57
“You overheard their talk?”
“Ay! they made no secret of it; but I am convinced La Barre has more definite instructions to give in private, for he asked the Commissaire to come to him later for conference. I felt that you should be told, Monsieur.”
De Artigny leaned motionless against the window ledge, and the light streaming in through the opening of the draperies revealed the gravity of his expression. For the moment he remained silent, turning the affair over in his mind.
“I thank you, Mademoiselle,” he said finally, and touched my hand, “for your report gives me one more link to my chain. I have picked up several in the past few hours, and all seem to lead back to the manipulations of Cassion. Faith! there is some mystery here, for surely the man seemed happy enough when first we met at Chevet’s house, and accepted my offer gladly. Have you any theory as to this change in his front?”
I felt the blood surge to my cheeks, and my eyes fell before the intensity of his glance.
“If I have, Monsieur, ’tis no need that it be mentioned.”
“Your pardon, Mademoiselle, but your words already answer me––’tis then that I have shown interest in you; the dog is jealous!”
58
“Monsieur!”
He laughed, and I felt the tightening of his hand on mine.
“Good! and by all the gods, I will give him fair cause. The thought pleases me, for rather would I be your soldier than my own. See, how it dovetails in––I meet you at the convent and pledge you my aid; some spy bears word of our conference to Monsieur, and an hour later I receive word that if I have more to do with you I die. I smile at the warning and send back a message of insult. Then my invitation to this ball is withdrawn, and, later still, La Barre even advises that I be assassinated at the least excuse. ’Twould seem they deem you of importance, Mademoiselle.”
“You make it no more than a joke?”
“Far from it; the very fact that I know the men makes it matter of grave concern. I might, indeed, smile did it concern myself alone, but I have your interests in mind––you have honored me by calling me your only friend, and now I know not where I may serve you best––in the wilderness, or here in Quebec?”
“There can nothing injure me here, Monsieur, not with Cassion traveling to the Illinois. No doubt he will leave behind him those who will observe my movements––that cannot harm.”
59
“It is Hugo Chevet, I fear.”
“Chevet! my uncle––I do not understand.”
“No, for he is your uncle, and you know him only in such relationship. He may have been to you kind and indulgent. I do not ask. But to those who meet him in the world he is a big, cruel, savage brute, who would sacrifice even you, if you stood in his way. And now if you fail to marry Cassion, you will so stand. He is the one who will guard you, by choice of the Commissaire, and orders of La Barre, and he will do his part well.”
“I can remain with the sisters.”
“Not in opposition to the Governor; they would never dare antagonize him; tomorrow you will return with Chevet.”
I drew a quick breath, my eyes on his face.
“How can you know all this, Monsieur? Why should my uncle sacrifice me?”
“No matter how I know. Some of it has been your own confession, coupled with my knowledge of the man. Three days ago I learned of his debt to Cassion, and that the latter had him in his claws, and at his mercy. Today I had evidence of what that debt means.”
“Today!”
“Ay! ’twas from Chevet the threat came that he would kill me if I ever met with you again.”
60
I could but stare at him, incredulous, my fingers unconsciously grasping his jacket.
“He said that? Chevet?”
“Ay! Chevet; the message came by mouth of the half-breed, hisvoyageur, and I choked out of him where he had left his master, yet when I got there the man had gone. If we might meet tonight the matter would be swiftly settled.”
He gazed out into the darkness, and I saw his hand close on the hilt of his knife. I caught his arm.
“No, no Monsieur; not that. You must not seek a quarrel, for I am not afraid––truly I am not; you will listen––”
There was a voice speaking in the office room behind, the closing of a door, and the scraping of a chair as someone sat down. My words ceased, and we stood silent in the shadow, my grasp still on De Artigny’s arm.
61CHAPTER VTHE ORDER OF LA BARRE
I did not recognize the voice speaking––a husky voice, the words indistinct, yet withal forceful––nor do I know what it was he said. But when the other answered, tapping on the desk with some instrument, I knew the second speaker to be La Barre, and leaned back just far enough to gain glimpse through the opening in the drapery. He sat at the desk, his back toward us, while his companion, a red-faced, heavily-moustached man, in uniform of the Rifles, stood opposite, one arm on the mantel over the fireplace. His expression was that of amused interest.
“You saw the lady?” he asked.
“In the receiving line for a moment only; a fair enough maid to be loved for her own sake I should say. Faith, never have I seen handsomer eyes.”
The other laughed.
“’Tis well Madame does not overhear that confession. An heiress, and beautiful! Piff! but she might find others to her liking rather than this Cassion.”
