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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15108-8.txt b/15108-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca95457 --- /dev/null +++ b/15108-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13701 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Lazarre, by Mary Hartwell Catherwood, +Illustrated by Andre Castaigne + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Lazarre + +Author: Mary Hartwell Catherwood + +Release Date: February 19, 2005 [eBook #15108] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAZARRE*** + + +E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Charlie Kirschner, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 15108-h.htm or 15108-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/1/0/15108/15108-h/15108-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/1/0/15108/15108-h.zip) + + + + + +LAZARRE + +by + +MARY HARTWELL CATHERWOOD + +With illustrations by André Castaigne + +Indianapolis +The Bown-Merrill Company +Publishers + +1901 + + + + + + + +[Illustration: _He mounted toward the guardians of the imperial court +and fortune was with him_] + + + + + +PRELUDE + + + +ST. BAT'S + + + +LAZARRE + + +"My name is Eagle," said the little girl. + +The boy said nothing. + +"My name is Eagle," she repeated. "Eagle de Ferrier. What is your name?" + +Still the boy said nothing. + +She looked at him surprised, but checked her displeasure. He was about +nine years old, while she was less than seven. By the dim light which +sifted through the top of St. Bat's church he did not appear sullen. He +sat on the flagstones as if dazed and stupefied, facing a blacksmith's +forge, which for many generations had occupied the north transept. A +smith and some apprentices hammered measures that echoed with multiplied +volume from the Norman roof; and the crimson fire made a spot vivid as +blood. A low stone arch, half walled up, and blackened by smoke, framed +the top of the smithy, and through this frame could be seen a bit of St. +Bat's close outside, upon which the doors stood open. Now an apprentice +would seize the bellows-handle and blow up flame which briefly sprang +and disappeared. The aproned figures, Saxon and brawny, made a +fascinating show in the dark shop. + +Though the boy was dressed like a plain French citizen of that year, +1795, and his knee breeches betrayed shrunken calves, and his sleeves, +wrists that were swollen as with tumors, Eagle accepted him as her +equal. His fine wavy hair was of a chestnut color, and his hands and +feet were small. His features were perfect as her own. But while life +played unceasingly in vivid expression across her face, his muscles +never moved. The hazel eyes, bluish around their iris rims, took +cognizance of nothing. His left eyebrow had been parted by a cut now +healed and forming its permanent scar. + +"You understand me, don't you?" Eagle talked to him. "But you could not +understand Sally Blake. She is an English girl. We live at her house +until our ship sails, and I hope it will sail soon. Poor boy! Did the +wicked mob in Paris hurt your arms?" + +She soothed and patted his wrists, and he neither shrank in pain nor +resented the endearment with male shyness. + +Eagle edged closer to him on the stone pavement. She was amused by the +blacksmith's arch, and interested in all the unusual life around her, +and she leaned forward to find some response in his eyes. He was +unconscious of his strange environment. The ancient church of St. +Bartholomew the Great, or St. Bat's as it was called, in the heart of +London, had long been a hived village. Not only were houses clustered +thickly around its outside walls and the space of ground named its +close; but the inside, degraded from its first use, was parceled out to +owners and householders. The nave only had been retained as a church +bounded by massive pillars, which did not prevent Londoners from using +it as a thoroughfare. Children of resident dissenters could and did hoot +when it pleased them, during service, from an overhanging window in the +choir. The Lady Chapel was a fringe-maker's shop. The smithy in the +north transept had descended from father to son. The south transept, +walled up to make a respectable dwelling, showed through its open door +the ghastly marble tomb of a crusader which the thrifty London housewife +had turned into a parlor table. His crossed feet and hands and upward +staring countenance protruded from the midst of knick-knacks. + +Light fell through the venerable clerestory on upper arcades. Some of +these were walled shut, but others retained their arched openings into +the church, and formed balconies from which upstairs dwellers could look +down at what was passing below. + +Two women leaned out of the Norman arcades, separated only by a pillar, +watching across the nave those little figures seated in front of the +blacksmith's window. An atmosphere of comfort and thrift filled St. +Bat's. It was the abode of labor and humble prosperity, not an asylum of +poverty. Great worthies, indeed, such as John Milton, and nearer our own +day, Washington Irving, did not disdain to live in St. Bartholomew's +close. The two British matrons, therefore, spoke the prejudice of the +better rather than the baser class. + +"The little devils!" said one woman. + +"They look innocent," remarked the other. "But these French do make my +back crawl!" + +"How long are they going to stay in St. Bat's?" + +"The two men with the little girl and the servant intend to sail for +America next week. The lad, and the man that brought him in--as +dangerous looking a foreigner as ever I saw!--are like to prowl out any +time. I saw them go into the smithy, and I went over to ask the smith's +wife about them. She let two upper chambers to the creatures this +morning." + +"What ails the lad? He has the look of an idiot." + +"Well, then, God knows what ails any of the crazy French! If they all +broke out with boils like the heathen of scripture, it would not +surprise a Christian. As it is, they keep on beheading one another, day +after day and month after month; and the time must come when none of +them will be left--and a satisfaction that will be to respectable +folks!" + +"First the king, and then the queen," mused one speaker. "And now news +comes that the little prince has died of bad treatment in his prison. +England will not go into mourning for him as it did for his father, King +Louis. What a pretty sight it was, to see every decent body in a bit of +black, and the houses draped, they say, in every town! A comfort it must +have been to the queen of France when she heard of such Christian +respect!" + +The women's faces, hard in texture and rubicund as beef and good ale +could make them, leaned silent a moment high above the dim pavement. St. +Bat's little bell struck the three quarters before ten; lightly, +delicately, with always a promise of the great booming which should +follow on the stroke of the hour. Its perfection of sound contrasted +with the smithy clangor of metal in process of welding. A butcher's boy +made his way through the front entrance toward a staircase, his feet +echoing on the flags, carrying exposed a joint of beef on the board upon +his head. + +"And how do your foreigners behave themselves, Mrs. Blake?" inquired the +neighbor. + +"Like French emmy-grays, to be sure. I told Blake when he would have +them to lodge in the house, that we are a respectable family. But he is +master, and their lordships has money in their purses." + +"French lordships!" exclaimed the neighbor. "Whether they calls +themselves counts or markises, what's their nobility worth? Nothing!" + +"The Markis de Ferrier," retorted Mrs. Blake, nettled by a liberty taken +with her lodgers which she reserved for herself, "is a gentleman if he +is an emmy-gray, and French. Blake may be master in his own house, but +he knows landed gentry from tinkers--whether they ever comes to their +land again or not." + +"Well, then," soothed her gossip, "I was only thinking of them French +that comes over, glad to teach their betters, or even to work with +their hands for a crust." + +"Still," said Mrs. Blake, again giving rein to her prejudices, "I shall +be glad to see all French papists out of St. Bat's. For what does +scripture say?--'Touch not the unclean thing!' And that servant-body, +instead of looking after her little missus, galloping out of the close +on some bloody errand!" + +"You ought to be thankful, Mrs. Blake, to have her out of the way, +instead of around our children, poisoning their hinfant minds! Thank God +they are playing in the church lane like little Christians, safe from +even that lad and lass yonder!" + +A yell of fighting from the little Christians mingled with their hoots +at choir boys gathering for the ten o'clock service in St. Bat's. When +Mrs. Blake and her friend saw this preparation, they withdrew their +dissenting heads from the arcades in order not to countenance what might +go on below. + +Minute followed minute, and the little bell struck the four quarters. +Then the great bell boomed out ten;--the bell which had given signal for +lighting the funeral piles of many a martyr, on Smithfield, directly +opposite the church. Organ music pealed; choir boys appeared from their +robing-room beside the entrance, pacing two and two as they chanted. The +celebrant stood in his place at the altar, and antiphonal music rolled +among the arches; pierced by the dagger voice of a woman in the arcades, +who called after the retreating butcher's boy to look sharp, and bring +her the joint she ordered. + +Eagle sprang up and dragged the arm of the unmoving boy in the north +transept. There was a weeping tomb in the chancel which she wished to +show him,--lettered with a threat to shed tears for a beautiful memory +if passers-by did not contribute their share; a threat the marble duly +executed on account of the dampness of the church and the hardness of +men's hearts. But it was impossible to disturb a religious service. So +she coaxed the boy, dragging behind her, down the ambulatory beside the +oasis of chapel, where the singers, sitting side-wise, in rows facing +each other, chanted the Venite. A few worshipers from the close, all of +them women, pattered in to take part in this daily office. The smithy +hammers rang under organ measures, and an odor of cooking sifted down +from the arcades. + +Outside the church big fat-bellied pigeons were cooing about the tower +or strutting and pecking on the ground. To kill one was a grave offense. +The worst boy playing in the lane durst not lift a hand against them. + +Very different game were Eagle and the other alien whom she led past the +red faced English children. + +"Good day," she spoke pleasantly, feeling their antagonism. They +answered her with a titter. + +"Sally Blake is the only one I know," she explained in French, to her +companion who moved feebly and stiffly behind her dancing step. "I +cannot talk English to them, and besides, their manners are not good, +for they are not like our peasants." + +Sally Blake and a bare kneed lad began to amble behind the foreigners, +he taking his cue smartly and lolling out his tongue. The whole crowd +set up a shout, and Eagle looked back. She wheeled and slapped the St. +Bat's girl in the face. + +That silent being whom she had taken under her care recoiled from the +blow which the bare kneed boy instantly gave him, and without defending +himself or her, shrank down in an attitude of entreaty. She screamed +with pain at this sight, which hurt worse than the hair-pulling of the +mob around her. She fought like a panther in front of him. + +Two men in the long narrow lane leading from Smithfield, interfered, and +scattered her assailants. + +You may pass up a step into the graveyard, which is separated by a wall +from the lane. And though nobody followed, the two men hurried Eagle and +the boy into the graveyard and closed the gate. + +It was not a large enclosure, and thread-like paths, grassy and +ungraveled, wound among crowded graves. There was a very high outside +wall: and the place insured such privacy as could not be had in St. +Bat's church. Some crusted stones lay broad as gray doors on ancient +graves; but the most stood up in irregular oblongs, white and lichened. + +A cat call from the lane was the last shot of the battle. Eagle +valiantly sleeked her disarrayed hair, the breast under her bodice still +heaving and sobbing. The June sun illuminated a determined child of the +gray eyed type between white and brown, flushed with fullness of blood, +quivering with her intensity of feeling. + +"Who would say this was Mademoiselle de Ferrier!" observed the younger +of the two men. Both were past middle age. The one whose queue showed +the most gray took Eagle reproachfully by her hands; but the other stood +laughing. + +"My little daughter!" + +"I did strike the English girl--and I would do it again, father!" + +"She would do it again, monsieur the marquis," repeated the laugher. + +"Were the children rude to you?" + +"They mocked him, father." She pulled the boy from behind a grave-stone +where he crouched unmoving as a rabbit, and showed him to her guardians. +"See how weak he is! Regard him--how he walks in a dream! Look at his +swollen wrists--he cannot fight. And if you wish to make these English +respect you you have got to fight them!" + +"Where is Ernestine? She should not have left you alone." + +"Ernestine went to the shops to obey your orders, father." + +The boy's dense inertia was undisturbed by what had so agonized the +girl. He stood in the English sunshine gazing stupidly at her guardians. + +"Who is this boy, Eagle?" exclaimed the younger man. + +"He does not talk. He does not tell his name." + +The younger man seized the elder's arm and whispered to him. + +"No, Philippe, no!" the elder man answered. But they both approached the +boy with a deference which surprised Eagle, and examined his scarred +eyebrow and his wrists. Suddenly the marquis dropped upon his knees and +stripped the stockings down those meager legs. He kissed them, and the +swollen ankles, sobbing like a woman. The boy seemed unconscious of this +homage. Such exaggeration of her own tenderness made her ask, + +"What ails my father, Cousin Philippe?" + +Her Cousin Philippe glanced around the high walls and spoke cautiously. + +"Who was the English girl at the head of your mob, Eagle?" + +"Sally Blake." + +"What would Sally Blake do if she saw the little king of France and +Navarre ride into the church lane, filling it with his retinue, and +heard the royal salute of twenty-one guns fired for him?" + +"She would be afraid of him." + +"But when he comes afoot, with that idiotic face, giving her such a good +chance to bait him--how can she resist baiting him? Sally Blake is +human." + +"Cousin Philippe, this is not our dauphin? Our dauphin is dead! Both my +father and you told me he died in the Temple prison nearly two weeks +ago!" + +The Marquis de Ferrier replaced the boy's stockings reverently, and +rose, backing away from him. + +"There is your king, Eagle," the old courtier announced to his child. +"Louis XVII, the son of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, survives in this +wreck. How he escaped from prison we do not know. Why he is here +unrecognized in England, where his claim to the throne was duly +acknowledged on the death of his father, we do not know. But we who have +often seen the royal child cannot fail to identify him; brutalized as he +is by the past horrible year of his life." + +The boy stood unwinking before his three expatriated subjects. Two of +them noted the traits of his house, even to his ears, which were full at +top, and without any indentation at the bottom where they met the sweep +of the jaw. + +The dauphin of France had been the most tortured victim of his country's +Revolution. By a jailer who cut his eyebrow open with a blow, and +knocked him down on the slightest pretext, the child had been forced to +drown memory in fiery liquor, month after month. During six worse +months, which might have been bettered by even such a jailer, hid from +the light in an airless dungeon, covered with rags which were never +changed, and with filth and vermin which daily accumulated, having his +food passed to him through a slit in the door, hearing no human voice, +seeing no human face, his joints swelling with poisoned blood, he had +died in everything except physical vitality, and was taken out at last +merely a breathing corpse. Then it was proclaimed that this corpse had +ceased to breathe. The heir of a long line of kings was coffined and +buried. + +While the elder De Ferrier shed nervous tears, the younger looked on +with eyes which had seen the drollery of the French Revolution. + +"I wish I knew the man who has played this clever trick, and whether +honest men or the rabble are behind it." + +"Let us find him and embrace him!" + +"_I_ would rather embrace his prospects when the house of Bourbon comes +again to the throne of France. Who is that fellow at the gate? He looks +as if he had some business here." + +The man came on among the tombstones, showing a full presence and +prosperous air, suggesting good vintages, such as were never set out in +the Smithfield alehouse. Instead of being smooth shaven, he wore a very +long mustache which dropped its ends below his chin. + +A court painter, attached to his patrons, ought to have fallen into +straits during the Revolution. Philippe exclaimed with astonishment-- + +"Why, it's Bellenger! Look at him!" + +Bellenger took off his cap and made a deep reverence. + +"My uncle is weeping over the dead English, Bellenger," said Philippe. +"It always moves him to tears to see how few of them die." + +"We can make no such complaint against Frenchmen in these days, +monsieur," the court painter answered. "I see you have my young charge +here, enjoying the gravestones with you;--a pleasing change after the +unmarked trenches of France. With your permission I will take him away." + +"Have I the honor, Monsieur Bellenger, of saluting the man who brought +the king out of prison?" the old man inquired. + +Again Bellenger made the marquis a deep reverence, which modestly +disclaimed any exploit. + +"When was this done?