The False Chevalier Part 2

A triumphant, hard expression came over Boniface's visage. He looked up at his guest, straightened himself, turned his back, and went into the house.

"What," he muttered, "I, the entertainer of counts of twenty quarterings and the neighbour of a king--am I to have a plebeian in my house so peasant that he ignores the topic of _all_ society? He shall feel that he does not impose on Fontainebleau."

Germain's apartment, situated in front of the house, consisted of two rooms fitted up with some elegance, and both looking out upon the market-place and church. He was now told that these quarters were engaged by "persons of quality to whom Monsieur would doubtless give place in the usual manner." He submitted without protest, and accepted uncomplainingly the inferior chamber a.s.signed to him on the courtyard in the rear.

The little town shortly began to fill with liveliness and tradesmen. A fine carriage drove up before the inn, its horses ridden by postillions, and followed by two mounted grooms. Three young n.o.blemen, brothers, of an exceedingly handsome type, alighted. The keeper of the "Holy Ghost"

and his two rows of servants grovelled before them in a body and conducted them to the best suites within, including that taken from Germain.

It was next morning that the latter met de Bailleul.

His host now placed the final insult upon him. At dinner he motioned him roughly to sit at the table of the rustics.

Germain refused; he was paying for better.

The landlord angrily resisted. The Canadian, now aroused, for he saw at last the intention to slight him, stopped, laid his hand significantly on the hilt of his sword, and looked at the man. That motion in those days had but one meaning. He was let alone.

Within an hour the coach of the Chevalier drove in for him and his baggage. The sycophant recognised the arms on the panel and collapsed.

Yet that hour's reflection on the innkeeper's conduct woke Lecour to the power of rank in old Europe.

CHAPTER IV

THE CASTLE OF QUIET WATERS

Having added to his toilet the special elegance of powdering his hair, arrayed himself in his finest flowered waistcoat, and critically disposed his laces, Germain took seat in de Bailleul's coach and was driven away.

As the horses flew along another new feeling came to him. The distinction of a familiar visit with a real "great lord" elated him as _debutantes_ are elated by their first ball. He was no sn.o.b, only a very natural young man entering life. He dreamt that he was transferred from the ign.o.ble cla.s.s to the n.o.ble, and in the fancy felt himself lifted to some inconceivable level above the people who pa.s.sed by. Half a dozen peasants, bronzed and sweaty and trudging in a group, meeting him, took off their hats. One of them said in his hearing: "Baptiste, there is one of the white-wigs."

The carriage rolled through the forest, then out into the open country, and shortly after turned under a stately gate of gilded ironwork, and the grounds of Eaux Tranquilles were entered. The chateau was a mansion of smooth, light sandstone, having four towers at the corners. A turreted side-wing, bridging over water, united it with a more ancient castle which stood, walled in white and capped in black, in the midst of a small lake. In front were gardens; in rear a terrace, and below it a lawn bordered on one side by the lake, on the opposite sh.o.r.e of which a park of poplars, birches, and elms extended, producing, by shading the water, a serenity which doubtless had given the estate its name.

The last light of afternoon, that most beautiful of all lights, fell upon the towers, and long shadows swept across the gardens.

Lecour thought it glorious.

In a few moments he and his host were seated at tea. The lofty window-doors stood open to let in the June zephyrs. With the two wigged and liveried servants attending, the scene to Lecour seemed the acting of a beautiful charade, the introduction to an unreal existence.

De Bailleul noted the delicacy of his hand and the tastefulness of his violet-tinted coat.

"Let us talk of Canada," said he. "I have no friends yet to offer you, though you shall have some young dogs like yourself very soon. What do you like?--riding, hunting, a quiet minuet on the terrace, eh? Ah me, the coquettes of Quebec! I well remember them."

Germain expressed grat.i.tude for the amus.e.m.e.nts offered.

"I will tell you why I love Canada," continued the Chevalier. "It was there that I pa.s.sed my military youth. Have you ever eaten Indian bean-cake?"

"I have tasted it."

"And that was enough, eh? But I have lived on it for eight weeks in an Iroquois village. Yes, eight weeks bean-cake was the most horrible of my experiences, except when I saw the hand of an unfortunate Potawatomie turn up in an Abenaki broth-pot. Do you remember General Montcalm?"

"I was not born in his time."

"I saw him die, and heard him refuse to let the women of Quebec weep for him. Montcalm, sir, was the last hero of France. They glorify Lafayette, but between ourselves Lafayette is more the drum-major than the general."

"The lost children of France do not forget the defender of Quebec."

"But who now pa.s.ses from there to here? The _n.o.blesse_ of the colony sank embracing each other on the luckless ship _Auguste_ in which they fled to France. Alas, my friends so brave and so lovely! Ah, Varennes and La Verandrye, and you my poor Lady de Meziere! Senneville also, my dearest friend," he murmured, speaking to the spirits. "La Corne alone escaped. Pardon me, Monsieur. Who is now Seigneur of Berthier?"

"Captain Cuthbert."

"In place of the Courthillaux! And of Repentigny?"

"General Christie."

"In place of Le Gardeurs! And of Longueuil?"

"Captain Grant."

"In the stead of the Le Moynes!"

"He married one of them and calls himself Baron de Longueuil."

"An Englishman Baron of Longueuil! Shades of Le Moyne d'Iberville! And what of La Corne, who used to put on warpaint and dance around the council fires waving a tomahawk against the English?"

"Good old Colonel La Corne! He is now a loyal subject of the king of Great Britain, and very distinguished in the late American war."

"My G.o.d, what impossibilities within thirty years!"

Lecour, finding that the Chevalier was eager for a general account of all Canadian beaux and dames, did his best to respond. De Bailleul's cup ran over.

"Do you know," he exclaimed, "I have never met any people like the Canadians. When Montcalm was general, I commanded a certain detachment towards Lake Champlain. Through how many leagues of forest, over how many cedar swamps and rocky hills, across how many icy torrents did my bronzed woodmen not toil! We made beds from boughs of spruce, our walls were the forest, our roofs were the skies. Many a day we fasted the twenty-four hours. More than once we ate our moca.s.sins. 'Twas all for France. Ah, if our young men at Versailles had that to do, they would have to be different persons. I have no respect for these warriors of hair-powder and lace, who wear stays and learn to march from the dancing-master. Give me a people bred in the lap of wild nature and among whom the paths to reputation are courage and intelligence! Give me----"

Lecour saw that the Canada of the good man was an idealised picture, but he admired his affection and asked permission to drink his health. They touched gla.s.ses.

"Tell me about your own people, my young friend. Who is your father?"

"A country merchant, sir."

"A well-to-do one, then, I judge."

"He has prospered so well as to be reputed rich for a colony."

"And you live at St. Elphege? In my time it was only a carrying-place for canoes, to avoid the rapid."

"My father is the founder of the little place. He is known throughout our Province as 'The Merchant of St. Elphege.'"

"An honourable t.i.tle, based on an honourable record no doubt. Would that we rightly respected trade in France. That is one of the nation's weaknesses. You have a mother and brothers?"