“It is small chance she has had to make choice, and62as to her being an heiress, where heard you such a rumor, Colonel Delguard?”
The officer straightened up.
“You forget, sir,” he said slowly, “that the papers passed through my hands after Captain la Chesnayne’s death. It was at your request they failed to reach the hands of Frontenac.”
La Barre gazed at him across the desk, his brows contracted into a frown.
“No, I had not forgotten,” and the words sounded harsh. “But they came to me properly sealed, and I supposed unopened. I think I have some reason to ask an explanation, Monsieur.”
“And one easily made. I saw only the letter, but that revealed enough to permit of my guessing the rest. It is true, is it not, that La Chesnayne left an estate of value?”
“He thought so, but, as you must be aware, it had been alienated by act of treason.”
“Ay! but Comte de Frontenac appealed the case to the King, who granted pardon, and restoration.”
“So, ’twas rumored, but unsupported by the records. So far as New France knows there was no reply from Versailles.”
The Colonel stood erect, and advanced a step, his expression one of sudden curiosity.
“In faith, Governor,” he said swiftly, “but your63statement awakens wonder. If this be so why does Francois Cassion seek the maid so ardently? Never did I deem that cavalier one to throw himself away without due reward.”
La Barre laughed.
“Perchance you do Francois ill judgment, Monsieur le Colonel,” he replied amused. “No doubt ’tis love, for, in truth, the witch would send sluggish blood dancing with the glance of her eyes. Still,” more soberly, his eyes falling to the desk, “’tis, as you say, scarce in accord with Cassion’s nature to thus make sacrifice, and there have been times when I suspected he did some secret purpose. I use the man, yet never trust him.”
“Nor I, since he played me foul trick at La Chine. Could he have found the paper of restoration, and kept it concealed, until all was in his hands?”
“I have thought of that, yet it doth not appear possible. Francois was in ill grace with Frontenac, and could never have reached the archives. If the paper came to his hands it was by accident, or through some treachery. Well,’tis small use of our discussing the matter. He hath won my pledge to Mademoiselle la Chesnayne’s hand, for I would have him friend, not enemy, just now. They marry on his return.”
“He is chosen then for the mission to Fort St. Louis?”
64
“Ay, there were reasons for his selection. The company departs at dawn. Tell him, Monsieur, that I await him now for final interview.”
I watched Delguard salute, and turn away to execute his order. La Barre drew a paper from a drawer of the desk, and bent over it pen in hand. My eyes lifted to the face of De Artigny, standing motionless behind me in the deeper shadow.
“You overheard, Monsieur?” I whispered.
He leaned closer, his lips at my ear, his eyes dark with eagerness.
“Every word, Mademoiselle! Fear not, I shall yet learn the truth from this Cassion. You suspected?”
I shook my head, uncertain.
“My father died in that faith, Monsieur, but Chevet called me a beggar.”
“Chevet! no doubt he knows all, and has a dirty hand in the mess. He called you beggar, hey!––hush, the fellow comes.”
He was a picture of insolent servility, as he stood there bowing, his gay dress fluttering with ribbons, his face smiling, yet utterly expressionless. La Barre lifted his eyes, and surveyed him coldly.
“You sent for me, sir?”
“Yes, although I scarcely thought at this hour you would appear in the apparel of a dandy. I have chosen you for serious work, Monsieur, and the time65is near for your departure. Surely my orders were sufficiently clear?”
“They were, Governor la Barre,” and Cassion’s lips lost their grin, “and my delay in changing dress has occurred through the strange disappearance of Mademoiselle la Chesnayne. I left her with Major Callons while I danced with my lady, and have since found no trace of the maid.”
“Does not Callons know?”
“Only that, seeking refreshments, he left her, and found her gone on his return. Her wraps are in the dressing room.”
“Then ’tis not like she has fled the palace. No doubt she awaits you in some corner. I will have the servants look, and meanwhile pay heed to me. This is a mission of more import than love-making with a maid, Monsieur Cassion, and its success, or failure, will determine your future. You have my letter of instruction?”
“It has been carefully read.”
“And the sealed orders for Chevalier de Baugis?”
“Here, protected in oiled silk.”
“See that they reach him, and no one else; they give him an authority I could not grant before, and should end La Salle’s control of that country. You have met this Henri de Tonty? He was here with his master three years since, and had audience.”
66
“Ay, but that was before my time. Is he one to resist De Baugis?”
“He impressed me as a man who would obey to the letter, Monsieur; a dark-faced soldier, with an iron jaw. He had lost one arm in battle, and was loyal to his chief.”