--Who were your helpers? Where are you taking him?" + +Bellenger lifted his eyebrows at the fanatical royalist. + +"I wish I had had a hand in it!" spoke Philippe de Ferrier. + +"I am taking this boy to America, monsieur the marquis," the painter +quietly answered. + +"But why not to one of his royal uncles?" + +"His royal uncles," repeated Bellenger. "Pardon, monsieur the marquis, +but did I say he had any royal uncles?" + +"Come!" spoke Philippe de Ferrier. "No jokes with us, Bellenger. Honest +men of every degree should stand together in these times." + +Eagle sat down on a flat gravestone, and looked at the boy who seemed to +be an object of dispute between the men of her family and the other man. +He neither saw nor heard what passed. She said to herself-- + +"It would make no difference to me! It is the same, whether he is the +king or not." + +Bellenger's eyes half closed their lids as if for protection from the +sun. + +"Monsieur de Ferrier may rest assured that I am not at present occupied +with jokes. I will again ask permission to take my charge away." + +"You may not go until you have answered some questions." + +"That I will do as far as I am permitted." + +"Do Monsieur and his brother know that the king is here?" inquired the +elder De Ferrier, taking the lead. + +"What reason have you to believe," responded Bellenger, "that the Count +de Provence and the Count d'Artois have any interest in this boy?" + +Philippe laughed, and kicked the turf. + +"We have seen him many a time at Versailles, my friend. You are very +mysterious." + +"Have his enemies, or his friends set him free?" demanded the old +Frenchman. + +"That," said Bellenger, "I may not tell." + +"Does Monsieur know that you are going to take him to America?" + +"That I may not tell." + +"When do you sail, and in what vessel?" + +"These matters, also, I may not tell." + +"This man is a kidnapper!" the old noble cried, bringing out his sword +with a hiss. But Philippe held his arm. + +"Among things permitted to you," said Philippe, "perhaps you will take +oath the boy is not a Bourbon?" + +Bellenger shrugged, and waved his hands. + +"You admit that he is?" + +[Illustration: "I will again ask permission to take my charge away"] + +"I admit nothing, monsieur. These are days in which we save our heads as +well as we can, and admit nothing." + +"If we had never seen the dauphin we should infer that this is no common +child you are carrying away so secretly, bound by so many pledges. A man +like you, trusted with an important mission, naturally magnifies it. You +refuse to let us know anything about this affair?" + +"I am simply obeying orders, monsieur," said Bellenger humbly. "It is +not my affair." + +"You are better dressed, more at ease with the world than any other +refugee I have seen since we came out of France. Somebody who has money +is paying to have the child placed in safety. Very well. Any country but +his own is a good country for him now. My uncle and I will not +interfere. We do not understand. But liberty of any kind is better than +imprisonment and death. You can of course evade us, but I give you +notice I shall look for this boy in America, and if you take him +elsewhere I shall probably find it out." + +"America is a large country," said Bellenger, smiling. + +He took the boy by the hand, and made his adieus. The old De Ferrier +deeply saluted the boy and slightly saluted his guardian. The other De +Ferrier nodded. + +"We are making a mistake, Philippe!" said the uncle. + +"Let him go," said the nephew. "He will probably slip away at once out +of St. Bartholomew's. We can do nothing until we are certain of the +powers behind him. Endless disaster to the child himself might result +from our interference. If France were ready now to take back her king, +would she accept an imbecile?" + +The old De Ferrier groaned aloud. + +"Bellenger is not a bad man," added Philippe. + +Eagle watched her playmate until the closing gate hid him from sight. +She remembered having once implored her nurse for a small plaster image +displayed in a shop. It could not speak, nor move, nor love her in +return. But she cried secretly all night to have it in her arms, ashamed +of the unreasonable desire, but conscious that she could not be appeased +by anything else. That plaster image denied to her symbolized the +strongest passion of her life. + +The pigeons wheeled around St. Bat's tower, or strutted burnished on the +wall. The bell, which she had forgotten since sitting with the boy in +front of the blacksmith shop, again boomed out its record of time; +though it seemed to Eagle that a long, lonesome period like eternity had +begun. + + + + +BOOK I + +AWAKING + + + + +I + + +I remember poising naked upon a rock, ready to dive into Lake George. +This memory stands at the end of a diminishing vista; the extreme point +of coherent recollection. My body and muscular limbs reflected in the +water filled me with savage pride. + +I knew, as the beast knows its herd, that my mother Marianne was hanging +the pot over the fire pit in the center of our lodge; the children were +playing with other papooses; and my father was hunting down the lake. +The hunting and fishing were good, and we had plenty of meat. Skenedonk, +whom I considered a person belonging to myself, was stripping more +slowly on the rock behind me. We were heated with wood ranging. +Aboriginal life, primeval and vigor-giving, lay behind me when I plunged +expecting to strike out under the delicious forest shadow. + +When I came up the sun had vanished, the woods and their shadow were +gone. So were the Indian children playing on the shore, and the shore +with them. My mother Marianne might still be hanging her pot in the +lodge. But all the hunting lodges of our people were as completely lost +as if I had entered another world. + +My head was bandaged, as I discovered when I turned it to look around. +The walls were not the log walls of our lodge, chinked with moss and +topped by a bark roof. On the contrary they were grander than the inside +of St. Regis church where I took my first communion, though that was +built of stone. These walls were paneled, as I learned afterward to call +that noble finishing, and ornamented with pictures, and crystal sockets +for candles. The use of the crystal sockets was evident, for one shaded +wax light burned near me. The ceiling was not composed of wooden beams +like some Canadian houses, but divided itself into panels also, +reflecting the light with a dark rosy shining. Lace work finer than a +priest's white garments fluttered at the windows. + +I had dived early in the afternoon, and it was night. Instead of finding +myself still stripped for swimming, I had a loose robe around me, and a +coverlet drawn up to my armpits. The couch under me was by no means of +hemlock twigs and skins, like our bunks at home: but soft and rich. I +wondered if I had died and gone to heaven; and just then the Virgin +moved past my head and stood looking down at me. I started to jump out +of a window, but felt so little power to move that I only twitched, and +pretended to be asleep, and watched her as we sighted game, with eyes +nearly shut. She had a poppet of a child on one arm that sat up instead +of leaning against her shoulder, and looked at me, too. The poppet had a +cap on its head, and was dressed in lace, and she wore a white dress +that let her neck and arms out, but covered her to the ground. This was +remarkable, as the Indian women covered their necks and arms, and wore +their petticoats short. I could see this image breathe, which was a +marvel, and the color moving under her white skin. Her eyes seemed to go +through you and search all the veins, sending a shiver of pleasure down +your back. + +Now I knew after the first start that she was a living girl holding a +living baby, and when my father, Thomas Williams, appeared at the door +of the room, it was certain I could not be in heaven. It came over me in +a flash that I myself was changed. In spite of the bandages my head was +as clear as if all its faculties were washed and newly arranged. I could +look back into my life and perceive things that I had only sensed as a +dumb brute. A fish thawed out after being frozen, and reanimated through +every sparkling scale and tremulous fin, could not have felt its +resurrection more keenly. My broken head gave me no trouble at all. + +The girl and baby disappeared as soon as I saw my father; which was not +surprising, for he could not be called a prepossessing half-breed. His +lower lip protruded and hung sullenly. He had heavy brows and a shaggy +thatch of hair. Our St. Regis Iroquois kept to the buckskins, though +they often had hunting shirts of fulled flannel; and my father's +buckskins were very dirty. + +A little man, that I did not know was in the room, shuffled across the +floor to keep my father from entering. Around the base of his head he +had a thin curtain of hair scarcely reaching his shoulders. His nose +pointed upward. Its tip was the shape of a candle extinguisher. He wore +horn spectacles; and knee breeches, waistcoat and coat of black like the +ink which fades to brown in a drying ink-horn. He put his hands together +and took them apart uncertainly, and shot out his lip and frowned, as if +he had an universal grudge and dared not vent it. + +He said something in a language I did not understand, and my father made +no answer. Then he began a kind of Anglo-French, worse than the patois +we used at St. Regis when we did not speak Iroquois. I made out the talk +between the two, understanding each without hesitation. + +"Sir, who are you?" + +"The chief, Thomas Williams," answered my father. + +"Pardon me, sir; but you are unmistakably an Indian." + +"Iroquois chief," said my father. "Mohawk." + +"That being the case, what authority have you for calling yourself +Thomas Williams?" challenged the little man. + +"Thomas Williams is my name." + +"Impossible, sir! Skenedonk, the Oneida, does not assume so much. He +lays no claim to William Jones or John Smith, or some other honest +British name." + +The chief maintained silent dignity. + +"Come, sir, let me have your Indian name! I can hear it if I cannot +repeat it." + +Silently contemptuous, my father turned toward me. + +"Stop, sir!" the man in the horn spectacles cried. "What do you want?" + +"I want my boy." + +"Your boy? This lad is white." + +"My grandmother was white," condescended the chief. "A white prisoner +from Deerfield. Eunice Williams." + +"I see, sir. You get your Williams from the Yankees. And is this lad's +mother white, too?" + +"No. Mohawk." + +"Why, man, his body is like milk! He is no son of yours." + +The chief marched toward me. + +"Let him alone! If you try to drag him out of the manor I will appeal to +the authority of Le Ray de Chaumont." + +My father spoke to me with sharp authority-- + +"Lazarre!" + +"What do you call him?" the little man inquired, ambling beside the +chief. + +"Eleazer Williams is his name. But in the lodges, at St. Regis, +everywhere, it is Lazarre." + +"How old is he?" + +"About eighteen years." + +"Well, Thomas Williams," said my fretful guardian, his antagonism +melting to patronage, "I will tell you who I am, and then you can feel +no anxiety. I am Doctor Chantry, physician to the Count de Chaumont. The +lad cut his head open on a rock, diving in the lake, and has remained +unconscious ever since. This is partly due to an opiate I have +administered to insure complete quiet; and he will not awake for several +hours yet. He received the best surgery as soon as he was brought here +and placed in my hands by the educated Oneida, Skenedonk." + +"I was not near the lodge," said my father. "I was down the lake, +fishing." + +"I have bled him once, and shall bleed him again; though the rock did +that pretty effectually. But these strapping young creatures need +frequent blood-letting." + +The chief gave him no thanks, and I myself resolved to knock the little +doctor down, if he came near me with a knife. + +"In the absence of Count de Chaumont, Thomas," he proceeded, "I may +direct you to go and knock on the cook's door, and ask for something to +eat before you go home." + +"I stay here," responded my father. + +"There is not the slightest need of anybody's watching beside the lad +to-night. I was about to retire when you were permitted to enter. He is +sleeping like an infant." + +"He belongs to me," the chief said. + +Doctor Chantry jumped at the chief in rage. + +"For God's sake, shut up and go about your business!" + +It was like one of the little dogs in our camp snapping at the patriarch +of them all, and recoiling from a growl. My father's hand was on his +hunting knife; but he grunted and said nothing. Doctor Chantry himself +withdrew from the room and left the Indian in possession. Weak as I was +I felt my insides quake with laughter. My very first observation of the +whimsical being tickled me with a kind of foreknowledge of all his weak +fretfulness. + +My father sat down on the floor at the foot of my couch, where the wax +light threw his shadow, exaggerating its unmoving profile. I noticed one +of the chairs he disdained as useless; though when eating or drinking +with white men he sat at table with them. The chair I saw was one that I +faintly recognized, as furniture of some previous experience, slim +legged, gracefully curved, and brocaded. Brocaded was the word. I +studied it until I fell asleep. + +The sun, shining through the protected windows, instead of glaring into +our lodge door, showed my father sitting in the same position when I +woke, and Skenedonk at my side. I liked the educated Iroquois. He was +about ten years my senior. He had been taken to France when a stripling, +and was much bound to the whites, though living with his own tribe. +Skenedonk had the mildest brown eyes I ever saw outside a deer's head. +He was a bald Indian with one small scalp lock. But the just and perfect +dome to which his close lying ears were attached needed no hair to adorn +it. You felt glad that nothing shaded the benevolence of his all-over +forehead. By contrast he emphasized the sullenness of my father; yet +when occasion had pressed there never was a readier hand than +Skenedonk's to kill. + +I tossed the cover back to spring out of bed with a whoop. But a woman +in a high cap with ribbons hanging down to her heels, and a dress short +enough to show her shoes, stepped into the room and made a courtesy. Her +face fell easily into creases when she talked, and gave you the feeling +that it was too soft of flesh. Indeed, her eyes were cushioned all +around. She spoke and Skenedonk answered her in French. The meaning of +every word broke through my mind as fire breaks through paper. + +"Madame de Ferrier sent me to inquire how the young gentleman is." + +Skenedonk lessened the rims around his eyes. My father grunted. + +"Did Madame de Ferrier say 'the young gentleman?'" Skenedonk inquired. + +"I was told to inquire. I am her servant Ernestine," said the woman, her +face creased with the anxiety of responding to questions. + +"Tell Madame de Ferrier that the young gentleman is much better, and +will go home to the lodges to-day." + +"She said I was to wait upon him, and give him his breakfast under the +doctor's direction." + +"Say with thanks to Madame de Ferrier that I wait upon him." + +Ernestine again courtesied, and made way for Doctor Chantry. He came in +quite good natured, and greeted all of us, his inferiors, with a +humility I then thought touching, but learned afterwards to distrust. +My head already felt the healing blood, and I was ravenous for food. He +bound it with fresh bandages, and opened a box full of glittering +knives, taking out a small sheath. From this he made a point of steel +spring like lightning. + +"We will bring the wholesome lancet again into play, my lad," said +Doctor Chantry. I waited in uncertainty with my feet on the floor and my +hands on the side of the couch, while he carefully removed coat and +waistcoat and turned up his sleeves. + +"Ernestine, bring the basin," he commanded. + +My father may have thought the doctor was about to inflict a vicarious +puncture on himself. Skenedonk, with respect for civilized surgery, +waited. I did not wait. The operator bared me to the elbow and showed a +piece of plaster already sticking on my arm. The conviction of being +outraged in my person came upon me mightily, and snatching the wholesome +lancet I turned its spring upon the doctor. He yelled. I leaped through +the door like a deer, and ran barefooted, the loose robe curdling above +my knees. I had the fleetest foot among the Indian racers, and was going +to throw the garment away for the pure joy of feeling the air slide past +my naked body, when I saw the girl and poppet baby who had looked at me +during my first consciousness. They were sitting on a blanket under the +trees of De Chaumont's park, which deepened into wilderness. + +The baby put up a lip, and the girl surrounded it with her arm, +dividing her sympathy with me. I must have been a charming object. +Though ravenous for food and broken-headed, I forgot my state, and +turned off the road of escape to stare at her like a tame deer. + +She lowered her eyes wisely, and I got near enough without taking fright +to see a book spread open on the blanket, showing two illuminated pages. +Something parted in me. I saw my mother, as I had seen her in some past +life:--not Marianne the Mohawk, wife of Thomas Williams, but a fair +oval-faced mother with arched brows. I saw even her pointed waist and +puffed skirts, and the lace around her open neck. She held the book in +her hands and read to me from it. + +I dropped on my knees and stretched my arms above my head, crying aloud +as women cry with gasps and chokings in sudden bereavement. Nebulous +memories twisted all around me and I could grasp nothing. I raged for +what had been mine--for some high estate out of which I had fallen into +degradation. I clawed the ground in what must have seemed convulsions to +the girl. Her poppet cried and she hushed it. + +"Give me my mother's book!" I strangled out of the depths of my throat; +and repeated, as if torn by a devil--"Give me my mother's book!" + +She blanched so white that her lips looked seared, and instead of +disputing my claim, or inquiring about my mother, or telling me to +begone, she was up on her feet. Taking her dress in her finger tips and +settling back almost to the ground in the most beautiful obeisance I +ever saw, she said-- + +"Sire!" + +Neither in Iroquois nor in Iroquois-French had such a name been given to +me before. I had a long title signifying Tree-Cutter, which belonged to +every chief of our family. But that word---"Sire!"