No 
 one ever came close to the great King without 
 feeling his genuine imperiousness and the ele- 
 gance of language and manners which distin- 
 guished him above all his nobles. 
 
 " You are young to have undergone such ad- 
 ventures as we understand have fallen to your 
 lot," said the King at last. 
 
 " In New France, Sire, there is no youth," 
 replied Robert ; " the boy becomes the man so 
 [155]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 soon as he can raise a musket to his shoulder 
 and can shout * God save the King ! ' 
 
 " Well spoken, Monsieur Cavelier. Right 
 glad are we to know that our infant colony doth 
 breed such offspring. And are you certain of 
 the facts which Colbert has presented us regard- 
 ing your projects in our behalf ? " 
 
 " Quite certain, Sire. His Excellency the 
 Governor also certifies my statements." 
 
 " Ay, but our friend the Comte de Fronte- 
 nac doth ever make fair promises, with little in 
 the way of grand accomplishment." 
 
 " The Governor, Sire, doth ever work against 
 great odds." 
 
 " Explain your meaning, sir," said the King, 
 quickly. 
 
 Robert hesitated. Perhaps he had been too 
 bold. He must be careful of his words now. 
 
 " Such obstacles, Sire, as one must ever meet 
 in taming a country even more savage than the 
 Indians themselves." 
 
 "Ah.! we feared that you had complaints to 
 make against the worthy priests, of whom 
 the Governor often makes mention in his letters 
 to us ; and that would surely prove unwelcome. 
 Is it not so, father ? " continued the King, re- 
 ferring the question to Pere La Chaise, who 
 stood beside him. 
 
 "Even so, Your Majesty. Your wisdom 
 [156]
 
 MEETS A GREAT KING 
 
 has discovered how libelous are all attacks 
 against our brethren, who are devoting their 
 life-blood to the salvation of New France." 
 
 " I have come to you, Sire," said Robert, 
 hastily, "to speak against no man, but rather 
 to explain more fully than perchance is known 
 here how great the obstacles, yet also how great 
 the possibilities are in this wonderful country 
 across the seas. With a few regiments of 
 soldiers Frontenac could hold for France a 
 vaster empire than France herself, and could 
 restrain England from acquiring territory, - 
 which she will surely do unless vigorously 
 opposed." 
 
 " We do not understand that you have come 
 to ask us regiments for Frontenac," observed the 
 King, coldly. " We have present need of sol- 
 diers here, and our treasury cannot be endan- 
 gered until Versailles is complete. You came, 
 we think, to speak of income for the Crown, 
 and not of outgo." 
 
 Robert flushed deeply. Frontenac could 
 look for nothing here, and his cause was being 
 injured rather than improved by the turn the 
 conversation had taken. 
 
 " Pardon, Sire ; I had no right to speak of 
 this. The limits of my mission are fully laid 
 down within those papers." 
 
 " Now you are reasonable again," said Louis, 
 [157]
 
 mollified by Robert's attitude. " And you have 
 hopes of reaching the great river of the Ohio, 
 Monsieur Cavelier, with our assistance ? " 
 
 " Most surely, Sire. If I may draw upon the 
 soldiers at Quebec I am assured that the great- 
 est river of the New World may be found and 
 held for France." 
 
 " And this fur-trade of which you speak, 
 is it of sufficient import to warrant our super- 
 vision ? " 
 
 "With proper care, Sire, the fur-trade of 
 New France may be made to yield the Crown 
 a noble income. At present trading- companies 
 are loath to tell how great their profits are. 
 Were they controlled by royal supervision they 
 might still make rare returns while giving 
 richly to the Crown." 
 
 "Your judgment does you credit, Monsieur 
 Cavelier. We will carefully consider your pe- 
 titions, and Colbert shall report our pleasure 
 concerning them." 
 
 Robert retired from his audience with the 
 King satisfied enough with his own immediate 
 prospects, since he knew that he had touched a 
 vital point in the necessities of the treasury ; 
 but he was thoroughly discouraged by the evi- 
 dence of the hostile powers at work against 
 Frontenac and New France. His heart was 
 sore for his friend whose ultimate defeat he 
 
 [158]
 
 MEETS A GREAT KING 
 
 could clearly foresee, and for his foster-country, 
 for which he felt a loyal attachment. 
 
 Now that his audience with the King was 
 ended, Robert was free to undertake the mission 
 which lay even closer to his heart. Here he 
 was in France, yet apparently Anne was as 
 completely hidden from him as if he had been 
 back in Quebec ; and he knew not where to 
 seek her. Robert tried to plan out how best to 
 begin this new undertaking, but he found him- 
 self more baffled than he had been even in the 
 midst of the primeval forests. 
 
 Suddenly he remembered his meeting with 
 the Prince de Conti, and the generous offer of 
 assistance. Perchance this was the solution. 
 At all events he would make the trial. It was 
 not difficult to locate so important a personage 
 as the Prince, and a half-hour later Robert 
 found himself closeted with him at the palace. 
 
 " I little thought to trespass so soon upon 
 your kind offer," said Robert, as he saluted the 
 Prince. 
 
 " A better proof that you believed me sincere 
 in making it," answered the Prince, pleasantly. 
 " Did not your project fare well in the King's 
 hands this morning ? " 
 
 " Entirely so," answered Robert, realising 
 that the Prince would naturally misinterpret the 
 nature of his errand ; " His Majesty received 
 [159]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 me and my petitions with more favour than I 
 could well have expected, and I look for a 
 successful outcome. In the meantime I come 
 to ask if perchance you can tell me the where- 
 abouts of one Monsieur de Courcelle and of his 
 daughter, Mademoiselle Anne, whom I had the 
 honour to know in New France." 
 
 The Prince regarded Robert for a moment 
 with an expression which seemed to question 
 whether or not his visitor was serious ; but the 
 eagerness with which Robert awaited his reply 
 settled any doubt in the matter. 
 
 " MademoiseUe de Courcelle is at this moment 
 probably not a hundred feet from where you sit, 
 since the apartments of Madame la Duchesse 
 d'Orleans, whose maid of honour she is, adjoin 
 these very rooms." 
 
 Robert sprang to his feet in astonishment, 
 unable to control himself. Anne in Versailles, 
 so near to him, when he supposed her at least 
 leagues away ! He could scarcely believe his 
 ears. The Prince watched his excitement with 
 evident enjoyment, but his next words brought 
 Robert again to himself. 
 
 "You did not tell me this morning all the 
 motives which brought you to France, Monsieur 
 Cavelier." 
 
 "I crave your pardon," answered Robert, 
 quite chagrined. "It is true that I have been 
 
 [160]
 
 MEETS A GREAT KING 
 
 even more anxious to see Mademoiselle de Cour- 
 celle than to see the King. You have learned 
 my secret, but I trust that my astonishment at 
 your unexpected words has not caused offence. 
 More than four years have passed since last we 
 met." 
 
 "Do you know the lady well, Monsieur?" 
 asked the Prince. 
 
 " She is my affianced wife," answered Robert, 
 simply. 
 
 "Then congratulations are surely your due, 
 sir. Mademoiselle de Courcelle is counted 
 among the fairest of the ladies of the Court." 
 
 " I thank you more than I can tell for your 
 welcome tidings ; and will you place me still 
 further in your debt by telling me how to reach 
 her ? I know little of Court requirements, hav- 
 ing lived so long amidst other scenes. 'Twas 
 this service that I came to ask." 
 
 " 'T is a more difficult proposition than you 
 imagine, monsieur, since to-morrow night comes 
 the King's fete, for which every one is making 
 preparation. I fear that you must wait until 
 after this event has taken place ; then I will 
 gladly assist you in arranging for the meeting." 
 
 The conversation turned upon other topics, 
 
 and Robert found the Prince eager to learn of 
 
 the New World and of the adventures through 
 
 which he himself had passed. His eye flashed 
 
 11 [ 161 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 as his visitor related the story of Frontenac's 
 constant struggles against the Jesuits, a sub- 
 ject which Robert rightly surmised would in- 
 terest him. 
 
 " He is a brave man," he said, as Robert 
 paused for a moment, " but he is fighting against 
 greater odds than he knows. If Madame de 
 Maintenon holds her present sway over the 
 King, the Jesuits will carry every point. Take 
 to him from me, and accept for yourself, my 
 earnest friendship ; and call upon me for any 
 assistance I can render." 
 
 The patronage of the Prince de Conti was 
 indeed of value, and Robert accepted the prof- 
 fered friendship with deep gratitude. He knew 
 well how gratified Frontenac would be to learn 
 of this powerful ally at Court, and was glad to 
 have something to offset the disappointment 
 which a knowledge of general conditions was 
 sure to bring him. When on the following 
 day, therefore, Colbert announced to him that 
 the King had granted his petitions, his political 
 mission became a complete success. He re- 
 ceived letters-patent for his explorations, the 
 grand seigniory of Fort Frontenac was bestowed 
 upon him, and in addition to this he found him- 
 self elevated to the rank of an untitled noble, 
 with the right to call vhimself the Sieur de La 
 Salle. 
 
 [162]
 
 MEETS A GREAT KING 
 
 And Anne was at Versailles ! Truly the 
 future seemed bright for Robert Cavelier ; and 
 he patiently awaited on that thirty-first of 
 August the coming and the going of the 
 grand fete, of which he had heard so much 
 during his brief sojourn in France. 
 
 [163]
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 -THE- 
 
 SIEURPELA'SALLI 
 FINDStArKARE-GEM 
 
 REPARATIONS FOR 
 
 the grand fete had required 
 months of labour, and Col- 
 bert was forced to draw again 
 upon Fouquet's apparently 
 limitless wealth. The only 
 silver lining to the Minister's 
 cloud was that even a Fouquet must at length 
 be ruined by drafts such as these ; and when this 
 happy event was realised, he would have admin- 
 istered justice upon one more of those who had 
 reaped a golden harvest under Mazarin's regime. 
 At last the long-anticipated day arrived, and 
 the Court assembled in all its gorgeous brilliancy. 
 The festivities began in the morning with a 
 great hunt, when the Queen, with Madame de 
 Montpensier and Mademoiselle d'Alen9on, rode 
 in Amazonian costumes ; in the afternoon a 
 tournament was held which in magnificence 
 quite surpassed anything of the kind which 
 France had seen. One has but to turn to the 
 " Gazette " of that day to read of the wonderful 
 [164]
 
 FINDS A RARE GEM 
 
 cortege of Court ladies, " all admirably equipped 
 and on selected horses, led by Madame, in a 
 most superb vest and seated on a white horse 
 with trappings of brocade sewn with pearls and 
 precious stones. Following the ladies appeared 
 the Sun- King, not less easily recognised by the 
 lofty mien peculiar to him than by his rich 
 Hungarian habit, covered with gold and gems, 
 his helmet with waving plumes, and the spirited 
 horse which seemed prouder of carrying so great 
 a monarch than of its magnificent trappings and 
 its jewelled saddle-cloth." Behind the King 
 came Monsieur his brother in Turkish costume ; 
 then followed the Due d 'Enghien in Indian dis- 
 guise ; and behind him might be seen the other 
 noblemen, who formed ten quadrilles. 
 
 All the festivities were but an introduction 
 to the grand consummation which was to follow. 
 The King had bent all his energies to make 
 this fete one long to be remembered in the his- 
 tory of his reign, and Versailles responded nobly 
 to his demands. It was a dark and starless 
 night as the guests stepped forth from the ban- 
 quet hall, joining the vast number of courtiers 
 with their ladies who had not been fortunate 
 enough to be invited to the banquet, but who 
 had assembled to join in the later festivities. 
 
 Of a sudden a wonderful transformation took 
 place. The circumference of the parterre of 
 [165]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Latona, the grand alley, the terrace, and the 
 front of the palace became decorated with 
 statues, vases, and chandeliers weirdly lighted in 
 such a fashion as to make them glow as if from 
 inward flames. Then the parterres burst into 
 light, and a double row of torches, perhaps two 
 feet apart, illuminated the grand terrace in front 
 of the chateau. Myriads of lights sprang into 
 sight along the steps and railings of the horse- 
 shoe, on top of the walls, around the foun- 
 dations, along the reservoirs and the borders 
 of the grand canal. From Stygian darkness 
 the scene was transformed into a brilliantly- 
 lighted fairy garden. 
 
 The King and the Queen led the assemblage 
 down the broad walk to the edge of the grand 
 canal. It was indeed a remarkable gathering. 
 There was the new Duchesse d'Orleans, the 
 Princess Palatine, who was married to the 
 King's brother after the suspicious death of 
 Henrietta of England. Even amidst revels such 
 as these she never forgot nor ceased to long for 
 her beloved Germany, just as Henrietta had 
 longed for the England which she never saw 
 again. There was Mademoiselle de la Valliere, 
 no longer Louis' favourite, but still prominent 
 in Court because of her legitimated daughter, 
 Mademoiselle de Blois, who afterwards became 
 the Princesse de Conti. Her blue eyes always 
 
 [166]
 
 Engraved by John Andrew <t Son 
 
 THE FTE AT VERSAILLES 
 
 " The King and the Queen led the assemblage down the broad 
 walk to the edge of the grand canal"
 
 FINDS A RARE GEM 
 
 showed the effects of weeping now, for although 
 her hair was as fair, her complexion as beautiful, 
 her smile as agreeable, and her look as tender, 
 the King had no thought of her. This fete at 
 Versailles was the song of the dying swan for 
 her. Two months later she retired into the 
 depths of a cloister, where as Sister Louise of 
 Mercy she prayed constantly for the King's 
 conversion. 
 
 Gayest among all the royal company was 
 Madame de Montespan. She had won Louis 
 away from La Valliere, and was gallantly en- 
 deavouring to prevent the dark cloud gathering 
 upon her horizon from breaking into force. 
 She was taller than the average, with soft, 
 delicate features and sparkling eyes. Her neck 
 was admirably turned, and her golden hair fell in 
 luxuriant tresses upon her beautifully-moulded 
 shoulders. She still played her part well, but 
 she was too clever a diplomat not to know 
 in her heart that it was to Madame de Main- 
 tenon, the governess whom she herself had 
 introduced in Court, that Louis now turned 
 for advice and companionship. 
 
 The new favourite, who was to hold over 
 the Sun- King the most powerful sway of all 
 in his whole career, and who was to succeed 
 in claiming him as husband as well as lover, 
 walked with a serenity and a dignity only 
 
 [167]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 equalled by the King himself. She was fair 
 in complexion, yet her eyes were black, with a 
 depth which spoke to the heart as no words 
 could ever do. She formed a perfect foil to 
 Montespan's forced vivacity, yet gained by each 
 comparison. She was beautiful, and her fea- 
 tures taken one by one showed little to be 
 wished for and nothing with which to find 
 fault, yet it was not her beauty that formed 
 her greatest charm. It was that same dignity 
 in mental as well as in physical poise which 
 forced the King to acknowledge her his most 
 valued counselor. More than this, her abso- 
 lute though ever courteous indifference, feigned 
 or real as it may have been, held Louis' devo- 
 tion as no effort of any other favourite had ever 
 done. 
 
 These were the personages most observed as 
 the banqueting party proceeded to the grand 
 canal and embarked in richly-decorated gon- 
 dolas. Musicians upon other boats began to 
 play the music which Lulli had composed es- 
 pecially for the occasion. Those who made up 
 the magnificent cortege wandered through the 
 park, or seated themselves at the many tables 
 which had been placed in every available spot 
 of the garden, there to converse among them- 
 selves, and to enjoy the enchanting splendour 
 of the scene. 
 
 [168]
 
 FINDS A RARE GEM 
 
 The newly created Sieur de La Salle walked 
 aimlessly through the giddy throng. Here 
 indeed was a striking contrast to the manner 
 of life which even the capital of New France 
 afforded. Robert was dazzled by the scene, 
 but to him it had no greater meaning than a 
 possible opportunity of meeting Anne Courcelle. 
 She would of course attend the fete, and he 
 hoped at least to gain a sight of her. And if 
 he found her, what then ? She had loved 
 him in Quebec, but four years had passed since 
 that time, and how could her heart hold true 
 amidst surroundings such as he now beheld ? 
 In New France Mistress Anne Courcelle, even 
 though she was the Governor's daughter, was 
 not so great a lady as was Mademoiselle de 
 Courcelle, maid of honour to the Princess Pala- 
 tine, at Versailles ; and Master Robert Cavelier, 
 even now that he had become the Sieur de La 
 Salle, knew himself to be no more than an 
 adventurer. He was of noble birth, but his 
 past was blotted out when he entered the 
 House of the Novices at Paris ; and since then 
 his life had been far removed from courts and 
 splendours. Thus he reasoned, but it was the 
 mind which argued. His heart possessed no 
 doubt. No image other than fair Mistress 
 Anne had ever entered there, and it felt a 
 certainty of similar loyalty in return. 
 [169]
 
 As Robert strolled leisurely through the park, 
 in and out among the revelers, he was attracted 
 by a gay company of nobles and ladies seated 
 about one of the tables. He drew nearer to 
 them, and in the shadow of a tree regarded 
 them with indifferent interest. The ladies of 
 the party were known to him by sight, but the 
 gallants with them were strangers. There was 
 Mademoiselle de Lenclos, an intimate friend of 
 Madame de Maintenon. Beside her were Ma- 
 demoiselle de Charente and Mademoiselle de 
 Montalais, two maids of honour to the Princess 
 Palatine. All were entering fully into the fes- 
 tivities, and commented upon the passers-by. 
 
 " Recite us a verse, Sir Poet," said Mademoi- 
 selle de Montalais at length, turning gaily to 
 the courtier sitting opposite her. 
 
 " Of what shall I sing, fair mistress ? " he re- 
 plied, picking up a guitar which he had unstrung 
 from his shoulder. 
 
 " Sing us your verses to Iris ; and mind that 
 you address them to me ! " 
 
 The courtier struck a chord upon the guitar, 
 and then began, in a low, rich voice : 
 
 T/rfHILST I was with you, every day, 
 
 My dove, my blooming fair, 
 I viewed your charms, I heard your wit, 
 Reardless o the snare. 
 
 vewe your carms, 
 Regardless of the snare. 
 
 [170]
 
 FINDS A RARE GEM 
 
 " But from your sight when once debarred, 
 
 What tortures I endured ! 
 Too fierce, too violent, alas! 
 By reason to be cured. 
 
 " Parting, which ought to give relief, 
 
 But added to my pain; 
 For in your charms still faster linked, 
 I struggled still in vain. 
 
 " Obdurate Iris ! Cruel Fair ! 
 
 To kindle such ajlame ; 
 To make me burn, consume, and long 
 For what I durst not name. 
 
 " Should I my passion once reveal, 
 Your anger 'twould procure; 
 And should I keep the secret close, 
 My dissolution 's sure ! " * 
 
 " Bravo, Sir Poet ! Were your verses as good 
 as your wit, or were either as fine as your voice, 
 you would make your fortune as a ballad- 
 singer," said Mademoiselle de Montalais as the 
 singing ceased. 
 
 " And now, Sir Gallant, will you own your- 
 self outdone by our dreaming poet here ? " she 
 continued, turning to the second courtier, who 
 had been paying more attention to Mademoi- 
 selle de Charente than to the song. 
 
 1 Scarron (1660). 
 
 [171]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " Nay, nay, fair mistress," he replied quickly. 
 " I too have a song to Iris, but 't is shorter, and 
 therefore better." 
 
 " Then sing it to us," commanded Mademoi- 
 selle de Charente ; " and 't is my turn to be the 
 Iris. I will judge between the two." 
 
 The new minstrel did not wait for the guitar 
 to accompany him, but at once accepted the 
 challenge : 
 
 ' reason tells me Womenkind 
 -* Are false, inconstant as the wind, 
 
 And rocks which men should fly ; 
 Yet Iris has such airs, such graces, 
 And so divinely fair her face is, 
 
 For her 1 'd freely die." 1 
 
 " Ah, would that I were Iris, indeed 1 " 
 sighed Mademoiselle de Charente, with well- 
 feigned seriousness. " How fair speaks the 
 bard when he addresses the mythical Iris, yet 
 how slow he ever is to compose such speeches 
 when his Iris is before him ! " 
 
 " Nay, nay, I protest ! " exclaimed the singer 
 who had just ceased. " 'T is ever the lady's 
 fault alone. Had you but seen me try to 
 speak a few words of love to your brown- 
 eyed companion, Mademoiselle de Courcelle, 
 
 1 Scan-on (1660). ' 
 
 [172]
 
 FINDS A RARE GEM 
 
 but yester-eve, and could you have heard the 
 reproaches laid upon my head by the haughty 
 mistress, I swear you would not wonder if I 
 held my peace forever more ! " 
 
 Robert started forward, straining his ears to 
 catch the words of the speaker. 
 
 " Have you not learned that Mademoiselle 
 de Courcelle's heart became so congealed in 
 those awful winters of Quebec that it has 
 never yet thawed out?" asked Mademoiselle 
 de Montalais, little pleased that her remark 
 should have turned the conversation upon some 
 one else. 
 
 " But seriously, why does she ever hold her- 
 self so far aloof from all the others ? " contin- 
 ued the courtier. " She smiles at one with 
 bewitching grace, and converses right willingly ; 
 but let one so much as breathe a word of love, 
 and she draws back as though a blow were 
 struck her." 
 
 Robert listened intently. Could it be that 
 he himself held the answer to that question, 
 and that the simple pledge which had been 
 given him so far across the water kept her thus 
 true to their old-time love ? Unconsciously 
 he moved nearer to the group as Mademoiselle 
 de Charente entered into the conversation. 
 
 "That is something which makes us all 
 wonder much. I think Madame likes her best 
 [173]
 
 of all her maids, since she finds in her a re- 
 sponse to her own unhappiness. Yet never 
 once has one of us discovered Mademoiselle 
 de Courcelle save with a smile upon her lips. 
 There is indeed a mystery in the matter." 
 
 Robert lost the rest of the conversation, 
 moving back to his original position lest he be 
 discovered in his eavesdropping. He turned 
 his eyes away from the gay revelers, seeking 
 to picture the fair face which now seemed but 
 a memory. The flickering light of the torches 
 assisted him, for it cast the mental resemblance 
 upon a radiantly-beautiful woman coming to- 
 ward him. Robert smiled to himself as he 
 became conscious of a resentment which en- 
 tered his heart ; but the smile suddenly van- 
 ished. This was no hallucination 1 It was 
 Anne herself ; but what a change the years and 
 the surroundings had wrought ! He had ever 
 thought of her as wearing the simple dress 
 in which she was clad that last day they were 
 together in Quebec ; he could not have foreseen 
 that the girl of eighteen would develop into 
 this magnificent woman of twenty-three. The 
 Court dress, the gorgeous environment, the 
 stately, dignified bearing, as she walked past 
 him, leaning upon the arm of a white-haired 
 soldier, bewildered Robert as he started for- 
 ward and as quickly drew back again into his 
 [174]
 
 FINDS A RARE GEM 
 
 retreat, feasting his eyes upon the dear sight 
 before him. 
 