“So I have heard––a stronger man than De Baugis?”
“A more resolute; all depends on what orders La Salle left, and the number of men the two command.”
“In that respect the difference is not great. De Baugis had but a handful of soldiers to take from Mackinac, although hisvoyageursmay be depended upon to obey his will. His instructions were not to employ force.”
“And the garrison of St. Louis?”
“’Tis hard to tell, as there are fur hunters there of whom we have no record. La Salle’s report would make his own command eighteen, but they are well chosen, and he hath lieutenants not so far away as to be forgotten. La Forest would strike at a word, and De la Durantaye is at the Chicago portage, and no friend of mine. ’Tis of importance, therefore, that your voyage be swiftly completed, and my orders placed in De Baugis’ hands. Are all things ready for departure?”
“Ay, the boats only await my coming.”
67
The Governor leaned his head on his hand, crumbling the paper between his fingers.
“This young fellow––De Artigny,” he said thoughtfully, “you have some special reason for keeping him in your company?”
Cassion crossed the room, his face suddenly darkening.
“Ay, now I have,” he explained shortly, “although I first engaged his services merely for what I deemed to be their value. He spoke me most fairly.”
“But since?”
“I have cause to suspect. Chevet tells me that today he had conference with Mademoiselle at the House of the Ursulines.”
“Ah, ’twas for that then you had his ticket revoked. I see where the shoe pinches. ’Twill be safer with him in the boats than back here in Quebec. Then I give permission, and wash my hands of the whole affair––but beware of him, Cassion.”
“I may be trusted, sir.”
“I question that no longer.” He hesitated slightly, then added in lower tone: “If accident occur the report may be briefly made. I think that will be all.”
Both men were upon their feet, and La Barre extended his hand across the desk. I do not know what movement may have caused it, but at that moment, a wooden ring holding the curtain fell, and68struck the floor at my feet. Obeying the first impulse I thrust De Artigny back behind me into the shadow, and held aside the drapery. Both men, turning, startled at the sound, beheld me clearly, and stared in amazement. Cassion took a step forward, an exclamation of surprise breaking from his lips.
“Adele! Mademoiselle!”
I stepped more fully into the light, permitting the curtain to fall behind me, and my eyes swept their faces.
“Yes, Monsieur––you were seeking me?”
“For an hour past; for what reason did you leave the ballroom?”
With no purpose in my mind but to gain time in which to collect my thought and protect De Artigny from discovery, I made answer, assuming a carelessness of demeanor which I was far from feeling.
“Has it been so long, Monsieur?” I returned in apparent surprise. “Why I merely sought a breath of fresh air, and became interested in the scene without.”
La Barre stood motionless, just as he had risen to his feet at the first alarm, his eyes on my face, his heavy eyebrows contracted in a frown.
“I will question the young lady, Cassion,” he said sternly, “for I have interests here of my own. Mademoiselle!”
69
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“How long have you been behind that curtain?”
“Monsieur Cassion claims to have sought me for an hour.”
“Enough of that,” his voice grown harsh, and threatening. “You address the Governor; answer me direct.”
I lifted my eyes to his stern face, but they instantly fell before the encounter of his fierce gaze.
“I do not know, Monsieur.”
“Who was here when you came in?”
“No one, Monsieur; the room was empty.”
“Then you hid there, and overheard the conversation between Colonel Delguard and myself?”
“Yes, Monsieur,” I confessed, feeling my limbs tremble.
“And also all that has passed since Monsieur Cassion entered?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
He drew a deep breath, striking his hand on the desk, as though he would control his anger.
“Were you alone? Had you a companion?”
I know not how I managed it, yet I raised my eyes to his, simulating a surprise I was far from feeling.
“Alone, Monsieur? I am Adele la Chesnayne; if you doubt, the way of discovery is open without word from me.”
70
His suspicious, doubting eyes never left my face, and there was sneer in his voice as he answered.
“Bah! I am not in love to be played with by a witch. Perchance ’tis not easy for you to lie. Well, we will see. Look within the alcove, Cassion.”
The Commissaire was there even before the words of command were uttered, and my heart seemed to stop beating as his heavy hand tore aside the drapery. I leaned on the desk, bracing myself, expecting a blow, a struggle; but all was silent. Cassion, braced, and expectant, peered into the shadows, evidently perceiving nothing; then stepped within, only to instantly reappear, his expression that of disappointment. The blood surged back to my heart, and my lips smiled.
“No one is there, Monsieur,” he reported, “but the window is open.”