--and her deep +reverence seemed to atone in some way for what I had lost. I sat up, +quieting myself, still moved as water heaves. She put the missal on the +lap of my single garment, and drew back a step, formally standing. My +scarred ankles, at which the Indian children used to point, were exposed +to her gaze, for I never would sit on them after the manner of the +tribe. There was no restraining the tears that ran down my face. She +might have mocked me, but she remained white and quiet; while I sat as +dumb as a dog, and as full of unuttered speech. Looking back now I can +see what passionate necessity shook me with throbs to be the equal of +her who had received me as a superior. + +De Chaumont's manor house, facing a winding avenue, could be seen from +where we were. It was of stone, built to enclose a court on three sides, +in the form that I afterwards recognized as that of French palaces. +There were a great many flowers in the court, and vines covered the ends +of the wings. All those misty half remembered hunting seasons that I had +spent on Lake George were not without some knowledge. The chimneys and +roofs of Le Ray de Chaumont's manor often looked at me through trees as +I steered my boat among the islands. He was a great land owner, having +more than three hundred thousand acres of wilderness. And he was +friendly with both Indians and Americans. His figure did not mean much +to me when I saw it, being merely a type of wealth, and wealth extends +little power into the wilderness. + +The poppet of a child climbed up and held to the girl's dress. She +stooped over and kissed it, saying, "Sit down, Paul." The toy human +being seemed full of intelligence, and after the first protest examined +me fearlessly, with enchanting smiles about the mouth and eyes. I +noticed even then an upward curling of the mouth corners and a kind of +magic in the liquid blue gaze, of which Paul might never be conscious, +but which would work on every beholder. + +That a child should be the appendage of such a very young creature as +the girl, surprised me no more than if it had been a fawn or a dog. In +the vivid moments of my first rousing to life I had seen her with Paul +in her arms; and he remained part of her. + +We heard a rush of horses up the avenue, and out of the woods came Le +Ray de Chaumont and his groom, the wealthy land owner equipped in +gentleman's riding dress from his spurs to his hat. He made a fine show, +whip hand on his hip and back erect as a pine tree. He was a man in +middle life, but he reined up and dismounted with the swift agility of +a youth, and sent his horse away with the groom, as soon as he saw the +girl run across the grass to meet him. Taking her hand he bowed over it +and kissed it with pleasing ceremony, of which I approved. An Iroquois +chief in full council had not better manners than Le Ray de Chaumont. + +Paul and I waited to see what was going to happen, for the two came +toward us, the girl talking rapidly to the man. I saw my father and +Skenedonk and the doctor also coming from the house, and they readily +spied me sitting tame as a rabbit near the baby. + +You never can perceive yourself what figure you are making in the world: +for when you think you are the admired of all eyes you may be displaying +a fool; and when life seems prostrated in you it may be that you show as +a monument on the heights. But I could not be mistaken in De Chaumont's +opinion of me. He pointed his whip handle at me, exclaiming-- + +"What!--that scarecrow, madame?" + + + + +II + + +"But look at him," she urged. + +"I recognize first," said De Chaumont as he sauntered, "an old robe of +my own." + +"His mother was reduced to coarse serge, I have been told." + +"You speak of an august lady, my dear Eagle. But this is Chief Williams' +boy. He has been at the hunting lodges every summer since I came into +the wilderness. There you see his father, the half-breed Mohawk." + +"I saw the dauphin in London, count. I was a little child, but his +scarred ankles and wrists and forehead are not easily forgotten." + +"The dauphin died in the Temple, Eagle." + +"My father and Philippe never believed that." + +"Your father and Philippe were very mad royalists." + +"And you have gone over to Bonaparte. They said that boy had all the +traits of the Bourbons, even to the shaping of his ear." + +"A Bourbon ear hears nothing but Bonaparte in these days," said De +Chaumont. "How do you know this is the same boy you saw in London?" + +"Last night while he was lying unconscious, after Doctor Chantry had +bandaged his head and bled him, I went in to see if I might be of use. +He was like some one I had seen. But I did not know him until a moment +ago. He ran out of the house like a wild Indian. Then he saw us sitting +here, and came and fell down on his knees at sight of that missal. I saw +his scars. He claimed the book as his mother's--and you know, count, it +was his mother's!" + +"My dear child, whenever an Indian wants a present he dreams that you +give it to him, or he claims it. Chief Williams' boy wanted your +valuable illuminated book. I only wonder he had the taste. The rings on +your hands are more to an Indian's liking." + +"But he is not an Indian, count. He is as white as we are." + +"That signifies nothing. Plenty of white children have been brought up +among the tribes. Chief Williams' grandmother, I have heard, was a +Yankee woman." + +Not one word of their rapid talk escaped an ear trained to faintest +noises in the woods. I felt like a tree, well set up and sound, but +rooted and voiceless in my ignorant helplessness before the two so +frankly considering me. + +My father stopped when he saw Madame de Ferrier, and called to me in +Iroquois. It was plain that he and Doctor Chantry disagreed. Skenedonk, +put out of countenance by my behavior, and the stubbornness of the +chief, looked ready to lay his hand upon his mouth in sign of being +confounded before white men; for his learning had altered none of his +inherited instincts. + +But as for me, I was as De Chaumont had said, Chief Williams' boy, faint +from blood letting and twenty-four hours' fasting; and the father's +command reminded me of the mother's dinner pot. I stood up erect and +drew the flowered silk robe around me. It would have been easier to walk +on burning coals, but I felt obliged to return the book to Madame de +Ferrier. She would not take it. I closed her grasp upon it, and +stooping, saluted her hand with courtesy as De Chaumont had done. If he +had roared I must have done this devoir. But all he did was to widen his +eyes and strike his leg with his riding whip. + +My father and I seldom talked. An Indian boy who lives in water and +forest all summer and on snowshoes all winter, finds talk enough in the +natural world without falling back upon his family. Dignified manners +were not lacking among my elders, but speech had seemed of little +account to me before this day. + +The chief paddled and I sat naked in our canoe;--for we left the +flowered robe with a horse-boy at the stables;--the sun warm upon my +skin, the lake's blue glamour affecting me like enchantment. + +Neither love nor aversion was associated with my father. I took my head +between my hands and tried to remember a face that was associated with +aversion. + +"Father," I inquired, "was anybody ever very cruel to me?" + +He looked startled, but spoke harshly. + +"What have you got in your head? These white people have been making a +fool of you." + +"I remember better to-day than I ever remembered before. I am different. +I was a child: but to-day manhood has come. Father, what is a dauphin?" + +The chief made no answer. + +"What is a temple? Is it a church, like ours at St. Regis?" + +"Ask the priest." + +"Do you know what Bourbon is, father,--particularly a Bourbon ear?" + +"Nothing that concerns you." + +"But how could I have a Bourbon ear if it didn't concern me?" + +"Who said you had such an ear?" + +"Madame de Ferrier." + +The chief grunted. + +"At least she told De Chaumont," I repeated exactly, "I was the boy she +saw in London, that her father said had all the traits of the Bourbons. +Where is London?" + +The chief paddled without replying. Finding him so ignorant on all +points of the conversation, or so determined to put me down, I gazed +awhile at our shadow gliding in the water, and then began again. + +"Father, do you happen to know who Bonaparte is?" + +This time he answered. + +"Bonaparte is a great soldier." + +"Is he a white man or an Indian?" + +"He is a Frenchman." + +I meditated on the Frenchmen I dimly remembered about St. Regis. They +were undersized fellows, very apt to weep when their emotions were +stirred. I could whip them all. + +"Did he ever come to St. Regis?" + +The chief again grunted. + +"Does France come to St. Regis?" he retorted with an impatient question. + +"What is France, father?" + +"A country." + +"Shall we ever go there to hunt?" + +"Shall we ever go the other side of the sunrise to hunt? France is the +other side of the sunrise. Talk to the squaws." + +Though rebuked, I determined to do it if any information could be got +out of them. The desire to know things was consuming. I had the belated +feeling of one who waked to consciousness late in life and found the +world had run away from him. The camp seemed strange, as if I had been +gone many years, but every object was so wonderfully distinct. + +My mother Marianne fed me, and when I lay down dizzy in the bunk, +covered me. The family must have thought it was natural sleep. But it +was a fainting collapse, which took me more than once afterwards as +suddenly as a blow on the head, when my faculties were most needed. +Whether this was caused by the plunge upon the rock or the dim life from +which I had emerged, I do not know. One moment I saw the children, and +mothers from the neighboring lodges, more interested than my own +mother: our smoky rafters, and the fire pit in the center of unfloored +ground: my clothes hanging over the bunk, and even a dog with his nose +in the kettle. And then, as it had been the night before, I waked after +many hours. + +By that time the family breathing sawed the air within the walls, and a +fine starlight showed through the open door, for we had no window. +Outside the oak trees were pattering their leaves like rain, reminding +me of our cool spring in the woods. My bandaged head was very hot, in +that dark lair of animals where the log bunks stretched and deepened +shadow. + +If Skenedonk had been there I would have asked him to bring me water, +with confidence in his natural service. The chief's family was a large +one, but not one of my brothers and sisters seemed as near to me as +Skenedonk. The apathy of fraternal attachment never caused me any pain. +The whole tribe was held dear. + +I stripped off Doctor Chantry's unendurable bandages, and put on my +clothes, for there were brambles along the path. The lodges and the dogs +were still, and I crept like a hunter after game, to avoid waking them. +Our village was an irregular camp, each house standing where its owner +had pleased to build it on the lake shore. Behind it the blackness of +wooded wilderness seemed to stretch to the end of the world. + +The spring made a distinct tinkle in the rush of low sound through the +forest. A rank night sweetness of mints and other lush plants mixed its +spirit with the body of leaf earth. I felt happy in being a part of all +this, and the woods were to me as safe as the bed-chamber of a mother. +It was fine to wallow, damming the span of escaping water with my +fevered head. Physical relief and delicious shuddering coolness ran +through me. + +From that wet pillow I looked up and thought again of what had happened +that day, and particularly of the girl whom De Chaumont had called +Madame de Ferrier and Eagle. Every word that she had spoken passed again +before my mind. Possibilities that I had never imagined rayed out from +my recumbent body as from the hub of a vast wheel. I was white. I was +not an Indian. I had a Bourbon ear. She believed I was a dauphin. What +was a dauphin, that she should make such a deep obeisance to it? My +father the chief, recommending me to the squaws, had appeared to know +nothing about it. + +All that she believed De Chaumont denied. The rich book which stirred +such torment in me--"you know it was his mother's!" she said--De +Chaumont thought I merely coveted. I can see now that the crude +half-savage boy wallowing in the spring stream, set that woman as high +as the highest star above his head, and made her the hope and symbol of +his possible best. + +A woman's long cry, like the appeal of that one on whom he meditated, +echoed through the woods and startled him out of his wallow. + + + + +III + + +I sat up with the water trickling down my back. The cry was repeated, +out of the west. + +I knew the woods, but night alters the most familiar places. It was so +dark in vaults and tunnels of trees and thickets that I might have +burrowed through the ground almost as easily as thresh a path. The +million scarcely audible noises that fill a forest surrounded me, and +twigs not broken by me cracked or shook. Still I made directly toward +the woman's voice which guided me more plainly; but left off running as +my ear detected that she was only in perplexity. She called at +intervals, imperatively but not in continuous screams. She was a white +woman; for no squaw would publish her discomfort. A squaw if lost would +camp sensibly on a bed of leaves, and find her way back to the village +in the morning. The wilderness was full of dangers, but when you are +elder brother to the bear and the wildcat you learn their habits, and +avoid or outwit them. + +Climbing over rocks and windfalls I came against a solid log wall and +heard the woman talking in a very pretty chatter the other side of it. +She only left off talking to call for help, and left off calling for +help to scold and laugh again. There was a man imprisoned with her, and +they were speaking English, a language I did not then understand. But +what had happened to them was very plain. They had wandered into a pen +built by hunters to trap bears, and could not find the bush-masked and +winding opening, but were traveling around the walls. It was lucky for +them that a bear had not arrived first, though in that case their horses +must have smelled him. I heard the beasts shaking their bridles. + +I found my way to the opening, and whistled. At once the woman ceased +her chatter and drew in her breath, and they both asked me a question +that needed no interpretation. I told them where they were, and the +woman began talking at once in my own tongue and spoke it as well as I +could myself. + +"In a bear pen? George, he says we are in a bear pen! Take us out, dear +chief, before the bear family arrive home from their ball. I don't know +whether you are a chief or not, but most Indians are. My nurse was a +chief's daughter. Where are you? I can't see anything but chunks of +blackness." + +I took her horse by the bridle and led him, and so got both the riders +outside. They had no tinder, and neither had I; and all of us groped for +the way by which they had come to the bear pen. The young man spurred +his horse in every direction, and turned back unable to get through. + +Though we could not see one another I knew that both the adventurers +were young, and that they expected to be called to severe account for +the lawless act they were committing. The girl, talking English, or +French, or Mohawk almost in one breath, took the blame upon herself and +made light of the boy's self-reproaches. + +She laughed and said--"My father thinks I am with Miss Chantry, and Miss +Chantry thinks I am with my father. He will blame her for letting me +ride with George Croghan to meet him, and lose the way and so get into +the bear pen. And she will blame my father, and your dearest Annabel +will let the Count de Chaumont and Miss Chantry fight it out. It is not +an affair for youth to meddle with, George." + +Having her for interpreter the boy and I consulted. I might have led him +back to our hunting camp, but it was a hard road for a woman and an +impossible one for horses. There was no inhabited house nearer than De +Chaumont's own. He decided they must return to the road by which they +had come into the bear pen, and gladly accepted my offer to go with him; +dismounting and leading Annabel de Chaumont's horse while I led his. We +passed over rotten logs and through black tangles, the girl bending to +her saddle bow, unwearied and full of laughter. It was plain that he +could not find any outlet, and falling behind with the cumbered horse he +let me guide the party. + +I do not know by what instinct I felt my way, conscious of slipping +between the wild citizens of that vast town of trees; but we finally +reached a clearing and saw across the open space a lighted cabin. Its +sashless windows and defective chinks were gilded with the yellow light +that comes from a glowing hearth. + +"I know this place!" exclaimed Annabel. "It is where the Saint-Michels +used to live before they went to my father's settlement at Le Rayville. +Look at the house! Nobody lives there. It must be full of witches." + +Violin music testified that the witches