 This was no place for the meeting, where 
 all that occurred could be easily observed by 
 those other curious eyes which followed her 
 even as his did. He would wait until they 
 gained some little distance, and then overtake 
 them. 
 
 The moments seemed an eternity, but soon 
 Robert stepped quietly out into the broad 
 walk and rapidly gained on the slow pace 
 which Anne and her father were taking. How 
 the old Governor had aged since Robert had 
 seen him ! He was almost feeble, yet he bore 
 himself with the same soldierly mien with 
 which Robert was familiar. The young man 
 drew near to them and quietly spoke one 
 word : 
 
 " Anne ! " 
 
 The girl turned quickly, gazing intently at 
 the speaker. 
 
 " Anne ! Do you not know me ? " 
 
 She took a step toward him, bewilderment 
 written upon every feature. 
 
 " Who are you, sir ? " she demanded, her 
 eyes fixed upon his face. 
 
 The Governor stepped between them. 
 
 " Who are you - ' he began, but Robert 
 interrupted him by dropping upon one knee 
 [175}
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 before him. He would transport them for the 
 moment to Quebec, back to the old chateau. 
 
 " I have come, Excellency, to make report 
 of my explorations in the Valley of the Ohio." 
 
 " Robert ! Robert ! Is it possible that it 
 is you ? They told me you were dead. So 
 cruel so cruel ! " 
 
 Anne's face plainly showed how keenly she 
 had suffered. She came close to her lover 
 and gazed searchingly at him. His arms were 
 about her, and her head rested for a moment 
 against his shoulder. 
 
 " It is you ! it is you ! " she almost sobbed 
 in her joy. " Oh, Robert, tell me it is you ! " 
 
 " Can you doubt it, my beloved ? It has 
 been a dreary waiting, but this moment is 
 reward enough. 
 
 " Sir," Robert continued, turning to the old 
 man, " will you not pardon my presumption ? 
 I stole away your dear maid's heart before I 
 left Quebec, and told you not of it." 
 
 " Speak not of that, Master Cavelier. My 
 little girl has mourned you long, and glad am 
 I that her heart's devotion need not go unre- 
 quited. But how came you here, sir ? " 
 
 The three resumed the promenade, as others 
 of the guests were seen approaching. Anne 
 walked between the two men, holding close to 
 the arm of each. Her face was radiant with 
 
 [176]
 
 FINDS A RARE GEM 
 
 happiness, yet she seemed to fear lest the 
 present reality should fade away and leave the 
 old sad dream in its place. This was her 
 present ; the past was full of sorrow both for 
 her father and for Robert ; the future contained 
 for her she knew not what, but this, her 
 present, was assured, and she held fast to the 
 two great loves of her life as if she feared to let 
 them go. 
 
 Robert related to them the main facts con- 
 cerning the events which had occurred since 
 they separated four years before in Quebec. 
 He told them of his adventurous expedition 
 and its result, of his return to Quebec and the 
 disappointment which awaited him there, of 
 Frontenac and his friendship for him, of his 
 mission to the King, and of his efforts to find 
 Anne. His hearers were full of interest, and 
 often interrupted him with eager questions. 
 
 They were able, in their turn, to fill in the 
 facts which Frontenac himself could not supply. 
 Robert learned of the ever-increasing insolence 
 of Talon, and how he had over-reached him- 
 self in his final coup, which had accomplished 
 his object in that it brought about the recall 
 of Courcelle ; but instead of being himself ad- 
 vanced from Intendant to Governor, as he con- 
 fidently expected, he was recalled to France and 
 retired from public service. Anne told him of 
 12 [ 177 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Dollier's return to Quebec just before they 
 sailed for France, bringing with him the re- 
 port of Robert's death at the hands of his 
 mutinous soldiers. 
 
 This was apparently so well substantiated 
 that Anne felt that the last tie binding her to 
 the New France, which had contained for her so 
 little of happiness and so much of sorrow, was 
 indeed broken, and she was quite ready to 
 accept for herself the recall to France. She 
 knew that her father's career was at an end, and 
 that they must go whither the wind blew them. 
 Her life, she felt, was also ended ; for the bright 
 horizon which she and Robert had watched 
 together from the Rock of Quebec had faded 
 in the darkness of night now that their golden 
 dream could not be realised. 
 
 Her father's friends were still powerful enough 
 to gain for him the nominal position which pro- 
 vided for his actual necessities, and for Anne 
 herself they were even more fortunate in secur- 
 ing her appointment as maid of honour to 
 Madame la Duchesse d 'Orleans, the Prin- 
 cess Palatine. Here both she and the old 
 Governor were as happily situated as they could 
 expect, and both settled down to accept the 
 future, hopeless as it might seem, with that 
 resignation and outward content which mark 
 deep sensibilities. 
 
 [178]
 
 FINDS A RARE GEM 
 
 The hours had run on without notice as Cour- 
 celle, Anne, and Robert exchanged these items 
 of news which so vitally concerned them all. 
 They had remained in the less-frequented por- 
 tions of the park that they might not be dis- 
 turbed by the gay revelers ; and so absorbed 
 were they that they did not notice that the King 
 and his companions had long since deserted the 
 gorgeously-decorated gondolas upon the grand 
 canal ; they did not observe that the lights upon 
 the parterres and about the water-ways had been 
 extinguished; nor did they realise that they 
 alone of all the guests had remained, until they 
 saw the first bright rays of dawn appearing in 
 the sky, as if to warn them that they must sepa- 
 rate, and to manifest its own supremacy over 
 mortal imitations, even though these should 
 be the most sumptuous which royalty could 
 command. 
 
 [179]
 
 POWER 
 
 THROVE 
 
 HE KING'S FETE AT 
 
 Versailles left memories of 
 varied emotions in the hearts 
 of those who had participated 
 in it. To Anne and to 
 Robert it represented the 
 climax in their happiness ; 
 but to one of those nearer to the King, the 
 extinguishing of the myriads of lights and the 
 overwhelming darkness which succeeded it 
 seemed to represent her own career. 
 
 Madame de Montespan had held King Louis 
 in the hollow of her hand for thirteen years. 
 He had broken with her time and again, but 
 she had always succeeded in winning back his 
 wandering favour. She alone against all the 
 Court had persuaded him to legitimate the chil- 
 dren which had been born to them, and this 
 fact, together with her incontestable beauty and 
 extraordinary diplomacy, had until now been 
 enough to enable her to withstand all counter- 
 attacks. 
 
 [180]
 
 POWER BEHIND THE THRONE 
 
 But Louis XIV. had recently known a change 
 in heart. Ever since Mademoiselle de Fon- 
 tanges, the passing flame which for the moment 
 called the royal lover from the side of Montes- 
 pan, died in child-bed, the monarch had felt a 
 touch of remorse which he attributed to religion. 
 Father La Chaise seized upon this unexpected 
 turn with characteristic energy, the result being 
 that while Madame de Montespan still main- 
 tained her high position at Court, she felt her 
 power to be gradually waning, and knew that it 
 was but a question of weeks, or perhaps only of 
 days, when a new favourite would take her place. 
 
 Madame de Montespan had been a favourite 
 " thundering and triumphant," but still she was 
 a woman ; and being a woman she was tasting 
 the bitterest dregs of the humiliation of her 
 pride in discovering that her rival in the King's 
 affections was none other than the despised 
 governess of her children, the widow Scarron. 
 The King came to know her while visiting the 
 Due du Maine and Mademoiselle de Nantes, 
 and he found in the modest, sweet-faced woman, 
 whose inherited nobility ever shone through the 
 homely condition she occupied, a response to 
 the yearning for better things for which his 
 heart now cried. 
 
 Fran9oise d'Aubigne, the future Madame de 
 Maintenon, was a few years older than the other 
 [181]
 
 ROBERT CAVEL1ER 
 
 Francoise, ]\Iadame de Montespan. Her father 
 had been a nobleman, a gambler, a bankrupt, an 
 adventurer, and the kindest act which he ever 
 performed for his devoted wife and children 
 was when he died, in 1 647. Fran9oise's mother, 
 unable to provide for both her children, placed 
 her daughter in an Ursuline convent at Niort, 
 where the seeds of religion were carefully sown, 
 and an implacable abhorrence of Protestant- 
 ism created. This religious fervour became so 
 much a part of her life that even the flippancy 
 of Scarron, whom she married at seventeen, 
 could not shake it ; and when her misfortunes 
 placed her in charge of the children of the 
 King and Madame de Montespan, she wel- 
 comed it as an opportunity given to her to 
 plant the doctrines of the true and only faith 
 in those who were of the King's blood. 
 
 Louis could not help seeing this in his daily 
 contact with his legitimated children, to whom 
 he gave a devotion far in excess of his affection 
 for the Dauphin. The modest governess did 
 not force her goodness or her religion upon him, 
 as did Fere La Chaise, and perhaps for that 
 very reason succeeded in impressing him with it 
 when the ecclesiastic had failed. Day after day 
 he visited her apartments, ostensibly to see his 
 children, but in reality that he might converse 
 with their guardian ; and little by little he came
 
 POWER BEHIND THE THRONE 
 
 to depend upon her clear-sighted, unhesitating 
 judgment in important matters of state. She 
 personified to him both Wisdom and Virtue, 
 and the combination was sufficiently novel to 
 be interesting. 
 
 A few months previous to the fete at Ver- 
 sailles, Madame Scarron purchased from her 
 modest earnings, considerably augmented by 
 the King's generosity, the estate of Maintenon, 
 whereupon Louis created her the Marchioness de 
 Maintenon, and thus gave the first official notice 
 to his Court that she enjoyed the royal favour. 
 By her own request she still retained her posi- 
 tion as governess of his children, but the King 
 now considered no function to be complete 
 unless she was by his side. 
 
 Queen Marie Therese, long accustomed to 
 Louis' infidelities, welcomed the new favourite 
 with great rejoicing, for she saw in her the di- 
 rect cause of the King's pious sentiments, with 
 which came greater kindness and considera- 
 tion from her husband to herself. Thus it was 
 that when the royal party embarked upon the 
 gorgeously-decorated gondolas that festival- 
 night at Versailles, Madame de Maintenon was 
 with the King and the Queen, while Madame 
 de Montespan was in the second gondola. 
 
 In her heart the Montespan knew this to be 
 a just retribution. She herself had supplanted 
 
 [183]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 the once-powerful La Valliere, whose sad face, 
 in still another gondola, was a living reproach 
 to her ; she had deserted her husband ; she had 
 used the King's favour to advance her own sel- 
 fish ends ; yet with all this clearly outlined 
 upon her conscience she could not accept even 
 the inevitable without a jealousy and resent- 
 ment which consumed her very heart. 
 
 At five o'clock on the day after the fete 
 Louis made his usual daily visit to Madame de 
 Maintenon's apartments. Perhaps the simplic- 
 ity of the room as contrasted with the rest of 
 the palace made it an agreeable retreat for him 
 from the ostentatious grandeur which sur- 
 rounded him elsewhere. The pictures upon 
 the walls were by famous masters, but they 
 were all of religious subjects ; the Savonniere 
 carpet was rich in texture but subdued in colour- 
 ing ; the chimney-piece was of magnificent mar- 
 ble, but held no ornament save a clock which 
 ticked away the moments of Montespan's life 
 at Court. Opposite the fireplace were two 
 armchairs, one for the fair tenant's use, the 
 other reserved for the King ; on the other side 
 of the chimney-piece was a red-damask cano- 
 pied niche in which stood a statue of the Virgin 
 with a light burning before it, and a wooden 
 prie-dieu on the top of which rested a prayer- 
 
 [184]
 
 POWER BEHIND THE THRONE 
 
 book. On the opposite side of the room was 
 the bed, in an alcove. 
 
 Louis found Madame de Maintenon seated 
 in the armchair before the fire, busily employed 
 with her work-basket in her lap. She rose as 
 he entered, and bowed low in giving him a 
 smiling welcome. 
 
 "Ever the same smile, Francoise," said the 
 King, sinking into the chair before him. " When- 
 ever I come here and see that smile upon your 
 face, I feel as if I had become a saint myself and 
 were reaping my reward." 
 
 " Your reward, Sire, for the good works you 
 have accomplished and will accomplish will be 
 far greater than any in my power to bestow." 
 
 The King smiled contentedly. 
 
 " Do you really believe that, Fra^oise ? 
 Father La Chaise has preached into my ears 
 from time immemorial that my sins were near 
 past redemption, and yet by your religion you 
 give me hope that perchance it is not yet too 
 late." 
 
 " My religion and that of Pere La Chaise are 
 the same, Sire. By that saving word ' near ' 
 the father has held out the same hope that I 
 would give you. It is by a man's whole work 
 that he is judged, not by a portion of it." 
 
 " And does my salvation forbid me to con- 
 tinue war?" asked the King. 
 [185]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Madame de Maintenon paused before reply- 
 ing. 
 
 " I long after peace, Sire," she said at last. 
 " I shall never give the King any counsels pre- 
 judicial to his glory ; but if he would believe 
 me, he would be less dazzled with this eclat of 
 victory, and would think more seriously of his 
 salvation. But it is not my business to gov- 
 ern the State. I ask God daily to inspire 
 and direct the master, and make him know 
 the truth." 
 
 " But surely this salvation cannot forbid my 
 loving you, Francoise, who are the embodiment 
 of religion itself." 
 
 Fran9oise looked at the King steadily. 
 
 " Sire, you shame me when you speak thus. 
 Far from being the embodiment, 1 am amongst 
 the most erring of the faith ; and your love, Sire, 
 belongs to the Queen and to the State." 
 
 The King regarded her in silence. This was 
 a phase of femininity which he had not before 
 met. La Valliere, Montespan, Fontanges, had 
 not so spurned his royal affection. 
 
 "Ever true to your faith, Francoise," he 
 said finally. " They call the popes ' Your 
 Holiness,' and kings 'Your Majesty;' you, 
 Madame, should be called, ' Your Solidity ' ! " 
 
 " Let us speak of other things, Sire ; I have a 
 favour to ask of you to-day." 
 [186]
 
 by Juki, Andrew <t Son 
 
 Louis XIV. AND MME. DE MAINTENON 
 
 " They call the popes ( Your Holiness,' and kings ' Your Majesty.' 
 You, Madame, should be called ' Your Solidity.' "
 
 POWER BEHIND THE THRONE 
 
 " Name it, Frar^oise ; I grant it before the 
 asking." 
 
 " I understand that one Robert Cavelier has 
 recently arrived at Court from New France." 
 
 " Well, what of that ? " 
 
 " I wish to see him, Sire, to learn from him 
 how fares our faith among the Indians. May I 
 see him here ? " 
 
 " Willingly ; but if he speaks the truth you 
 may learn more than you desire. Frontenac 
 does not bless these prelates with unstinted 
 praise, and if I mistake not, young Cavelier is 
 well tainted with the same disease." 
 
 " You may be right, Sire, yet I would learn 
 it from his own lips." 
 
 The King soon after took his leave, and 
 Madame de Maintenon quickly summoned the 
 captain of the Guard. 
 
 " By the King's orders you will request the 
 Sieur de La Salle to come to me at once." 
 
 As soon as the captain retired Madame threw 
 herself upon her knees before the prie-dieu, and 
 prayed for strength and guidance in the coming 
 interview. 
 
 Robert and Anne had made the most of the 
 afternoon of this same day. Relieved from her 
 regular duties by the Princess Palatine's indis- 
 position following the fete, Anne had been able 
 
 [187]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 to spend several hours with Robert in the park 
 so brilliantly illuminated the night before. To 
 the two lovers the spot seemed even more 
 enchanted, as they walked to and fro enjoying 
 to the fullest this unexpected reunion. 
 
 " How strange it seems," said Anne at length, 
 " that we should be together here at Versailles. 
 For years and years, before I met you at Que- 
 bec, I longed to return to France ; but after- 
 wards, when father was recalled, even though 
 I believed you dead, it almost broke my heart 
 to leave those scenes which I had known with 
 you." 
 
 " I cannot understand what object Dollier had 
 in reporting me dead," replied Robert. " I 
 often think of it." 
 
 " Simply to conceal the fact that he had sepa- 
 rated his party from yours, for he knew that 
 father would be very angry. As it was, he took 
 the position that the disaster which befell you 
 and your companions was due to your own 
 obstinacy and lack of experience, and that had 
 he not changed the route never one of the en- 
 tire company would have returned alive." 
 
 " A pretty artifice ! " said Robert, his mind 
 reverting to that scene upon the shore of Lake 
 Ontario. " He evidently took his chances that 
 the facts would sustain his words ; and, in faith, 
 there were times when he came near the truth 1 " 
 [188]
 
 POWER BEHIND THE THRONE 
 
 Anne tightened her hold upon her lover's 
 arm. 
 
 " Do not speak so lightly of these things, 
 Robert, I pray you. It recalls all too vividly 
 those awful days after I first received the news. 
 Had it not been for dear father, I could not 
 have stood the blow. I had to live for him, 
 and I nerved myself for the saddened task. 
 'T was hard enough before we returned to 
 France, but here it has been harder still." 
 
 " Dear, loyal heart," interrupted Robert, " I 
 find myself controlled by feelings which con- 
 tradict ; I grieve to hear how you suffered for 
 me, yet it rejoices me to know that your love 
 ever held so true." 
 
 Anne did not heed the interruption. She 
 must free her heart now from the pain which 
 so long had consumed it. 
 
 " The life here is all so false that when first 
 I had to enter into it, my whole being rebelled 
 against the seeming mockery. No one could 
 understand that I was not as eager as are all 
 the other maids to have these pompous lackeys 
 kneeling at my feet, pouring out love sonnets 
 and telling me how beautiful I am ! Oh, how 
 I loathed it ! And all the time my heart was 
 bleeding for a true man's memory ! " 
 
 " I trust the man proves truer than the 
 memory, Anne," replied Robert, amused in spite 
 [189]
 
 of the seriousness of the conversation ; " for if 
 I mistake not, one Robert Cavelier did rudely 
 shatter that illusion by appearing in the flesh ! " 
 
 Anne was visibly pained that he should jest 
 over what had been a tragedy to her. Robert 
 hastened to atone. 
 
 " Do not think I do not realise your suffer- 
 ing, my beloved, or that I do not appreciate 
 all that you have endured for me. If possible, 
 my love for you has grown because of this 
 great proof which you have given me of it. 
 But how can I grieve with you beside me ? 
 How can I dwell upon the sadness of the 
 past when the present contains so much of 
 happiness ? " 
 
 " You are right, Robert," said Anne, smiling 
 through the tears which came involuntarily as 
 she recalled the sorrow she had passed through, 
 and looking into her lover's face ; " you are 
 right : let us enjoy to-day without dimming its 
 brightness with the pain of yesterday." 
 
 The conversation then turned from the past 
 upon the future. The mind is never content 
 to rest more than a moment upon the present, 
 however attractive it may be. Deny it the 
 pleasure of dwelling upon the past, and it will 
 straightway turn upon the future. The past 
 is mellowed by memory and age, the future is 
 of interest because of its uncertainty ; but the 
 
 [190]
 
 POWER BEHIND THE THRONE 
 
 present represents realisation, and is thus of 
 lesser consequence. 
 
 " And you will return with me to that New 
 France which was so unkind to you ? " 
 
 " Not yet, Robert not yet," she replied, 
 sadness again tingeing her voice. " I could not 
 leave father now ; he is aging fast, and depends 
 so much upon me." 
 
 " But need we leave him behind ? Will he 
 not go with us, and take up his home in our 
 home across the seas ? " 
 
 " Perhaps so," Anne answered quietly, " but 
 it would be hard for him to return to Quebec ; 
 it is so full of bitter memories. But I will 
 ask him, and if he will, then I can go. Oh, 
 Robert, can it be possible that we shall be 
 together there again ! " 
 
 " It is possible," answered Robert, taking 
 her hand in his, " it is possible. We shall be 
 married so soon as your father gains the King's 
 consent, which will be but a formality, and we 
 three will turn our faces toward the new land 
 where we first learned our happiness." 
 
 " God grant it may be so, my Robert, but I 
 feel so fearful that something may yet arise to 
 make it all impossible." 
 
 " T is but the shadow of your long sorrow- 
 ing," said Robert, reassuringly ; " there can be 
 nothing to prevent." 
 
 [191]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Their conversation was interrupted by the 
 approach of one of the guards, who saluted 
 and spoke to Robert. 
 
 " Have I the honour of addressing the Sieur 
 de La Salle ? " 
 
 " I am he," answered Robert, surprised. 
 
 " By the King's orders you are to attend 
 Madame de Maintenon at once." 
 
 The guard again saluted and left them to 
 themselves. Robert looked at Anne inquiringly. 
 The girl's face was pale with apprehension. 
 
 " What does this mean ? " asked Robert, 
 alarmed in spite of himself. 
 
 " It means that the Jesuits know of your 
 arrival, and that Madame de Maintenon has 
 received an appeal to interest herself against 
 you," answered Anne, with quick intuition. 
 
 "But what can they hope to accomplish 
 now ? " again questioned Robert. " My busi- 
 ness with the King is ended, and it is not 
 possible that he will undo what has already 
 been consummated." 
 
 " Anything is possible at Versailles," answered 
 Anne ; " but you must hasten. The King's 
 orders do not brook delay." 
 
 Robert proceeded at once to Madame de 
 Maintenon's apartments. Giving his name to 
 the guard at the door, he was admitted, and 
 after gravely saluting her, he regarded the new 
 
 [192]
 
 favourite with no little curiosity. Madame 
 motioned him to be seated. 
 
 " You are Robert Cavelier, the Sieur de La 
 Salle ? " 
 
 " Yes, Madame." 
 
 " I have asked the King to permit me to see 
 you, that I may learn from you regarding our 
 missions in the New World, for the welfare of 
 which we are so much concerned." 
 
 " I would gladly tell you of them, Madame, 
 but my labours have been in the service of the 
 King rather than of the Church." 
 
 " The service of the Church, sir, is the service 
 of the King," replied Madame de Maintenon, 
 gravely. 
 
 Robert rehearsed as fully as possible the more 
 recent news from the missions and of the priests, 
 careful to avoid any criticism that might prove 
 objectionable. When he concluded, Madame 
 questioned him still further. 
 
 " And is the Comte de Frontenac of the 
 faith ? " she asked, endeavouring to draw him out. 
 
 " The Comte de Frontenac respects the work 
 of the missions, and aids it with all his power," 
 answered Robert, evasively. 
 
 " Is he upon good terms with the fathers ? " 
 
 " In all that relates to the missions he is on 
 excellent terms with them, Madame." 
 
 " You seem to qualify your statements not a 
 is [ 193 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 little, Sieur de La Salle. I would ask you for 
 further information." 
 
 " The Comte de Frontenac is in sympathy 
 with the fathers in their spiritual work, Madame, 
 but opposes their interference in the temporal 
 conduct of the colony." 
 