“And not a dangerous leap to the court below,” returned La Barre thoughtfully. “So far you win, Mademoiselle. Now will you answer me––were you alone there ten minutes ago?”
“It is useless for me to reply, Monsieur,” I answered with dignity, “as it will in no way change your decision.”
“You have courage, at least.”
“The inheritance of my race, Monsieur.”
“Well, we’ll test it then, but not in the form you anticipate.” He smiled, but not pleasantly, and71resumed his seat at the desk. “I propose closing your mouth, Mademoiselle, and placing you beyond temptation. Monsieur Cassion, have the lieutenant at the door enter.”
I stood in silence, wondering at what was about to occur; was I to be made prisoner? or what form was my punishment to assume? The power of La Barre I knew, and his stern vindictiveness, and well I realized the fear and hate which swept his mind, as he recalled the conversation I had overheard. He must seal my lips to protect himself––but how? As though in a daze I saw Cassion open the door, speak a sharp word to one without, and return, followed by a young officer, who glanced curiously aside at me, even as he saluted La Barre, and stood silently awaiting his orders. The latter remained a moment motionless, his lips firm set.
“Where is Father Le Guard?”
“In the Chapel, Monsieur; he passed me a moment ago.”
“Good; inform thepèrethat I desire his presence at once. Wait! know you the fur trader, Hugo Chevet?”
“I have seen the man, Monsieur––a big fellow, with a shaggy head.”
“Ay, as savage as the Indians he has lived among. He is to be found at Eclair’s wine shop in the Rue St.72Louis. Have your sentries bring him here to me. Attend to both these matters.”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
La Barre’s eyes turned from the disappearing figure of the officer, rested a moment on my face, and then smiled grimly as he fronted Cassion. He seemed well pleased with himself, and to have recovered his good humor.
“A delightful surprise for you, Monsieur Cassion,” he said genially, “and let us hope no less a pleasure for the fair lady. Be seated, Mademoiselle; there may be a brief delay. You perceive my plan, no doubt?”
Cassion did not answer, and the Governor looked at me.
“No, Monsieur.”
“And yet so simple, so joyful a way out of this unfortunate predicament. I am surprised. Cassion here might not appreciate how nicely this method will answer to close your lips, but you, remembering clearly the private conference between myself and Colonel Delguard, should grasp my purpose at once. Your marriage is to take place tonight, Mademoiselle.”
“Tonight! my marriage! to whom?”
“Ah! is there then more than one prospective bridegroom? Monsieur Cassion surely I am not in error that you informed me of your engagement to Mademoiselle la Chesnayne?”
73
“She has been pledged me in marriage, Monsieur––the banns published.”
I sat with bowed head, my cheeks flaming.
“’Tis then as I understood,” La Barre went on, chuckling. “The lady is over modest.”
“I have made no pledge,” I broke in desperately. “Monsieur spoke to my Uncle Chevet, not I!”
“Yet you were told! You made no refusal?”
“Monsieur, I could not; they arranged it all, and, besides, it was not to be until Monsieur returned from the West. I do not love him; I thought––”
“Bah! what is love? ’Tis enough that you accepted. This affair is no longer one of affection; it has become the King’s business, a matter of State. I decide it is best for you to leave Quebec; ay! and New France, Mademoiselle. There is but one choice, imprisonment here, or exile into the wilderness.” He leaned forward staring into my face with his fierce, threatening eyes. “I feel it better that you go as Monsieur Cassion’s wife, and under his protection. I decree that so you shall go.”
“Alone––with––with––Monsieur Cassion?”
“One of his party. ’Tis my order also that Hugo Chevet be of the company. Perchance a year in the wilderness may be of benefit to him, and he might be of value in watching over young De Artigny.”
Never have I felt more helpless, more utterly alone.74I knew all he meant, but my mind grasped no way of escape. His face leered at me as through a mist, yet as I glanced aside at Cassion it only brought home to me a more complete dejection. The man was glad––glad! He had no conscience, no shame. To appeal to him would be waste of breath––a deeper humiliation. Suddenly I felt cold, hard, reckless; ay! they had the power to force me through the unholy ceremony. I was only a helpless girl; but beyond that I would laugh at them; and Cassion––if he dared––
The door opened, and a lean priest in long black robe entered noiselessly, bending his shaven head to La Barre, as his crafty eyes swiftly swept our faces.
“Monsieur desired my presence?”
“Yes, Père le Guard, a mission of happiness. There are two here to be joined in matrimony by bonds of Holy Church. We but wait the coming of the lady’s guardian.”
Thepèremust have interpreted the expression of my face.
