The Hunters of the Hills Part 27

De Mezy had left them, but de Courcelles was near, and he saw that they were not neglected. Robert was introduced to officers and powerful civilians and the youngest and handsomest of the ladies, whose freedom of language surprised him, but whose wit, which played about everything, pleased a mind peculiarly sensitive to the charm of light and brilliant talk.

He had never before been in such an a.s.sembly, one that contained so much of rank and experience in the great world. Surrounded by all that he loved best, the people, the lights, the colors, and the antic.i.p.ation of what was to come, the Intendant shone. One forgot his pimply face and portly figure in the geniality that was not a.s.sumed, and the ease of his manners. He spoke to Robert more than once, asked him many questions about Albany and New York, and referred incidentally, too, to the Iroquois, but it was all light, as if he were asking them because of interest in his guest, or merely to make conversation.

The hues of everything gradually grew brighter and more brilliant to Robert. The music from the next room steeped his senses, and he began to feel the intoxication of which Willet had warned him. Many of the guests were of the n.o.blest families of France, young officers who had come to Quebec, where it was reported promotion was rapid and sure, or where younger sons, with the aid of such powerful men as Bigot and Cadet, could make fortunes out of the customs or in the furnishing of supplies to the government. Robert found himself talking much, his gift of speech responding readily to the call. He answered their jests with a jest, their quips with a quip, and when they were serious so was he. He felt that while there may have been an undercurrent of hostility when he entered the palace it had all disappeared now, and he was a favorite, or at least they took a friendly interest in him, because he was a new type and they did not think him brusque and rude, as the French believed all Bostonnais to be.

And through this picturesque throng stalked the two Indians, Tayoga and Tandakora. The Ojibway wore a feather headdress, and a scarlet blanket of richest texture was draped around his body, its hem meeting his finely tanned deerskin leggings, while his feet were encased in beaded moccasins. Nevertheless he looked, in those surroundings, which belonged so thoroughly to an exotic civilization, more gigantic and savage than ever. Robert was well aware that Bigot had brought him there for a political purpose, to placate and win the western tribes, and to impress him with the power and dignity of France. But whatever he may have felt, the Ojibway, towering half a head above the tallest white man, save Willet, was grim and lowering. His left arm lay in a fold of his blanket, and, as he held it stiffly, Robert knew that his wound was yet far from healed. He and Tayoga were careful to keep away from each other, the Onondaga because he was a guest and was aware of the white man's amenities, and the Ojibway because he knew it was not the time and place for his purpose.

They went in to dinner presently and the table of Francois Bigot was splendid as became the powerful Intendant of New France, who had plenty of money, who was lavish with it and who, when it was spent, knew where to obtain more with ease and in abundance. Forty guests sat down, and the linen, the silver and the china were worthy of the King's palace at Versailles. A lady was on Robert's right and Colonel de Courcelles was on his left. Willet and Tayoga were farther down on his own side of the table, and he could not see them, unless he leaned forward, which he was too well mannered to do. Bigot sat at the foot of the table and at its head was Madame Pean, a native of Canada, born Mademoiselle Desmeloizes, young, handsome and uncommonly vivacious, dressed gorgeously in the latest Parisian style, and, as Robert put it to himself, coruscating with talk and smiles.

The dinner progressed amid a great loosening of tongues and much wit.

The perfume from the flowers on the table and the continuous playing of the band made the air heavier and more intoxicating. It seemed to Robert that if these people had any cares they had dismissed them all for the time. Their capacity for pleasure, for s.n.a.t.c.hing at the incense of the fleeting moment, amazed him. War might be coming, but tonight there was no thought of it.

Bigot toasted the two Bostonnais and the young Iroquois chief who were his guests in a flowery speech and Robert responded. When he rose to his feet he felt a moment of dizziness, because he was so young, and because he felt so many eyes upon him. But the gift of speech came to his aid--he was not the golden-mouthed for nothing. The heavy sweet odor of the roses was in his nostrils, inspiring him to liquid words, and everything glittered before him.

He had the most friendly feeling for all in the room except Tandakora, and a new thought coming into his mind he spoke it aloud. He was, perhaps, in advance of his time, but he told them that New France and the British colonies could dwell in peace, side by side. Why should they quarrel? America was vast. British and French were almost lost in its forests. France and England together could be stowed away in the region about the Great Lakes and the shades of the wilderness would encompa.s.s them both. The French and British were great races, it was useless to compare them and undertake to say which was the greater, because each was great in its own way, and each excelled in its own particulars, but the two combined were the sum of manly virtues and strength. What the British lacked the French supplied, and what the French lacked the British supplied. Together they could rule the world and spread enlightenment.