 " Surely insofar as the conduct of temporal 
 affairs bears upon those of the world to come, 
 the Church should take precedence over the 
 State," replied Madame de Maintenon, sternly. 
 " And do you support the Governor, sir ? " 
 
 " As a servant of the Governor, in the em- 
 ploy of the State and not of the Church, I con- 
 sider it my duty to support the Governor." 
 
 "But do your sympathies stop there, sir ? 
 Have you no further feelings against the faith 
 than that of duty to the State ? " 
 
 Robert was fairly cornered. He could avoid 
 the issue no longer without a subterfuge, and 
 to that he would not stoop. 
 
 " You will pardon me, Madame, if I say 
 that I am quite unable to understand what 
 bearing my personal feelings may have upon 
 this matter ; but since you ask it, I must admit 
 that the treatment I have received at the hands 
 of the Jesuits has not been such as to win my 
 friendship." 
 
 " The bearing of your personal feelings is 
 that you are about to return to New France, 
 
 [194]
 
 POWER BEHIND THE THRONE 
 
 and I would have you go back as one of them 
 and not against them. If you have aught of 
 which to complain in their treatment of you, it 
 is due to your own shortcomings ; for our faith 
 is the true faith and the faith of God." 
 
 " What you ask is not possible, Madame ; I 
 have suffered too much and too long, and I am 
 too familiar with the tenets of their faith to be 
 able to embrace it." 
 
 " But it is necessary that you do so, Sieur de 
 La Salle, for the King will have it so. His 
 Majesty regards the souls of his subjects with 
 even more concern than his own temporal 
 power ; and what I ask for myself I command 
 in his name 1 " 
 
 " I cannot accept that command, Madame, 
 and were the King here I must needs tell him 
 the same." 
 
 " Then you defy the King, sir ? " 
 
 " Not so, Madame. The King has no more 
 loyal subject, but no man can know what I 
 know and accept the faith of the Jesuits." 
 
 Madame de Maintenon was not angry ; she 
 was inconceivably shocked. With tears in her 
 eyes she pointed toward the prie-dieu. 
 
 " Sir," she said, making a last appeal, 
 
 " kneel with me before the blessed Virgin and 
 
 admit your errors, so that you may return to 
 
 New France as a strength to our brethren. 
 
 [195]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Kneel with me there and acknowledge the 
 true faith, and the only faith, upon which de- 
 pends the future salvation of the world." 
 
 " I will kneel with you, Madame, and pray to 
 God that His works may be increased, but I can- 
 not and I will not admit that He has intrusted 
 their accomplishment to the Jesuits alone." 
 
 Madame threw herself upon her knees before 
 the prie-dieu. 
 
 "Blessed Virgin," she prayed, "show him 
 the error of his ways, and convert him to the 
 faith ! " 
 
 Robert noiselessly retreated, leaving the 
 King's favourite invoking Divine assistance in 
 his behalf, but in his ears were sounding those 
 words of long ago : 
 
 " Know well that wherever you may go, be 
 it to the uttermost parts of the earth, this 
 Order will search you out to your destruction. 
 . . . No man can challenge the mighty Society 
 of Jesus and live ! " 
 
 [1961
 
 v ;:- CHAPTER xiir 
 THE : ORE AT -KING 
 
 ACCEPTS 
 ITHJE* JUDGMENT J 
 OF THE -CHURCH 
 
 FTER QUITTING 
 
 Madame de Main tenon's 
 apartments Robert lost no 
 time in seeking Courcelle, and 
 giving him an outline of his 
 conversation with Anne, and 
 also of what had occurred 
 since. The old man listened in silence until 
 the end of Robert's narrative, and then shook 
 his head gravely. 
 
 " This is a serious affair, my son, and we shall 
 require all our strength and wisdom to meet it. 
 As to going to Quebec with you and my little 
 maid, it would indeed be hard, as Anne has 
 said ; but I would do it and gladly for the sake 
 of her happiness. But this other matter is more 
 difficult. To-morrow morning I will present 
 my petition to the King asking his consent to 
 your marriage ; and if by good fortune it is 
 granted before Madame de Maintenon gains his 
 ear, you must be married at once, so that we 
 may all sail from here upon the next ship. At 
 [197]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 present I have an appointment to keep, my son, 
 so I must leave you." 
 
 The old man threw his heavy military cape 
 over his broad shoulders and disappeared in the 
 direction of the palace. 
 
 The next morning Robert walked out into 
 the Cour Royale, where several of the guards- 
 men were lounging about, awaiting their orders 
 for the day. Cavelier had become an object of 
 interest to them, as the New France was looked 
 upon almost as a myth, and their curiosity con- 
 cerning it was unlimited. As he was seen 
 approaching, several rose to greet him, and 
 soon he was the centre of an animated group. 
 
 " Tell us of the Comte de Frontenac," said 
 one. " Does he submit meekly to the growing 
 strength of the Church in New France ? In 
 the old days, when I served under him at Miil- 
 hausen, he would have spit fire in the face of 
 the Devil himself, had he tried to thwart his 
 plans." 
 
 Robert smiled at the truth of the picture 
 which the old soldier drew. 
 
 " His spirit has not changed, my friend, but 
 he finds conditions very different in the New 
 World. Frontenac has ambitions to hold that 
 vast empire from the English, but he cannot do 
 it single-handed." 
 
 " He may as well give up counting on any 
 [198]
 
 JUDGMENT OF THE CHURCH 
 
 help from here," said the guardsman ; " for 
 things will be a great sight worse before they 
 will be better. The King is turning priest now 
 that he may confess himself to Scarron's widow. 
 Soldiers and wars will soon be replaced by 
 cassocks and masses, and the priests will own 
 us all." 
 
 " Have a care, heretic," interrupted another 
 of the Guards, with mock severity, " else you 
 will be the pendulum dangling on some im- 
 provised clock by the roadside ! " 
 
 " Not while the Edict of Nantes holds good," 
 retorted the first speaker ; " but even that 
 may be revoked before we see the end of the 
 matter." 
 
 A page stepped from the door of the palace 
 leading into the Cour de Marbre, and approached 
 the lieutenant of the Guards. 
 
 " By the King's orders you will summon the 
 Sieur de La Salle to the council-chamber at 
 once." 
 
 " I can save you that trouble, lieutenant," 
 said Robert, rising, " since I have myself heard 
 the orders." 
 
 The page led the way to the great council- 
 room, closely followed by Robert, prepared for 
 anything, determined to be surprised at nothing. 
 
 The King was sitting in his armchair before 
 the fire, with Father La Chaise standing beside 
 
 [199]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 him. The monarch was evidently in no agree- 
 able frame of mind, and he scarcely waited for 
 his visitor to salute him before he began to 
 speak. 
 
 " What is this I hear, Sieur de La Salle, 
 regarding your rebellious conduct toward our- 
 self?" 
 
 " If you refer to my conversation with Ma- 
 dame de Maintenon, Sire, I can only repeat 
 to you what I said to her. There was no 
 thought of rebellion, Sire, in either attitude 
 or words." 
 
 " Very well ; repeat it, sir. We will ourselves 
 judge of your intention." 
 
 " I said to her, Sire, that my life was at the 
 disposal of my sovereign whenever and wherever 
 he might ask it, but that my soul belonged to 
 God." 
 
 " It is even more of a defiance than she said," 
 interrupted Pere La Chaise, eagerly. 
 
 " Silence, father ! " shouted Louis, angrily. 
 " Since when have I been unable to deal with 
 my subjects without your assistance ? " 
 
 The priest bowed his head meekly, but in 
 his eyes burned a fire which boded Robert 
 no good. 
 
 " Has any one suggested that your soul be- 
 longed to any save to its Maker ? " asked the 
 King, again addressing Robert. 
 
 [200]
 
 JUDGMENT OF THE CHURCH 
 
 " I have been told, Sire, that unless I deliver 
 over my soul to the Jesuits it is lost forever ; 
 and my faith is not that of the Jesuits." 
 
 " A heretic, a Huguenot - " began the father, 
 crossing himself; but a stern glance from the 
 King quickly silenced the interruption. 
 
 " Is it for one of my subjects to determine 
 what is the true faith, when his monarch has 
 already decided ? " 
 
 " By the Edict of Nantes, Sire, one is per- 
 mitted to accept what faith he chooses," replied 
 Robert, boldly. 
 
 " Ay, and perchance the sooner that same 
 Edict of Nantes be revoked, the sooner will 
 my subjects yield me obedience and loyalty ! " 
 
 Pere La Chaise trembled with suppressed 
 joy. Perhaps this episode might bring about 
 the one great hope of his life. At all events, it 
 had already proved an opening wedge of which 
 he would not be slow to avail himself at the 
 proper time. 
 
 Robert turned pale in spite of his determi- 
 nation to be surprised at nothing. He knew 
 what the revocation of that Edict would mean 
 to the people of France, and he shuddered at 
 the suggestion. 
 
 " Surely, Sire, you can but jest. You have 
 no more loyal subjects than among those who 
 do not embrace the Jesuit religion ; and even 
 [ 201 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 your father and your grandfather were of the 
 Huguenots." 
 
 " Loyalty, sir, means obedience to the King, 
 
 - not in one thing, but in all things ; and I do 
 
 not require your reminder that I have a double 
 
 responsibility in righting the errors of my 
 
 ancestors." 
 
 Robert bowed his head hopelessly. The King 
 rose from his chair and again began to speak : 
 
 " The measure of your disloyalty, sir, will be 
 determined by your future actions. Monsieur 
 de Courcelle has asked our sanction to your 
 marriage with his daughter. We think too 
 highly of him to permit him to admit a heretic 
 into the bosom of his family. Should you de- 
 cide to accept the true faith, either now or after 
 your return, our consent may yet be obtained." 
 
 The King intimated to Robert that the 
 interview was at an end, and the young man 
 withdrew. He quickly retraced his steps to 
 Courcelle's quarters, where he found the old 
 man wrapped in deepest gloom. 
 
 " There is no hope, my son," said Courcelle, 
 sadly, "there is absolutely no hope. The 
 Jesuits hold the King with a grip of iron. Be- 
 sides their antipathy for you, they have not 
 forgotten my own attitude against them at 
 Quebec." 
 
 " I have seen the King myself," said Robert, 
 [202]
 
 JUDGMENT OF THE CHURCH 
 
 " and he gives me my choice between accepting 
 the Jesuit faith and renouncing my marriage." 
 
 " You have no choice, my son. Leaving your 
 own sentiments out of the question, I could 
 never receive a Jesuit as my son-in-law, nor 
 would Anne accept one as her husband. You 
 must see her as soon as possible and plan as 
 best you may. The matter is far too deep for 
 my old head to solve." 
 
 Courcelle's suffering was so intense that 
 Robert forgot his own pain. 
 
 " Have courage, my father," said he, with 
 forced confidence ; " many times have I been 
 confronted by obstacles which seemed too great 
 to be overcome, but thus far I have succeeded 
 in surmounting all. Think you that with the 
 greatest desire of my life before me I shall not 
 succeed in this as in the others ? " 
 
 " I trust you may be right," replied the old 
 man, but there was no confidence in the voice 
 which spoke ; " I have not so happy a record 
 behind me. The Jesuits have thwarted me at 
 every step and have ruined my life. I can only 
 hope that their enmity may not endanger Anne's 
 and yours as well." 
 
 " Patience and courage, my father," said 
 Robert, placing his hand upon his shoulder. 
 " I will seek Anne, and we will plan out our 
 deliverance from the Philistines ! " 
 [203]
 
 The two men parted, one with no ray of 
 hope to illumine the darkness which he felt 
 to be settling down upon him, the other filled 
 with misgivings and with no idea of what the 
 next step would be, yet supported by that 
 buoyancy of youth which cannot know defeat. 
 
 Anne had been prepared by her father for 
 the blow which had fallen upon them before 
 she met Robert, and her eyes were red from 
 weeping. In spite of the etiquette of that rig- 
 orously-ordered society, she had arranged that 
 they should be alone in one of the antechambers 
 of the palace, and was awaiting Robert when 
 he entered. 
 
 " Ah, Robert, will they never cease to perse- 
 cute us ? " she cried, putting her arms about his 
 neck, and sobbing bitterly. " I cannot bear to 
 have you see me as weak as this, yet it does 
 seem as if I had passed through suffering 
 enough without having this new sorrow laid 
 upon me." 
 
 "But all is not over yet," replied Robert, 
 stroking the soft hair with his hand. " A 
 thought has come to me, and I believe we 
 can plan a way out of our difficulty, after all." 
 
 Anne raised her eyes to his, full of renewed 
 hope. 
 
 " Tell me, Robert, tell me quickly." 
 
 " We cannot be married before I leave, as I 
 [ 204]
 
 JUDGMENT OF THE CHURCH 
 
 had hoped," said Robert ; " and I must return to 
 Quebec upon the ship which sails two weeks 
 from now- 
 
 " Oh, Robert, must you leave me ? " Anne in- 
 terrupted. " If you go from me another time, I 
 shall never see you again ! " 
 
 " Listen, dear heart. Another ship will sail 
 in about two months, and on that ship you and 
 your father must come to me. When once I 
 have gone from here, no one will think to watch 
 you closely, and you and your father can quietly 
 slip away without difficulty. When you have 
 reached Quebec we can be married, and the 
 New France is far too distant from Versailles 
 for even Louis' hands to reach across the sea. 
 What think you of my plan ? " 
 
 " I know not what to think, my Robert, but 
 I fear what may happen during the two months 
 intervening. With you beside me, I feel 
 strength enough to meet any catastrophe, but 
 when the ship takes you away from France, 
 even as the light canoe took you from Quebec 
 so long ago, my heart will again be filled with 
 strange forebodings. Oh, Robert, take us with 
 you now ! " 
 
 " Alas, I may not do so ! I shall be watched 
 
 until the blue water shows between the ship's 
 
 stern and the shore ; but once I am away the 
 
 vigilance will be relaxed. Then you and our 
 
 [205 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 dear father may safely take passage under other 
 names, and we shall be again united amidst 
 the old familiar scenes." 
 
 " I see no other way than you have planned, 
 Robert, but I would that we might go together. 
 Come, let us find my father and ask him what 
 he thinks." 
 
 The old soldier had not recovered from the 
 despair in which Rooert had left him. He lis- 
 tened attentively to what Robert suggested, 
 and as he had no alternative to offer, advised 
 that the plan be adopted. 
 
 " I trust that all may be carried out as you 
 have arranged it, my son ; but here at Versailles 
 we live upon the crater of a volcano, which is 
 ever ready to break out, and we know not what 
 each day may bring forth. We can only plan 
 as best we may, and hope that something may 
 arise to confuse our enemies." 
 
 The few days which remained of Robert's 
 stay in France passed all too rapidly, and the 
 last evening before the sailing of the ship was 
 at hand. He and Anne had spent the after- 
 noon taking a farewell walk through the beauti- 
 ful park, jealous of each passing moment. 
 
 " See, Anne," said Robert, " here is the very 
 spot where I first spoke to you, and you up- 
 braided me for my presumption." 
 [206]
 
 " I could not believe that it was you, Robert. 
 It seemed as if one spoke from the past." 
 
 " But I am very much of the present, am I 
 not ? " asked Robert, laughing. 
 
 " To-day you are, my beloved, but where will 
 you be to-morrow or the next day ? I cannot 
 bear to have you go, Robert. The old-time 
 sadness will return, and these few weeks we 
 have had together will seem but as a brief, 
 delusive dream." 
 
 " But four months hence we can again take 
 up the dream, dear one, and then it will have 
 no ending." 
 
 The approaching dusk warned them that they 
 must return to the palace, for Robert had yet 
 to say good-bye to the sad old man, who saw 
 no future save that which gloom had filled. A 
 faint smile greeted the two lovers as they entered 
 his apartment, and he held out his great arms to 
 embrace them both. 
 
 " Farewell, my son. God grant you a safe 
 voyage, and to us all a glad reunion at no dis- 
 tant time. I will watch over our little maid, 
 and guard her for you, since soon it must be 
 to you alone that she may look for sympathy 
 and love." 
 
 Tears gathered in the eyes of all. 
 
 " Before I go, father," said Robert, kneeling 
 before him and drawing Anne down beside 
 [207]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 him, " I ask your blessing to take with me over 
 seas, to abide with me until the happy day of 
 your arrival." 
 
 The old man placed one hand upon the head 
 of each of the two who knelt before him, and 
 with tears streaming down his cheeks he pro- 
 nounced a benediction. For a long moment 
 thereafter they remained in the same position 
 in silence. Then they rose, and the two lovers 
 were clasped in a farewell embrace. With a 
 hearty grasp of his hand Robert parted with the 
 old man, and without trusting himself to speak 
 again, he hurried from the room and threw him- 
 self upon his horse. A moment later the clatter 
 of hoofs announced that he had started upon 
 his ride to Paris. A flutter of handkerchiefs, 
 a glimpse of December and May standing 
 together behind him, and Robert Cavelier, the 
 Sieur de La Salle, was alone upon his journey. 
 The next morning at daybreak found him 
 upon the ship, and what seemed to him but a 
 few hours later nothing but a hazy outline 
 showed what was the coast of France. 
 
 [208]
 
 FATE -PROVES 
 ITSELF-MORE 
 POTENT 
 'STRATEGY 
 
 HEN ROBERT RE- 
 
 turned to Quebec with a 
 title of nobility and in pos- 
 session of perhaps the most 
 valuable seigniory in all New 
 France, even Jean Cavelier 
 and his fellow Jesuits were 
 forced to admit to themselves that the object of 
 their enmity had gained strength by his visit to 
 France. They were at a loss, however, to ex- 
 plain the cause of their defeat. They could not 
 believe that their Order was losing its hold upon 
 the King, yet this man, admittedly dangerous 
 to them, had returned from the lion's den cov- 
 ered with honours instead of in disgrace, as 
 they had hoped would be the case. 
 
 Frontenac was deeply interested in the report 
 which Robert brought of conditions in France. 
 It was no surprise to him, yet it was a hard 
 blow to have his worst fears confirmed. It had 
 been his dearest ambition to hold New France 
 against the English, but now the sagacious sol- 
 H [ 209 ]
 
 dier saw clearly the hopelessness of the task. 
 He recognised that his recall was inevitable, 
 and this certainty caused him completely to 
 change his attitude. From this time on he 
 would exercise the authority of his position to 
 the utmost, strengthening the colony to the 
 advantage of his successor. It would make 
 him still more hated by the priests, and would 
 undoubtedly result in an earlier recall ; but 
 New France, and he hoped France as well, 
 would eventually profit by his course. 
 
 Robert immediately began preparations to 
 establish himself in his new possessions before 
 the Courcelles should arrive two months later. 
 He left Quebec and garrisoned Fort Frontenac 
 with soldiers, also maintaining there an army of 
 labourers, and rebuilding it with stone through- 
 out. He formed a partnership with the Gov- 
 ernor, Lieutenant La Forest, and with one 
 Boisseau in the trading monopoly which his 
 seigniory afforded ; and even with the heavy 
 royalty promised to the Crown, it was apparent 
 that a fortune awaited the newly-formed com- 
 pany. Robert's one regret was that the dis- 
 tance between Quebec and the fort interrupted 
 his daily intercourse with the Governor ; but 
 in spite of this difficulty the two men kept in 
 close touch with each other. 
 
 As soon as the merchants of the colony real- 
 [ 210]
 
 ised how valuable a privilege Robert and his 
 friends had obtained, they leagued themselves 
 in bitter opposition. Even Jacques Le Ber, 
 who had been so intimate a friend of his in 
 Montreal, turned to his enemies, being deeply 
 incensed that he had not been asked to join the 
 company. Bazire, La Chesnaye, Le Moyne, 
 and other influential traders opposed him, and 
 his position would have been a difficult one to 
 maintain but for the Governor's strong friend- 
 ship and active cooperation. 
 
 Jean Cavelier and the Jesuits watched with 
 ill-concealed jealousy the turn affairs had at 
 first taken ; but they were now well satisfied to 
 see so strong an opposition spring up, which 
 they could make play into their own hands. 
 They contributed generously to the combina- 
 tion of merchants, both in funds and in active 
 participation, and the fight gave promise of be- 
 ing to the death for one side or the other. 
 
 In the meantime the two months had passed 
 by, and one fair morning the ship for which 
 Robert waited sailed into the harbour. He 
 had been in Quebec more than a week awaiting 
 its arrival, and in his impatience he put off to 
 the ship without even his faithful Piskaret be- 
 side him in the frail canoe. The vigorous 
 strokes of the paddle placed him alongside of 
 the ship before any of the heavier boats of the 
 [211]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 settlers, and he earnestly scanned the faces of 
 the little company gathered on the main deck 
 for a sight of those he so anxiously awaited. 
 
 They were not there. Surely there must be 
 some mistake. Then he remembered that they 
 were to sail under assumed names, and perhaps 
 their caution led them to secrete themselves 
 until the last moment to prevent recognition. 
 With this hope in his heart he watched until 
 all the voyagers were landed ; but there were no 
 signs of Anne or her father. He inquired of 
 the captain, and learned that no such persons 
 as he described had taken passage. 
 
 There was nothing but to accept the bitter 
 disappointment ; yet Robert was filled with 
 misgivings. Was Anne ill, or had the Jesuits 
 prevented her from sailing, after all ? The un- 
 certainty was hardest for him to bear. Robert 
 paddled back to shore much more slowly than 
 he had gone out to welcome the ship. His 
 position in the colony, his prosperity, his hopes 
 for future explorations, all meant nothing to him 
 unless they could be shared with the woman he 
 loved. 
 
 No other vessel could be expected for another 
 six months at best. It was necessary again to 
 wait, and waiting was the deepest penance 
 which Robert Cavelier's spirit could endure. 
 But even the most restless heart at length 
 
 [212]
 
 FATE MORE THAN STRATEGY 
 
 learns its lesson, and Robert once more returned 
 to his work at the seigniory of Fort Frontenac. 
 
 The location of Fort Frontenac was a partic- 
 ularly favourable one, standing as it did sixty 
 leagues beyond Montreal on the north side of 
 Lake Frontenac, facing the country of the five 
 Iroquois nations to the south. It might well 
 impress the native savages with the strength of 
 the settlers, as its construction was massive and 
 imposing. A moat fifteen feet wide surrounded 
 the fort itself, which formed a square with four 
 bastions. The walls were twelve feet high and 
 three feet thick, enclosing a building made of 
 hewn timber, a hundred feet long. Besides this 
 there were a forge, a dwelling for Robert's offi- 
 cers, and a cow stable. Near by the land had 
 been cleared ready for cultivation, and a grange 
 was in process of erection for storing the bounti- 
 ful harvests of which Robert seemed assured. 
 The force of soldiers and workmen with which 
 the Governor had supplied him had already ac- 
 complished much, and the fort began to assume 
 finished proportions. 
 