“’Tis regular, Monsieur?” he asked.
“By order of the King,” returned La Barre sternly. “Beyond that it is not necessary that you inquire. Ah! Monsieur Chevet! they found you then? I have a pleasant surprise for you. ’Tis hereby ordered that you accompany Commissaire Cassion to the Illinois country as interpreter, to be paid from my private fund.”
75
Chevet stared into the Governor’s dark face, scarce able to comprehend, his brain dazed from heavy drinking.
“The Illinois country! I––Hugo Chevet? ’Tis some joke, Monsieur.”
“None at all, as you will discover presently, my man. I do not jest on the King’s service.”
“But my land, Monsieur; my niece?”
La Barre permitted himself a laugh.
“Bah! let the land lie fallow; ’twill cost little while you draw a wage, and as for Mademoiselle, ’tis that you may accompany her I make choice. Stand back; you have your orders, and now I’ll show you good reason.” He stood up, and placed his hand on Cassion’s arm. “Now my dear, Francois, if you will join the lady.”
76CHAPTER VITHE WIFE OF FRANCOIS CASSION
It is vague, all that transpired. I knew then, and recall now, much of the scene yet it returns to memory more in a passing picture than an actual reality in which I was an actor. But one clear impression dominated my brain––my helplessness to resist the command of La Barre. His word was law in the colony, and from it there was no appeal, save to the King. Through swimming mist I saw his face, stern, dark, threatening, and then glimpsed Cassion approaching me, a smile curling his thin lips. I shrank back from him, yet arose to my feet, trembling so that I clung to the chair to keep erect.
“Do not touch me, Monsieur,” I said, in a voice which scarcely sounded like my own. Cassion stood still, the smile of triumph leaving his face. La Barre turned, his eyes cold and hard.
“What is this, Mademoiselle? You would dare disobey me?”
I caught my breath, gripping the chair with both hands.
“No, Monsieur le Governor,” I answered, surprised77at the clearness with which I spoke. “That would be useless; you have behind you the power of France, and I am a mere girl. Nor do I appeal, for I know well the cause of your decision. It is indeed my privilege to appeal to Holy Church for protection from this outrage, but not through such representative as I see here.”
“Père le Guard is chaplain of my household.”
“And servant to your will, Monsieur. ’Tis known in all New France he is more diplomat than priest. Nay! I take back my word, and will make trial of his priesthood. Father, I do not love this man, nor marry him of my own free will. I appeal to you, to the church, to refuse the sanction.”
The priest stood with fingers interlocked, and head bowed, nor did his eyes meet mine.
“I am but the humble instrument of those in authority, Daughter,” he replied gently, “and must perform the sacred duties of my office. ’Tis your own confession that your hand has been pledged to Monsieur Cassion.”
“By Hugo Chevet, not myself.”
“Without objection on your part.” He glanced up slyly. “Perchance this was before the appearance of another lover, the Sieur de Artigny.”
I felt the color flood my cheeks, yet from indignation rather than embarrassment.
78
“No word of love has been spoken me by Monsieur de Artigny,” I answered swiftly. “He is a friend, no more. I do not love Francois Cassion, nor marry him but through force; ay! nor does he love me––this is but a scheme to rob me of my inheritance.”
“Enough of this,” broke in La Barre sternly, and he gripped my arm. “The girl hath lost her head, and such controversy is unseemly in my presence. Père le Guard, let the ceremony proceed.”
“’Tis your order, Monsieur?”
“Ay! do I not speak my will plainly enough? Come, the hour is late, and our King’s business is of more import than the whim of a girl.”
I never moved, never lifted my eyes. I was conscious of nothing, but helpless, impotent anger, of voiceless shame. They might force me to go through the form, but never would they make me the wife of this man. My heart throbbed with rebellion, my mind hardened into revolt. I knew all that occurred, realized the significance of every word and act, yet it was as if they appertained to someone else. I felt the clammy touch of Cassion’s hand on my nerveless fingers, and I must have answered the interrogatories of the priest, for his voice droned on, meaningless to the end. It was only in the silence which followed that I seemed to regain consciousness, and a new grip on my numbed faculties. Indeed I was still groping in the fog, bewildered,79inert, when La Barre gave utterance to a coarse laugh.
“Congratulations, Francois,” he cried. “A fair wife, and not so unwilling after all. And now your first kiss.”
The sneer of these words was like a slap in the face, and all the hatred, and indignation I felt seethed to the surface. A heavy paper knife lay on the desk, and I gripped it in my fingers, and stepped back, facing them. The mist seemed to roll away, and I saw their faces, and there must have been that in mine to startle them, for even La Barre gave back a step, and the grin faded from the thin lips of the Commissaire.
