The Flamingo Feather Part 17

A triumphal procession and fetes of various kinds had been arranged to give honor to the victors; but Rene de Veaux was too anxious to reach his uncle and be the first to take to him the tidings of his own safe return, to care for these things. So he eluded those who would have made a hero of him, and, travelling by post, made all speed towards Paris.

In the same little unpretentious dwelling in which he had first greeted his nephew years before, the old soldier, Rene de Laudonniere, sat one chill autumn evening, musing beside a small fire. His surroundings were poor, and his fine face was haggard and careworn. As he sat, in his loneliness, his thoughts were in the New World, and with the brave lad whom he had lost there.

His musings were interrupted by the entrance of an old servant, who was none other than that Francois who served the family of De Veaux for so many years, and who had now joined his poor fortunes with those of the old chevalier. As he quietly opened the door, he announced:

"There is one without who would have speech with thee, but he refuses to give his name."

"What manner of person is he?"

"As well as I may judge, he is young, tall, dark, and has the air of being from foreign parts."

"Well, show him in. His presence will at least divert my mind from sorrowful thoughts."

With a quick, firm tread, a young man entered the room and stood for a moment silently regarding Laudonniere. The light from the fire was not sufficient to disclose his features, and the other had no suspicion of who he was. At the same time he felt strangely moved by the young man's presence, and also remained silent, waiting for him to speak.

"Uncle."

The old man started at the word, and leaned eagerly forward.

"Uncle, dost thou not know thy Rene?"

"My Rene! Rene de Veaux? He is dead in the New World," cried Laudonniere, trembling with excitement.

"No, my uncle! my father! thy Rene is not dead in the New World. He is alive in the Old World, and has come to be thy comfort and support from this time forth."

In all France there was not such a happy household as that modest dwelling contained that night. Old Francois was called in to share the joy of his master, and until daylight did the two old men sit and listen with breathless interest to the strange history of him who had come back to them as one risen from the grave. Every now and then they rose to embrace him, and then resumed their seats, only to devour him with their eyes and ply him with questions.

He too had questions to ask, and now learned for the first time of his uncle's escape to the two small ships left by Admiral Ribault. With Laudonniere had also escaped the good Le Moyne and Simon the armorer.

They had waited for him until forced to give over all hope of ever seeing him again, and had then sailed sadly away.

When Rene produced the little iron casket that he had recovered from its hiding-place within the tunnel, Laudonniere joyfully seized it. He cried out that it contained that which would restore him to honor and wealth, and blessed his nephew for thus bringing him that which was more precious than life itself.

The great riches that Rene had brought with him from the New World enabled him to restore to all its former glory the old chateau in which he was born, and which, of all places on earth, he held most dear.

Here, for many years, he dwelt in happiness and contentment. At times he would be seized with a great longing to revisit the beautiful land in that far-away country beyond the western sea where lived the Alachuas. At such times he would close his eyes and fancy that he could again hear their musical voices calling him "Ta-lah-lo-ko," their white chief.

That he did revisit them, at least once before he died, is proved by existing ma.n.u.script; but he is not supposed ever to have resumed his position as their chief.

For many generations his descendants preserved among their most valued treasures, and may possibly retain even to this day, the exquisitely embroidered costume of an Indian chieftain. To it was attached, by a golden chain and pin, a curious scarlet feather, which was supposed to be that of a flamingo.

THE END