 The Jesuits felt it necessary at this time to 
 redouble their efforts to hold their power. 
 Frontenac had hit them hard both directly and 
 indirectly by the vigorous maintenance of his 
 own authority. Even when apparently yield- 
 ing he invariably carried his point. Recognis- 
 [213]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 ing a strong hand at the helm, traders flocked 
 into the country, feeling secure that their inter- 
 ests would be protected ; and as a result New 
 France grew from a mission into a colony. 
 
 But the contact of these traders with the 
 Indians did much to nullify the work of the 
 priests, for the savages learned readily from 
 the white man, and did not accept the teachings 
 of the missions with such unqualified confidence. 
 In addition to this grievance, the Jesuits de- 
 pended upon the revenue derived from their 
 secret participation in the fur-trade far more 
 than they would have admitted ; and here 
 again the traders seriously interfered with them. 
 Their troubles were accumulating one by one, 
 and the formation of the new company at Fort 
 Frontenac, which seemed the triumph of their 
 enemies, was a misfortune requiring thoughtful 
 consideration. 
 
 Bishop Laval summoned the members of the 
 Order to a conference where matters were care- 
 fully reviewed and discussed. It was quite evi- 
 dent that the Governor and Robert were the 
 two men most necessary to be removed from 
 their path. The Governor must be handled 
 through the efforts of those high in authority 
 and influence at Court, but they themselves 
 could deal with the renegade novice. Their 
 tenets required absolute secrecy and security to 
 
 [214]
 
 FATE MORE THAN STRATEGY 
 
 the Order in a case like this, which made it 
 impossible to carry out what was in the minds 
 of all since Robert had advised the Governor of 
 the threat, and Frontenac would not hesitate 
 to investigate searchingly any accident which 
 befell him. Definite action must be deferred 
 until a safer time, but in the meanwhile diplo- 
 macy might afford temporary relief. 
 
 Jean Cavelier, both because of his natural 
 characteristics and of his relationship to Robert, 
 was selected by the priests to make the attempt. 
 The details of the plan were carefully arranged, 
 and Father Cavelier's instructions from the 
 Bishop were clear and definite. 
 
 Had Robert known all this, he would not 
 have been surprised to see his brother approach- 
 ing the seigniory one morning ; but as it was, he 
 merely wondered to himself what new treachery 
 was on foot. 
 
 Jean entered the nearly-completed fort with 
 perfect self-command and confidence, at once 
 approaching Robert. The latter stood beside 
 a pile of stones giving no sign of recognition. 
 It was the first time he had seen his brother 
 since his return from France. 
 
 " A greeting, brother," said Jean, cordially, 
 holding out his hand. 
 
 Robert made no move to accept the prof- 
 fered friendship. 
 
 [215]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " What Devil's errand brings you here, 
 Jean ? " he asked brusquely. " I do not flatter 
 myself that you have come to congratulate me 
 upon my safe return." 
 
 "You wrong me, Robert. I have come to 
 make amends for past mistakes. I have mis- 
 judged you, and admit my error. Now that 
 you have been in France and have settled your 
 misunderstanding with the Father Superior, 
 as you must have done to receive such honours 
 at the hand of the King, 'twould surely be 
 unbrotherly to criticise you further. Come, 
 let us forget the past and begin this day to 
 live as brothers should, in sympathy and con- 
 cord." 
 
 In spite of Robert's surprise, the unexpected 
 change in his brother's attitude did not deceive 
 him. He knew Jean Cavelier too well not 
 to understand that a hatred once engendered 
 never left him, nor did he overlook the fact that 
 Jean was master of the art of simulation. He 
 regarded him curiously for a moment. There 
 must be some interesting plot at the bottom of 
 this suddenly-developed affection, and there was 
 but one way to learn it. 
 
 " So be it, Jean," he said. " Since you, the 
 older brother, make the advances for our recon- 
 ciliation, it would ill become me, the younger, 
 to be less generous. I quite agree with you, 
 
 [216]
 
 FATE MORE THAN STRATEGY 
 
 and shall reciprocate your proffered friendship 
 with equal sincerity." 
 
 Jean smiled benignly. 
 
 " We have differed in the past, my brother, 
 but we have differed honestly. I thought you 
 fitted to follow in my footsteps, and sought to 
 provide for you the opportunity. You have 
 proved me wrong in this, and I acknowledge 
 my mistake. Your strength lies in another di- 
 rection, and in a direction equally important. 
 The secrets of the forests, the sources of the 
 rivers, and the boundaries of our empire must 
 needs be discovered and extended ; and you are 
 the only man in the colony to accomplish this. 
 I congratulate you, and I wish you success." 
 
 " I thank you for your good wishes, Jean, and 
 I shall endeavour to merit your confidence," 
 replied Robert, drily. 
 
 Jean bit his lip, but the smile had been re- 
 stored by the time Robert's eye met his. 
 
 " I should be glad to aid you in your under- 
 takings, Robert, to prove the sincerity of my 
 affection. I think, too, that I can improve 
 your standing with the fathers, who will take 
 my judgment to offset past prejudices. Will 
 you accept my assistance ? " 
 
 " Might I first ask what conditions are to be 
 imposed ? " 
 
 " Conditions ? None whatever ! You are 
 [217]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 anxious, naturally, to set out upon your expedi- 
 tion as soon as possible, instead of wasting" your 
 time in these business affairs which must prove 
 irksome to a man of your temperament. If I 
 can aid you in gratifying your desires, I shall 
 indeed be pleased." 
 
 . Light was beginning to break a little in 
 Robert's mind. If he could be gotten out of 
 the colony immediately, not only would Fron- 
 tenac be deprived of a valuable ally, but the 
 success of the monopoly at Fort Frontenac 
 would be greatly impaired. Robert smiled to 
 himself, but he wished to play with his quarry 
 a while longer. 
 
 " You are most discerning, brother Jean. I 
 had not believed that you could discover that 
 which my closest friends have overlooked. It 
 shows a brother's intuition. I value the friend- 
 liness of the offer, but I fear that there is little 
 you could do by way of assistance, however 
 strong your intentions." 
 
 " I can provide you with money and with 
 men." 
 
 " How can you, a priest, supply me with 
 money or with men ? Or perhaps you come 
 to me as a messenger of your Order, to offer 
 me in their name that which you cannot give 
 yourself ? And the men you speak of would, I 
 suppose, be Jesuits ? " 
 
 [218]
 
 FATE MORE THAN STRATEGY 
 
 " Yes," answered Jean, quickly ; " but what 
 of that ? They would be in your service and 
 under your command." 
 
 Robert's amusement gave way to fierce in- 
 dignation. It was all so simple, so patent, that 
 it was an insult to his intelligence to suppose 
 that he could be so duped. The smile vanished 
 from Jean's face as he beheld the change which 
 came over his brother, and he drew back a step 
 as Robert began to speak. 
 
 "In my service and under my command ? 
 Truly, but well instructed before they quit 
 Quebec to leave a knife driven to the hilt in 
 the body of the poor explorer who was fool 
 enough to accept their services ! I think we 
 understand each other, Jean. Go back to 
 your brothers in the faith, and tell them that 
 the Sieur de La Salle, even though he be 
 your brother, has not yet reached that point 
 of degradation where he would sell out his as- 
 sociates for the gratification of his ambition, 
 nor try to buy traitorous assistance with honest 
 promises." 
 
 " You make a great mistake - " began Jean. 
 
 " Silence ! " roared Robert, his anger past 
 control. " Go back, I say, and tell them that 
 nothing but the fact that the same blood runs 
 in our veins prevented Robert Cavelier from 
 quieting his brother's lying tongue forever. Go 
 [219]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 back, and never cross my path again, or your 
 blood be upon your own head. Go ! " 
 
 Jean Cavelier was too great a coward not to 
 heed the command, but when a safe distance 
 had been placed between them, he paused and 
 looked back. His face still twitched with sup- 
 pressed rage, and his voice trembled so that 
 Robert could scarcely catch the words. 
 
 "Again you have reviled me, Robert Cave- 
 lier. Again you have defied me ! But mark me 
 well. The day will come when I shall pay in 
 full my reckoning, and as God lives, when that 
 day comes I will show no mercy ! " and shaking 
 his fist defiantly at the seignior of Fort Fronte- 
 nac, he disappeared over the top of the hill which 
 led down to the river. 
 
 But fate was to succeed where strategy had 
 failed. Eight months and more had passed 
 since Robert's return to New France, and a 
 second ship had arrived without bringing to him 
 the realisation of his hopes or any word concern- 
 ing the Courcelles. He was convinced that the 
 worst had happened, for surely Anne would 
 have sent him at least a message explaining their 
 delay. He blamed himself for having left them ; 
 he might have suffered and died with them 
 there in France if worst had come to worst. 
 Frontenac did what he could to keep hope alive 
 in Robert's heart, but the old soldier was too 
 
 [220]
 
 FATE MORE THAN STRATEGY 
 
 familiar with life at the Court of Louis XIV. to 
 be any too sure himself that the young man's 
 apprehensions were not fully justified. 
 
 Frontenac, however, had other matters, and 
 serious ones, to cause him grave anxiety. The 
 Iroquois for months had been sullen and restless, 
 and during the last fortnight had attacked 
 several of the smaller outlying settlements. It 
 was again necessary to teach them a lesson, and 
 Robert, in command of the soldiers at Quebec, 
 must head the troops. In his present condition 
 Robert welcomed anything that would distract 
 his mind from its great burden, and his absence 
 from Quebec need not be long ; so, less than two 
 weeks after Jean's visit to him, and his angry 
 refusal to fall into the trap of the Jesuit priests, 
 he voluntarily set out upon an undertaking 
 even more dangerous, leaving Fort Frontenac in 
 charge of La Forest, his lieutenant and friend. 
 
 [221 ]
 
 OBERT'S FEARS THAT 
 
 he might never again see 
 Anne CourceUe were in re- 
 ality well founded. In that 
 last glimpse of her, waving 
 good-bye to him at Ver- 
 sailles, he little knew how 
 much her woman's heart must yet endure in 
 suffering and in sorrow before she could turn 
 her face toward that New World in which she 
 hoped at last to find happiness and rest. 
 
 Anne and her father watched the solitary 
 horseman until even the distant cloud of dust 
 had entirely vanished, and then, almost at the 
 same moment, they turned to each other. 
 
 " When shall we see him again, my father ? " 
 asked Anne, choking back the sobs which 
 struggled to gain control of her. " If it were 
 not for you, dear, my courage would not en- 
 dure this latest trial." 
 
 Her father drew her nearer to him. 
 
 " Tut, tut, daughter ; it is not meet that you
 
 ANNE RETURNS TO NEW FRANCE 
 
 should take so dark a view. For me, life is 
 nearly at its close, but for you, my child, it 
 is only just beginning. It is hard, I know, 
 after so long a sorrow, to have another disap- 
 pointment forced upon you ; but we may yet 
 hope to find our happiness upon the further 
 shore of that great sea which soon will bear 
 your lover upon its bosom." 
 
 Together they walked slowly back to the 
 palace, where they separated, Anne to take 
 up her duties with the Princess Palatine, the 
 old soldier to resume the uneventful life at his 
 quarters. Time was not treating Courcelle as 
 kindly now as formerly. Struggling as he had 
 against such fearful odds in New France only 
 to return to a polite retirement in France, 
 amidst scenes which were most irksome, the 
 last few years bore heavily upon him. But 
 Anne, with all her watchfulness, failed to rec- 
 ognise how plainly each day left its mark upon 
 him, or how much it cost of his strength to 
 keep up the deception which prevented her from 
 realising it. 
 
 Every day now the two spent as much time 
 as possible together, planning for their voyage. 
 Little by little the plain wardrobe, which was 
 to replace the gorgeous attire of the maid of 
 honour, grew beneath Anne's skilful fingers. 
 As her interest increased, and the day for 
 
 [223]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 departure approached, her spirits rose, and she 
 regained her old-time confidence. 
 
 It was a sweet sight to see the old man 
 watching Anne as she worked beside him while 
 they talked over their future, entering into her 
 plans with all the eagerness which he could 
 assume. But his thoughts were far away. It 
 was not his daughter whom he saw before him, 
 but rather another brown-eyed woman who had 
 left him more than twenty years before. He 
 was living over again those few brief months 
 of his married life, listening to the sweet music 
 which had ceased for him so soon. He was 
 the lover once again ; and he forgot his bur- 
 dens and his sorrows. 
 
 The two months had nearly passed now, and 
 but three days remained before Anne and her 
 father were to slip away from Versailles forever, 
 and again set foot upon that untamed continent 
 which resisted the conqueror's hand with such 
 persistence. Passage was engaged under as- 
 sumed names, and Anne was sitting in her 
 father's room, taking the last stitches and talk- 
 ing over the final details. Both were eager 
 to get away, for it became more evident each 
 day that the hand which now guided the for- 
 tunes of Louis XIV. was a steady one, and that 
 his absolute recognition of the Jesuit suprem- 
 acy was the inevitable goal. If they were to 
 [224 ]
 
 ANNE RETURNS TO NEW FRANCE 
 
 become fugitives at all, the time could not 
 come too soon. 
 
 Father and daughter had been sitting as 
 usual for an hour or more when the conver- 
 sation turned upon Anne's childhood. 
 
 "Can you remember when I was a little girl, 
 father, and cried because you would not let 
 me go into a boat upon the lake ? We little 
 thought then what long voyages we would 
 take together, did we, dear?" 
 
 " Nay, nay, my child ; we little thought it. 
 I could not bear to let you from my sight, for 
 you were all I had." 
 
 " Am I very like my mother, father ? You 
 often tell me so." 
 
 " Yes, daughter ; very, very like." 
 
 The old man's eyes became dreamy, and he 
 did not seem to hear the next question. 
 
 " I wish I might have seen her, father ; I 
 wish I too might have known her." 
 
 There was no response, and the grey head sank 
 lower upon his breast, but Anne continued with 
 her work. Suddenly the old man straightened 
 up, and his eyes shone bright and clear. He 
 seemed to be listening to some one speaking, 
 yet Anne could hear no sound. She dropped 
 her work hastily and placed her hand upon his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Father father " she cried, thoroughly 
 15 [ 225 ]
 
 alarmed ; " what is it ? Tell me what it 
 is!" 
 
 " I hear your mother calling me, my child, 
 your mother calling. Ah, Re'ne'e, my be- 
 loved, I am coming to you ! Oh, how long I 
 have waited ! Re'ne'e, Re'ne'e, I am coming ! " 
 
 Before Anne could prevent it the old man 
 was upon his feet, staggering to the door. Ere 
 he reached it his strength gave way and he 
 sank upon the floor. Anne raised his . head 
 and held it in her lap. His eyes were closed, 
 but his face was illumined with that light which 
 only comes from Heaven. 
 
 " Patience, Rene'e, I am coming to you. 
 So long we have waited ! so long, so long ! " 
 
 The words came faintly with the fleeting 
 breath, and with the last the old man kept his 
 promise. No more would the Sieur de Cour- 
 celle fight battles for France ; no more would 
 he guard the infant colony against the inroads 
 of the wily Indians ; no more would he' tread 
 the snowy paths about Quebec. His labours 
 were completed, and his soul had found its rest. 
 
 To Anne it was not the Sieur de Courcelle 
 whose head she held in her lap : it was the 
 father who had been mother as well to her 
 ever since she came into the world ; it was 
 the counselor, the constant companion, the 
 oak upon which she leaned. The blow fell so 
 
 [226]
 
 ANNE RETURNS TO NEW FRANCE 
 
 swiftly that a full realisation did not at once 
 come to the girl, and she covered the dear face 
 with caresses as if to force Death to give back 
 its own. 
 
 At last it was evident to her that the end 
 had come, and she gently placed the cloak 
 upon which she had been working beneath the 
 grizzled head, and rose to her feet, keeping her 
 eyes upon the body before her. There was no 
 cry ; there were no tears. She moved toward 
 the door like one in a dream, and opening it 
 summoned assistance. The old man was ten- 
 derly laid upon his bed by the guardsmen who 
 came in quick response to Anne's call, and 
 then they turned to the silent figure standing 
 beside them. They called her by name, but 
 there was no reply. They led her to a chair and 
 forced her gently into it. The great brown eyes 
 looked blankly into space. She obeyed meekly, 
 but gave no recognition either by speech or 
 deed. Thoroughly alarmed, one of the guards 
 hastened to the palace for assistance, the other 
 keeping watch over the living even as she kept 
 watch over the dead. When two of her com- 
 panions came with blanched faces to take her 
 to her room in the palace, she made no resist- 
 ance, following their guidance still without a 
 word in answer to their sympathy. 
 
 For weeks she lay hovering between life and 
 [227]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 death. Her father had been so real, so close to 
 her, that when his heart ceased beating it was 
 as if a part of her own life had also ceased. 
 Her youth and the loving care of friends at last 
 triumphed, and nearly two months later the 
 Court physicians pronounced her out of danger. 
 It would be long yet before her strength would 
 fully return, but the crisis was past and recov- 
 ery assured. 
 
 Her first thought was of Robert, but there 
 was no possible way to send word to him. A 
 message intrusted to any one of the household 
 would probably result in putting it forever 
 beyond her power to leave Versailles. Hard as 
 it was for her and for him, she must wait until 
 she became strong enough to move about by 
 herself, when she could safely appeal to Robert's 
 friend, the Prince de Conti. Robert alone 
 was to comfort her, and she longed for her 
 strength to return that she might go to him. 
 
 Her strong desire aided her convalescence. 
 At length she could walk out in the park ; but 
 what memories it recalled ! Here she had 
 strolled day after day with her father ; here she 
 had walked with Robert. Winter held the land 
 in the full strength of its sway, and there 
 was winter in Anne's heart. 
 
 She saw the Prince de Conti, and he gladly 
 promised to assist her in getting away upon the 
 
 [228]
 
 ANNE RETURNS TO NEW FRANCE 
 
 next ship, but even so two boats had gone with- 
 out her, and she knew how anxious Robert must 
 have become. She lived only for the day of 
 departure, and the time went by on leaden 
 wings. She was but a shadow of her former 
 self, and no one questioned when she asked per- 
 mission to retire from Court for a time to visit 
 relatives in Paris. Nor would any one have rec- 
 ognised in the sad, pale-faced Mademoiselle 
 Re'my, who took passage upon the vessel bound 
 for New France, Mademoiselle de Courcelle, 
 the beautiful maid of honour to the Princess 
 Palatine. 
 
 The voyage was long and tempestuous, but 
 after nine weeks' tossing upon the sea, the weary 
 voyagers at length beheld Quebec before them. 
 To Anne the scene was not a novel one, and 
 her eyes were strained only to catch sight of 
 the face which had ever been before her since 
 France faded away in the distance. Her heart 
 throbbed almost painfully at the thought that 
 at last she could rest her tired head upon her 
 lover's breast, and find in his strong arms that 
 sympathy for which she longed. She was not 
 as strong after her illness as she had believed, 
 and hope alone sustained her weakness. 
 
 Were it not for that hope which ever shines 
 through sorrow, the burden of grief would surely 
 prove too heavy to be borne ; but the intellect is 
 
 [229 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 stronger than the heart, and it is well that it 
 always receives the first force of the blow, trans- 
 mitting it to the weaker member with merciful 
 tenderness. 
 
 Excitement brought a touch of colour to 
 Anne's cheek, and her eyes shone with expectant 
 relief as she searched for Robert in the many 
 boats and canoes which came out from the shore ; 
 but her quest proved unsuccessful. She saw a 
 few faces which she recognised, but that voice 
 for the sound of which her heart waited, calling 
 her name and impatiently awaiting her response, 
 was silent, and she felt faint as the thought 
 came to her that perhaps some misfortune had 
 befallen Robert. Surely he would have been 
 the first to welcome the ship in the harbour had 
 he been able to get there.. 
 
 She grasped the rail before her for support, 
 and closed her eyes. If Robert was taken from 
 her, then indeed was the world swallowed up in 
 darkness. He was her last hope, her one desire. 
 She could bear the suspense no longer. Re- 
 gaining control of herself with great effort, she 
 called down to the occupant of the little boat 
 nearest to where she stood. 
 
 " Know you, sir, if Master Cavelier came out 
 to meet the ship ? " 
 
 The man looked up at her, surprised at being 
 accosted by a strange voice from the ship. 
 
 [230]
 
 ANNE RETURNS TO NEW FRANCE 
 
 " Master Cavelier, say you ? " he asked. " Nay, 
 fair mistress ; Master Cavelier left Quebec a 
 month since, pursuing the Iroquois, and we have 
 had no word of him." 
 
 Anne could scarcely frame an acknowledg- 
 ment of the reply. Her voice was choked, and 
 her eyes filled with tears. Still, as her thoughts 
 came rapidly, this news was better than what 
 she had at first feared. There was no reason to 
 think that Robert was not both alive and well, 
 and if he had been away some little time, he 
 must the sooner return ; and she could wait for 
 him. Hope again offered her a respite, and she 
 suffered herself to be transferred into one of the 
 boats and conveyed in silence to the shore. 
 
 The ship brought over six " King's maids," 
 as they were called, who came from France 
 seeking husbands in the New World. For 
 this reason the unmarried men of the colony 
 gathered about the landing-place to inspect the 
 new arrivals. It was but natural, unattended 
 as she was, that Anne should be mistaken for 
 one of these girls ; and as the little boat ap- 
 proached the shore, a commotion was evident 
 among the party awaiting the landing of the 
 voyagers. 
 
 No sooner had Anne stepped ashore than 
 the foremost of these men seized her by the arm 
 and attempted to hurry her through the crowd. 
 
 [231 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Before she could protest a second man grasped 
 her by the other arm, so that the frightened girl 
 knew not which way to turn. Her first captor, 
 however, solved the difficulty at once, by strik- 
 ing his rival a powerful blow, which stretched 
 him senseless upon the beach. Anne drew back 
 in terror, but the man again seized her by 
 the arm and hurried her away. 
 
 As soon as an open space was reached, Anne 
 escaped from his grasp and confronted him with 
 flaming eyes and burning cheeks. 
 
 " What means this insolence, sir ? Has Que- 
 bec fallen so low that a maid may not land 
 upon its shores without receiving a welcome so 
 insulting ? " 
 
 The man laughed coarsely, and again at- 
 tempted to seize her arm ; but she evaded him. 
 
 " Have a care, hussy," said he. " I Ve paid 
 my hundred pounds of tobacco for you, and 
 I '11 have my goods, even though I draw a 
 vixen for my lot." 
 
 " What mean you ? " cried Anne, aghast as 
 she understood his meaning. " Do you think 
 me one of those shameless things which must 
 needs be bought and sold like so many cattle ? 
 I have indeed come to seek a husband, but not 
 from such as you. Were he here, you would 
 not live to speak another word to me." 
 
 " 'T is a temper you have, right enough, my 
 [ 232]
 
 ANNE RETURNS TO NEW FRANCE 
 
 pretty ; but I '11 take my chances. I Ve tamed 
 heifers and colts, and I 'm not afraid to try your 
 restless spirit. Come along to the priest and be 
 married." 
 