“’Tis ended then,” I said, and my voice did not falter. “I am this man’s wife. Very well, you have had your way; now I will have mine. Listen to what I shall say, Monsieur le Governor, and you also, Francois Cassion. By rite of church you call me wife, but that is your only claim. I know your law, and that this ceremony has sealed my lips. I am your captive, nothing more; you can rob me now––but, mark you! all that you will ever get is money. Monsieur Cassion, if you dare lay so much as a finger on me, I will kill you, as I would a snake. I know what I say, and mean it. You kiss me! Try it, Monsieur, if you doubt how my race repays insult. I will go with you; I will bear your name; this the law compels, but I am still mistress80of my soul, and of my body. You hear me, Messieurs? You understand?”
Cassion stood leaning forward, just where my first words had held him motionless. As I paused his eyes were on my face, and he lifted a hand to wipe away drops of perspiration. La Barre crumpled the paper he held savagely.
“So,” he exclaimed, “we have unchained a tiger cat. Well, all this is naught to me; and Francois, I leave you and the wilderness to do the taming. In faith, ’tis time already you were off. You agree to accompany the party without resistance, Madame?”
“As well there, as here,” I answered contemptuously.
“And you, Hugo Chevet?”
The giant growled something inarticulate through his beard, not altogether, I thought, to La Barre’s liking, for his face darkened.
“By St. Anne! ’tis a happy family amid which you start your honeymoon, Monsieur Cassion,” he ejaculated at length, “but go you must, though I send a file of soldiers with you to the boats. Now leave me, and I would hear no more until word comes of your arrival at St. Louis.”
We left the room together, the three of us, and no one spoke, as we traversed the great assembly hall, in which dancers still lingered, and gained the outer hall.81Cassion secured my cloak, and I wrapped it about my shoulders, for the night air without was already chill, and then, yet in unbroken silence, we passed down the steps into the darkness of the street. I walked beside Chevet, who was growling to himself, scarce sober enough to clearly realize what had occurred, and so we followed the Commissaire down the steep path which led to the river.
There was no pomp now, no military guard, or blazing torches. All about us was gloom and silence, the houses fronting the narrow passage black, although a gleam of fire revealed the surface of the water below. The rough paving made walking difficult, and I tripped twice during the descent, once wrenching an ankle, but with no outcry. I was scarce conscious of the pain, or of my surroundings, for my mind still stood aghast over what had occurred. It had been so swiftly accomplished I yet failed to grasp the full significance.
Vaguely I comprehended that I was no longer Adele la Chesnayne, but the wife of that man I followed. A word, a muttered prayer, an uplifted hand, had made me his slave, his vassal. Nothing could break the bond between us save death. I might hate, despise, revile, but the bond held. This thought grew clearer as my mind readjusted itself, and the full horror of the situation took possession of me. Yet there was nothing I could do; I could neither escape or fight, nor82had I a friend to whom I could appeal. Suddenly I realized that I still grasped in my hand the heavy paper knife I had snatched up from La Barre’s desk, and I thrust it into the waistband of my skirt. It was my only weapon of defense, yet to know I had even that seemed to bring me a glow of courage.
We reached the river’s edge and halted. Below us, on the bank, the blazing fire emitted a red gleam reflecting on the water, and showing us the dark outlines of waiting canoes, and seated figures. Gazing about Cassion broke the silence, his voice assuming the harshness of authority.
“Three canoes! Where is the other? Huh! if there be delay now, someone will make answer to me. Pass the word for the sergeant; ah! is this you Le Claire?”
“All is prepared, Monsieur.”
He glared at the stocky figure fronting him in infantry uniform.
“Prepared! You have but three boats at the bank.”
“The other is below, Monsieur; it is loaded and waits to lead the way.”
“Ah! and who is in charge?”
“Was it not your will that it be the guide––the Sieur de Artigny?”
“Sacre!but I had forgotten the fellow. Ay! ’tis the best place for him. And are all provisions and arms aboard? You checked them, Le Claire?”
83
“With care, Monsieur; I watched the stowing of each piece; there is nothing forgotten.”
“And the men?”
“Four Indian paddlers to each boat, Monsieur, twenty soldiers, a priest, and the guide.”
“’Tis the tally. Make room for two more in the large canoe; ay, the lady goes. Change a soldier each to your boat and that of Père Allouez until we make our first camp, where we can make new arrangement.”
“There is room in De Artigny’s canoe.”