were merry. We halted, and the +horses neighed and were answered by others of their kind. + +"George Croghan's grandmother was struck by a witch ball. And here her +grandson stands, too tired to run. But perhaps there aren't any witches +in the house. I don't believe wicked things would be allowed to enter +it. The Saint-Michels were so pious, and ugly, and resigned to the +poverty of refugees. Their society was so good for me, my mother, when +she was alive, made me venerate them until I hated them. Holy Sophie +died and went to heaven. I shall never see her again. She was, indeed, +excellent. This can't be a nest of witches. George, why don't you go and +knock on the door?" + +It was not necessary, for the door opened and a man appeared, holding +his violin by the neck. He stepped out to look around the cabin at some +horses fastened there, and saw and hailed us. + +I was not sorry to be allowed to enter, for I was tired to exhaustion, +and sat down on the floor away from the fire. The man looked at me +suspiciously, though he was ruddy and good natured. But he bent quite +over before De Chaumont's daughter, and made a flourish with his hand +in receiving young Croghan. There were in the cabin with him two women +and two little girls; and a Canadian servant like a fat brown bear came +from the rear of the house to look at us and then went back to the +horses. + +All the women began to speak, but Annabel de Chaumont could talk faster +than the four others combined, so they knew our plight before we learned +that they were the Grignon and Tank families, who were going into the +west to find settlement and had made the house their camp for one night. +The Dutch maid, dark and round-eyed, and the flaxen little Grignon, had +respect for their elders and held their tongues while Madame Tank and +Madame Grignon spoke, but Annabel de Chaumont was like a grove of +sparrows. The world seemed swarming with young maids. The travelers were +mere children, while the count's daughter was startling as an angel. Her +clothing fitted her body like an exquisite sheath. I do not know what it +was, but it made her look as slim as a dragon fly. Her white and rose +pink face had a high arched nose, and was proud and saucy. She wore her +hair beaten out like mist, with rich curly shreds hanging in front of +her ears to her shoulders. She shook her head to set her hat straight, +and turned her eyes in rapid smiling sweeps. I knew as well then as I +ever did afterwards that she was bound to befool every man that came +near her. + +There were only two benches in the cabin, but it was floored and better +made than our hunting lodges. The temporary inmates and their guests +sat down in a long row before the fire. I was glad to make a pillow of a +saddle near the wall, and watch their backs, as an outsider. +Mademoiselle de Chaumont absorbed all eyes and all attention. She told +about a ball, to which she had ridden with her governess and servants a +three days' journey, and from which all the dancers were riding back a +three days' journey to join in another ball at her father's house. With +the hospitality which made Le Ray de Chaumont's manor the palace of the +wilderness as it existed then, she invited the hosts who sheltered her +for the night, to come to the ball and stay all summer. And they +lamented that they could not accept the invitation, being obliged to +hurry on to Albany, where a larger party would give them escort on a +long westward journey. + +The head of the house took up his bow, as if musing on the ball, and +Annabel de Chaumont wriggled her feet faster and faster. Tireless as +thistledown that rolls here and there at the will of the wind, up she +sprang and began to dance. The children watched her spellbound. None of +us had ever seen the many figures through which she passed, or such +wonderful dancing. The chimney was built of logs and clay, forming +terraces. As if it was no longer possible for her to stay on the ground +she darted from the bench-end to the lowest log, and stepped on up as +fearlessly as a thing of air, until her head touched the roof. Monsieur +Grignon played like mad, and the others clapped their hands. While she +poised so I sat up to watch her, and she noticed me for the first time +by firelight. + +"Look at that boy--he has been hurt--the blood is running down his +cheek!" she cried. "I thought he was an Indian--and he is white!" + +She came down as lightly as she had gone up, and caused me to be haled +against my will to the middle of a bench. I wanted the women to leave me +alone, and told them my head had been broken two days before, and was +nearly well. The mothers, too keen to wash and bandage to let me escape, +opened a saddle pack and tore good linen. + +George Croghan stood by the chimney, slim and tall and handsome. His +head and face were long, his hair was of a sunny color, and his mouth +corners were shrewd and good natured. I liked him the moment I saw him. +Younger in years than I, he was older in wit and manly carriage. While +he looked on it was hard to have Madame Tank seize my head in her hands +and examine my eyebrow. She next took my wrists, and not satisfied, +stripped up the right sleeve and exposed a crescent-shaped scar, one of +the rare vaccination marks of those days. I did not know what it was. +Her animated dark eyes drew the brows together so that a pucker came +between them. I looked at Croghan, and wanted to exclaim--"Help +yourself! Anybody may handle me!" + +"Ursule Grignon!" she said sharply, and Madame Grignon answered, + +"Eh, what, Katarina?" + +"This is the boy." + +"But what boy?" + +"The boy I saw on the ship." + +"The one who was sent to America--" + +Madame Tank put up her hand, and the other stopped. + +"But that was a child," Madame Grignon then objected. + +"Nine years ago. He would be about eighteen now." + +"How old are you?" they both put to me. + +Remembering what my father had told Doctor Chantry, I was obliged to own +that I was about eighteen. Annabel de Chaumont sat on the lowest log of +the chimney with her feet on a bench, and her chin in her hand, +interested to the point of silence. Something in her eyes made it very +galling to be overhauled and have my blemishes enumerated before her and +Croghan. What had uplifted me to Madame de Ferrier's recognition now +mocked, and I found it hard to submit. It would not go well with the +next stranger who declared he knew me by my scars. + +"What do they call you in this country?" inquired Madame Tank. + +I said my name was Lazarre Williams. + +"It is not!" she said in an undertone, shaking her head. + +I made bold to ask with some warmth what my name was then, and she +whispered--"Poor child!" + +It seemed that I was to be pitied in any case. In dim self-knowledge I +saw that the core of my resentment was her treating me with +commiseration. Madame de Ferrier had not treated me so. + +"You live among the Indians?" Madame Tank resumed. + +The fact was evident. + +"Have they been kind to you?" + +I said they had. + +Madame Tank's young daughter edged near her and inquired in a whisper, + +"Who is he, mother?" + +"Hush!" answered Madame Tank. + +The head of the party laid down his violin and bow, and explained to us: + +"Madame Tank was maid of honor to the queen of Holland, before reverses +overtook her. She knows court secrets." + +"But she might at least tell us," coaxed Annabel, "if this Mohawk is a +Dutchman." + +Madame Tank said nothing. + +"What could happen in the court of Holland? The Dutch are slow coaches. +I saw the Van Rensselaers once, near Albany, riding in a wagon with +straw under their feet, on common chairs, the old Patroon himself +driving. This boy is some off-scouring." + +"He outranks you, mademoiselle," retorted Madame Tank. + +"That's what I wanted to find out," said Annabel. + +I kept half an eye on Croghan to see what he thought of all this woman +talk. For you cannot help being more dominated by the opinion of your +contemporaries than by that of the fore-running or following generation. +He held his countenance in excellent command, and did not meddle even by +a word. You could be sure, however, that he was no credulous person who +accepted everything that was said to him. + +Madame Tank looked into the reddened fireplace, and began to speak, but +hesitated. The whole thing was weird, like a dream resulting from the +cut on my head: the strange white faces; the camp stuff and saddlebags +unpacked from horses; the light on the coarse floor; the children +listening as to a ghost story; Mademoiselle de Chaumont presiding over +it all. The cabin had an arched roof and no loft. The top was full of +shadows. + +"If you are the boy I take you to be," Madame Tank finally said, sinking +her voice, "you may find you have enemies." + +"If I am the boy you take me to be, madame, who am I?" + +She shook her head. + +"I wish I had not spoken at all. To tell you anything more would only +plunge you into trouble. You are better off to be as you are, than to +know the truth and suffer from it. Besides, I may be mistaken. And I am +certainly too helpless myself to be of any use to you. This much I will +say: when you are older, if things occur that make it necessary for you +to know what I know, send a letter to me, and I will write it down." + +With delicacy Monsieur Grignon began to play a whisper of a tune on his +violin. I did not know what she meant by a letter, though I understood +her. Madame Tank spoke the language as well as anybody. I thought then, +as idiom after idiom rushed back on my memory, that it was an universal +language, with the exception of Iroquois and English. + +"We are going to a place called Green Bay, in the Northwest Territory. +Remember the name: Green Bay. It is in the Wisconsin country." + + + + +IV + + +Dawn found me lying wide awake with my head on a saddle. I slipped out +into the dewy half light. + +That was the first time I ever thought about the mountains. They seemed +to be newly created, standing up with streamers of mist torn and +floating across their breasts. The winding cliff-bound lake was like a +gorge of smoke. I felt as if I had reared upon my hind feet, lifting my +face from the ground to discover there was a God. Some of the prayers +our priest had industriously beaten into my head, began to repeat +themselves. In a twinkling I was a child, lonely in the universe, +separated from my dim old life, instinct with growth, yet ignorant of my +own needs. + +What Madame de Ferrier and Madame Tank had said influenced me less than +the intense life of my roused activities. + +It was mid forenoon by the sun when I reached our lodges, and sat down +fagged outside my father's door, to think longer before I entered. +Hunger was the principal sensation, though we had eaten in the cabin the +night before, and the Indian life inures a man to fasting when he cannot +come by food. I heard Skenedonk talking to my father and mother in our +cabin. The village was empty; children and women, hunters and fishermen +having scattered to woods and waters. + +"He ought to learn books," said Skenedonk. "Money is sent you every year +to be spent upon him: yet you spend nothing upon him." + +"What has he needed?" said my father. + +"He needs much now. He needs American clothes. He wept at the sight of a +book. God has removed the touch since he plunged in the water." + +"You would make a fool of him," said my father. "He was gone from the +lodge this morning. You taught him an evil path when you carried him +off." + +"It is a natural path for him: he will go to his own. I stayed and +talked with De Chaumont, and I bring you an offer. De Chaumont will take +Lazarre into his house, and have him taught all that a white boy should +know. You will pay the cost. If you don't, De Chaumont will look into +this annuity of which you give no account." + +"I have never been asked to give account. Could Lazarre learn anything? +The priest has sat over him. He had food and clothing like my own." + +"That is true. But he is changed. Marianne will let him go." + +"The strange boy may go," said my mother. "But none of my own children +shall leave us to be educated." + +I got up and went into the cabin. All three knew I had heard, and they +waited in silence while I approached my mother and put my hands on her +shoulders. There was no tenderness between us, but she had fostered me. +The small dark eyes in her copper face, and her shapeless body, were +associated with winters and summers stretching to a vanishing point. + +"Mother," I said, "is it true that I am not your son?" + +She made no answer. + +"Is it true that the chief is not my father?" + +She made no answer. + +"Who sends money to be spent on me every year?" + +Still she made no answer. + +"If I am not your son, whose son am I?" + +In the silence I turned to Skenedonk. + +"Isn't my name Lazarre Williams, Skenedonk?" + +"You are called Lazarre Williams." + +"A woman told me last night that it was not my name. Everyone denies me. +No one owns me and tells whose child I am. Wasn't I born at St. Regis?" + +"If you were, there is no record of your birth on the register. The +chief's other children have their births recorded." + +I turned to my father. The desolation of being cut off and left with +nothing but the guesses of strangers overcame me. I sobbed so the hoarse +choke echoed in the cabin. Skenedonk opened his arms, and my father and +mother let me lean on the Oneida's shoulder. + +I have thought since that they resented with stoical pain his taking +their white son from them. They both stood severely reserved, passively +loosening the filial bond. + +All the business of life was suspended, as when there is death in the +lodge. Skenedonk and I sat down together on a bunk. + +"Lazarre," my father spoke, "do you want to be educated?" + +The things we pine for in this world are often thrust upon us in a way +to choke us. I had tramped miles, storming for the privileges that had +made George Croghan what he was. Fate instantly picked me up from +unendurable conditions to set me down where I could grow, and I squirmed +with recoil from the shock. + +I felt crowded over the edge of a cliff and about to drop into a valley +of rainbows. + +"Do you want to live in De Chaumont's house and learn his ways?" + +My father and mother had been silent when I questioned them. It was my +turn to be silent. + +"Or would you rather stay as you are?" + +"No, father," I answered, "I want to go." + +The camp had never been dearer. I walked among the Indian children when +the evening fires were lighted, and the children looked at me curiously +as at an alien. Already my people had cut me off from them. + +"What I learn I will come back and teach you," I told the young men and +women of my own age. They laughed. + +"You are a fool, Lazarre. There is a good home for you at St. Regis. If +you fall sick in De Chaumont's house who will care?" + +"Skenedonk is my friend," I answered. + +"Skenedonk would not stay where he is tying you. When the lake freezes +you will be mad for snowshoes and a sight of the St. Lawrence." + +"Perhaps so. But we are not made alike. Do not forget me." + +They gave me belts and garters, and I distributed among them all my +Indian property. Then, as if to work a charm which should keep me from +breaking through the circle, they joined hands and danced around me. I +went to every cabin, half ashamed of my desertion, yet unspeakably +craving a blessing. The old people variously commented on the measure, +their wise eyes seeing the change in one who had been a child rather +than a young man among them. + +If the wrench from the village was hard, the induction into the manor +was harder. Skenedonk took me in his boat, skirting the long strip of +mountainous shore which separated us from De Chaumont. + +He told me De Chaumont would permit my father to pay no more than my +exact reckoning. + +"Do you know who sends the money?" I inquired. + +The Oneida did not know. It came through an agent in New York. + +"You are ten years older than I am. You must remember very well when I +was born." + +"How can that be?" answered Skenedonk. "Nobody in the tribe knows when +you were born." + +"Are children not like the young of other creatures? Where did I come +from?" + +"You came to the tribe with a man, and Chief Williams adopted you." + +"Did you see the man?" + +"No. I was on the other side of the ocean, in France." + +"Who saw him?" + +"None of our people. But it is very well known. If you had noticed +anything you would have heard the story long ago." + +What Skenedonk said was true. I asked him, bewildered--"Why did I never +notice anything?" + +The Oneida tapped his bald head. + +"When I saw you first you were not the big fellow with speaking eyes +that you are to-day. You would sit from sunrise to sunset, looking +straight ahead of you and never moving except when food was put in your +hand. As you grew older the children dragged you among them to play. You +learned to fish, and hunt, and swim; and knew us, and began to talk our +language. Now at last you are fully roused, and are going to learn the +knowledge there is in books." + +I asked Skenedonk how he himself had liked books, and he shook his head, +smiling. They were good for white men, very good. An Indian had little +use for them. He could read and write and cast accounts. When he made +his great journey to the far country, what interested him most was the +behavior of the people. + +We did not go into the subject of his travels at that time, for I began +to wonder who was going to teach me books, and heard with surprise that +it was Doctor Chantry. + +"But I struck him with the little knife that springs out of a box." + +Skenedonk assured me that Doctor Chantry thought nothing of it, and +there was no wound but a scratch. He looked on me as his pupil. He knew +all kinds of books. + +Evidently Doctor Chantry liked me from the moment I showed fight. His +Anglo-Saxon blood was stirred. He received me from Skenedonk, who shook +my hand and wished me well, before paddling away. + +De Chaumont's house was full as a hive around the three