 He grasped Anne roughly by the shoulder, 
 with one arm about her waist, and forced her 
 on toward the market-place, where several 
 couples were already standing, awaiting their 
 turn to be made man and wife. Anne struggled 
 in vain against the strength of the man beside 
 her. The spectators considered it an amusing 
 episode, and made no attempt to interfere. 
 
 Anne glanced about her in despair. There 
 was no one but the Jesuit father to whom she 
 could appeal. She waited in silence until the 
 other couples had been united, and then as 
 the priest began the service, she threw herself 
 at his feet. 
 
 " Oh, father, save me from this humiliation ! 
 I am not a King's maid, but have come to meet 
 my true affianced husband." 
 
 The father raised her to her feet, and the girl 
 looked beseechingly into his face. 
 
 " Robert ! " she cried aghast, " surely it is not 
 y OU> so thin, so pale, and in a priest's attire ! " 
 
 " I am Father Jean Cavelier," replied the 
 priest, calmly, gazing attentively at the girl 
 before him. "For whom did you mistake 
 
 me?" 
 
 [233]
 
 " Jean Cavelier, Robert's brother ! " she 
 cried. " Then surely you will sav r e me. I am 
 Anne Courcelle, and Robert has expected my 
 arrival." 
 
 Jean suppressed an exclamation of surprise. 
 
 " My dear sister," said he, smiling blandly as 
 he took her hand in his, " I am indeed rejoiced 
 to see you, though pained that you should have 
 had this unpleasant experience. I fear, too, 
 that I am much to blame, for my brother asked 
 me to welcome you in his stead, knowing that 
 he might be delayed in returning from his expe- 
 dition. My duties kept me from being at the 
 ship." 
 
 The expectant bridegroom sullenly withdrew, 
 cursing the mistake which cost him his oppor- 
 tunity of gaining a wife, as the King's maids 
 had already found their mates. He must wait 
 until another ship arrived, and Colbert succeeded 
 in gathering another consignment of spouses for 
 the colonists of New France. 
 
 Freed from the presence of her persecutor, 
 Anne's courage returned, and she looked at 
 Jean inquiringly. 
 
 " Did Robert expect you to welcome me in 
 his stead, father ? I thought - 
 
 " He has told you of our past differences," 
 interrupted Jean. " I am sorry that he did so, 
 as we talked matters over before his departure, 
 
 [234]
 
 ANNE RETURNS TO NEW FRANCE 
 
 effecting a reconciliation, and I should have 
 been glad to have you meet me without preju- 
 dice. However, be that as it may. It now re- 
 mains for me to prove myself to you as I have 
 to him, and I am glad that the opportunity has 
 come so soon. Who but his brother, and a 
 priest, should welcome Robert's future wife to 
 New France ? " 
 
 Anne could not doubt the sincerity with 
 which Jean spoke, and her experiences had been 
 so unlocked for that she felt unable to think for 
 herself. Jean easily read what was passing in 
 her mind, and he hastened to follow up the ad- 
 vantage he had gained. 
 
 " My brother desired me to place you with 
 the sisters of the Hotel Dieu, who will care for 
 you while you are awaiting his return. I will 
 take you to them now." 
 
 The girl followed the priest without a protest. 
 The present situation seemed incredible, yet if 
 Robert had really become reconciled to his 
 brother he would surely wish and expect her 
 to accept this protection. She knew not what 
 to do, and saw no other alternative. Jean as- 
 sisted her up the inclined path leading to the 
 Hotel Dieu, and when she entered there, and 
 found herself warmly welcomed by the sweet- 
 faced sisters, she forgot that she was standing in 
 the shadow of the Jesuit cross. Her tired body 
 
 [ 235]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 yielded willingly to the gentle care of the nuns, 
 and she fell into an exhausted sleep upon the bed 
 in the little room to which they led her. 
 
 Jean Cavelier considered the unexpected 
 meeting with Robert's betrothed a special dis- 
 pensation from Heaven. As he walked rapidly 
 away from the Hotel Dieu he smiled exultantly 
 to himself. Here at last was the opportunity 
 for which he had waited to reach his brother's 
 vulnerable point. Anne Courcelle was in his 
 power, and much might happen before the Sieur 
 de La SaUe returned from his expedition against 
 the Iroquois. 
 
 [ 236 ]
 
 CJHAPTJEJ* XVJ 
 
 THE-SIEUR-DE LA SALLE 
 UNEXPECTEDLY 
 
 RESUMES 
 HIS-EXPIORATIONS 
 
 HE PARTY WHICH 
 
 Robert led against the Iro- 
 quois was in striking contrast 
 to that which had set out with 
 him upon his previous expe- 
 dition. Picked soldiers of the 
 settlement now replaced the 
 murderous adventurers who attempted his life 
 on Lake Erie ; and the faithful Piskaret, who 
 still followed his master with a slave's devotion, 
 generously shared Robert's friendship with two 
 new allies. 
 
 Henri de Tonty and La Mott de Lussiere 
 came to Quebec upon the same ship which bore 
 the newly-created Sieur de La Salle back to the 
 scene of his labours, and the three men formed 
 a firm bond of friendship during the two 
 months' voyage. Tonty and Robert found 
 much in common, especially after discovering 
 that both claimed the Prince de Conti as 
 patron ; and La Mott charmed them all by 
 the frankness and ease of his manner, as well 
 [237]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 as by his undoubted courage and sincerity. 
 Robert soon learned that Tonty had seen ser- 
 vice in the Sicilian wars, where he had lost one 
 of his hands, now replaced by one of iron, ever 
 carefully concealed by his glove. His father had 
 been governor of Gaeta, who owing to political 
 disturbances in Naples brought his family to 
 France, where he earned an enviable reputation 
 as a financier, besides inventing that form of life 
 insurance which is still called the Tontine. 
 
 When it was known at the fort that Robert 
 was to be sent against the Iroquois, both Tonty 
 and La Mott asked to accompany him. This 
 added great strength to the party, and their 
 companionship contributed much in assisting 
 Robert to throw off his overpowering fear that 
 some misfortune had befallen Anne. 
 
 Once in the forest again, Robert became 
 the explorer, and as the party advanced league 
 after league, with the wily Indians retreating 
 before his formidable force, the old fever re- 
 turned to him. It was his desire to administer 
 a crushing rebuke to the savages for their 
 broken faith, but they gave him no opportunity. 
 They desisted, however, in their previous raids 
 upon the settlements, so the chief purpose of 
 the expedition was accomplished. 
 
 At last the party found itself at Niagara, 
 where familiar scenes greeted Robert's eyes. 
 [238]
 
 His return to forest life filled him with exhila- 
 ration, and at this point an inspiration came to 
 him. Why was this not his opportunity to 
 accomplish the discovery of the Mississippi ? 
 So much of the journey had already been cov- 
 ered that it would mean a delay of only a few 
 months in returning to Quebec. He could not 
 have selected a stronger party had he intended 
 this from the first, and his letters-patent from 
 the King gave him the necessary authority. 
 All seemed to point in the one direction, and 
 after a conference with Tonty and La Mott his 
 course was determined. 
 
 The first step in Robert's projected enter- 
 prise must be to build a ship upon which to 
 convey his company and the accumulated 
 stores. A spot was found beyond the cata- 
 ract on one side of the mouth of Cayuga 
 Creek, where an island lying some little dis- 
 tance from the shore diverted a part of the 
 current of the river toward the eastern bank. 
 
 When the work of construction was well 
 under way, Robert left Tonty in charge and 
 returned to the mouth of the river, where he 
 began to build a rough blockhouse. In spite 
 of the necessity of sending to Fort Frontenac 
 for supplies, in spite of the difficulties which 
 attended every step in the construction, and in 
 spite of his fears that the Senecas, in whose 
 
 [239]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 country they were camping, would burn the 
 ship on the stocks, Tonty succeeded in com- 
 pleting the boat in two months' time ; and in 
 May the " Griffon " was launched amid great 
 rejoicings on the part of the impatient sol- 
 diers, who were anxious to proceed upon the 
 expedition. 
 
 Robert returned as soon as all was completed, 
 and the " Griffon " was towed up against the 
 current until she could set sail upon the broad 
 waters of Lake Erie. For three days she 
 ploughed a path in the hitherto virgin waves 
 until the Strait of Detroit was reached, and 
 rolling prairies lay spread out before her on 
 one hand, great forests on the other. Stopping 
 only long enough to replenish their stock 
 with deer, wild turkey, and bear, the " Griffon " 
 again proceeded upon her prosperous voyage, 
 -crossing Lake St. Claire, on into Lake 
 Huron, pointing her prow toward St. Ignace 
 of Michilimackinac. 
 
 But the waters which had thus far received 
 their strange visitor with awe and placidity 
 now awoke to the intrusion, resenting the 
 audacity of the little ship. The calmness 
 turned in a moment to a terrific gale, and 
 the vessel seemed about to meet her doom. 
 Down upon their knees fell the frightened sol- 
 diers, commending themselves to St. Anthony 
 
 [240]
 
 RESUMES HIS EXPLORATIONS 
 
 of Padua, and praying that they might be 
 spared the ignominy of perishing in fresh 
 water after having braved the dangers of field 
 and flood. 
 
 Robert, Tonty, and La Mott alone faced the 
 situation. The terrified pilot threw himself face 
 downward upon the deck, cursing his commander 
 for having led them into this catastrophe. Rob- 
 ert seized the tiller, with one of his two friends 
 on either side to prevent the waves from wash- 
 ing him overboard, and steered this plaything of 
 the storm through the night and danger into a 
 morning as quiet as it was beautiful. 
 
 The weather-beaten voyagers again took heart, 
 and looked with glad eyes upon the palisaded 
 house and chapel of the Jesuits which marked 
 the St. Ignace mission. The natives from the 
 Ottawa village put out to the ship in canoes, 
 gazing in wonder upon the unusual sight and 
 christening her the " floating fort " out of respect 
 to the five puny cannon which showed them- 
 selves ominously from her port-holes. 
 
 Once more the party felt the firm ground be- 
 neath their feet. They would take their chances 
 in the frail canoes, or they would toil patiently 
 through the unbroken forests ; but no more 
 would they intrust their lives to the ship. Rob- 
 ert saw that remonstrance was useless, so he 
 proceeded to buy from the natives a valuable 
 16 [ 241 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 supply of furs, asking his companions to proceed 
 upon the " Griffon " only as far as Green Bay in 
 Lake Michigan, where he promised to complete 
 his shipment to his associates at Fort Frontenac, 
 and continue the journey by foot or canoe. 
 The party finally accepted the compromise ; 
 and at the appointed spot the ship exchanged 
 her human freight for the peltry intended to 
 enrich the seigniory. 
 
 Robert watched the ship as she drew away 
 from Green Bay, again pointed toward Niagara. 
 His faith in the pilot was shaken both by his 
 conduct during the storm and his evident eager- 
 ness to accept the trust. He could not have 
 believed, however, that this was to be the last 
 time his eyes were to rest upon the " Griffon," or 
 that the treacherous hand at the helm would 
 wreck the boat upon the shore, hoping to escape 
 with his ill-gotten booty. Had he foreseen this, 
 it might have given him a grim satisfaction to 
 know also that the savages would act as his 
 avengers, for the faithless pilot met his fate at 
 their hands. 
 
 The depleted party, after the departure of the 
 " Griffon," at once embarked in their canoes, half 
 the men accompanying Tonty along the eastern 
 shore of the lake, while Robert and the rest con- 
 tinued southward along the Wisconsin shore. 
 Rough weather still followed them and forced 
 [ 242 ]
 
 them to take shelter as best they could. Now 
 crouching about a miserable driftwood fire, wet 
 to the skin in spite of the blankets wrapped 
 around them ; now swamped as they attempted 
 to land from their canoes, and obliged to make 
 every exertion to save their stores ; now stand- 
 ing on guard through all the night in dread of 
 the surrounding natives ; now living on Indian 
 corn, and all too little of that, on the hardy 
 adventurers pushed to the site of Milwaukee, 
 around the southern shore of Lake Michigan, 
 until they reached the mouth of the St. 
 Joseph. 
 
 The divided party reunited here and ascended 
 the St. Joseph for several days, finally loading 
 themselves down with the canoes and baggage, 
 and beginning their dreary march to the sources 
 of the Illinois. The Kankakee was reached, and 
 the tired men were glad to place their canoes 
 upon its sluggish waters, drifting down through 
 a barren and desolate country. 
 
 Soon the stream widened into a river, and 
 more interesting scenes began to present them- 
 selves. Broad prairies stretched out on either 
 side with evident signs of animal life. Buffalo, 
 wolves, deer, cranes and pelicans, wild swans and 
 turkeys, appeared from time to time, and Pis- 
 karet found ample opportunity to display that 
 mastery in marksmanship which had made 
 [243]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 him invaluable to the expedition ever since 
 Green Bay had been left behind them. 
 
 A few leagues farther was the valley of the 
 Illinois. On the left, rising high and sheer, was 
 a cliff covered with trees which afterward came 
 to be known as " Starved Rock " ; on the right 
 lay the site of what was later to be the village 
 of Utica. Four days more and Pimitoui, now 
 called Peoria Lake, was reached, and undoubted 
 evidences of the near presence of an Indian 
 encampment were discovered. 
 
 Robert laid his plans promptly. The canoes 
 were beached, and a hasty camp, without fires, 
 was pitched. Guards were placed about the 
 camp, and the party sought much-needed rest. 
 Early the next morning the eight canoes were 
 again pushed from the shore, and without warn- 
 ing the white men, with muskets in their hands, 
 appeared before the eighty Illinois wigwams. 
 Robert leaped upon the shore, quickly followed 
 by the others, and advanced fearlessly into the 
 centre of the group of terrified savages. 
 
 When the Indians found that no immediate 
 attack was contemplated, two of the chiefs 
 came forward, holding the calumet before them. 
 Robert accepted their offers of friendship, and 
 when the party was seated in the midst of their 
 savage hosts, he harangued them. 
 
 " I have come," he said, " to protect you 
 [ 244 ]
 
 against your enemies and to teach you to pray 
 to the true God. As for the Iroquois, they are 
 subjects of the Great King, and are therefore 
 brethren of the French ; but should they begin 
 a war and invade the country of the Illinois, I 
 will stand by you, and give you guns, and fight 
 in your defence, if you will permit me to build 
 a fort among you for the security of my men. 
 But if you will not consent to my plans, then I 
 will pass on to the Osages, leaving you to the 
 mercy of the Iroquois." 
 
 Robert touched their lifelong jealousy of the 
 Osages, and his threat produced good effect. 
 Everything he asked was promised to him, and 
 feasts and dances were provided for his enter- 
 tainment. That evening, however, unknown 
 to him, Monso, a Mascoutin chief, arrived at 
 the camp with gifts for the Illinois. A secret 
 conclave of the chiefs was held, at which Monso 
 warned them against Robert and his offers of 
 friendship, accusing him of being a spy and a 
 friend of the Iroquois. Robert's plan, he de- 
 clared, was to encourage the tribes beyond the 
 Mississippi to combine against the Illinois, and 
 he urged that the only safety for his friends lay 
 in preventing Robert from continuing his jour- 
 ney. Having confided this information, Monso 
 left the camp. 
 
 On the following morning Robert quickly 
 [245 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 observed that a change had come over the atti- 
 tude of the chiefs. He was at a loss to under- 
 stand it, however, until Omawha, one of the 
 Indians to whom he had given a present the 
 day before, secretly told him what had taken 
 place. He was prepared, therefore, to receive 
 the urgent advice of the chief, Nicanope, not 
 to proceed further down the Mississippi. The 
 river, the Indian said, was filled with venomous 
 serpents and alligators, and the shores were peo- 
 pled with hostile tribes ; there were impassable 
 rapids and whirlpools, and the waters finally 
 emptied into a bottomless gulf. 
 
 These warnings had no terror for Robert, 
 but to his men they were full of ominous 
 forebodings. A great change had come over 
 the party since they had left Fort Frontenac. 
 Months of suffering and privation had de- 
 stroyed their morale and weakened their cour- 
 age. A few remained loyal, but the majority 
 felt certain that they were advancing to their 
 destruction. 
 
 Robert listened until Nicanope' finished his 
 speech, and then rose with great dignity. 
 
 " I thank you for the friendly warning which 
 your affection has impelled you to utter," he 
 said quietly ; " but the greater the danger, the 
 greater the honour, and even if the dangers 
 you picture were real, Frenchmen would never 
 
 [246]
 
 RESUMES HIS EXPLORATIONS 
 
 flinch from them. But," he continued, looking 
 Nicanope firmly in the eye, " is my brother not 
 jealous ? Has he not been deluded by lies ? 
 We were not asleep, my brother, when Monso 
 came to tell you, under cover of the night, that 
 we were spies of the Iroquois. The presents 
 he gave you that you might believe his false- 
 hoods are at this moment buried in the earth 
 under this lodge. If he told the truth, why did 
 he skulk away in the dark ? Why did he not 
 show himself by day? Do you not see that 
 when we first came among you, and your camp 
 was all in confusion, we could have killed you 
 without needing help from the Iroquois. And 
 now, as I am speaking, could we not put your 
 old men to death while your young warriors 
 are all gone away to hunt ? If we meant 
 to make war on you, we should need no help 
 from the Iroquois, who have so often felt the 
 force of our arms. Look at what we have 
 brought you. It is not weapons to destroy you, 
 but merchandise and tools for your good. If 
 you still harbour evil thoughts of us, be as frank 
 as we are, and speak them boldly. Go after 
 this impostor Monso and bring him back, that 
 we may answer him face to face ; for he never 
 saw either us or the Iroquois, and what can 
 he know of the plots which he pretends to 
 reveal ? " 
 
 [247]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Nicanope' could make no reply to Robert's 
 statements, and with a sullen gesture he com- 
 manded the feast to proceed, at the conclusion 
 of which the Frenchmen betook themselves to 
 their tents. When they retired, Robert posted 
 a night guard, fearing treachery on the part of 
 his hosts, but nothing occurred to interrupt 
 their rest. 
 
 In the morning Robert stepped out into the 
 cold bracing air, full of plans for the fort which 
 he had determined to build here ; but he was 
 struck by the unusual quiet. Of the six guards 
 whom he had posted not one remained. The 
 tales they had just heard from Nicanope' proved 
 the last straw to be laid upon their wavering 
 loyalty ; and they took this opportunity to 
 desert, choosing the severities of the unbroken 
 forest's snows rather than the terrors of the 
 unknown monsters of the Mississippi. Nothing 
 could have happened to dishearten Robert more 
 than this, for he had picked his men at the start 
 as those in whom he could impose implicit con- 
 fidence. If these six would leave him, he could 
 expect nothing better from those who now 
 remained. 
 
 This episode, as was always the case when 
 Robert Cavelier received an apparent set-back, 
 resulted in a prompt and definite decision. He 
 would proceed without a moment's delay to 
 
 [248]
 
 build his projected fort, thus removing the 
 remaining members of his party from disaffect- 
 ing influences, and placing him in a position 
 to protect himself against possible treachery. 
 He had already selected the site, half a league 
 below the camp of the Illinois, on the southern 
 bank of the river. After a stern address to his 
 men and a farewell to his hosts, Robert led the 
 party thither, and the fortifications were at 
 once begun. 
 
 This was Fort Crevecceur, the first civilised 
 occupation of what is now the State of Illinois. 
 The name " Fort Broken-heart " seems to indi- 
 cate despair on the part of an explorer; but 
 could one have seen the indefatigable energy 
 with which he entered into this undertaking, 
 he would realise that the agony of that name 
 was merely reminiscent of the Netherlands. 
 Taught by bitter experience that trust could 
 be reposed in none but himself ; fearful even 
 of Tonty and the faithful Piskaret, who had 
 never shown the slightest deviation in his blind 
 hero-worship of his master ; torn with anxiety 
 regarding the safety of the "Griffon," upon 
 whose arrival depended his financial standing 
 in the colony ; weakened by the desertion of 
 a part of his men ; borne down by the loss 
 of the woman who formed the bright ideal 
 which took him beyond the mere ambitions of 
 
 [249]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 an adventurer, Robert Cavelier stands out 
 upon this bleak page of history with his face 
 still looking toward his goal, and with firm 
 conviction in his heart that the discovery of 
 the great river waits for him and him alone. 
 
 [250]
 
 HE FIRST OF MARCH 
 
 came, and with it a convic- 
 tion that another ship must 
 be built in which to descend 
 the Mississippi. To accom- 
 plish this, some one must 
 return to Fort Frontenac to 
 secure anchors, cables, and rigging ; and no one 
 but Robert could undertake the journey. Five 
 hundred leagues lay between him and the fort, 
 to be covered on foot or in canoe through 
 rivers and marshes harbouring five Indian na- 
 tions besides the Iroquois, who had been driven 
 to cover by Robert's expedition. 
 
 Each day's provisions were dependent upon 
 the success of Piskaret's gun ; the heroic travel- 
 ers slept upon the ground, from which the 
 frost and snow had not yet departed ; loaded 
 down with baggage and canoes, they climbed 
 rocks, broke through thickets, and waded waist- 
 deep in the chilling waters, their clothes freez- 
 ing to their bodies as they proceeded. All 
 [251 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 this and more was endured by Robert, Piskaret, 
 and the four Frenchmen who volunteered to 
 accompany him, four trusty hearts who glad- 
 dened Robert by giving him the loyalty which 
 he had hoped to find in all. Tonty remained 
 behind with the other members of the party 
 to garrison Fort Crevecceur, uncertain whether 
 treachery or fidelity would be his portion. 
 
 At St. Joseph Robert met La Chapelle and 
 Leblanc, whom he had sent forward weeks be- 
 fore to discover some news of the " Griffon," 
 but they had learned nothing, and he ordered 
 them to continue their return to the fort, to 
 reinforce Tonty. Heavy rains increased the 
 suffering as his own party advanced ; one by 
 one the men fell sick, and delays were made 
 necessary for their recovery ; now they were 
 tracked by hostile tribes who were evaded only 
 by Robert's strategy, but at length the little 
 party arrived at Niagara. Here they found 
 some traders who confirmed Robert's fears that 
 the " Griffon " was lost, and also gave him the 
 further intelligence that a ship from France, 
 bound for Quebec and laden with stores be- 
 longing to his associates at Fort Frontenac, 
 had been wrecked and lost with all on board. 
 Truly Robert believed that Fate had taken 
 up the curse of the Jesuits and was wreaking 
 an awful vengeance ! 
 
 [252]
 
 SATISFIES HIS AMBITIONS 
 
 The men were too ill to proceed, so Robert 
 left them at Niagara and pushed on alone. 
 The worst of the journey was behind him ; and 
 on the sixth of May, sixty-five days after leaving 
 Fort Crevecceur, he stood before the familial- 
 bastions of Fort Frontenac. La Forest met 
 him at the gate, rilled with consternation and 
 surprise ; but instead of leading him within the 
 fort, he motioned him to follow outside the walls 
 until they were safe from observation. Then 
 he welcomed his chief with mingled joy and 
 sorrow, telling Robert that he had been re- 
 ported dead, and that the creditors of the 
 Associates had seized the seigniory. La Forest 
 was ready to aid him, but Robert's presence 
 must not be known. 
 