“We’ll not call him back; the fellows will tuck away somehow. Come, let’s be off, it looks like dawn over yonder.”
I found myself in one of the canoes, so filled with men any movement was almost impossible, yet of this I did not complain for my Uncle Chevet was next to me, and Cassion took place at the steering oar in the stern. To be separated from him was all I asked, although the very sound of his harsh voice rasping out orders, as we swung out from the bank rendered me almost frantic. My husband! God! and I was actually married to that despicable creature! I think I hardly realized before what had occurred, but now the hideous truth came, and I buried my face in my hands, and felt tears stealing through my fingers.
Yet only for a moment were these tears of weakness. Indignation, anger, hatred conquered me. He84had won! he had used power to conquer! Very well, now he would pay the price. He thought me a helpless girl; he would find me a woman, and a La Chesnayne. The tears left my eyes, and my head lifted, as purpose and decision returned.
We were skirting the northern bank, the high bluffs blotting out the stars, with here and there, far up above us, a light gleaming from some distant window, its rays reflecting along the black water. The Indian paddlers worked silently, driving the sharp prow of the heavily laden canoe steadily up stream. Farther out to the left was the dim outline of another boat, keeping pace with ours, the moving figures of the paddlers revealed against the water beyond.
I endeavored to discern the canoe which led the way, over which De Artigny held command, but it was hidden by a wall of mist too far away to be visible. Yet the very thought that the young Sieur was there, accompanying us into the drear wilderness, preserved me from utter despair. I would not be alone, or friendless. Even when he learned the truth, he would know it was not my fault, and though he might question, and even doubt, at first, yet surely the opportunity would come for me to confess all, and feel his sympathy, and protection. I cannot explain the confidence which this certainty of his presence brought, or how gratefully I awaited the dawn, and its revelation.
85
’Tis not in the spirit of youth to be long depressed by misfortune, and although each echo of Cassion’s voice recalled my condition, I was not indifferent to the changing scene. Chevet, still sodden with drink, fell asleep, his head on his pack, but I remained wide awake, watching the first faint gleam of light along the edge of the cloud stretching across the eastern sky line. It was a dull, drear morning, everywhere a dull gray, the wide waters about us silent and deserted. To the right the shore line was desolate and bare, except for blackened stumps of fire-devastated woods, and brown rocks, while in every other direction the river spread wide in sullen flow. There was no sound but the dip of the paddles and the heavy breathing.
As the sun forced its way through the obscuring cloud, the mist rose slowly, and drifted aside, giving me glimpse of the canoe in advance, although it remained indistinct, a vague speck in the waste of water. I sat motionless gazing about at the scene, yet vaguely comprehending the nature of our surroundings. My mind reviewed the strange events of the past night, and endeavored to adjust itself to my new environment. Almost in an instant of time my life had utterly changed––I had been married and exiled; wedded to a man whom I despised, and forced to accompany him into the unknown wilderness. It was like a dream, a delirium of fever, and even yet I could86not seem to comprehend its dread reality. But the speeding canoes, the strange faces, the occasional sound of Cassion’s voice, the slumbering figure of Chevet was evidence of truth not to be ignored, and ahead yonder, a mere outline, was the boat which contained De Artigny. What would he say, or do, when he learned the truth? Would he care greatly? Had I read rightly the message of his eyes? Could I have trust, and confidence in his loyalty? Would he accept my explanation! or would he condemn me for this act in which I was in no wise to blame? Mother of God! it came to me that it was not so much Monsieur Cassion I feared, as the Sieur de Artigny. What would be his verdict? My heart seemed to stop its beating, and tears dimmed my eyes, as I gazed across the water at that distant canoe. I knew then that all my courage, all my hope, centered on his decision––the decision of the man I loved.
87CHAPTER VIITHE TWO MEN MEET
I could not have slept, although I must have lost consciousness of our surroundings, for I was aroused by Cassion’s voice shouting some command, and became aware that we were making landing on the river bank. The sun was two hours high, and the spot selected a low grass-covered point, shaded by trees. Chevet had awakened, sobered by his nap, and the advance canoe had already been drawn up on the shore, the few soldiers it contained busily engaged in starting fires with which to cook our morning meal.
I perceived De Artigny with my first glance, standing erect on the bank, his back toward us, directing the men in their work. As we shot forward toward the landing he turned indifferently, and I marked the sudden straightening of his body, as though in surprise, although the distance gave me no clear vision of his face. As our canoe came into the shallows, he sprang down the bank to greet us, hat in hand, his eyes on me. My own glance fell before the eagerness in his face, and I turned away.