sides of its +flowered court. A ball was in preparation, and all the guests had +arrived. Avoiding these gentry we mounted stairs toward the roof, and +came into a burst of splendor. As far as the eye could see through +square east and west windows, unbroken forests stretched to the end of +the world, or Lake George wound, sown thick with islands, ranging in +size from mere rocks supporting a tree, to wooded acres. + +The room which weaned me from aboriginal life was at the top of the +central building. Doctor Chantry shuffled over the clean oak floor and +introduced me to my appointments. There were curtains like frost work, +which could be pushed back from the square panes. At one end of the huge +apartment was my huge bed, formidable with hangings. Near it stood a +table for the toilet. He opened a closet door in the wall and showed a +spiral staircase going down to a tunnel which led to the lake. For when +De Chaumont first came into the wilderness and built the central house +without its wings, he thought it well to have a secret way out, as his +chateau in the old country had. + +"The tunnel is damp," said Doctor Chantry. "I never venture into it, +though all the corner rooms below give upon this stairway, and mine is +just under yours." + +It was like returning me the lake to use in my own accustomed way. For +the remainder of my furniture I had a study table, a cupboard for +clothes, some arm-chairs, a case of books, and a massive fireplace with +chimney seats at the end of the room opposite the bed. + +I asked Doctor Chantry, "Was all this made ready for me before I was +sure of coming here?" + +"When the count decides that a thing will be done it is usually done," +said my schoolmaster. "And Madame de Ferrier was very active in +forwarding the preparations." + +The joy of youth in the unknown was before me. My old camp life receded +behind me. + +Madame de Ferrier's missal-book lay on the table, and when I stopped +before it tongue-tied, Doctor Chantry said I was to keep it. + +"She gives it to you. It was treasured in her family on account of +personal attachment to the giver. She is not a Catholic. She was brought +up as good a Protestant as any English gentlewoman." + +"I told her it was my mother's. It seemed to be my mother's. But I don't +know--I can't remember." + +My master looked at the missal, and said it was a fine specimen of +illumination. His manner toward me was so changed that I found it hard +to refer to the lancet. This, however, very naturally followed his +examination of my head. He said I had healthy blood, and the wound was +closing by the first intention. The pink cone at the tip of his nose +worked in a whimsical grin as he heard my apology. + +"It is not often you will make the medicine man take his own remedy, my +lad." + +We thus began our relation with the best feeling. It has since appeared +that I was a blessing to Doctor Chantry. My education gave him something +to do. For although he called himself physician to Count de Chaumont, he +had no real occupation in the house, and dabbled with poetry, dozing +among books. De Chaumont was one of those large men who gather in the +weak. His older servants had come to America with his father, and were +as attached as kindred. A natural parasite like Doctor Chantry took to +De Chaumont as means of support; and it was pleasing to both of them. + +My master asked me when I wanted to begin my studies, and I said, "Now." +We sat down at the table, and I learned the English alphabet, some +phrases of English talk, some spelling, and traced my first characters +in a copy-book. With consuming desire to know, I did not want to leave +off at dusk. In that high room day lingered. The doctor was fretful for +his supper before we rose from our task. + +Servants were hurrying up and down stairs. The whole house had an air of +festivity. Doctor Chantry asked me to wait in a lower corridor while he +made some change in his dress. + +I sat down on a broad window sill, and when I had waited a few minutes, +Mademoiselle de Chaumont darted around a corner, bare armed and bare +necked. She collapsed to the floor at sight of me, and then began to +dance away in the opposite direction with stiff leaps, as a lamb does in +spring-time. + +I saw she was in pain or trouble, needing a servant, and made haste to +reach her; when she hid her face on both arms against the wall. + +"Go off!" she hissed. "--S-s-s! Go off! I haven't anything on!--Don't go +off! Open my door for me quick!--before anybody else comes into the +hall!" + +"Which door is it?" I asked. She showed me. It had a spring catch, and +she had stepped into the hall to see if the catch was set. + +"The catch was set!" gasped Mademoiselle de Chaumont. "Break the +door--get it open--anyway--Quick!" + +By good fortune I had strength enough in my shoulder to set the door +wide off its spring, and she flew to the middle of the room slamming it +in my face. + +Fitness and unfitness required nicer discrimination than the crude boy +from the woods possessed. When I saw her in the ball-room she had very +little more on than when I saw her in the hall, and that little clung +tight around her figure. Yet she looked quite unconcerned. + +After we had eaten supper Doctor Chantry and I sat with his sister where +we could see the dancing, on a landing of the stairway. De Chaumont's +generous house was divided across the middle by a wide hall that made an +excellent ball-room. The sides were paneled, like the walls of the room +in which I first came to my senses. Candles in sconces were reflected by +the polished, dark floor. A platform for his fiddlers had been built at +one end. Festoons of green were carried from a cluster of lights in the +center of the ceiling, to the corners, making a bower or canopy under +which the dancers moved. + +It is strange to think that not one stone remains upon another and +scarcely a trace is left of this manor. When De Chaumont determined to +remove to his seat at Le Rayville, in what was then called Castorland, +he had his first hold pulled down. + +Miss Chantry was a blunt woman. Her consideration for me rested on my +being her brother's pupil. She spoke more readily than he did. From our +cove we looked over the railing at an active world. + +"Madame Eagle is a picture," remarked Miss Chantry. "---- Eagle! What a +name for civilized people to give a christened child! But these French +are as likely as not to call their boys Anne or Marie, and it wouldn't +surprise me if they called their girls Cat or Dog. Eagle or Crow, she is +the handsomest woman on the floor." + +"Except Mademoiselle Annabel," the doctor ventured to amend. + +"That Annabel de Chaumont," his sister vigorously declared, "has neither +conscience nor gratitude. But none of the French have. They will take +your best and throw you away with a laugh." + +My master and I watched the brilliant figures swimming in the glow of +wax candles. Face after face could be singled out as beautiful, and the +scant dresses revealed taper forms. Madame de Ferrier's garments may +have been white or blue or yellow; I remember only her satin arms and +neck, the rosy color of her face, and the powder on her hair making it +white as down. Where this assembly was collected from I did not know, +but it acted on the spirits and went like volatile essence to the brain. + +"Pheugh!" exclaimed Miss Chantry, "how the French smell!" + +I asked her why, if she detested them so, she lived in a French family, +and she replied that Count de Chaumont was an exception, being almost +English in his tastes. He had lived out of France since his father came +over with La Fayette to help the rebellious Americans. + +I did not know who the rebellious Americans were, but inferred that +they were people of whom Miss Chantry thought almost as little as she +did of the French. + +Croghan looked quite a boy among so many experienced gallants, but well +appointed in his dress and stepping through the figures featly. He was, +Miss Chantry said, a student of William and Mary College. + +"This company of gentry will be widely scattered when it disperses +home," she told us. "There is at least one man from over-seas." + +I thought of the Grignon and Tank families, who were probably on the +road to Albany. Miss Chantry bespoke her brother's attention. + +"There he is." + +"Who?" the doctor inquired. + +"His highness," she incisively responded, "Prince Jerome Bonaparte." + +I remembered my father had said that Bonaparte was a great soldier in a +far off country, and directly asked Miss Chantry if the great soldier +was in the ball-room. + +She breathed a snort and turned upon my master. "Pray, are you teaching +this lad to call that impostor the great soldier?" + +Doctor Chantry denied the charge and cast a weak-eyed look of surprise +at me. + +I said my father told me Bonaparte was a great soldier, and begged to +know if he had been deceived. + +"Oh!" Miss Chantry responded in a tone which slighted Thomas Williams. +"Well! I will tell you facts. Napoleon Bonaparte is one of the worst and +most dangerous men that ever lived. He sets the world by the ears, and +carries war into every country of Europe. That is his youngest brother +yonder--that superfine gallant, in the long-tailed white silk coat down +to his heels, and white small-clothes, with diamond buckles in his +shoes, and grand lace stock and ruffles. Jerome Bonaparte spent last +winter in Baltimore; and they say he is traveling in the north now to +forget a charming American that Napoleon will not let him marry. He has +got his name in the newspapers of the day, and so has the young lady. +The French consul warned her officially. For Jerome Bonaparte may be +made a little king, with other relations of your great soldier." + +The young man who might be made a little king was not as large as I was +myself, and had a delicate and womanish cut of countenance. I said he +was not fit for a king, and Miss Chantry retorted that neither was +Napoleon Bonaparte fit for an emperor. + +"What is an emperor?" I inquired. + +"A chief over kings," Doctor Chantry put in. "Bonaparte is a conqueror +and can set kings over the countries he has conquered." + +I said that was the proper thing to do. Miss Chantry glared at me. She +had weak hair like her brother, but her eyes were a piercing blue, and +the angles of her jaws were sharply marked. + +Meditating on things outside of my experience I desired to know what the +white silk man had done. + +"Nothing." + +"Then why should the emperor give him a kingdom?" + +"Because he is the emperor's brother." + +"But he ought to do something himself," I insisted. "It is not enough to +accept a chief's place. He cannot hold it if he is not fit." + +"So the poor Bourbons found. But they were not upstarts at any rate. I +hope I shall live to see them restored." + +Here was another opportunity to inform myself. I asked Miss Chantry who +the Bourbons were. + +"They are the rightful kings of France." + +"Why do they let Bonaparte and his brothers take their place?" + +Doctor Chantry turned from the promenaders below and, with slow and +careful speech, gave me my first lesson in history. + +"There was a great civil war in France called the Revolution, when part +of the people ran mad to kill the other part. They cut off the heads of +the king and queen, and shut up the two royal children in prison. The +dauphin died." + +"What is a dauphin?" + +"The heir to the throne of France was called the dauphin." + +"Was he the king's son?" + +"The king's eldest son." + +"If he had brothers were they dauphins too?" + +"No. He alone was the dauphin. The last dauphin of France had no living +brothers. He had only a sister." + +"You said the dauphin died." + +"In a prison called the Temple, in Paris." + +"Was the Temple a prison?" + +"Yes." + +Madame de Ferrier had said her father and some other person did not +believe the dauphin died in the Temple. + +"Suppose he was alive?" I hazarded. + +"Suppose who was alive?" said Miss Chantry. + +"The dauphin." + +"He isn't." + +"Did all the people believe he was dead?" + +"They didn't care whether he was dead or not. They went on killing one +another until this man Bonaparte put himself at the head of the army and +got the upper hand of them. The French are all fire and tow, and the man +who can stamp on them is their idol." + +"You said you hoped you would live to see the Bourbons restored. Dead +people cannot be restored." + +"Oh, the Bourbons are not all dead. The king of France had brothers. The +elder one of these would be king now if the Bourbons came back to the +throne." + +"But he would not be king if the dauphin lived?" + +"No," said Miss Chantry, leaning back indifferently. + +My head felt confused, throbbing with the dull ache of healing. I +supported it, resting my elbow on the railing. + +The music, under cover of which we had talked, made one of its pauses. +Annabel de Chaumont looked up at us, allowing the gentleman in the +long-tailed silk coat to lead her toward the stairs. + + + + +V + + +Miss Chantry exclaimed, and her face stiffened with an expression which +I have since learned to know as the fear of dignitaries; experienced +even by people who profess to despise the dignitaries. Mademoiselle de +Chaumont shook frizzes around her face, and lifted the scant dress from +her satin shod feet as she mounted the stairs. Without approaching us +she sat down on the top step of the landing with young Bonaparte, and +beckoned to me. + +I went at her bidding and stood by the rail. + +"Prince Jerome Bonaparte wants to see you. I have told him about the +bear pen, and Madame Tank, and the mysterious marks on you, and what she +said about your rank." + +I must have frowned, for the young gentleman made a laughing sign to me +that he did not take Annabel seriously. He had an amiable face, and +accepted me as one of the oddities of the country. + +"What fun," said Annabel, "to introduce a prince of the empire to a +prince of the woods!" + +"What do you think of your brother?" I inquired. + +He looked astonished and raised his eyebrows. + +"I suppose you mean the emperor?" + +I told him I did. + +"If you want my candid opinion," his eyes twinkled, and he linked his +hands around his white satin knees, "I think my brother rules his family +with a rod of iron." + +"What will you do," I continued, "when your family are turned out?" + +"My faith!" said Annabel, "this in a house favorable to the Empire!" + +"A very natural question," said Jerome. "I have often asked myself the +same thing." + +"The king of France," I argued, "and all the Bourbons were turned out. +Why shouldn't the Bonapartes be?" + +"Why shouldn't they, indeed!" responded Jerome. "My mother insists they +will be. But I wouldn't be the man who undertakes to turn out the +emperor." + +"What is he like?" + +"Impossible to describe him." + +"Is he no larger than you?" + +Annabel gurgled aloud. + +"He is not as large." + +"Yet he is a great soldier?" + +"A great soldier. And he is adored by the French." + +"The French," I quoted, "are all fire and tow." + +"Thank you!" said Annabel, pulling out her light frizzes. + +"You seem interested in the political situation," remarked Prince +Jerome. + +I did not know what he meant by the political situation, but told him I +had just heard about the Bonapartes. + +"Where have you lived?" he laughed. + +I told him it didn't matter where people lived; it all depended on +whether they understood or not. + +"What a sage!--I think I'm one of the people who will never be able to +understand," said Jerome. + +I said he did not look as if he had been idiotic, and both he and +Mademoiselle de Chaumont laughed. + +"Monsieur"-- + +"Lazarre Williams," supplemented Annabel. + +"Monsieur Lazarre Williams, whatever your lot in life, you will have one +advantage over me; you will be an American citizen." + +"Haven't I that doleful advantage myself?" mourned Annabel. "A Baltimore +convent, an English governess--a father that may never go back to +France!" + +"Mademoiselle, all advantages of nationality, of person, of mind, of +heart, are yours!" + +So tipping the interview with a compliment he rose up, and Annabel rose +also, making him a deep courtesy, and giving him her hand to be led back +to the floor. He kissed her white forefinger, and bowed to me. + +"You have suggested some interesting thoughts, monsieur prince of the +woods. Perhaps you may yet take your turn on the throne of France. What +would you do in that case?" + +"I would make the people behave themselves if I had to grind them to +powder." + +"Now there spoke old Louis XIV!" laughed young Jerome Bonaparte. We both +bowed, and he passed down with Annabel into the hall. + +I did not know what made Madame de Ferrier watch me from her distant +place with widened eyes. + +Miss Chantry spoke shrilly to her brother behind me. + +"You will never be able to do anything with a lad who thrusts himself +forward like that! He has no sense of fitness!--standing there and +facing down the brother of a crowned head!