He sat down and the applause was great and hearty, because he had spoken with fervor and well. His head was singing, and he was confused a little, after an effort that had induced emotion. Moreover, the band had begun to play again some swaying, lilting dance tune, and his pulses beat to its measure. But he did lean forward, in spite of his manners, and caught Willet's approving look, for which he was very glad. He received the compliments of the lady on his right and of de Courcelles, then the band ceased presently and he became conscious that Tayoga was speaking. He had not heard Bigot call upon him, but that he had called was evident.

Tayoga stood up, tall, calm and dignified. He too had the oratorical power which was afterward displayed so signally by the Seneca who was first called by his own people Otetiani and was later known as Sagoyewatha, but who was known to the white men as Red Jacket.

"I speak to you not as a Frenchman nor as an Englishman," said Tayoga, "but as a warrior of the clan of the Bear of the nation Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee. Most of this land belonged to our fathers before ever Englishmen or Frenchmen crossed the great water and put foot upon these sh.o.r.es. Where you sit now was Stadacona, the village of our brother race, the Mohawks. Frenchmen or Englishmen may make war upon one another, or they may make peace with one another, but the Hodenosaunee cannot be forgotten. There are many beautiful rivers and lakes and forests to the south and west, but they do not belong to either Onontio or Corlear. The laws of the fifty sachems who sit in council in the vale of Onondaga run there, and those who leave them out, be they French or English, reckon ill. There was a time when Frontenac came raiding their villages, burning and slaying, but we did not know the use of firearms then. Now we do know their use and have them, and in battle we can meet the white man on equal terms, be he English or French. I have been to the white man's school and I have learned that there are other great continents beyond the sea. I do not know what may happen in them, nor does it matter, but in this vast continent which you call America the wars and treaties of the English and the French are alike unavailing, unless they consider the wishes of the Hodenosaunee."

He spoke in a manner inexpressibly haughty, and when he had finished he swept the table from end to end with his challenging glance, then he sat down amid a deep silence. But they were French. They understood that he had tossed a glove among them, their quick minds saw that the challenge was intended not alone for them, but for the English as well, unless the rights of the Hodenosaunee were respected, and such a speech at such a time appealed to their gallant instincts. After a moment or two of silence the applause burst forth in a storm.

"'Twas a fair warning," said de Courcelles in Robert's ear, "and 'twas meant for us both."

It was on Robert's tongue to reply that the English were included for the sake of courtesy, as they were the friends of the Hodenosaunee and always kept faith with them, but second thought stopped the words on his lips. Then the band began again, playing a warm song of the south from the Florentine opera, and the talk increased. It seemed to Robert that everybody spoke at once, and his senses were again steeped in the music and the perfumed air, and the sound of so many voices. Presently he realized that some one across the table was speaking to him.

"The Onondaga said bold words in behalf of his league, but can he prove them true?" the voice was saying.

There was something provocative in his tone, and Robert looked closely at the speaker. He saw a tall man of at least forty-five, thin but obviously very powerful and agile. Robert noticed that his wrists were thick like his own and that his fingers were long and flexible. His face was freckled, his nose large and curved, giving to his face an uncommonly fierce appearance, and his eyes were black and set close together. It was a strong countenance and, when Robert looked at him, the black brows were drawn together in a frown. His words undoubtedly had a challenge in them, and the youth replied:

"When Tayoga speaks he speaks from his head as well as his heart, and I who am his sworn brother, although we are of different races, know that he doesn't boast when he refers to the power of the Hodenosaunee."

"And may it not be possible, sir, that you have been deceived by your friendship?"

Robert looked at him in surprise. The man's manner was pointed as if he were making an issue, and so he did not answer just then, but de Courcelles by his side leaned forward a little and said:

"Perhaps, Mr. Lennox, you have not yet been introduced formally to the chevalier, Chevalier Pierre Boucher, who has been only a year from Paris, but who is already a comrade good and true."

"No, I don't think I've been deceived," replied Robert, keeping his temper, and bowing to the introduction. "The Hodenosaunee, better known to you as the Iroquois, are a very powerful league, as many of the villages of Canada can tell."

The man's face darkened.

"Is it wise," he asked, "to remind us of the ferocious deeds the Iroquois have done upon us,"

But de Courcelles intervened.

"Peace! Peace, chevalier!" he said in a good-humored tone. "Mr. Lennox meant no innuendo. He merely stated a fact to prove a contention."

The chevalier subsided into silence, but Robert saw a significant look pa.s.s between them, and instantly he became keen and watchful. What did it mean? Willet's warning words came back to him. The more he studied Boucher the less he liked him. With his thin face, and great hooked nose, and long, bony fingers like talons, he reminded him of some great bird of prey. He noticed also that while the others were drinking wine, although he himself did not, the chevalier was the only one within his view who also abstained.

