The Young Seigneur Part 30

CHAPTER XL.

HAVILAND REFUSES

"n.o.bleness still makes us proud"

--FREDERICK GEORGE SCOTT

The election was Haviland's.

A great crowd gathered into Dormilliere at the close of that long day, thickening and pouring in from the country around, and arriving by boats across the river, to hear the returns: and as Zotique read them in triumph from a chair at the door of the Circuit Court, and the issue, at first breathlessly uncertain, finally appeared, the cheering became frantic. Chamilly himself came out to them, an incomprehensible, determined aspect on his face, and amid deafening hurrahs, was seized and hurried on their shoulders across the square to the crier's rostrum, where he stood up before them.

And then and there took place the most unheard of incident, the most remarkable outcome of Haviland's lofty character, of which there as yet was record.

His voice can be heard distinct and clear over a perfect hush. What does he say? tell me,--have we really caught it correctly? Fact unique in political history; _he was refusing the election on account of the frauds_!

"Grandmoulin,"--was Picault's subsequent remark, "The young fool has courage. What a deep game he is playing. I tell you he has more talent than the whole of our side together except yourself--curse him."

"It demonstrates the unpractically of his methods!" said the burly Montreal politician to Zotique, with self-satisfied disgust.

"No," returned Zotique, firmly, "If we had followed his methods it would have been far better. But nothing can make up for lack of intelligence: _Sacre bleu_. I ought to have had a better head than to leave these people to such as Cuiller and Benoit!"

Chamilly addressed firm words to the disappointed electorate: "I seek not my own cause, friends. It is yours in which I do this thing and do you, too, give all for country's honor. Lose not heart. Work on, like iron figures, receiving blows without feeling them. Be we young in our strength and hope, as Truth our mistress is perennial. Accept from me who according to the rule of faint hearts ought to be most crushed by our failure, the motto, "_Encouraged_ by disaster!"

CHAPTER XLI.

FIAT JUSt.i.tIA

"I wonder at you!--I wonder at you!" exclaimed Chrysler, pacing the drawing-room of the Manor-house, to his friend, "What will be the result of it?"

"Cher Monsieur," Haviland replied. "I have done my duty and what have I to do with events? What is Dormilliere county and a year or two of the consequences of this election? I do not live in them or of them."

The face of the far-seeing G.o.d himself, whose statue stood once more near, could scarcely show less regret than the easy, indomitable countenance of Chamilly; yet that his nerves had been strained to a severe pitch, lines of exhaustion upon it clearly told, and his restless, reckless movements from one spot and position to another made his friend anxious. A raw wind storm had risen quickly from the east and whistled without. He advanced to the window and threw both its curtains wide apart, revealing under an obscured s.n.a.t.c.h of struggling moonlight, the heavens covered with rapid-moving clouds, and the poplars opposite bending their vague shapes beneath the wind,--the beginning of one of those storms which come up from the Gulf, and overrun the whole region for days.

"I should like to be on the River now," he remarked exultingly. Madame entered at the moment and heard him.

"Be quiet, Chamilly," chided the Seigneuresse.

"Alors, Alors," he said impatiently, as if casting about for something active to do, and left the room.

"Madame de Bois-Hebert," Chrysler said, "have you news from Mademoiselle Josephte?"

"That young person," replied she, "has descended to the plane of her condition: I have no further interest in her."

But the devout lady sighed.

The Gulf storm lowered steadily and disagreeably all next day and the visitor saw nothing of Chamilly, who kept in his room until the evening.

But there was one excitement which occupied everyone else's attention:

"Who do you think struck Francois?" Chrysler said to Zotique at the Circuit Court House.

"The Bonhomme has tracked Spoon through every bush and bay on the coast, and has caught him getting aboard the steamboat at Pet.i.te Argentenaye,"

the Registrar replied.

A crowd came down the road. All the crowd were excited. They ran about a long waggon in which were on the first seat, the Honorable and Bonhomme; on the second a constable and prisoner handcuffed. Spoon, who cowered like a captured wild beast ready to whine with fright, was clapped into a private room and a stray Bleu flew off for Libergent to act as advocate. The crowd, soon uncomfortably larger, diverted itself by taking oratorical views of his guilt or innocence: but the prevailing opinion of the prisoner personally was expressed by one in an unfastidious proverb: "Grosse crache, grosse canaille."

Libergent, accompanied by De Bleury, came over at once, for he had a good deal at stake in seeing that Spoon's trial should lead to no unpleasant revelations or consequences to the party. Closeted not more than half an hour he came out and said publicly to l'Honorable, who took seat as Magistrate upon the Bench under the great lion-and-unicorn painting. "My client makes option of opening the investigation at once.

He is not guilty of the charge and can clear himself."

The Bonhomme cried excitedly,--"It's false!" His wife joined him with a wild scream of disappointment. A murmuring ran about. "Silence!" shouted the constable.

Every one involuntarily obeyed; and Chrysler absorbed himself examining the articles taken from the prisoner's person.

The evidence was as soon disposed of as Libergent could have wished.

Josephte gave her testimony to the appearance and surroundings of the injured man as she had found him. She could relate no circ.u.mstances that pointed to Spoon. The Bonhomme eagerly proffered his evidence. It was torn to tatters by the advocate: he had nothing to tell but rambling suspicions, and was told to stand down. It was discovered that none in fact had anything pertinent to say. Benoit was mad; Francois, unconscious; and Libergent triumphantly asked for the prisoner's immediate discharge.

The great doubt on the part of justice was, clearly, why did the prisoner disappear? But this was quickly resolved by witnesses who swore that Cuiller was entrusted with secret political business which necessitated absences and journeys in different parts of the country, and this, in the state of political affairs, was an obvious enough excuse.

Libergent pressed once again for the discharge.

"I must grant it," simply p.r.o.nounced Mr. Genest.

Another scream pierced their ears. "Justice, oh G.o.d;" the old wife of Le Brun shrieked in trembling syllables. "They kill without hanging. I demand JUSTICE! Hear me, great G.o.d!" and her bent frame and wrinkled face writhed pitiably.

But it was done. Spoon descended with a sudden, wild grin and found himself free. "In a few hours," he probably thought obscurely, "I can be far on my road."

"Pardon me," said Chrysler, however, standing up, to the surprise of everybody. "Your Honor, I have another charge to bring against the prisoner, and I ask his re-arrest."

The Honorable made a sign to the constable to stay Cuiller.

"These bills," Chrysler said, holding out the bank notes which were found in the purse of Spoon, "are marked with the initials of Francois Le Brun's name. I am ready to charge the prisoner with having committed a larceny of money from Francois Le Brun on his journey from Montreal. I sustain it by these initials at the corners of bills just found on the prisoner's person. I am informed--"

"I object, your Honor," fairly shouted Libergent--"I object to any hearsay."

"What can you swear to of your own knowledge?" asked l'Honorable of Chrysler, gently.

"To seeing these marks--"

"Which might be anything!" snapped Libergent.

"To hearing--"