--bad as the head is. Of +course Mademoiselle Annabel set him on; she loves to make people +ridiculous!" + +I walked downstairs after Prince Jerome, threaded a way among gazing +dancers, and left the hall, stung in my pride. + +We do strangely expand and contract in vital force and reach of vision. +I wanted to put the lake--the world itself--between me and that +glittering company. The edge of a ball-room and the society of men in +silks and satins, and of bewitching women, were not intended for me. + +Homesickness like physical pain came over me for my old haunts. They +were newly recognized as beloved. I had raged against them when +comparing myself to Croghan. But now I thought of the evening camp fire, +and hunting-stories, of the very dogs that licked my hand; of St. Regis, +and my loft bed, of snowshoes, and the blue northern river, longing for +them as the young Mohawks said I should long. Tom betwixt two natures, +the white man's and the Indian's, I flung a boat out into the water and +started to go home faster than I had come away. The slowness of a boat's +progress, pushed by the silly motion of oars, which have not the nice +discrimination of a paddle, impressed me as I put the miles behind. + +When the camp light shone through trees it must have been close to +midnight, and my people had finished their celebration of the corn +dance. An odor of sweet roasted ears dragged out of hot ashes reached +the poor outsider. Even the dogs were too busy to nose me out. I slunk +as close as I dared and drew myself up a tree, lying stretched with arms +and legs around a limb. + +They would have admitted me to the feast, but as a guest. I had no +longer a place of my own, either here or there. It was like coming back +after death, to realize that you were unmissed. The camp was full of +happiness and laughter. Young men chased the young maids, who ran +squealing with merriment. My father, Thomas Williams, and my mother, +Marianne, sat among the elders tranquil and satisfied. They were +ignorant Indians; but I had no other parents. Skenedonk could be seen, +laughing at the young Mohawks. + +If there was an oval faced mother in my past, who had read to me from +the missal, I wanted her. If, as Madame Tank said, I outranked De +Chaumont's daughter, I wanted my rank. It was necessary for me to have +something of my own: to have love from somebody! + +Collapsed and dejected, I crept down the tree and back to the life that +was now forced upon me whether I wished to continue it or not. Belonging +nowhere, I remembered my refuge in the new world of books. + +Lying stretched in the boat with oars shipped, drifting and turning on +the crooked lake, I took exact stock of my position in the world, and +marked out my future. + +These things were known: + +I was not an Indian. + +I had been adopted into the family of Chief Williams. + +Money was sent through an agent in New York for my support and +education. + +There were scars on my wrists, ankles, arm and eyebrow. + +These scars identified me in Madame de Ferrier's mind and Madame Tank's +mind as a person from the other side of the world. + +I had formerly been deadened in mind. + +I was now keenly alive. + +These things were not known: + +Who I was. + +Who sent money for my support and education. + +How I became scarred. + +What man had placed me among the Indians. + +For the future I bound myself with three laws: + +To leave alone the puzzle of my past. + +To study with all my might and strength. + +When I was grown and educated, to come back to my adopted people, the +Iroquois, draw them to some place where they could thrive, and by +training and education make them an empire, and myself their leader. + +The pale-skin's loathing of the red race had not then entered my +imagination. I said in conclusion: + +"Indians have taken care of me; they shall be my brothers." + + + + +VI + + +The zigzag track of the boat represented a rift widening between me and +my past. I sat up and took the oars, feeling older and stronger. + +It was primitive man, riding between the highlands, uncumbered, free to +grasp what was before him. + +De Chaumont did not believe in and was indifferent to the waif whom his +position of great seigneur obliged him to protect. What did I care? I +had been hidden among the Indians by kindred or guardians humane enough +not to leave me destitute. They should not trouble my thoughts, and +neither--I told myself like an Indian--should the imaginings of women. + +A boy minds no labor in following his caprices. The long starlit pull I +reckoned as nothing; and slipped to my room when daylight was beginning +to surprise the dancers. + +It was so easy to avoid people in the spaciousness of De Chaumont's +manor that I did not again see the young Bonaparte nor any of the guests +except Croghan. They slept all the following day, and the third day +separated. Croghan found my room before leaving with his party, and we +talked as well as we could, and shook hands at parting. + +The impressions of that first year stay in my mind as I have heard the +impressions of childhood remain. It was perhaps a kind of brief +childhood, swift in its changes, and running parallel with the +development of youth. + +My measure being sent to New York by De Chaumont, I had a complete new +outfit in clothes; coat, waistcoat, and small-clothes, neckwear, +ruffles, and shirts, buckle shoes, stockings of mild yarn for cold +weather, and thread stockings. Like most of the things for which we +yearn, when I got them I did not like them as well as the Indian +garments they obliged me to shed. + +Skenedonk came to see me nearly every day, and sat still as long as he +could while I toiled at books. I did not tell him how nearly I had +disgraced us both by running secretly away to camp. So I was able to go +back and pay visits with dignity and be taken seriously, instead of +encountering the ridicule that falls upon retreat. + +My father was neither pleased nor displeased. He paid my accounts +exactly, before the camp broke up for the winter, making Skenedonk his +agent. My mother Marianne offered me food as she would have offered it +to Count de Chaumont; and I ate it, sitting on a mat as a guest. Our +children, particularly the elder ones, looked me over with gravity, and +refrained from saying anything about my clothes. + +Our Iroquois went north before snow flew, and the cabins stood empty, +leaves drifting through fire-holes in the bark thatch. + +There have been students greedy of knowledge. I seemed hollow with the +fasting of a lifetime. My master at first tried to bind me to times; he +had never encountered so boundless an appetite. As soon as I woke in the +morning I reached for a book, and as days became darker, for tinder to +light a candle. I studied incessantly, dashing out at intervals to lake +or woods, and returning after wild activity, with increased zest to the +printed world. My mind appeared to resume a faculty it had suspended, +and to resume with incredible power. Magnetized by books, I cared for +nothing else. That first winter I gained hold on English and Latin, on +French reading, mathematics, geography, and history. My master was an +Oxford man, and when roused from dawdling, a scholar. He grew foolishly +proud and fond of what he called my prodigious advance. + +De Chaumont's library was a luscious field, and Doctor Chantry was +permitted to turn me loose in it, so that the books were almost like my +own. I carried them around hid in my breast; my coat-skirts were +weighted with books. There were Plutarch's Lives in the old French of +Amyot, over which I labored; a French translation of Homer; Corneille's +tragedies; Rochefoucauld; Montaigne's essays, in ten volumes; Thomson's +poems, and Chesterfield's letters, in English; the life of Petrarch; +three volumes of Montesquieu's works; and a Bible; which I found greatly +to my taste. It was a wide and catholic taste. + +De Chaumont spent nearly all that autumn and winter in Castorland, +where he was building his new manor and founding his settlement called +Le Rayville. As soon as I became a member of his household his +patriarchal kindness was extended to me, though he regarded me simply as +an ambitious half-breed. + +The strong place which he had built for his first holding in the +wilderness thus grew into a cloistered school for me. It has vanished +from the spot where it stood, but I shall forever see it between lake +and forest. + +Annabel de Chaumont openly hated the isolation of the place, and was +happy only when she could fill it with guests. But Madame de Ferrier +evidently loved it, remaining there with Paul and Ernestine. Sometimes I +did not see her for days together. But Mademoiselle de Chaumont, before +her departure to her Baltimore convent for the winter, amused herself +with my education. She brought me an old book of etiquette in which +young gentlemen were admonished not to lick their fingers or crack bones +with their teeth at table. Nobody else being at hand she befooled with +Doctor Chantry and me, and I saw for the first time, with surprise, an +old man's infatuation with a poppet. + +It was this foolishness of her brother's which Miss Chantry could not +forgive De Chaumont's daughter. She was incessant in her condemnation, +yet unmistakably fond in her English way of the creature she condemned. +Annabel loved to drag my poor master in flowery chains before his +relative. She would make wreaths of crimson leaves for his bald head, +and exhibit him grinning like a weak-eyed Bacchus. Once he sat doting +beside her at twilight on a bench of the wide gallery while his sister, +near by, kept guard over their talk. I passed them, coming back from my +tramp, with a glowing branch in my hand. For having set my teeth in the +scarlet tart udder of a sumach, all frosted with delicate fretwork, I +could not resist bringing away some of its color. + +"Did you get that for me?" called Annabel. I mounted the steps to give +it to her, and she said, "Thank you, Lazarre Williams. Every day you +learn some pretty new trick. Doctor Chantry has not brought me anything +from the woods in a long while." + +Doctor Chantry stirred his gouty feet and looked hopelessly out at the +landscape. + +"Sit here by your dearest Annabel," said Mademoiselle de Chaumont. + +Her governess breathed the usual sigh of disgust. + +I sat by my dearest Annabel, anxious to light my candle and open my +books. She shook the frizzes around her cheeks and buried her hands +under the scarlet branch in her lap. + +"Do you know, Lazarre Williams, I have to leave you?" + +I said I was sorry to hear it. + +"Yes, I have to go back to my convent, and drag poor Miss Chantry with +me, though she is a heretic and bates the forms of our religion. But she +has to submit, and so do I, because my father will have nobody but an +English governess." + +"Mademoiselle," spoke Miss Chantry, "I would suggest that you sit on a +chair by yourself." + +"What, on one of those little crowded chairs?" said Annabel. + +She reached out her sly hand for mine and drew it under cover of the +sumach branch. + +"I have been thinking about your rank a great deal, Lazarre Williams, +and wondering what it is." + +"If you thought more about your own it would be better," said Miss +Chantry. + +"We are Americans here," said Annabel. "All are equal, and some are +free. I am only equal. Must your dearest Annabel obey you about the +chair, Miss Chantry?" + +"I said I would suggest that you sit on a chair by yourself." + +"I will, dear. You know I always follow your suggestions." + +I felt the hand that held mine tighten its grip in a despairing squeeze. +Annabel suddenly raised the branch high above her head with both arms, +and displayed Doctor Chantry's hand and mine clasped tenderly in her +lap. She laughed until even Miss Chantry was infected, and the doctor +tittered and wiped his eyes. + +"Watch your brother, Miss Chantry--don't watch me! You thought he was +squeezing my hand--and he thought so too! Lazarre Williams is just out +of the woods and doesn't know any better. But Doctor Chantry--he is +older than my father!" + +"We wished to oblige you, mademoiselle," I said. But the poor English +gentleman tittered on in helpless admiration. He told me privately--"I +never saw another girl like her. So full of spirits, and so frank!" + +Doctor Chantry did not wear his disfiguring horn spectacles when Annabel +was near. He wrote a great deal of poetry while the blow of parting from +her was hanging over him, and read it to me of mornings, deprecating my +voiceless contempt. I would hear him quarreling with a servant in the +hall; for the slightest variation in his comfort engendered rages in him +that were laughable. Then he entered, red-nosed, red-eyed, and +bloodlessly shivering, with a piece of paper covered by innumerable +small characters. + +"Good morning, my lad," he would say. + +"Good morning, Doctor Chantry," I answered. + +"Here are a few little stanzas which I have just set down. If you have +no objection I will read them." + +I must have listened like a trapped bear, sitting up and longing to get +at him, for he usually finished humbly, folding his paper and putting it +away in his breast. There was reason to believe that he spent valuable +hours copying all these verses for Annabel de Chaumont. But there is no +evidence that she carried them with her when she and her governess +departed in a great coach all gilt and padding. Servants and a wagon +load of baggage and supplies accompanied De Chaumont's daughter on the +long journey to her Baltimore convent. + +Shaking in every nerve and pale as a sheet, my poor master watched her +out of sight. He said he should not see his sister again until spring; +and added that he was a fool, but when a creature of light came across +his path he could not choose but worship. His affections had been +blighted by a disappointment in youth, but he had thought he might at +least bask in passing sunshine, though fated to unhappiness. I was +ashamed to look at him, or to give any sign of overhearing his weakness, +and exulted mightily in my youth, despising the enchantments of a woman. +Madame de Ferrier watched the departure from another side of the +gallery, and did not witness my poor master's breakdown. She came and +talked to him, and took more notice of him than I had ever seen her take +before. + +In a day or two he was quite himself, plodding at the lessons, suddenly +furious at the servants, and giving me fretful histories of his wrongs +when brandy and water were not put by his bedside at night, or a +warming-pan was not passed between his sheets. + +About this time I began to know without being taught and without +expressing it in words, that there is a natural law of environment which +makes us grow like the company we keep. During the first six months of +my stay in De Chaumont's house Doctor Chantry was my sole companion. I +looked anxiously into the glass on my dressing-table, dreading to see a +reflection of his pettiness. I saw a face with large features, eager in +expression. The eyes were hazel, and bluish around the iris rims, the +nose aquiline, the chin full, the head high, and round templed. The hair +was sunny and wavy, not dark and tight fitting like that of my Indian +father and mother. There would be always a scar across my eyebrow. I +noticed that the lobe of my ear was not deeply divided from my head, but +fashioned close to it in triangular snugness, though I could not have +said so. Regular life and abundant food, and the drive of purpose, were +developing all my parts. I took childish pleasure in watching my Indian +boyhood go, and vital force mounting every hour. + +Time passed without marking until January. The New England Thanksgiving +we had not then heard of; and Christmas was a holy day of the church. On +a January afternoon Madame de Ferrier sent Ernestine to say that she +wished to see Doctor Chantry and me. + +My master was asleep by the fire in an armchair. I looked at his +disabled feet, and told Ernestine I would go with her alone. She led me +to a wing of the house. + +Even an Indian boy could see through Annabel de Chaumont. But who might +fathom Madame de Ferrier? Every time I saw her, and that was seldom, +some change made her another Madame de Ferrier, as if she were a +thousand women in one. I saw her first a white clad spirit, who stood by +my head when I awoke; next, a lady who rose up and bowed to me; then a +beauty among dancers; afterwards, a little girl running across the turf, +or a kind woman speaking to my master. Often she was a distant figure, +coming and going with Paul and Ernestine in De Chaumont's woods. If we +encountered, she always said, "Good day, monsieur," and I answered "Good +day, madame." + +I had my meals alone with Doctor Chantry, and never questioned this +custom, from the day I entered the house. De Chaumont's chief, who was +over the other servants, and had come with him from his chateau near +Blois, waited upon me, while Doctor Chantry was served by another man +named Jean. My master fretted at Jean. The older servant paid no +attention to that. + +Madame de Ferrier and I had lived six months under the same roof as +strangers. Consciousness plowed such a direct furrow in front of me that +I saw little on either side of it. She was a name, that I found written +in the front of the missal, and copied over and over down foolscap paper +in my practice of script: + + "Eagle Madeleine Marie de Ferrier." + "Eagle Madeleine Marie de Ferrier." + +She stood in her sitting room, which looked upon the lake, and before a +word passed between us I saw she was unlike any of her former selves. +Her features were sharpened and whitened. She looked beyond me with gray +colored eyes, and held her lips apart. + +"I have news. The Indian brought me this letter from Albany." + +I could not help glancing curiously at the sheet in her hand, spotted on +the back with broken red wafers. It was the first letter I had ever +seen. Doctor Chantry told me he received but one during the winter from +his sister, and paid two Spanish reals in postage for it, besides a fee +and some food and whisky to the Indian who made the journey to deliver +such parcels. It was a trying and an important experience to receive a +letter. I was surprised that Madame Tank had recommended my sending one +into the Wisconsin country. + +"Count de Chaumont is gone; and I must have advice." + +"Madame," I said, "Doctor Chantry was asleep, but I will wake him and +bring him here." + +"No. I will tell you. Monsieur, my Cousin Philippe is dead." + +It might have shocked me more if I had known she had a Cousin Philippe. +I said stupidly: + +"Is he?" + +"Cousin Philippe was my husband, you understand." + +"Madame, are you married?" + +"Of course!" she exclaimed. And I confessed to myself that in no other +way could Paul be accounted for. + +"But you are here alone?" + +Two large tears ran down her face. + +"You should understand the De Ferriers are poor, monsieur, unless +something can be saved from our estates that the Bonapartes have given +away. Cousin Philippe went to see if we could recover any part of them. +Count de Chaumont thought it a favorable