“Ah! Monsieur Cassion,” he exclaimed, the very88sound of his voice evidencing delight. “You have guests on the journey; ’tis unexpected.”
Cassion stepped over the side, and fronted him, no longer a smiling gallant of the court, but brutal in authority.
“And what is that to you, may I ask, Sieur de Artigny?” he said, coldly contemptuous. “You are but our guide, and it is no concern of yours who may compose the company. ’Twill be well for you to remember your place, and attend to your duties. Go now, and see that the men have breakfast served.”
There was a moment of silence, and I did not even venture to glance up to perceive what occurred, although I felt that De Artigny’s eyes shifted their inquiry from Cassion’s face to mine. There must be no quarrel now, not until he knew the truth, not until I had opportunity to explain, and yet he was a firebrand, and it would be like him to resent such words. How relieved I felt, as his voice made final answer.
“Pardon, Monsieur le Commissaire,” he said, pleasantly enough. “It is true I forgot my place in this moment of surprise. I obey your orders.”
I looked up as he turned away, and disappeared. Cassion stared after him, smothering an oath, and evidently disappointed at so tame an ending of the affair, for it was his nature to bluster and boast. Yet as his89lips changed to a grin, I knew of what the man was thinking––he had mistaken De Artigny’s actions for cowardice, and felt assured now of how he would deal with him. He turned to the canoe, a new conception of importance in the sharp tone of his voice.
“Come ashore, men; ay! draw the boat higher on the sand. Now, Monsieur Chevet, assist your niece forward to where I can help her to land with dry feet––permit me, Adele.”
“It is not at all necessary, Monsieur,” I replied, avoiding his hand, and leaping lightly to the firm sand. “I am no dainty maid of Quebec to whom such courtesy is due.” I stood and faced him, not unpleased to mark the anger in his eyes. “Not always have you shown yourself so considerate.”
“Why blame me for the act of La Barre?”
“The act would never have been considered had you opposed it, Monsieur. It was your choice, not the Governor’s.”
“I would wed you––yes; but that is no crime. But let us understand each other. Those were harsh words you spoke in anger in the room yonder.”
“They were not in anger.”
“But surely––”
“Monsieur, you have forced me into marriage; the law holds me as your wife. I know not how I may escape that fate, or avoid accompanying you. So far90I submit, but no farther. I do not love you; I do not even feel friendship toward you. Let me pass.”
He grasped my arm, turning me about until I faced him, his eyes glaring into mine.
“Not until I speak,” he replied threateningly. “Do not mistake my temper, or imagine me blind. I know what has so suddenly changed you––it is that gay, simpering fool yonder. But be careful how far you go. I am your husband, and in authority here.”
“Monsieur, your words are insult; release your hand.”
“So you think to deceive! Bah! I am too old a bird for that, or to pay heed to such airs. I have seen girls before, and a mood does not frighten me. But listen now––keep away from De Artigny unless you seek trouble.”
“What mean you by that threat?”
“You will learn to your sorrow; the way we travel is long, and I am woodsman as well as soldier. You will do well to heed my words.”
I released my arm, but did not move. My only feeling toward him at that moment was one of disgust, defiance. The threat in his eyes, the cool insolence of his speech, set my blood on fire.
“Monsieur,” I said coldly, although every nerve of my body throbbed, “you may know girls, but you deal now with a woman. Your speech, your insinuation is91insult. I disliked you before; now I despise you, yet I will say this in answer to what you have intimated. Monsieur de Artigny is nothing to me, save that he hath shown himself friend. You wrong him, even as you wrong me, in thinking otherwise, and whatever the cause of misunderstanding between us, there is no excuse for you to pick quarrel with him.”
“You appear greatly concerned over his safety.”
“Not at all; so far as I have ever heard the Sieur de Artigny has heretofore proven himself quite capable of sustaining his own part. ’Tis more like I am concerned for you.”
“For me? You fool! Why, I was a swordsman when that lad was at his mother’s knee.” He laughed, but with ugly gleam of teeth. “Sacre!I hate such play acting. But enough of quarrel now; there is sufficient time ahead to bring you to your senses, and a knowledge of who is your master. Hugo Chevet, come here.”
My uncle climbed the bank, his rifle in hand, with face still bloated, and red from the drink of the night before. Behind him appeared the slender black-robed figure of the Jesuit, his eyes eager with curiosity. It was sight of the latter which caused Cassion to moderate his tone of command.
“You will go with Chevet,” he said, pointing to the fire among the trees, “until I can talk to you alone.”