The dinner was long. One or two of the ladies sang to the music, another danced, and then de Galisonniere, in a full, round tenor voice, sang "The Bridge of Avignon."

"Hier sur le pont d'Avignon J'ai oui chanter la belle Lon, la, J'ai oui chanter la belle, Elle chantait d'un ton si doux Comme une demoiselle Lon, la, Comme une demoiselle."

It was singularly appealing, and for a moment tears came to the eyes of all those who were born in France. They saw open fields, stone fences, and the heavy grapes hanging in the vineyards, instead of the huge rivers, the vast lakes and the mighty wilderness that curved almost to their feet. But it was only for a moment. This was Quebec, the seat of the French power in America, and they were in the Intendant's palace, the very core and heart of it. The laughter that had been hushed for a thoughtful instant or two came back in full tide, and once more the Chevalier Pierre Boucher spoke to Robert.

"The songs of our France are beautiful," he said. "None other have in them so much of poetry and haunting lament."

The youth detected as before the challenging under note in a remark that otherwise would have seemed irrelevant, and an angry contradiction leaped swiftly to his lips, but with the recollection of Willet's warning look he restrained himself again.

"France has many beautiful things," he replied quietly.

"Well spoken, Mr. Lennox! A compliment to us from one of another race is worth having," said de Courcelles. But Robert thought he saw that significant look pa.s.s for a second time between de Courcelles and Boucher. The long dinner drew to its close and the invited guests pa.s.sed into the private ballroom, where the band began to play dance music. In the other ballroom, the one intended for the general public, the people were dancing already, and another band was playing.

Now Bigot was in his element, swelling with importance and good humor, easy, graceful, jesting with men and women, wishing the world well, knowing that he could milk from the royal treasury the money he was spending tonight, and troubled by no twinges of conscience. Cadet hovered near his powerful partner and Pean, Maurin, p.e.n.i.sseault and Corp.r.o.n were not far away. Robert looked with interest at the ballroom which was decorated gorgeously. The balcony was filled already with spectators who would watch the lords and ladies dance. There was no restraint. No Father Drouillard was present to give rebuke and all the _honnetes gens_ were absent, unless a few young officers like de Galisonniere, who sympathized with them, be excepted.

They began to dance to light, tripping music, and to Robert all the women seemed beautiful and graceful now, and all the men gay and gallant. He could dance the latest dances himself, and meant to do so soon, but for the present he would wait, standing by the wall and looking on. Willet came to him, and evidently intended to whisper something, but de Courcelles, by the youth's side, intervened laughingly.

"No secrets, Mr. Willet," he said. "No grave and serious matters can be discussed at the Intendant's ball. It is one of our rules that when we work we work and when we play we play. It is a useful lesson which you Bostonnais should learn."

Then Jumonville came and began to talk to the hunter in such direct fashion that he was compelled to respond, and presently he was drawn away, leaving Robert with de Courcelles.

"You at least dance, do you not?" asked de Courcelles.

"Yes," replied Robert, "I learned it at Albany."

"Shall I get you a partner?"

"In a little while, if you will be so good, Colonel de Courcelles, but just now I'd rather see the others dancing. A most brilliant a.s.semblage.

I never beheld its like before."

"Brilliant for Quebec," said a voice at his elbow, "but you should go to Paris, the very heart and center of the world, to see great pleasure and great splendor in the happiest combination."

It was the grim and freckle-faced Boucher, and again Robert detected that challenging under note in his voice. In spite of himself his blood grew hot.

"I don't know much about Paris," he said. "I've never been there, although I hope to go some day, but Quebec affords both pleasure and splendor in high degree tonight."

"You don't mean to say that Quebec, much as we French have labored to build it up here in the New World, can compare with Paris?"

Robert stared at him in astonishment. Both manner and tone were now certainly aggressive, and as far as he could see aggressive about nothing. Why should anyone raise an issue between Quebec and Paris, and above all at such a time, there at Bigot's ball? He refused to be drawn into a controversy, and shrugging his shoulders a little, he turned away without an answer. He heard Boucher's voice raised again, but de Courcelles laughingly waved him down.

"Come! come, my Pierre," he said. "You're too ready to suspect that someone is casting aspersions upon that beloved Paris of ours. Perhaps you and I shall have the pleasure of showing the great city to Mr.

Lennox some day."

He hooked his hand in Robert's arm and drew him away.

"Don't mind Boucher," he said. "He has a certain brusqueness of manner at times, although he is a good soul. He can't bear for anyone to suggest that another city, even one of our own, could possibly rival Paris in any particular. It's his pet devotion, and we won't disturb him in it. There's your friend, Tayoga, standing by the wall with his arms folded across his chest. What a splendid savage!"