time. But he was too old for +such a journey; and the disappointments at the end of it." + +"Old! Was he old, madame?" + +"Almost as old as my father." + +"But you are very young." + +"I was only thirteen when my father on his deathbed married me to Cousin +Philippe. We were the last of our family. Now Cousin Philippe is dead +and Paul and I are orphans!" + +She felt her loss as Paul might have felt his. He was gurgling at +Ernestine's knee in the next room. + +"I want advice," she said; and I stood ready to give it, as a man always +is; the more positively because I knew nothing of the world. + +"Cousin Philippe said I must go to France, for Paul's sake, and appeal +myself to the empress, who has great influence over the emperor. His +command was to go at once." + +"Madame, you cannot go in midwinter." + +"Must I go at all?" she cried out passionately. "Why don't you tell me a +De Ferrier shall not crawl the earth before a Bonaparte! You--of all +men! We are poor and exiles because we were royalists--are royalists--we +always shall be royalists! I would rather make a wood-chopper of Paul +than a serf to this Napoleon!" + +She checked herself, and motioned to a chair. + +"Sit down, monsieur. Pardon me that I have kept you standing." + +I placed the chair for her, but she declined it, and we continued to +face each other. + +"Madame," I said, "you seem to blame me for something. What have I +done?" + +"Nothing, monsieur." + +"I will now ask your advice. What do you want me to do that I have not +done?" + +"Monsieur, you are doing exactly what I want you to do." + +"Then you are not displeased with me?" + +"I am more pleased with you every time I see you. Your advice is good. I +cannot go in midwinter." + +"Are you sure your cousin wanted you to make this journey?" + +"The notary says so in this letter. Philippe died in the farm-house of +one of our peasants, and the new masters could not refuse him burial in +the church where De Ferriers have lain for hundreds of years. He was +more fortunate than my father." + +This interview with Madame de Ferrier in which I cut so poor a figure, +singularly influenced me. It made me restless, as if something had +entered my blood. In January the real spring begins, for then sap +starts, and the lichens seem to quicken. I felt I was young, and rose up +against lessons all day long and part of the night. I rushed in haste to +the woods or the frozen lake, and wanted to do mighty deeds without +knowing what to undertake. More than anything else I wanted friends of +my own age. To see Doctor Chantry dozing and hear him grumbling, no +longer remained endurable; for he reminded me that my glad days were due +and I was not receiving them. Worse than that, instead of proving +grateful for all his services, I became intolerant of his opinion. + +"De Chaumont will marry her," he said when he heard of Madame de +Ferrier's widowhood. "She will never be obliged to sue to the +Bonapartes. The count is as fond of her as he is of his daughter." + +"Must a woman marry a succession of fathers?"--I wanted to know. + +My master pointed out that the count was a very well favored and +youthful looking man. His marriage to Madame de Ferrier became even more +distasteful. She and her poppet were complete by themselves. Wedding her +to any one was casting indignity upon her. + +Annabel de Chaumont was a countess and Madame de Ferrier was a marquise. +These names, I understood, meant that they were ladies to be served and +protected. De Chaumont's daughter was served and protected, and as far +as he was allowed to do so, he served and protected the daughter of his +fellow countryman. + +"But the pride of emigrés," Doctor Chantry said, "was an old story in +the De Chaumont household. There were some Saint-Michels who lived in a +cabin, strictly on their own means, refusing the count's help, yet they +had followed him to Le Rayville in Castorland. Madame de Ferrier lived +where her husband had placed her, in a wing of De Chaumont's house, +refusing to be waited on by anybody but Ernestine, paying what her +keeping cost; when she was a welcome guest." + +My master hobbled to see her. And I began to think about her day and +night, as I had thought about my books; an isolated little girl in her +early teens, mother and widow, facing a future like a dead wall, with +daily narrowing fortunes. The seclusion in which she lived made her +sacred like a religious person. I did not know what love was, and I +never intended to dote, like my poor master. Before the end of January, +however, such a change worked in me that I was as fierce for the vital +world as I had been for the world of books. + + + + +VII + + +A trick of the eyes, a sweet turning of the mouth corners, the very +color of the hair--some irresistible physical trait, may compel a +preference in us that we cannot control; especially when we first notice +these traits in a woman. My crying need grew to be the presence of +Madame de Ferrier. It was youth calling to youth in that gorgeous winter +desert. + +Her windows were hoar-frost furred without and curtained within. Though +I knew where they were I got nothing by tramping past and glancing up. I +used to saunter through the corridor that led to her rooms, startled yet +pleased if Ernestine came out on an errand. Then I would close my book +and nod, and she would courtesy. + +"Oh, by the way," I would turn to remark, "I was passing, and thought I +would knock and ask how Madame de Ferrier is to-day. But you can tell +me." + +When assured of Madame de Ferrier's health I would continue: + +"And Paul--how is Paul?" + +Paul carried himself marvelously. He was learning to walk. Ernestine +believed the lie about knocking, and I felt bolder every time I told it. + +The Indian part of me thought of going hunting and laying slaughtered +game at their door. But it was a doubtful way of pleasing, and the bears +hibernated, and the deer were perhaps a day's journey in the white +wastes. + +I used to sing in the clear sharp air when I took to the frozen lake and +saw those heights around me. I look back upon that winter, across what +befell me afterwards, as a time of perfect peace; before virgin snows +melted, when the world was a white expanse of innocence. + +Our weather-besieged manor was the center of it. Vaguely I knew there +was life on the other side of great seas, and that New York, Boston, +Philadelphia, Baltimore and New Orleans were cities in which men moved +and had their being. My country, the United States, had bought from +Napoleon Bonaparte a large western tract called Louisiana, which +belonged to France. A new state named Ohio was the last added to the +roll of commonwealths. Newspapers, which the Indian runner once or twice +brought us from Albany, chronicled the doings of Aaron Burr, +Vice-President of the United States, who had recently drawn much +condemnation on himself by a brutal duel. + +"Aaron Burr was here once," said my master. + +"What is he like?" I inquired. + +"A lady-killer." + +"But he is next in dignity to the President." + +Doctor Chantry sniffed. + +"What is even the President of a federation like this, certain to fall +to pieces some fine day!" + +I felt offended; for my instinct was to weld people together and hold +them so welded. + +"If I were a president or a king," I told him, "and men conspired to +break the state, instead of parleying I would hang them up like dogs." + +"Would you?" + +Despising the country in which he found himself, my master took no +trouble to learn its politics. But since history had rubbed against us +in the person of Jerome Bonaparte, I wanted to know what the world was +doing. + +"Colonel Burr had a pleasant gentleman with him at the manor," Doctor +Chantry added. "His name was Harmon Blennerhassett; a man of good +English stock, though having a wild Irish strain, which is deplorable." + +The best days of that swift winter were Sundays, when my master left off +snapping, and stood up reverently in our dining-room to read his church +service. Madame de Ferrier and Paul and Ernestine came from their +apartment to join in the Protestant ritual; and I sat beside them so +constantly that the Catholic priest who arrived at Easter to dress up +the souls of the household, found me in a state of heresy. + +I have always thought a woman needs a dark capping of hair, whatever her +complexion, to emphasize her beauty. For light locks seem to fray out to +nothing, and waste to air instead of fitly binding a lovely countenance. +Madame de Ferrier's hair was of exactly the right color. Her eyebrows +were distinct dark lines, and the lashes were so dense that you noticed +the curling rim they made around her gray eyes. Whether the gift of +looking to your core is beauty or not, I can only say she had it. And I +could not be sworn what her features were; such life and expression +played over and changed them every moment. + +As to her figure, it was just in its roundness and suppleness, and had a +lightness of carriage that I have never seen equaled. There was charm in +looking at without approaching her that might have satisfied me +indefinitely, if De Chaumont had not come home. + +Ernestine herself made the first breach in that sacred reserve. The old +woman met me in the hall, courtesied, and passed as usual. I turned +behind the broad ribbons which hung down her back from cap to heels, and +said: + +"Oh, by the way, Ernestine, how is Madame de Ferrier? I was going to +knock--" + +And Ernestine courtesied again, and opened the door, standing aside for +me to enter. + +Madame de Ferrier sat on a bearskin before the hearth with Paul, who +climbed over her and gave her juicy kisses. There was a deep wood fire, +upheld by very tall andirons having cups in their tops, which afterwards +I learned were called posset cups. She was laughing so that her white +teeth showed, and she made me welcome like a playmate; remaining on the +rug, and bidding Ernestine set a chair for me near the fire. + +"It is very kind of you to spare me some time, monsieur," said Madame de +Ferrier. She admonished Paul--"Don't choke your little mother." + +I told her boldly that nothing but the dread of disturbing her kept me +from knocking every day. We had always walked into the lodges without +knocking, and I dwelt on this as one of my new accomplishments. + +"I am not studying night and day," she answered. "Sophie Saint-Michel +and her mother were my teachers, and they are gone now, one to heaven +and the other to Castorland." + +Remembering what Annabel de Chaumont said about holy Sophie I inquired +if she had been religious. + +"The Saint-Michels were better than religious; both mother and daughter +were eternally patient with the poor count, whose troubles unsettled his +reason. They had no dear old Ernestine, and were reduced to the hardest +labor. I was a little child when we came to America, yet even then the +spirit of the Saint-Michels seemed to me divine." + +"I wish I could remember when I was a little child." + +"Can you not recall anything?" + +"I have a dim knowledge of objects." + +"What objects?" + +"St. Regis church, and my taking first communion; and the hunting, the +woods and water, boats, snowshoes, the kind of food I liked; Skenedonk +and all my friends--but I scarcely knew them as persons until I awoke." + +"What is your first distinct recollection?" + +"Your face." + +"Mine?" + +"Yes, yours, madame. I saw it above me when you came into the room at +night." + +She looked past me and said: + +"You have fortunately missed some of the most terrible events that ever +happened in the world, monsieur. My mother and father, my two brothers, +Cousin Philippe and I, were in prison together. My mother and brothers +were taken, and we were left." + +I understood that she spoke of the Terror, about which I was eager to +know every then unwritten detail. Doctor Chantry had told me many +things. It fascinated me far more than ancient history, which my master +was inclined to press upon me. + +"How can you go back to France, madame?" + +"That's what I ask myself every day. That life was like a strange +nightmare. Yet there was our chateau, Mont-Louis, two or three days' +journey east from Paris. The park was so beautiful. I think of it, and +of Paul." + +"And what about this country, madame? Is there nothing beautiful here?" + +"The fact has been impressed on me, monsieur, that it does not belong to +me. I am an emigré. In city or country my father and Cousin Philippe +kept me with them. I have seen nothing of young people, except at balls. +We had no intimate friends. We were always going back. I am still +waiting to go back, monsieur--and refusing to go if I must." + +It was plain that her life had been as restricted as mine, though the +bonds were different. She was herded with old people, made a wife and +mother while yet a child, nursed in shadow instead of in the hot +sunshine which produced Annabel de Chaumont. + +After that we met each other as comrades meet, and both of us changed +like the face of nature, when the snow went and warm winds came. + +This looking at her without really approaching was going on innocently +when one day Count de Chaumont rode up to the manor, his horse and his +attendant servants and horses covered with mud, filling the place with a +rush of life. + +He always carried himself as if he felt extremely welcome in this world. +And though a man ought to be welcome in his own house, especially when +he has made it a comfortable refuge for outsiders, I met him with the +secret resentment we bear an interloper. + +He looked me over from head to foot with more interest than he had ever +before shown. + +"We are getting on, we are getting on! Is it Doctor Chantry, or the +little madame, or the winter housing? Our white blood is very much in +evidence. When Chief Williams comes back to the summer hunting he will +not know his boy." + +"The savage is inside yet, monsieur," I told him. "Scratch me and see." + +"Not I," he laughed. + +"It is late for thanks, but I will now thank you for taking me into your +house." + +"He has learned gratitude for little favors! That is Madame de Ferrier's +work." + +"I hope I may be able to do something that will square our accounts." + +"That's Doctor Chantry's work. He is full of benevolent intentions--and +never empties himself. When you have learned all your master knows, what +are you going to do with it?" + +"I am going to teach our Indians." + +"Good. You have a full day's work before you. Founding an estate in the +wilderness is nothing compared to that. You have more courage than De +Chaumont." + +Whether the spring or the return of De Chaumont drove me out, I could no +longer stay indoors, but rowed all day long on the lake or trod the +quickening woods. Before old Pierre could get audience with his house +accounts, De Chaumont was in Madame de Ferrier's rooms, inspecting the +wafer blotched letter. He did not appear as depressed as he should have +been by the death of his old friend. + +"These French have no hearts," I told Doctor Chantry. + +He took off his horn spectacles and wiped his eyes, responding: + +"But they find the way to ours!" + +Slipping between islands in water paths that wound as a meadow stream +winds through land, I tried to lose myself from the uneasy pain which +followed me everywhere. + +There may be people who look over the scheme of their lives with entire +complacence. Mine has been the outcome of such strange misfortunes as to +furnish evidence that there is another fate than the fate we make +ourselves. In that early day I felt the unseen lines tighten around me. +I was nothing but a young student of unknown family, able to read and +write, to talk a little English, with some knowledge of history, +geography, mathematics, and Latin. Strength and scope came by atoms. I +did not know then as I know now that I am a slow grower, even when +making gigantic effort. An oak does not accumulate rings with more +deliberation than I change and build myself. + +My master told me a few days later that the count decreed Madame de +Ferrier must go back to France. He intended to go with her and push her +claim; and his daughter and his daughter's governess would bear them +company. Doctor Chantry and I contemplated each other, glaring in mutual +solemnity. His eyes were red and watery, and the nose sharpened its +cone. + +"When are they going?" I inquired. + +"As soon as arrangements for comfortable sailing can be made. I wish I +were going back to England. I shall have to save twenty-five years +before I can go, but the fund is started." + +If I saved a hundred and twenty-five years I could not go anywhere; for +I had nothing to save. The worthlessness of civilization rushed over +me. When I was an Indian the boundless world was mine. I could build a +shelter, and take food and clothes by my strength and skill. My boat or +my strong legs carried me to all boundaries. + +I did not know what ailed me, but chased by these thoughts to the lake, +I determined not to go back again to De Chaumont's house. I was sick, +and my mother woods opened her arms. As if to show me what I had thrown +away to haunt the cages of men, one of those strange sights which is +sometimes seen in that region appeared upon the mountain. No one can +tell who lights the torch. A thread of fire ran up like an opening seam, +broadened, and threw out pink ravelings. The flame wavered, paled by +daylight, but shielding itself with strong smoke, and leaped from ledge +to ledge. I saw mighty pines, standing one moment green, and the next, +columns of fire. So the mass diverged, or ran together until a mountain +of fire stood against the sky, and stretched its reflection, a glowing +furnace, across the water. + +Flecks of ash sifted on me in the boat. I felt myself a part of it, as I +felt myself a part of the many sunsets which had burned out on that +lake. Before night I penetrated to the heart of an island so densely +overgrown, even in spring when trees had no curtains, that you were lost +as in a thousand mile forest. I camped there in a dry ravine, with +hemlock boughs under and over me, and