 The faithful lieutenant provided a place in 
 which Robert could safely await the prepara- 
 tions for the return, and went heartily to work 
 getting together not only the materials re- 
 quired, but also forming another company to 
 return with him. Robert inquired eagerly 
 regarding the arrival of Anne and her father, 
 but La Forest could tell him nothing. As 
 the lieutenant had recently been in Quebec 
 and had seen the Governor, Robert accepted 
 the news as confirmation of his worst fears. 
 Father Jean Cavelier had planned well when 
 he took his unexpected guest to the Hotel 
 [253]
 
 Dieu, where her name was unknown except 
 to him. 
 
 Three days after Robert's arrival two voya- 
 geurs came to Fort Frontenac with a letter 
 addressed to him from Tonty. Fortunately 
 this fell into the hands of La Forest, who de- 
 livered it to Robert and shared with him the 
 disconcerting news. As soon as Robert had left 
 Fort Crevecceur nearly all of Tonty's men had 
 mutinied, destroying the fort and throwing into 
 the river all the arms and provisions which they 
 were unable to carry away. Later news came 
 to La Forest that these men had joined the 
 original deserters at Michilimackinac, and now, 
 twenty in number, were awaiting the oppor- 
 tunity to murder Robert upon his return, as 
 the surest way to escape punishment. 
 
 As La Forest's party was not yet ready to 
 start, Robert decided to meet this situation at 
 once ; and with nine companions supplied by 
 the lieutenant, he set out in canoes, intending 
 to surprise his would-be assailants, and to re- 
 move them from the path of his return. After 
 passing the Bay of Quinte Robert disembarked 
 and awaited developments. 
 
 When morning broke, two canoes were seen 
 approaching without suspicion, one far in ad- 
 vance of the other. As the first one drew near, 
 Robert's party suddenly put off from shore, and 
 
 [254]
 
 SATISFIES HIS AMBITIONS 
 
 with leveled guns commanded the deserters to 
 surrender. So unexpected was the demand that 
 they complied without a struggle, as did also 
 those in the second canoe, which by this time 
 had approached ; but another canoe, which until 
 now had not been noticed, was far enough in 
 the rear to profit by the fate of the others. 
 
 After securing his prisoners Robert pursued 
 the fugitives, overtaking them after they had 
 landed and were attempting to make their 
 escape by land. A brief but fierce fight took 
 place on shore, during which two of the de- 
 serters were killed and the remaining three 
 taken prisoners. These, with their companions, 
 were delivered over to La Forest, who placed 
 them in custody at the fort. 
 
 At length the new expedition, which later 
 circumstances turned into a relief party for 
 Tonty, was ready to set out, and at Robert's 
 request La Forest went with it. A shorter 
 route was taken, and they reached Michilimack- 
 inac by the river Humber, Lake Simcoe, the 
 Severn, the Georgian Bay of Lake Huron, 
 coasting the Manitoulin Islands. Impatient 
 at the delay occasioned by the heavy stores, 
 Robert left La Forest at this point to follow 
 more slowly, while he himself advanced rapidly 
 with twelve men, searching for evidences of 
 Tonty. 
 
 [255]
 
 Up the St. Joseph again, across to the Kan- 
 kakee, down to the great town of the Illinois, 
 past the Rock of St. Louis, Robert hastened 
 on his quest. Just beyond this lay a plain 
 which had recently been covered with Indian 
 dwellings ; now it formed a scene of desolation 
 and death. Ashes alone remained to show 
 where the habitations had stood, and human 
 skulls grinned from the charred poles. Wolves 
 and buzzards, disturbed by the approach of 
 Robert's party, fled from their ghastly repast, 
 and awaited at a distance an opportunity to 
 resume. To Robert these were certain evi- 
 dences of the work of the Iroquois ; but what 
 concerned him more was whether or not Tonty 
 and his few remaining followers had been quar- 
 tered here and thus included in the wholesale 
 slaughter. Carefully he examined each skull, 
 but to his infinite relief he found that no white 
 man was among the victims. - 
 
 Again the party pushed forward, down the 
 Illinois, past Peoria Lake to the site of Fort 
 Crevecceur, which they found, as reported, 
 entirely destroyed by the deserters. Robert 
 remained here only long enough to examine 
 the destruction of his hopes, and then continued 
 on his search. Now they stole cautiously past 
 camps of the savage warriors who had so re- 
 cently tasted blood that they thirsted for more ; 
 
 [256]
 
 now they saw before them the half-burned 
 bodies of women, still fastened to the torture- 
 stakes ; but nowhere could be found any traces 
 of Tonty and his men. 
 
 Still down the Illinois they paddled. At 
 length its mouth was reached, and Robert's 
 canoe floated upon the broad surface of the 
 Mississippi. He forgot for the instant the 
 seriousness of his present errand. The obstacles 
 were behind him, and the path cleared to drift 
 down upon this swift-flowing current to the 
 realisation of his ambitions. But it was only 
 for the instant. This was no time to indulge 
 in personal ecstasy. Tonty 's life might be 
 hanging in the balance, and he alone could 
 save it. 
 
 Turning back, he found a tree whose trunk 
 projected far out over the water. This he 
 stripped of its bark to make it more prominent, 
 and fastened to it a board on which he drew 
 figures of his party, sitting in their canoe, bear- 
 ing a pipe of peace. He also fastened to it a 
 letter for Tonty, telling him that he had re- 
 turned to the deserted Indian village. Then, 
 with never-ceasing paddles, they returned to the 
 scene of desolation which they had so recently 
 left behind them : back to the Kankakee and 
 the St. Joseph, until the divided party was 
 again united at Miami. Here Robert and La 
 n [257]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Forest worked out together the further plans 
 for the search after the missing Tonty. 
 
 Robert little knew that he himself was the 
 indirect cause of the disaster to Fort Crevecceur. 
 La Chapelle and Leblanc, whom he met at St. 
 Joseph, promptly obeyed his orders and returned 
 to Tonty. On their arrival they told their al- 
 ready dissatisfied comrades of the disasters which 
 had befallen Robert's finances, and all were con- 
 vinced that this meant his absolute ruin and the 
 loss to them of their pay, which was already in 
 arrears. Taking advantage of Tonty's absence 
 on the following day, therefore, they destroyed 
 the fort and its contents, leaving the message 
 behind them for their returning commander to 
 read, " Nous sommes tous sauvages ! " 
 
 There remained nothing for Tonty to do ex- 
 cept to send word to Robert of what had oc- 
 curred, to retire to the Illinois village near by, 
 and to await Robert's return. But he did not 
 foresee how far out of Robert's path he was to 
 be driven by the terrific onslaughts which the 
 Iroquois were about to make upon their rival 
 tribes. Unable to accomplish their desires upon 
 the white settlements about Quebec because of 
 Robert's prompt opposition, they turned their 
 unsatisfied hungering for human prey into other 
 channels. The Hurons, the Neutrals, the Eries, 
 the Andastes, and the Algonquins had already 
 
 [258]
 
 SATISFIES HIS AMBITIONS 
 
 felt their savage power, and their successes filled 
 them with a desire to exterminate all within 
 their reach. In this they received no little en- 
 couragement from the Dutch and English 
 traders, who found in them an easy tool to use 
 against their French rivals in the fur-trade. 
 The Illinois were the next in their path, and 
 the Iroquois marked them for victims. Thus 
 it was that Tonty and his few remaining men, 
 not long after their arrival in the Illinois village, 
 found themselves in the midst of a ferocious 
 attack. Their Indian hosts accused them of 
 being enemies and traitors, and of having inspired 
 the Iroquois against them. Tonty realised his 
 danger, and with characteristic boldness he cast 
 aside his gun, and advanced unarmed to meet 
 the approaching Iroquois hordes, holding out a 
 belt of wampum. In a moment he was in their 
 midst, but in spite of his attempt to make him- 
 self heard, he received a knife-stab which made 
 him reel. Without heeding this, however, he 
 pushed forward, and at last a chief, recognising 
 him as a Frenchman, commanded a cessation of 
 hostilities. Tonty declared that the Illinois 
 were friends of the French and under the pro- 
 tection of the Great King, but this would 
 hardly have accomplished the desired result had 
 he not added that they were twelve hundred 
 strong, reinforced by sixty Frenchmen. 
 [259]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Having failed to catch the Illinois unawares, 
 the Iroquois were willing to postpone the day 
 of reckoning, and a truce was established. 
 Tonty and his men were allowed to embark 
 in a leaky canoe, and they attempted to ascend 
 the river. They managed to keep afloat for a 
 few days, but were finally obliged to abandon 
 their effort, and to set out on foot for Lake Mich- 
 igan, aiming for Green Bay. Tonty was taken 
 ill and a delay necessitated, but at last their goal 
 was reached. Some friendly Indians received 
 them with welcome kindness, and provided 
 for them in their village. 
 
 Here it was, five months later, that Robert 
 at last found his devoted friend. Each sup- 
 posed the other dead, and the reunion was so 
 full of satisfaction that much of the suffering 
 was forgotten. Tonty eagerly entered into 
 Robert's newly-made plans to organise the 
 roving tribes into a formidable force with which 
 to oppose the Iroquois ; but before undertaking 
 this, both desired to complete the discovery of 
 the Mississippi, which Robert had abandoned 
 in the search for his friend. 
 
 This time Robert knew that his followers 
 could be depended upon, for every man had 
 been tried as by fire. Back to Michilimackinac 
 they went, through the portage to Lake Simcoe, 
 and on over the route which was now familiar. 
 
 [260]
 
 SATISFIES HIS AMBITIONS 
 
 Miami and the Chicago River were behind 
 them, and they were again upon the Illinois. 
 Down this they floated, past the destroyed vil- 
 lage, past barren forests and verdureless plains, 
 until, on the sixth of February, Robert found 
 himself again upon the Mississippi. The letter 
 he had left for Tonty had been torn away by 
 the elements, but the board, with the rough 
 drawing upon it, still remained. Robert could 
 afford to laugh at it as he pointed it out to 
 Tonty, for a part of his quest at least had been 
 successful. 
 
 Forward they pushed with glad hearts, past 
 the mouth of the Missouri, which churned the 
 clear waters into mud, gliding by a town of 
 Tamaros and the mouth of the Ohio. The 
 wintry air became warm as Spring as they 
 reached the Arkansas' country, and warmer 
 still as the great town of the Taensas was ap- 
 proached. Still farther down the river, and 
 the Natchez village was before them, and two 
 leagues below were the Coroas, Red River, the 
 Dumas, and the Quinipissas. The town of 
 Tangiboo lay behind them, and they approached 
 their journey's end. Down, down, down they 
 drifted, the clear, fresh water changing into brine 
 as the sea came nearer ; and at last the frail 
 canoes ceased in their wanderings, resting tran- 
 quilly upon the great bosom of the Gulf itself. 
 [ 261 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Robert and Tonty clasped hands in silence. 
 At last, at last had come to him the realisation 
 of his dreams. His sufferings, his privations, his 
 dangers by day and his terrors by night, all 
 faded away into the supreme joy of that 
 moment. He had kept his promise to his 
 King, to himself, and to his beloved. Where 
 was she now, from whom he most craved those 
 words of praise and thanksgiving which he 
 knew so well would be his ? 
 
 The canoes are beached upon the shore, a 
 little above the mouth of the river. The party 
 disembarks and prepares a column, upon which 
 are inscribed the words, " Louis le Grand, Roy 
 de France et de Navarre, regne ; le Neuvieme 
 Avril, 1682." The company is mustered under 
 arms, the Te Deum is sung, and with a volley 
 of musketry and loud shouts of "Vive le 
 Roi " Robert raises the column. Every head 
 is uncovered, and Robert proclaims in a firm 
 voice : 
 
 " In the name of the most high, invincible, 
 and victorious Prince, Louis the Great, by the 
 grace of God King of France and of Na- 
 varre, Fourteenth of that name, I, this ninth 
 day of April, one thousand six hundred and 
 eighty-two, by virtue of the commission of 
 His Majesty, do now take in the name of 
 His Majesty and of his successors to the 
 
 [262]
 
 Kngruvad by John Anrirtw <t Sen 
 
 THE DISCOVERY OF THE MISSISSIPPI 
 
 " In the name of Louis the Great, I do now take possession of this 
 great river of the Mississippi."
 
 SATISFIES HIS AMBITIONS 
 
 Crown, possession of this great river of the 
 Mississippi and its adjacent lands, hereby pro- 
 testing against all who may hereafter undertake 
 to invade, to the prejudice of the rights of His 
 Majesty." 
 
 [263]
 
 HIS-GASSOGK 
 
 HEN ANNE COUR- 
 celle threw her tired body 
 upon the bed in the small 
 room at the Hotel Dieu, 
 whither the sisters led her, 
 she little thought how long a 
 time would elapse before she 
 again went forth. The fatigue of the voyage, 
 the disappointment at not finding Robert wait- 
 ing *to welcome her, and the excitement of her 
 rude reception, all combined to bring on a re- 
 lapse of the fever from which she had hardly 
 recovered when she left Versailles. 
 
 The heart can sustain the body far beyond its 
 own strength so long as hope buoys it up, but 
 when that hope fades away, the body falls of 
 its own weight, burying the heart beneath it. 
 For weeks the girl lay there, again hovering 
 between life and death, her mind wandering 
 far beyond the narrow limits of her surround- 
 ings. She was back in Versailles once more, 
 now with her father, now with the Princess 
 
 [264 J
 
 PRIEST THROWS OFF HIS CASSOCK 
 
 Palatine, now walking with Robert in the 
 park. 
 
 With noble effort the sisters fought for her 
 life, and at last they won. With her conva- 
 lescence Anne could but grow to love these 
 great-hearted women, whose unselfish devotion 
 touched her deeply. They had asked no ques- 
 tions, either of her or of Father Jean Cavelier, 
 since the day he first brought her to them. She 
 needed their services, and that was claim enough. 
 
 Where man and woman share the same la- 
 bours, it is ever the woman who remains the 
 truer to her faith. To man comes that inborn 
 ambition which, stifle it as he will, always tem- 
 pers his actions ; to woman, the doing of the 
 deed well is its own reward. Look where you 
 will throughout the world's history of noble 
 work, and you will find the woman's share but 
 briefly written. The archives contain the name 
 and record of nearly every martyr among the 
 priests of the missions of New France, but 
 naught save tradition recalls even the deeds of 
 these heroic hospital nuns of Quebec. 
 
 There were no trained physicians in New 
 France, and upon these women and their sis- 
 ters in Montreal fell the burden of caring for 
 the sick and the wounded. Hardly a ship 
 arrived at Quebec from France without bring- 
 ing with it some form of infectious disease. 
 [265]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Sometimes it was small-pox, sometimes it was 
 leprosy, it mattered not what : the sisters at 
 the Hotel Dieu accepted their responsibilities. 
 They might die, but they never complained. 
 Jogues, Lalemant, and Brebceuf and the others 
 will live throughout the ages with their mem- 
 ory lighted by the glare of the stake, with each 
 contortion carefully recorded, while these faith- 
 ful nuns, whose courage and whose martyrdom 
 were no less sublime, and whose work was freed 
 from the dishonour of political and spiritual strife, 
 sink into oblivion without even a record of their 
 names. 
 
 When Anne was able to sit up for a few 
 moments, the sisters moved her chair to the 
 window, that her eyes might have new scenes 
 to relieve the monotony. Again she gazed 
 upon the broad surface of the St. Lawrence 
 and the St. Charles, again she saw the tree- 
 tops of the forests, again her eye stretched out 
 toward the west, and the memory of those 
 other days, when she and Robert had stood 
 together on the summit of the Rock, came 
 back to her with a dull weight of pain. Just 
 outside the window the sisters showed her the 
 great tree beneath which, forty years before, 
 Mother Marie of the Incarnation first in- 
 structed the Indian children in spiritual truths. 
 Then her gaze returned to the narrow compass 
 
 [266]
 
 PRIEST THROWS OFF HIS CASSOCK 
 
 of the room, and her heart was filled with utter 
 loneliness. 
 
 She was sitting thus one morning when the 
 Mother Superior entered the room. Anne at 
 once strove to banish her sadness, for this seemed 
 a poor return for all the kindness she had received. 
 She therefore greeted the mother with a weak 
 little smile, and held out her hand affectionately. 
 
 " You are feeling better to-day, my daughter ?" 
 queried the Mother Superior. 
 
 " Yes, mother ; how could I do aught but 
 gain when you all bestow upon me such love 
 and care ? " 
 
 " I rejoice indeed, my child, for we have 
 been sore distressed about you. But I have 
 come this morning to ask if you feel strong 
 enough to receive a visitor. Father Cavelier 
 is below, and desires to see you." 
 
 " Father Cavelier ! " repeated Anne, a shadow 
 crossing her face. She put her hand to her 
 head, as if striving to recall some past thought 
 which had escaped her. She had forgotten 
 him entirely until now, yet it was he who had 
 saved her from the humiliating marriage that 
 seemed inevitable, and it was he who had 
 brought her to this sanctuary. She must not 
 be ungrateful, and yet 
 
 The Mother Superior watched her closely, 
 attributing her actions to her weakness. 
 
 [267]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " Father Cavelier? " Anne repeated the name 
 again, as if in question. 
 
 " Do you not remember him, my daughter ? 
 It was he who brought you to us ; and not 
 a day has passed without a visit from him to 
 inquire regarding your condition." 
 
 " Yes ; I recaU him," Anne replied ; " but I 
 was trying to remember something else which 
 has escaped me. He has been very kind to 
 me, and I shall be glad to see him." 
 
 " It is not necessary that you should do so 
 unless you wish it," said the mother, kindly, 
 somewhat mystified by the expression upon 
 the girl's face. 
 
 " But I do wish to see him, mother," said 
 Anne, quickly, quite ashamed of her hesitancy. 
 
 " Very well ; I will call him." 
 
 Father Jean Cavelier did not delay after 
 once receiving the Mother Superior's summons. 
 He entered the room quietly, greeting Anne 
 with many expressions of congratulation up- 
 on her convalescence. The girl could but 
 be struck by the appearance of the priest 
 beside her. His resemblance to Robert was 
 strong in spite of the difference in their phy- 
 sique ; and even the black cassock, which hung 
 so closely about his almost emaciated body, 
 could not dissipate it. His thin face was 
 distinctly spiritual in its expression, and his 
 
 [268]
 
 PRIEST THROWS OFF HIS CASSOCK 
 
 voice and words well fitted his ecclesiastical 
 vocation. 
 
 " I have been waiting long for this moment, 
 my sister," said Jean, suavely. 
 
 " I thank you, father ; I fear I have been 
 a great care to all of you. But, tell me, have 
 you heard aught of Robert ? " 
 
 Jean had expected this question, and was 
 fully prepared to answer it without hesitation. 
 His campaign was carefully outlined in his 
 mind, and a part of it was to encourage Anne 
 in her devotion to his brother, while he studied 
 her at his leisure. 
 
 " Not yet," he replied kindly ; " but that does 
 not necessarily warrant apprehension. My 
 brother had no definite point to strike in his 
 expedition, and the Iroquois are crafty foes." 
 
 " I trust that you are right, father ! " said 
 Anne, glad of any encouragement which might 
 help to sustain her hope. " Here in this little 
 chamber it is hard indeed to believe anything 
 but the worst, and my heart so longs for relief 
 from this overpowering dread." 
 
 The tears welled up in her eyes in spite of 
 her efforts to keep them back. 
 
 " Do not despair, my sister," replied Jean, 
 
 taking her hand affectionately in his. "We 
 
 must get you out of doors, where you will find 
 
 more to relieve your mind from its forebod- 
 
 [269]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 ings ; and while waiting for Robert's return I 
 beg of you to accept a brother's devotion and 
 protection." 
 
 Anne looked at him steadily, as if she would 
 read in his face a denial to her intuitive distrust, 
 but Jean Cavelier was too consummate an actor 
 to allow his motives to lie upon the surface, 
 where they could be easily discovered. Anne 
 feared to be unjust to him, yet a something pre- 
 vented her from accepting his words without 
 qualification. But he was the one to whom she 
 ought naturally to turn, and she could find no 
 tangible reason for her apprehensions. 
 
 " There is no one else in whom I can place 
 my trust, father," said she at length, " unless I 
 throw myself upon Governor Frontenac's friend- 
 ship for Robert. That is what I should have 
 done, had not we met so unexpectedly." 
 
 This was the last thing which Jean Cavelier 
 wished to have happen, and he hastened to 
 oppose it. He could easily surmise what was 
 in the girl's thoughts, and he realised that he 
 must win her confidence or his entire plan 
 would miscarry. 
 
 " Is it not enough, my sister, that Robert 
 wished you to place yourself under my protec- 
 tion ? Governor Frontenac, as you know, has 
 no women in his household, and the chateau 
 would hardly be the place for you to stay. 
 [270]
 
 PRIEST THROWS OFF HIS CASSOCK 
 
 More than this, Robert felt that the old asso- 
 ciations would not add to your happiness, were 
 you to return as guest where once you had been 
 the mistress." 
 
 " He was right," replied Anne, sadly. " I 
 could not stand it. Every turn would remind 
 me so of father. I could not stand it ! " 
 
 " But here, with the sisters whom I judge 
 you love, you are as safe as if Robert himself 
 were beside you ; and you are absolutely se- 
 cluded from the outside world, which would 
 be cruel in its curiosity concerning you." 
 
 " It is best, as you say, but this waiting is, oh, 
 so hard ! " 
 
 " I know it is, my sister ; but if you will ac- 
 cept my friendship, and contain yourself in 
 patience, I will try to help you pass the time as 
 pleasantly and as swiftly as possible against the 
 day of Robert's return, which must now be near 
 at hand." 
 
 " There is naught else to do, is there ? " an- 
 swered Anne, with a faint smile. "You will 
 have to accept me as a guest whether you will 
 or no ! " 
 
 " A sweet privilege, my sister," replied Jean, 
 again holding her hand in taking his leave, "a 
 sweet privilege, which I am only too glad to 
 have granted to me. And some day, before 
 Robert's return, you will have forgotten the 
 [271 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 distrust with which my brother's idle tales have 
 filled you." 
 
 Without giving Anne an opportunity to 
 reply, Jean left the room, well satisfied with his 
 first interview. If the Iroquois could succeed 
 in delaying Robert's return, he could ask no 
 more. He had raised a doubt in Anne's mind 
 as to her right to question his sincerity when 
 everything seemed to support him in the posi- 
 tion he had taken, and his attitude bespoke a 
 brother's kindly interest. He had given her an 
 unquestioned argument against seeking Fronte- 
 nac, which he knew would avail far more be- 
 cause of the sentiment which was attached 
 to it. And, finally, Anne was cloistered here 
 among the sisters, unknown to all save him, 
 where none but he could see her. All in all, 
 Father Jean Cavelier had reason to congratulate 
 himself upon the progress of his little affair 
 thus far. 
 
 The weeks came and went, but news of 
 Robert seemed as far away as ever. Jean 
 continued to be hopeful, and Anne welcomed 
 him day by day, if for no other pleasure than 
 to hear some one say that her lover was alive 
 and must soon return. The invalid was able 
 to walk out in the garden now, and the sisters 
 became accustomed to the sight of the sallow 
 priest walking up and down the paths beside 
 
 [272]
 
 PRIEST THROWS OFF HIS CASSOCK 
 
 the girl, whose beauty returned to her little by 
 little as her recovery became more complete. 
 
 But the sisters did not see, nor did Anne 
 herself realise, what was taking place in Jean's 
 heart. From boyhood the priest had possessed 
 but one object in life, and that was self grati- 
 fication. His parents had meant nothing to 
 him ; he had always hated his brother ; and even 
 in taking sacred orders he had thought much 
 more of the personal glory which he felt sure 
 would come to him than of the souls he might 
 save for his Maker. He had scoffed at women, 
 regarding them as puppets intended simply as 
 instruments or hindrances to men in the carry- 
 ing out of grand ideas. Even the self sacri- 
 ficing sisters of the Hotel Dieu meant to him 
 no more than willing labourers in furthering the 
 ambitions of the fathers, to whom came all the 
 credit and all the power. 
 
 At last, however, Father Jean Cavelier ex- 
 perienced a sensation which was not at all 
 ecclesiastical. This girl, whom he had intended 
 to use as the instrument of his revenge upon 
 his brother, had unconsciously succeeded in 
 inspiring in his cold, selfish heart a feeling 
 much akin to love. When the knowledge of 
 this first came to Jean, he was himself genuinely 
 surprised. Then he was pleased, for this idea 
 opened up another channel which would bring 
 18 [ 273 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 about the same result with infinitely greater 
 pleasure to himself. He must needs renounce 
 the cloth, to be sure, but he had never taken 
 his clerical profession with sufficient serious- 
 ness to have this stand as an objection. 
 
 Even after his change of plans, however, 
 Jean continued to encourage Anne in her 
 belief that Robert would yet return. In his 
 own mind he had come to the welcome con- 
 clusion that Fate or the Iroquois had freed him 
 from his brother's presence for good and all ; 
 and this was the general opinion in the colony. 
 Still, for the present it seemed wise to keep up 
 the illusion while he ingratiated himself still 
 further into Anne's confidence. 
 
 The weeks turned into months, and Anne 
 was quite recovered from her illness. Waiting 
 and suspense had become a habit by this time, 
 but her faith was firm and unwavering. Dur- 
 ing her weakness she needed Jean's reassurances, 
 but with returning strength came a conviction 
 which required no support. Still, it was agree- 
 able to have some one to talk with about Robert, 
 and Jean's companionship was not unwelcome. 
 
 Safe now in the conviction that Robert would 
 not return, Jean began to grow impatient at 
 the constancy with which Anne awaited her 
 absent lover. It was time for him to take the 
 other side, and gradually to wean her from her 
 [274]
 
 PRIEST THROWS OFF HIS CASSOCK 
 
 first love, that she might accept him in his 
 brother's stead. On this afternoon, therefore, 
 while walking with Anne in the garden of the 
 Hotel Dieu, he was less sanguine of Robert's 
 safety than usual. 
 
 " What has changed your ideas, father ? " 
 asked Anne, anxiously. " Have you heard news 
 of which you have not spoken to me ? " 
 
 " Nay, Anne, no news has come ; but Robert's 
 affairs have gone ill since he left Quebec. The 
 seigniory of Fort Frontenac has been seized by 
 his creditors." 
 
 " But what has that to do with his return ? " 
 
 " This, that the creditors have held off, hop- 
 ing for him to come back, but now they are 
 convinced that he is dead, and they have seized 
 his property to satisfy their claims." 
 
 " The cowards ! They dared not wait ! " 
 
 " They have already waited long, my sister ; 
 and were Robert here it would make little dif- 
 ference. A ship-load of goods purchased by 
 Robert's associates was wrecked some weeks 
 ago, and if Robert himself returns to-morrow, 
 he will be arrested and imprisoned." 
 
 "What have you done to protect his hon- 
 our ? " the girl asked. 
 
 " There has been and is nothing which I could 
 do," Jean replied. " The sums involved are far 
 too great for me to negotiate." 
 [275]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 " But is it not strange, if Robert is really 
 dead, that no tidings have ever come to Que- 
 bec ? Oh, no ! I '11 not believe it ! Robert 
 is alive, and will return." 
 
 " He may be alive," answered the priest, care- 
 fully, "but he will not come back. News of 
 the misfortune here would surely reach his 
 ears, and he would not show himself in Quebec 
 with the certainty of imprisonment staring him 
 in the face." 
 
 " Would he not return for love of me ? " 
 demanded the girl, warmly. 
 
 " Not so surely as he would remain away for 
 love of liberty. Brother Robert is at home in 
 the forests and would not welcome the restraint 
 of four stone walls." 
 
 Anne was bewildered by the turn which the 
 conversation had taken. Jean's attitude was 
 that of a man who had much more to tell than 
 he had yet divulged. 
 
 " You are keeping something from me, or 
 else you are not speaking the truth," said Anne, 
 plainly, looking him squarely in the face. 
 
 " You should always keep yourself in a state 
 of anger, Anne ; it becomes you mightily," 
 replied Jean, irrelevantly, but with undisguised 
 admiration of the figure militant before him. 
 
 Anne stamped her foot indignantly. 
 
 " Is this the time for empty compliments ? " 
 [276]
 
 she cried. " Am I a child, that you should 
 play me as a cat may play a mouse ? Tell 
 me all you have to say, or else have done and 
 leave me to myself." 
 
 " There is but one thing more to say, and 
 that I have kept from you, hoping that Robert 
 would return, and that you might learn it from 
 his lips instead of mine. 'Tis not a pleasant 
 duty to perform." 
 
 " What is it ? what is it ? " begged Anne, 
 beside herself with apprehension, and sinking 
 upon a bench with a beseeching appeal in her 
 eyes. 
 
 Jean looked at her long and sadly before he 
 replied. 
 
 " I wish I might lessen the blow in some 
 way," he said at last ; " but it is less cruel now 
 to speak the truth than to keep you in igno- 
 rance of it. My dear girl, Robert is not worthy 
 of you." 
 
 " Is this the remarkable information which 
 you have to convey after all this suspense ? " 
 asked Anne, her voice full of indignation. 
 
 " Nay ; listen. As I have already told you, 
 before Robert set out upon this expedition we 
 became reconciled, and he related to me what 
 had been his experiences here and in France. 
 Particularly did he speak of his plighted troth 
 to you. Then he told me that since his return 
 [277 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 to Quebec his mind had changed, and that he 
 had no heart for this marriage which he had 
 planned. I upbraided him for his weakness, and 
 he admitted his fault, but avowed himself de- 
 termined to adhere to his later decision. Just 
 before leaving Quebec he asked me to be on the 
 watch for you and your father, and when you 
 came to tell you in his name what he had told 
 me, begging you to return upon the same ship. 
 Of course he did not anticipate your father's 
 death and your arrival by yourself, or perchance 
 he would not have been so cruel." 
 
 Jean watched the girl carefully during his 
 narrative, so that he might vary it to suit the 
 occasion, but Anne's demeanour completely de- 
 ceived him. She was absolutely quiet now, 
 without a vestige of the anger which had 
 before possessed her, and her face was deathly 
 white. The priest therefore proceeded without 
 hesitation. 
 
 " He further said that he should keep him- 
 self informed regarding you, and that if you 
 failed to respect his wish that you return to 
 France, he would not come back to Quebec. 
 When I met you so unexpectedly the day of 
 your arrival, I had not the heart to deliver the 
 unkind message, at least until you overcame 
 the fatigue of the voyage. And then came 
 your illness, so the days and weeks went by, 
 [278]
 
 PRIEST THROWS OFF HIS CASSOCK 
 
 and I could not bring myself to tell you. Now, 
 however, that your strength has fully returned, 
 and you are wondering why Robert does not 
 come back to you, I must speak the truth, 
 cost me what it may. But you have already 
 had your revenge upon him, Anne, for he has 
 either perished among the savages or will re- 
 turn here as a dishonoured man. Again I say, 
 Robert is not and never has been worthy of 
 you." 
 
 " What right have you to say this to me ? " 
 asked Anne, in a low tone, too stunned to know 
 what she was saying. 
 
 " The right of a man who loves you, Anne," 
 answered Jean, quickly. "Every moment I 
 have been with you, these past months, has 
 shown me what a treasure my brother has cast 
 aside, and has made me eager to claim it as 
 my own. I love you, Anne, with an affection 
 which has never before been given to any but 
 to my Maker." 
 
 Anne was on her feet now, her eyes flashing 
 forth the hidden fires of indignation and scorn 
 which lay beneath. 
 
 " You love me ! " she cried, " you, a priest, 
 dare to insult me and your Order in the same 
 breath ! You oh ! I needed this last outrage 
 to make my misery complete ! " 
 
 " Stop, Anne ! you shall not revile me ! " 
 [279]
 
 ROBERT CAVEL1ER 
 
 replied Jean, fiercely. "Do you think that 
 because my heart is enshrouded by this cas- 
 sock, it ceases to beat ? Do you think a priest 
 an image of clay, without human sensibilities 
 or human passions? I grant you that these 
 feelings and the tenets of the Church are mutu- 
 ally opposed, but I gladly sacrifice the one that 
 I may indulge the other. It is not the priest 
 who offers himself to you ; it is the man ! " 
 
 Anne's contempt and humiliation had steadily 
 increased while Jean was speaking, and by the 
 time he finished she was wrought up almost 
 to a frenzy. 
 
 " It is the man, say you, Jean Cavelier ? Let 
 me tell you, sir, that, little as there is of the 
 priest concealed beneath those vestments of 
 the Church, there is yet less of manly attri- 
 butes. Love you ? I could as easily love a 
 reptile or a viper as you, with your false tongue 
 and traitorous heart. Get you gone, sir, and 
 remember that I believe that Robert lives, and 
 that he will return to answer this insult which 
 you have offered to him and to the woman he 
 loves. Go, and spare me the further humilia- 
 tion of realising that I have allowed you to be 
 with me day after day while you have been 
 planning out your cowardly plot. Get you 
 gone, sir, I say, and that quickly ! " 
 
 Jean Cavelier did not admire Anne's anger 
 [280]
 
 PRIEST THROWS OFF HIS CASSOCK 
 
 so unreservedly as he had done half an hour 
 before. His last interview with Robert con- 
 tained for him what he had believed to be the 
 climax of chagrin ; but this angry girl, strong 
 in her insulted womanhood, represented even 
 a deeper degree of mortification. 
 
 "Yes, I will go," he muttered rather than 
 replied, " I will go ; but this is not the end. 
 You are absolutely in my power, and Jean 
 Cavelier, even though you despise him, is not 
 a man to be so lightly dealt with ! " 
 
 Anne did not answer, but turning toward the 
 hospital she walked with unsteady step to her 
 room, where she fastened the door and threw 
 herself upon the bed, convulsed in an agony of 
 tears. 
 
 "Robert, oh, my Robert!" she sobbed, 
 " where are you now ? Have I not endured 
 enough without having this indignity heaped 
 upon me ? Oh, Robert, come back to me ! " 
 
 The sun set, and twilight deepened into dusk. 
 The stars came blinking out in the dark heaven. 
 Quiet settled over all. Slowly Anne roused 
 herself from her stupor and threw aside the 
 shutter of the window, refreshed by the cool 
 air which rushed upon her. Steadily she gazed 
 out into the darkness. Through the solemn still- 
 ness there came to her a voice out of the past. 
 She seemed to see a strong man's figure before 
 [281 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 her, whose devotion rang out full and clear with 
 every word : 
 
 " May I not think that far away perhaps 
 watching the same star you too are thinking 
 of me, and wishing for my safe return ? " 
 
 " Oh, Robert ! " Anne stretched out her arms 
 toward that distant star, "oh, Robert, I am 
 thinking of you, dear ; and God knows that I 
 wish for your safe return 1 " 
 
 [282]
 
 HTH THE ALTERED 
 
 condition which now came 
 over the daily routine of her 
 life, Anne was forced to plan 
 some change in her surround- 
 ings ; and her thoughts nat- 
 urally turned to Frontenac. 
 
 tt 
 
 Being with the sisters she was undoubtedly safe 
 from further persecution, in spite of Jean's 
 threat, but in a measure she seemed to be ac- 
 cepting his hospitality, since it was he who had 
 brought her to this present home. She could 
 endure this thought only with horror, and she 
 hastened to send word to the Governor regard- 
 ing her identity, beseeching his advice and pro- 
 tection. But even here she was again doomed 
 to disappointment, for Frontenac was absent in 
 Montreal making a tour of the colony, and 
 weeks must elapse before his return. 
 
 Anne therefore had only the inevitable to 
 accept, and she begged the Mother Superior 
 to allow her to become one of them while she 
 
 [283]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 remained in their midst. No questions were 
 asked concerning the abrupt termination of 
 Father Cavelier's daily calls. Being women, 
 they undoubtedly wondered at it ; being sisters 
 of the Hotel Dieu, they appeared not to notice 
 it. Anne had appealed to them no less than 
 they themselves had won a place in her heart ; 
 and they gladly welcomed the addition to their 
 numbers. 
 
 So it was that Mademoiselle de Courcelle, 
 maid of honour to the Princess Palatine in the 
 Old World, became Sister Anne of the Hotel 
 Dieu in the New ; and as time wore on, she 
 found herself much happier in her new position 
 than she had ever been at Versailles. The com- 
 panionship of those quiet, devoted women taught 
 her supreme confidence that her waiting would 
 not be in vain, and her daily duties relieved the 
 weary strain upon her. To and from the sick 
 and the dying she passed, rinding relief in the 
 fellowship of suffering, and hi the opportunity 
 of helping others to bear it more easily. Fre- 
 quently in her work she met Father Cavelier, 
 but no one would have known that he was not 
 an utter stranger to her. She had placed her- 
 self even farther from him than if she had taken 
 shelter in the Governor's chateau, for she was 
 constantly engaged in her work, and thus rarely 
 alone. 
 
 [ 284]
 
 FOILED BY THE SAVAGES 
 
 But Jean Cavelier had not forgotten his hu- 
 miliation. Anne represented the only object 
 whom, during his whole life, he had even thought 
 he loved ; and when the veil was torn aside so 
 suddenly, and he saw the disgust and loathing 
 with which the girl regarded him, his heart re- 
 ceived a blow for the first time. This height- 
 ened the resentment Jean felt toward Anne 
 because of his injured pride and self-esteem ; 
 and he pondered long over the next step to be 
 taken. Robert had passed beyond his reach, 
 and he therefore had a double revenge to visit 
 upon the head of the unsuspecting girl. His 
 Jesuit companions were quite content that their 
 antagonist had removed himself from their path ; 
 but Jean would have been better pleased to be 
 the instrument of his misfortunes, and to witness 
 his suffering while enduring the torture. 
 
 The bearing of Father Cavelier, however, dur- 
 ing this trying interval was perfection itself ; and 
 even Anne was deceived. They met, sometimes 
 daily, always as priest and nun, he labouring 
 with the penitent for his soul, she with the pa- 
 tient for his life. Jean could but admire the 
 self-control and unselfishness of the girl as he 
 met her thus ; Anne, however, could not recon- 
 cile Jean's apparent sincerity in his religious 
 work with the episode in the garden of the 
 Hotel Dieu, which she could not efface from 
 [285 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 her memory, try as she would. It was a strange 
 little drama being enacted, day by day, but the 
 man still held the leading role. In spite of her 
 experiences, Anne could only believe that Jean's 
 outburst was due to momentary impulsiveness, 
 and that he himself probably deeply regretted it. 
 Since he jnade no effort to force himself upon 
 her further, it was easier for her to be generous. 
 
 Anne was happy now, but her work never 
 drove from her heart the knowledge that she 
 was waiting for a realisation of her hopes. 
 Each day must bring nearer the time when 
 Robert would return to her. Still, no matter 
 how firmly one holds a belief, when the moment 
 of realisation finally comes, it is ever in the 
 nature of a surprise. She gave a sudden start, 
 therefore, when she went out from the Hotel 
 Dieu one morning, and found a rough-appear- 
 ing soldier waiting to speak with her in the 
 garden. 
 
 " You wished to see me ? " she asked, giving 
 no evidence of the excitement under which she 
 laboured. 
 
 " Yes, mistress ; I bring you a message, which 
 must be delivered in private." 
 
 The man motioned mysteriously toward the 
 farther end of the garden, and moved slowly 
 away in that direction. Anne followed him as 
 in a dream. At last her long vigil was to end, 
 
 [286]
 
 FOILED BY THE SAVAGES 
 
 and her patience was to receive its reward ! 
 She could feel this intuitively. No word was 
 spoken until the farther limits of the garden 
 were reached. 
 
 " You have come to me with a message from 
 Master Cavelier ? " Anne could endure the 
 suspense no longer. 
 
 " Yes, mistress ; he is even now just beyond 
 the bastion of Fort Frontenac, and he would 
 that you should come to him at once." 
 
 " So far away ! But why does he not come 
 to Quebec ? " 
 
 " He cannot, mistress - 
 
 " Because of his creditors, do you mean ? " 
 
 " Partly because of them, and partly because 
 he has been wounded." 
 
 " Wounded ! Robert wounded ! How can 
 I get to him ? " 
 
 " My canoe, in which I came, is at your ser- 
 vice, mistress." 
 
 " But 't is a long journey to Fort Frontenac." 
 
 " 'T is true, mistress ; but there is no way to 
 reach Master Cavelier other than to trust your- 
 self to me." 
 
 Anne knew not what to think. Fort Fronte- 
 nac was a hundred and twenty leagues away, 
 yet if Robert lay there wounded, delay might 
 prove fatal to him. As it was, the time neces- 
 sary for the journey would prove irksome 
 
 [287]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 enough. Yet the thought of so long a time in 
 the company of this man alone, whose very ap- 
 pearance was disquieting, filled her with alarm. 
 Ah 1 this and more passed rapidly through her 
 mind as she stood there ; then she answered 
 him firmly, with determination in her voice : 
 
 " I will go with you. Await me half an 
 hour, and we will undertake the journey. I 
 may trust you ? " 
 
 The man nodded assent, and Anne hastened 
 to the Hotel Dieu to gather together what few 
 things she might need during her absence, and 
 some medicines for use with Robert. In less 
 than the time appointed she returned to the 
 garden, and a few moments later the canoe 
 started upon its journey, with its bow pointed 
 toward Montreal. 
 
 Anne had made her decision and accepted 
 the situation hastily, but now there was no 
 turning back. As she sat in the canoe facing 
 the man paddling in the stern, she found ample 
 opportunity to study him. His face was not a 
 hard one, after all, though unquestionably weak. 
 He was roughly clad, but this was natural 
 enough after all these months of forest life. 
 And he had been with Robert ! That was a 
 sufficient claim upon her confidence. Surely 
 her lover would send no one to her in whom 
 he himself did not have perfect trust. 
 
 [288 ]
 
 FOILED BY THE SAVAGES 
 
 " Is Master Cavelier sorely wounded ? " she 
 asked at length, breaking the silence. 
 
 " Yes, mistress ; but not mortally, if he receive 
 prompt care." 
 
 " How came he to this spot you mention ? " 
 
 " His men bore him thither on a litter." 
 
 " You are one of his men ? " 
 
 " Yes, mistress ; I have been with him ever 
 since he left Quebec." 
 
 " What has so delayed him in his return ? " 
 
 "First of all, the Iroquois led him far into 
 the forest, and hi returning he passed through 
 many disasters, until we feared never to see 
 Quebec again." 
 
 " Has he been ill long ? " 
 
 Anne's questions came fast, as she strove to 
 understand the situation. 
 
 " A month and over, mistress ; 't is an old 
 wound, received many months ago. A few 
 weeks since it broke out afresh, and has near 
 carried him off." 
 
 Anne relapsed into silence. Anxiety re- 
 placed the excitement, and she feared Robert 
 might be more seriously ill than the messenger 
 would admit. Surely, after all these years, had 
 his strength permitted, he would have sent her 
 some written word or token. 
 
 The days passed uneventfully. Anne's guide 
 proved courteous and respectful, and answered 
 19 [ 289 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 her questions in so straightforward a manner 
 that her doubts vanished, and she forgot every- 
 thing except that each moment took her nearer 
 to her lover. 
 
 At last, after thirty weary days, the stone 
 bastions of Fort Frontenac loomed up before 
 them, and Anne's heart gave a great leap of 
 joy. Yet what might not have occurred dur- 
 ing the time which had elapsed since the mes- 
 senger left Robert's side ! 
 
 " Is he in the fort ? " asked Anne. 
 
 " Nay ; just beyond, in a shelter which his 
 men built before he went away." 
 
 They beached the canoe just below the fort, 
 and continued on foot until the stone walls be- 
 hind them faded from their sight, out beyond 
 the clearing, into the light underbrush that had 
 been left in felling the great trees which had 
 been required in the construction of the fort. 
 At last a small hut became visible, evidently 
 built to shelter the woodsmen when heavy 
 rain or snow overtook them at their work, 
 but long unused since the completion of the 
 fort. 
 
 " He is in there," said the man, pointing it 
 out to Anne, and coming to a standstill. 
 
 " Are you not going there with me ? " asked 
 Anne, unable to free her mind from its earlier 
 apprehensions. 
 
 [290]
 
 FOILED BY THE SAVAGES 
 
 " Nay, mistress ; my orders are to allow you 
 to enter there alone." 
 
 The girl hesitated a moment and then started 
 forward, for the agony of suspense was harder 
 to endure than the momentary suspicions, while 
 the messenger disappeared in the woods. The 
 short distance which remained was soon cov- 
 ered, and Anne paused before the half-open door, 
 her hand upon her bursting heart. Then she 
 pushed the door open and quietly entered. 
 
 " Robert, oh, Robert ! " she called softly. 
 
 The door closed behind her, and the heavy 
 bar fell into place. Anne started apprehen- 
 sively. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mistress Anne ! " 
 
 It was the suave voice of Jean Cavelier which 
 addressed her. 
 
 " What does this mean ? Where is Robert ? " 
 gasped Anne, her voice almost failing her. 
 
 " Where is Robert, ask you, fair mistress ? 
 Surely I am not my brother's keeper. And 
 what does this mean ? Your face tells me that 
 you have already answered that question for 
 yourself. You have fallen very gracefully into 
 the trap, and it is my turn now. I trust your 
 journey from Quebec was not too great an 
 effort?" 
 
 " You coward ! " Anne's voice had returned 
 to her, but she drew back, leaning against the 
 
 [291 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 wooden logs of the hut, grateful for the support 
 they gave her. 
 
 " Have your say, sweetheart," replied Jean, 
 tauntingly ; " it will avail you naught. I have 
 a score to pay which has waited long for settle- 
 ment, but now I feel secure that payment will 
 be made. Your precious Robert has seen fit, 
 on every possible occasion, to insult and revile 
 me ; and you yourself, with that same fair 
 mouth which I shall soon cover with caresses, 
 have scorned the honest love which I offered to 
 you. It is my turn now, Anne, and here where 
 no living soul can come to interrupt our ex- 
 change of mutual devotion, I intend to make 
 the most of it." 
 
 Anne shuddered and tried to draw back still 
 farther from him ; but Jean made no attempt 
 to approach her. 
 
 " Before you tell me of your affection," he 
 continued insultingly, " I have something else 
 to say to you, and you shall hear it now. My 
 brother Robert has been a thorn in my flesh 
 ever since he was a child. Our mother gave to 
 him, while she lived, a love which was never 
 once bestowed on me. Our father, had I not 
 offset it with imagined tales of Robert's mis- 
 conduct, would have cast me off in Robert's 
 favour. When once I succeeded in placing him 
 in the House of the Novices at Paris, however, 
 
 [292 ]
 
 FOILED BY THE SAVAGES 
 
 I had no further fears, as I supposed that he 
 was buried forever. By a humiliating trick, 
 however, the boy escaped the snare which had 
 been set for him, and disappeared I knew not 
 where. I sought him long but unavailingly, 
 until at length, quite by accident, I found him 
 at Quebec, grown to man's estate and holding 
 an important position in the colony. The child 
 whom I had sought to remove from the path of 
 mine own ambitions had outstripped me in the 
 race ! 
 
 " Then he went to France, and I sent mes- 
 sages to Paris which should have brought about 
 his ruin. Why they did not, the Devil alone 
 knows ; but he returned loaded with honours 
 and privileges, assuming a still higher post at 
 Quebec. He seemed a favourite of the fates, 
 while I, in whom ambition is stronger than the 
 love of life itself, plodded along in the same 
 monotonous paths which lead not to that glory 
 which I believed would come." 
 
 Anne was interested in spite of her fear. 
 The priest's words explained much that had not 
 been understood either by Robert or herself. 
 But Jean had not yet reached the end of his 
 narrative. 
 
 " Then he was sent against the Indians, 
 which meant the ruin of his seigniory. This 
 was the first sign I perceived that his star might 
 
 [ 293 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 be dimmed. Then his return was delayed, and 
 his death became assured. This placed you in 
 my power, and at last I saw the opportunity to 
 gratify my lifelong desire for revenge upon him 
 who had so incurred my hatred. You were to 
 be sacrificed to gratify that desire. 
 
 " And then, fool that I was, I grew to love 
 you. For the first time in my life I felt an af- 
 fection for some one other than myself, and so 
 great was my devotion that I was willing to sac- 
 rifice my chosen calling to it. But you scorned 
 that love, and reviled me even as Robert had 
 done. This was the last straw, Anne, and you 
 yourself are responsible for the result. I am a 
 priest, but my heart beats as strong as Robert's, 
 and the same hot blood runs in our veins. The 
 memory of your face that day, and the contempt 
 and disgust which I saw written upon it, will 
 never leave me ; but now I mean to have my 
 satisfaction. You shall love me now, Anne 
 Courcelle, whether you will or no. You may 
 have one choice. I know that you will keep a 
 promise. Tell me that you will be my wife, or, 
 by Heaven, I will have you without the Church ! 
 Which shall it be?" 
 
 Anne gazed at him long without replying. 
 She realised his power, and that all hope of 
 escape was vain. Jean took a step toward her, 
 but she held up her hand commandingly. 
 
 [294]
 
 FOILED BY THE SAVAGES 
 
 " Stop, Jean Cavelier, stop where you are ! 
 You have planned well, and your cunning does 
 you credit. I am in your power, as you say, 
 and I can quite understand that one who in the 
 past has regarded not the ties of son or brother, 
 and who has disgraced the cloth he wears, will 
 not hesitate to take advantage of my helpless- 
 ness. Your narrative needs but this ending to 
 make it complete in its cowardice and degrada- 
 tion. You ask my answer ? It is this. My heart 
 belongs to that brother whose relationship you 
 profane ; my soul belongs to God. These two 
 are beyond your reach. My body will be in 
 your power after life has left it, not before. 
 I despise you ; I loathe you. I marvel that so 
 miserable a creature can bear semblance to a 
 man ! " 
 
 Anne was leaning against the hut no longer, 
 but stood erect and strong, facing Jean with 
 fearless eye, contempt and scorn expressed in 
 every feature. Jean hesitated but a moment, 
 and then crossed to her side, where he quickly 
 pinioned her arms with his stronger ones, and 
 covered her face with kisses. 
 
 " So be it, my beloved," he cried coarsely ; 
 " I accept your answer and yourself, even with- 
 out the affection which I once hoped might be 
 mine. Are my caresses less sweet than Rob- 
 
 [295]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 ert's ? Does it not seem good again to feel a 
 man's strong arms about you ? " 
 
 Anne struggled in vain. The priest's grip 
 was like iron. 
 
 " O Robert ! O God ! " cried the girl, in des- 
 peration, " to you, my beloved on earth and in 
 Heaven, I commend myself ! " 
 
 Back and forth in the restricted space the 
 girl struggled as for her life, striving to escape 
 Jean's hateful caresses. As the two came in 
 front of the small window of the hut, Jean ut- 
 tered a cry, and suddenly released his victim 
 from his grasp. Amazed by this unexpected 
 respite, Anne was surprised to see the priest 
 gazing stealthily out into the forest with a look 
 of horror upon his face. Instinctively she 
 rushed to the door and tried to lift the heavy 
 bar which held it, little caring what had caused 
 the interruption so long as she was freed from 
 Jean's grasp. Before she succeeded, however, 
 the priest pushed her aside ; but she could see 
 that he had no further thought of her. 
 
 " Fool ! " he cried ; " do you court instant 
 death for us both ? " 
 
 " Death ? " Anne repeated mechanically. 
 
 " Yes, death ! Did you not see those Iro- 
 quois steal past in the woods ? They are in 
 war-dress, and that means an attack on the 
 
 [296]
 
 FOILED BY THE SAVAGES 
 
 settlement. My God ! we are trapped ! We 
 shall be caught between the savages and the 
 settlers ! What shall we do ? " 
 
 Anne looked at Jean in disgust, seeing the 
 expression of abject fear which settled upon his 
 ashen face. She had nothing to dread from 
 him now. His teeth chattered, and she could 
 see his knees tremble beneath his cassock. The 
 girl took a hasty survey of the situation from 
 the window. Another band of Indians came 
 into sight, and she watched them as they quietly 
 stole by into the forest in the direction of Mont- 
 real. Then she turned again to the pitiable 
 object behind her. 
 
 " A coward indeed ! " she said, rather of him 
 than to him. " There is but one thing to do, 
 and that is to reach Fort Frontenac before we 
 are discovered, and give the alarm. This is evi- 
 dently the advance of the attack, and they are 
 planning to surround the fort. Quick, we have 
 not a moment to lose ! " 
 
 Noiselessly the door was opened, and after 
 making sure that there were no Indians in sight, 
 Anne started for the fort. Jean followed be- 
 hind her for a little distance, and then without 
 a word broke into a run which soon left her far 
 behind. Even in this desperate plight Anne 
 could not resist the impulse to smile at the 
 [297]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 sight of the frightened priest scurrying along 
 with his thin legs, his cassock gathered up 
 about his waist. A few moments before she 
 had stood in deadly peril from him ; now he 
 was harmless enough ! 
 
 [298]
 
 CLAIMS-HIS-OWN 
 
 OTH JEAN AND 
 
 Anne reached the fort with- 
 out being observed, and as 
 soon as La Forest learned 
 the identity of his unex- 
 pected visitors, he welcomed 
 them gladly. There was 
 little time for conversation, as La Forest knew 
 what this threatened attack would mean, un- 
 prepared and ill-garrisoned as the settlement 
 was. He at once accepted Anne's conclusion 
 that the savages had selected the fort as the 
 first object of their attack, and he hastened to 
 make what preparations he could for the de- 
 fence. This done, he returned to the living- 
 room, where he had left Anne and Father 
 Cavelier. 
 
 The priest was still at the window, gazing 
 across the clearing, and watching for further 
 evidences of the dreaded foe. He had but 
 slightly recovered from his fright ; his face was 
 still deathly pale, and his hands twitched con- 
 [299]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 vulsively. Anne was sitting in one of the rude 
 chairs, too exhausted to do more than think, 
 but too happy in her escape from Jean to realise 
 fully the seriousness of the new danger which 
 was upon them. She greeted La Forest with 
 a faint smile when he entered, and Robert's 
 lieutenant at once drew up a chair beside her. 
 
 " I would that you had been here three years 
 since, Mistress Courcelle, when Master Cavelier 
 was present for a few days, seeking news of 
 you." 
 
 " Robert was here ! " exclaimed Anne, her 
 cheeks aglow and her fatigue forgotten. " Then 
 he is alive and will return to me ! " 
 
 " He was alive, and I trust he is now. Surely 
 no harder experiences can have come to him 
 than he had already passed through at that 
 time. Robert Cavelier knows no obstacles, 
 mistress, and naught but death itself can keep 
 him from coming back to you." 
 
 " I thank you for those words," replied Anne, 
 her voice choking. " I have believed it ever, 
 but until now I have received no sympathy in 
 my conviction." 
 
 ' I trust that I may be able to preserve you 
 against the time of his return," said La Forest, 
 seriously, his thoughts again turning upon the 
 Indians. " We are weakly garrisoned here, 
 and from what you tell me I judge that the 
 [ 300]
 
 Iroquois will make a determined effort to de- 
 stroy the fort." 
 
 " Why do we hear nothing from them ? " 
 inquired Anne. 
 
 " In all probability they will wait until to- 
 night, so that they may come upon us without 
 being observed. They will expect to catch us 
 unawares, but your timely warning is a point in 
 our favour." 
 
 The frugal supper was served as soon as dusk 
 began to fall, and then each member of the house- 
 hold was posted on guard. Just before La Forest 
 left Anne to take his position on the south bas- 
 tion, he approached her for a last word, holding 
 out to her a pistol which he drew from his belt. 
 
 " What is this for ? " she asked. 
 
 " Mistress Courcelle," answered La Forest, 
 solemnly, " I am doing what I think Robert 
 Cavelier would wish me to do. Keep that pis- 
 tol near at hand, and if the worst comes, do not 
 let yourself be taken alive. You understand ? 
 Good-bye ! " 
 
 " I understand," said Anne, taking the out- 
 stretched hand gratefully, "and I thank you." 
 
 The threatening storm broke soon after dark, 
 and the thunder and lightning added to the dis- 
 comfort of the men on guard. The rain came 
 down in torrents, and special precautions were 
 necessary to keep the powder from becoming 
 [301]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 useless. Hour after hour passed by with no 
 signs of the savages. At length, however, in a 
 flash of lightning, a guard upon the north bas- 
 tion discovered the forms of the Indians creep- 
 ing stealthily up to the walls, and the alarm 
 was given. 
 
 La Forest at once massed his men on the 
 north, leaving only enough to guard against 
 a counter attack from the other directions. 
 Quickly the cannon was swung into place, and 
 the men stood with muskets primed awaiting 
 the crisis. It was grim waiting in that darkness, 
 knowing that the Iroquois, with all their cunning, 
 were upon them, yet being unable to see even 
 a sign of the presence of the foe. 
 
 " Are you sure that you saw them, Ragen- 
 neau ? " asked La Forest. 
 
 The answer was given by a fiendish yell, 
 which came with a suddenness that chilled the 
 blood even of the most hardened soldier. The 
 Indians had massed, and were attempting to 
 rush the stockade, just beyond the wall. 
 
 " Quick ! touch the light 1 " commanded La 
 Forest, aiming the cannon in the direction from 
 which the noise came ; and by the cries which an- 
 swered the discharge he knew that the first shot 
 had done its work well. 
 
 Silence followed this sudden outburst, and 
 the garrison eagerly awaited the next move on 
 
 [302]
 
 THE PRIEST THE SUPPLIANT 
 
 the part of the Indians. The rain had ceased, 
 and the wind was rising. 
 
 " Thank God for that ! " said La Forest to 
 the soldier next him ; " there is a full moon to- 
 night, and this wind will blow away the clouds 
 so that we may watch these devils at their 
 work." 
 
 A musket-shot from the south bastion an- 
 nounced that the scene of battle had been 
 shifted, and the lieutenant quickly transferred 
 most of his force to the new point of attack. 
 A slight blaze in the near distance attracted 
 La Forest's attention. 
 
 " They have set fire to the grange," he said, 
 well satisfied ; " we shall not need to wait for 
 the moon." 
 
 The firing was intermittent, and the Indians 
 seemed to be planning some new method of 
 attack. Soon, however, the grange broke into 
 flames, and in the glare the fiendish crew could 
 be clearly seen, looking like demons, with their 
 faces daubed and smeared with brilliant colours, 
 their scalp-locks streaming in the wind, and their 
 muskets and tomahawks waving wildly in the 
 air. 
 
 Suddenly a cry was heard upon the south 
 bastion, which the soldiers had just deserted, 
 and again the fierce yell was heard. 
 
 " This is only a ruse ; the attack is on the 
 [303]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 south," cried La Forest, hastening back amid a 
 fusillade of bullets coming in both directions. 
 
 It was as the lieutenant surmised. The main 
 body of the Iroquois remained in their original 
 position, but they had sent a portion of their 
 force to the south, and had set fire to the 
 grange in order to divert the garrison from 
 their real purpose. 
 
 By the time La Forest regained his position, 
 six of his men had fallen and the stockade 
 itself was carried by the savages. The hideous 
 forms were directly beneath the walls now, and 
 they were placing ladders, which they found 
 outside, against the bastion. It was hand-to- 
 hand fighting at unequal odds, but the soldiers 
 withstood the attack with the desperation which 
 the knowledge that no mercy will be given 
 always brings. The Indians were suffering 
 heavy losses, but the proportion was against 
 the defenders. Perhaps fifty of the five hun- 
 dred Indians had fallen ; out of the twenty- 
 eight men at the fort twelve were dead or too 
 badly wounded to be of further service. 
 
 On they fought, with clubbed muskets now 
 that there was no time to reload ; but still 
 the Indians advanced. La Forest saw that it 
 meant a complete massacre to hold the position 
 longer. 
 
 " Back, men, to the house ! " he cried ; and 
 [304]
 
 THE PRIEST THE SUPPLIANT 
 
 together they fought their way to the heavy 
 door, which was opened to receive them and 
 then quickly closed and barred. Here they 
 could get a temporary respite. 
 
 " How many of us are left ? " asked La For- 
 est, glancing around him. Ten only remained. 
 
 While the battle was waging outside, Anne 
 anxiously awaited news of the conflict, remain- 
 ing in the living-room where La Forest had 
 left her. Jean had disappeared, and she was 
 alone. As the firing came nearer and nearer, 
 she knew that the Indians were gaining the 
 upper hand ; but she was unprepared for the 
 sudden return to the house, and at first sup- 
 posed that the savages had gained an entrance. 
 Firmly grasping the pistol which La Forest 
 had given her, she drew back against the wall', 
 awaiting developments. Suddenly the door was 
 flung open, and La Forest entered the room. 
 
 " Ah ! I am glad that naught has befallen 
 you," she exclaimed, running toward him. 
 
 " It is going badly," he answered gloomily. 
 " The devils have forced the stockade and 
 driven us to cover." 
 
 " How long can we hold out here ? " 
 
 "Perhaps an hour; not longer. To think 
 that you should have come to me for protec- 
 tion, and that I am unable to save you for him 
 whom I love better than life itself ! " 
 20 [ 305 ]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Anne placed her hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 " You have done you are doing all in your 
 power for him," she said quietly, " and I thank 
 you for it in his name as well as in my own." 
 
 La Forest took her hand in his, powder- 
 stained as it was, and raised it to his lips. 
 
 " If it must be so, I will die beside you. I 
 have always hoped that the opportunity might 
 come when I could give my life for his, but per- 
 haps it will serve him better if I place it at the 
 service of the woman he loves." 
 
 In the meanwhile the savages were trying 
 various expedients to gain an entrance to the 
 house. The stone walls were impenetrable, but 
 they attempted to force the doors and the win- 
 dows, and burning fagots were thrown upon the 
 roof. Suddenly a volley of musketry sounded 
 above the noise of the battering-rams. 
 
 " What was that ? " cried La Forest, spring- 
 ing to his feet. " Have the men gone out 
 again, against my orders?" 
 
 He rushed into the next room, where the sur- 
 vivors were gathered together, as astonished as 
 himself at the unexpected sound. The batter- 
 ing ceased, and the yells of the Indians came 
 clearly through the walls. Another sound of 
 musketry, and the savages could be heard in 
 hasty retreat. 
 
 " It is the Carignan regiment from Montreal ! " 
 [306]
 
 THE PRIEST THE SUPPLIANT 
 
 cried La Forest, joyfully, while the men hugged 
 each other in delirious excitement over the 
 unexpected relief. 
 
 " Thank God, thank God ! " murmured La 
 Forest, rushing to the door, and throwing it wide 
 open to welcome his saviours. 
 
 The little company was seen approaching, 
 and La Forest hastened forward to greet its 
 leader, who was in advance of his men. The 
 light of the torch fell full upon his face. 
 
 " La Forest ! " 
 
 " Robert Cavelier ! " 
 
 The voices rang out loud and clear as the two 
 men grasped each other's hands, while the rest 
 of the survivors gathered around them. 
 
 " You have timed your return well, Master 
 Cavelier. Not only do we rejoice over your 
 own safety, but you have rescued us from 
 destruction." 
 
 A rustle of skirts was heard behind them, and 
 a woman's figure glided by, straight to Robert's 
 arms. 
 
 " Robert, my Robert !. I knew that you 
 would come back to me ! " 
 
 " Anne, my beloved ! here at Fort Fronte- 
 nac ? Can I believe my senses ! After all 
 these years, my beloved, my beloved ! " 
 
 The others drew away from Robert and Anne, 
 [307]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 recognising the meaning of this reunion. As 
 they did so some one tried to rush by them, but 
 La Forest's strong arm threw him back, and he 
 fell in a heap at Robert's feet. 
 
 " Who is this ? " asked Robert, peering at the 
 figure on the ground. Anne answered the 
 question. 
 
 " It is your brother, Robert, who decoyed me 
 here to force me to marry him. He probably 
 did not care to face you after all he has said 
 and done." 
 
 Robert raised the priest to his feet and held 
 him at arm's length. The pent-up fury of a life- 
 time struggled to escape, and Jean knew well 
 what that look in his brother's eyes meant for 
 him. 
 
 " I am going to kill you, Jean, do you under- 
 stand ? " said Robert, in a measured tone, the 
 more fearful because of its forced restraint ; " I 
 am going to silence your lying tongue and cark- 
 ing voice forever. If you remember how to pray, 
 make your peace with God ! " 
 
 He flung the wretched figure to the ground, 
 and deliberately drew his pistol from his belt, 
 glancing at its priming. Jean, his face distorted 
 with fear, dragged himself to his brother's feet 
 and knelt before him, holding out beseeching 
 hands. 
 
 [308]
 
 THE PRIEST THE SUPPLIANT 
 
 "Robert my brother spare my life, I 
 pray you ! For the sake of our mother, who 
 bore us both, for the sake of God, and as you 
 yourself hope for forgiveness, do not murder 
 me!" 
 
 " 'T will be no murder, wretch ; 't will be an 
 execution. I care not for your prayers. I am 
 going to kill you, now ! " 
 
 " Robert ! " 
 
 It was Anne who spoke. She was very pale 
 as she stood there in the moonlight, with her 
 hand on Robert's pistol. 
 
 " Robert, however much this man may have 
 sinned against you, his conduct toward me has 
 been much more grievous. Yet I ask you, 
 for my sake, to spare his life. Let him go 
 whither he will, and let not our happiness be 
 stained by his blood. Will you do this for my 
 sake ? " 
 
 Robert looked long at the groveling figure 
 before him, and then turned to Anne. 
 
 " For your sake ? " He repeated her words 
 slowly after her, " for your sake ? Yes ; for 
 your sake I would do anything ! " 
 
 Robert folded Anne in his arms, and together 
 
 they watched Jean Cavelier steal off into the 
 
 night. Anne felt the load lifted from her heart, 
 
 and she looked up into Robert's face with a 
 
 [309]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 smile of contentment which seemed to turn 
 the night into day. 
 
 Perhaps it was well that it was the moon 
 which was shining upon the realisation of their 
 hopes. The sunlight would have been too 
 bright a glare after the long darkness. 
 
 [310]
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 HE SECRETS OF THE 
 
 primeval forest had been un- 
 folded, and the Great West 
 had passed from the unknown 
 to the known. The banner 
 of France floated proudly in 
 the air where the Sieur de 
 La Salle had planted it at the mouth of the 
 Mississippi until plucked down by some roving 
 band of Indians, who feared not that the stern 
 hand of Louis the Grand would reach out into 
 the wilderness to rebuke their sacrilege. The 
 explorer's self-imposed task was brought to a 
 successful completion, and those eyes, whose 
 longing to gaze upon the mythical waters had 
 been gratified, were now content to look with 
 even greater satisfaction into the face of the 
 fair maiden before him. Happiness, greatest of 
 blessings, contentment, serene and unalloyed, 
 entered into the hearts of both. The sacrifice 
 was ended, and the reward was great. 
 [311]
 
 ROBERT CAVELIER 
 
 Could the curtain which veils the future have 
 been drawn aside at that moment would it have 
 destroyed all the joy that the present contained ? 
 Could those eyes, which were fastened each on 
 the dear object before it, have peered through 
 the mist, they would have seen the vain struggle 
 of the Jesuits against the power of the Iroquois, 
 who all unknowingly were the instruments of 
 Liberty and Enlightenment against Error and 
 Absolutism. They would have seen the recall 
 of Frontenac, which sounded the knell of the 
 hope of France to hold the New World against 
 the growing strength of England. They would 
 have seen the noble labours and fearless sacrifices 
 of these untiring ecclesiastical pioneers come to 
 naught because of the ignorance and bigotry 
 and fanaticism which held in check and over- 
 powered those finer qualities which later ac- 
 complished so much of good in other fields. 
 They would have seen, after five short years of 
 perfect happiness, assassination for one of the 
 two standing in the moonlight, and for the 
 other a life's devotion among the sisters of 
 the Hotel Dieu at Quebec. 
 
 No one can doubt that such prescience would 
 have been accompanied by a broadness of 
 nature which would have rejoiced at personal 
 effacement in the knowledge that his work had 
 
 [312 ]
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 contributed toward the grandeur of the final 
 result. Such a character as that of Robert 
 Cavelier de La Salle belongs not to any time 
 or age, but takes its place among those most 
 cherished in the hearts of men. 
 
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 ERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
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