next day rolled broken logs, and +cut poles and evergreens with my knife, to make a lodge. + +It was boyish, unmannerly conduct; but the world had broken, to chaos +around me; and I set up the rough refuge with skill. Some books, my fish +line and knife, were always in the boat with me, as well as a box of +tinder. I could go to the shore, get a breakfast out of the water, and +cook it myself. Yet all that day I kept my fast, having no appetite. + +Perhaps in the bottom of my heart I expected somebody to be sent after +me, bearing large inducements to return. We never can believe we are not +valuable to our fellows. Pierre or Jean, or some other servants in the +house, might perforce nose me out. I resolved to hide if such an envoy +approached and to have speech with nobody. We are more or less ashamed +of our secret wounds, and I was not going to have Pierre or Jean report +that I sat sulking in the woods on an island. + +It was very probable that De Chaumont's household gave itself no trouble +about my disappearance. I sat on my hemlock floor until the gray of +twilight and studied Latin, keeping my mind on the text; save when a +squirrel ventured out and glided bushy trained and sinuous before me, or +the marble birches with ebony limbs, drew me to gloat on them. The white +birch is a woman and a goddess. I have associated her forever with that +afternoon. Her poor cousin the poplar, often so like her as to deceive +you until ashen bough and rounded leaf instruct the eye, always grows +near her like a protecting servant. The poor cousin rustles and fusses. +But my calm lady stands in perfect beauty, among pines straight as +candles, never tremulous, never trivial. All alabaster and ebony, she +glows from a distance; as, thinking of her, I saw another figure glow +through the loop-holes of the woods. + +It was Madame de Ferrier. + + + + +VIII + + +A leap of the heart and dizziness shot through me and blurred my sight. +The reality of Madame de Ferrier's coming to seek me surpassed all +imaginings. + +She walked with quick accustomed step, parting the second growth in her +way, having tracked me from the boat. Seeing my lodge in the ravine she +paused, her face changing as the lake changes; and caught her breath. I +stood exultant and ashamed down to the ground. + +"Monsieur, what are you doing here?" Madame de Ferrier cried out. + +"Living, madame," I responded. + +"Living? Do you mean you have returned to your old habits?" + +"I have returned to the woods, madame." + +"You do not intend to stay here?" + +"Perhaps." + +"You must not do it!" + +"What must I do?" + +"Come back to the house. You have given us much anxiety." + +I liked the word "us" until I remembered it included Count de Chaumont. + +"Why did you come out here and hide yourself?" + +My conduct appeared contemptible. I looked mutely at her. + +"What offended you?" + +"Nothing, madame." + +"Did you want Doctor Chantry to lame himself hobbling around in search +of you, and the count to send people out in every direction?" + +"No, madame." + +"What explanation will you make to the count?" + +"None, madame." I raised my head. "I may go out in the woods without +asking leave of Count de Chaumont." + +"He says you have forsaken your books and gone back to be an Indian." + +I showed her the Latin book in my hand. She glanced slightly at it, and +continued to make her gray eyes pass through my marrow. + +Shifting like a culprit, I inquired: + +"How did you know I was here?" + +"Oh, it was not hard to find you after I saw the boat. This island is +not large." + +"But who rowed you across the lake, madame?" + +"I came by myself, and nobody except Ernestine knows it. I can row a +boat. I slipped through the tunnel, and ventured." + +"Madame, I am a great fool. I am not worth your venturing." + +"You are worth any danger I might encounter. But you should at least go +back for me." + +"I will do anything for you, madame. But why should I go back?--you will +not long be there." + +"What does that matter? The important thing is that you should not lapse +again into the Indian." + +"Is any life but the life of an Indian open to me, madame?" + +She struck her hands together with a scream. + +"Louis! Sire!" + +Startled, I dropped the book and it sprawled at her feet like the open +missal. She had returned so unexpectedly to the spirit of our first +meeting. + +"O, if you knew what you are! During my whole life your name has been +cherished by my family. We believed you would sometime come to your own. +Believe in yourself!" + +I seemed almost to remember and perceive what I was--as you see in +mirage one inverted boat poised on another, and are not quite sure, and +the strange thing is gone. + +Perhaps I was less sure of the past because I was so sure of the +present. A wisp of brown mist settling among the trees spread cloud +behind her. What I wanted was this woman, to hide in the woods for my +own. I could feed and clothe her, deck her with necklaces of garnets +from the rocks, and wreaths of the delicate sand-wort flower. She said +she would rather make Paul a woodchopper than a suppliant, taking the +constitutional oath. I could make him a hunter and a fisherman. Game, +bass, trout, pickerel, grew for us in abundance. I saw this vision with +a single eye; it looked so possible! All the crude imaginings of youth +colored the spring woods with vivid beauty. My face betrayed me, and +she spoke to me coldly. + +"Is that your house, monsieur?" + +I said it was. + +"And you slept there last night?" + +"I can build a much better one." + +"What did you have for dinner?" + +"Nothing." + +"What did you have for breakfast?" + +"Nothing." + +Evidently the life I proposed to myself to offer her would not suit my +lady! + +She took a lacquered box from the cover of her wrappings, and moved down +the slope a few steps. + +"Come here to your mother and get your supper." + +I felt tears rush to my eyes. She sat down, spread a square of clean +fringed linen upon the ground, and laid out crusty rounds of buttered +bread that were fragrant in the springing fragrance of the woods, firm +slices of cold meat, and a cunning pastry which instantly maddened me. I +was ashamed to be such a wolf. + +We sat with our forest table between us and ate together. + +"I am hungry myself," she said. + +A glorified veil descended on the world. If evening had paused while +that meal was in progress it would not have surprised me. There are half +hours that dilate to the importance of centuries. But when she had +encouraged me to eat everything to the last crumb, she shook the +fringed napkin, gathered up the lacquered box, and said she must be +gone. + +"Monsieur, I have overstepped the bounds of behavior in coming after +you. The case was too urgent for consideration of myself. I must hurry +back, for the count's people would not understand my secret errand +through the tunnel. Will you show yourself at the house as soon as +possible?" + +I told her humbly that I would. + +"But let me put you in the boat, madame." + +She shook her head. "You may follow, after I am out of sight. If you +fail to follow"--she turned in the act of departing and looked me +through. + +I told her I would not fail. + +When Madame de Ferrier disappeared beyond the bushes I sat down and +waited with my head between my hands, still seeing upon closed eyelids +her figure, the scant frock drawn around it, her cap of dark hair under +a hood, her face moving from change to change. And whether I sat a year +or a minute, clouds had descended when I looked, as they often did in +that lake gorge. So I waited no longer, but followed her. + +The fog was brown, and capped the evening like a solid dome, pressing +down to the earth, and twisting smoke fashion around my feet. It threw +sinuous arms in front of me as a thing endowed with life and capable of +molding itself; and when I reached my boat and pushed off on the water, +a vast mass received and enveloped me. + +More penetrating than its clamminess was the thought that Madame de +Ferrier was out in it alone. + +I tried one of the long calls we sometimes used in hunting. She might +hear, and understand that I was near to help her. But it was shouting +against many walls. No effort pierced the muffling substance which +rolled thickly against the lungs. Remembering it was possible to +override smaller craft, I pulled with caution, and so bumped lightly +against the boat that by lucky chance hovered in my track. + +"Is it you, madame?" I asked. + +She hesitated. + +"Is it you, monsieur?" + +"Yes." + +"I think I am lost. There is no shore. The fog closed around me so soon. +I was waiting for it to lift a little." + +"It may not lift until morning, madame. Let me tie your boat to mine." + +"Do you know the way?" + +"There is no way. We shall have to feel for the shore. But Lake George +is narrow, and I know it well." + +"I want to keep near you." + +"Come into my boat, and let me tie the other one astern." + +She hesitated again, but decided, "That would be best." + +I drew the frail shells together--they seemed very frail above such +depths--and helped her cross the edges. We were probably the only people +on Lake George. Tinder lighted in one boat would scarcely have shown us +the other, though in the sky an oval moon began to make itself seen +amidst rags of fog. The dense eclipse around us and the changing light +overhead were very weird. + +Madame de Ferrier's hands chilled mine, and she shook in her thin cape +and hood. Our garments were saturated. I felt moisture trickling down my +hair and dropping on my shoulders. + +She was full of vital courage, resisting the deadly chill. This was not +a summer fog, lightly to be traversed. It went dank through the bones. +When I had helped her to a bench, remembering there was nothing dry to +wrap around her, I slipped off my coat and forcibly added its thickness +to her shoulders. + +"Do you think I will let you do that, monsieur?" + +My teeth chattered and shocked together so it was impossible to keep +from laughing, as I told her I always preferred to be coatless when I +rowed a boat. + +We could see each other by the high light that sometimes gilded the +face, and sometimes was tarnished almost to eclipse. Madame de Ferrier +crept forward, and before I knew her intention, cast my garment again +around me. I helped the boat shift its balance so she would have to +grasp at me for support; the chilled round shape of her arm in my hand +sent waves of fire through me. With brazen cunning, moreover, that +surprised myself, instead of pleading, I dictated. + +"Sit beside me on the rower's bench, madame, and the coat will stretch +around both of us." + +Like a child she obeyed. We were indeed reduced to saving the warmth of +our bodies. I shipped my oars and took one for a paddle, bidding Madame +de Ferrier to hold the covering in place while I felt for the shore. She +did so, her arm crossing my breast, her soft body touching mine. She was +cold and still as the cloud in which we moved; but I was a god, riding +triumphantly high above the world, satisfied to float through celestial +regions forever, bearing in my breast an unquenchable coal of fire. + +The moon played tricks, for now she was astern, and now straight ahead, +in that confusing wilderness of vapor. + +"Madame," I said to my companion, "why have you been persuaded to go +back to France?" + +She drew a deep breath. + +"I have not been persuaded. I have been forced by circumstances. Paul's +future is everything." + +"You said you would rather make him a woodchopper than a suppliant to +the Bonapartes." + +"I would. But his rights are to be considered first. He has some small +chance of regaining his inheritance through the influence of Count de +Chaumont now. Hereafter there may be no chance. You know the fortunes +and lands of all emigrés were forfeited to the state. Ours have finally +reached the hands of one of Napoleon's officers. I do not know what will +be done. I only know that Paul must never have cause to reproach me." + +I was obliged to do my duty in my place as she was doing her duty in +hers; but I wished the boat would sink, and so end all journeys to +France. It touched shore, on the contrary, and I grasped a rock which +jutted toward us. It might be the point of an island, it might be the +eastern land, as I was inclined to believe, for the moon was over our +right shoulders. + +Probing along with the oar I found a cove and a shallow bottom, and +there I beached our craft with a great shove. + +"How good the earth feels underfoot!" said Madame de Ferrier. We were +both stiff. I drew the boats where they could not be floated away, and +we turned our faces to the unknown. I took her unresisting arm to guide +her, and she depended upon me. + +This day I look back at those young figures groping through cloud as at +disembodied and blessed spirits. The man's intensest tenderness, +restrained by his virginhood and his awe of the supple delicate shape at +his side, was put forth only in her service. They walked against bushes. +He broke a stick, and with it probed every yard of the ascent which they +were obliged to make. Helping his companion from bush to log, from seam +to seam of the riven slope, from ledge to ledge, he brought her to a +level of high forest where the fog was thinner, and branches interlaced +across their faces. + +The climb made Madame de Ferrier draw her breath quickly. She laughed +when we ended it. Though I knew the shores as well as a hunter, it was +impossible to recognize any landmark. The trees, the moss, and forest +sponge under our feet, the very rocks, were changed by that weird +medium. And when the fog opened and we walked as through an endless +tunnel of gray revolving stone, it was into a world that never existed +before and would never exist again. + +There was no path. Creeping under and climbing over obstacles, sometimes +enclosed by the whiteness of steam, sometimes walking briskly across +lighted spaces, we reached a gorge smoking as the lake smoked in the +chill of early mornings. Vapor played all its freaks on that brink. The +edge had been sharply defined. But the fog shut around us like a +curtain, and we dared not stir. + +Below, a medallion shaped rift widened out, and showed us a scene as I +have since beheld such things appear upon the stage. Within the round +changing frame of wispy vapor two men sat by a fire of logs and +branches. We could smell wood smoke, and hear the branches crackle, +convincing us the vision was real. Behind them stood a cabin almost as +rude as my shelter on the island. + +One man was a grand fellow, not at all of the common order, though he +was more plainly clothed than De Chaumont. His face was so familiar that +I almost grasped recognition--but missed it. The whole cast was full and +aquiline, and the lobe of his ear, as I noticed when light fell on his +profile, sat close to his head like mine. + +The other man worked his feet upon the treadle of a small wheel, which +revolved like a circular table in front of him, and on this he deftly +touched something which appeared to be an earthenware vessel. His thin +fingers moved with spider swiftness, and shaped it with a kind of magic. +He was a mad looking person, with an air of being tremendously driven by +inner force. He wore mustaches the like of which I had never seen, +carried back over his ears; and these hairy devices seemed to split his +countenance in two crosswise. + +Some broken pottery lay on the ground, and a few vessels, colored and +lustrous so they shone in the firelight, stood on a stump near him. + +The hollow was not a deep one, but if the men had been talking, their +voices did not reach us until the curtain parted. + +"You are a great fool or a great rascal, or both, Bellenger," the +superior man said. + +"Most people are, your highness," responded the one at the wheel. He +kept it going, as if his earthenware was of more importance than the +talk. + +"You are living a miserable life, roving about." + +"Many other Frenchmen are no better off than I am, my prince." + +"True enough. I've roved about myself." + +"Did you turn schoolmaster in Switzerland, prince?" + +"I did. My family are in Switzerland now." + +"Some of the nobles were pillaged by their peasants as well as by the +government. But your house should not have lost everything." + +"You are mistaken about our losses. The Orleans Bourbons have little or +no revenue left. Monsieur and Artois were the Bourbons able to maintain +a court about them in exile. So you have to turn potter, to help support +the idiot and yourself?" + +"Is your highness interested in art?" + +"What have I to do with art?" + +"But your highness can understand how an idea will haunt a man. It is +true I live a wretched life, but I amuse myself trying to produce a +perfect vase. I have broken thousands. If a shape answers my +expectations, that very shape is certain to crack in the burning or run +in the glaze." + +"Then you don't make things to sell?" + +"Oh, yes. I make noggins and crockery to sell in the towns. There is a +kind of clay in these hills that suits me." + +"The wonderful vase," said the other yawning, "might perhaps interest me +more if some facts were not pressing for discussion. I am a man of +benevolent disposition, Bellenger." + +"Your royal highness--" + +"Stop! I have been a revolutionist, like my poor father, whose memory +you were about to touch--and I forbid it. But I am a man whose will it +is to do good. It is impossible I should search you out in America to +harm my royal cousin. Now I want to know the truth about him." + +Madame de Ferrier had forgotten her breath. We both stood fastened on +that scene in another world, guiltless of eavesdropping. + +The potter shifted his eyes from side to side, seeming to follow the +burr of his vessel upon the wheel. + +"I find you with a creature I cannot recognize as my royal cousin. If +this is he, sunk far lower than when he left France in your charge, why +are two-thirds of his pension sent out from New York to another person, +while you receive for his maintenance only one-third?" + +The potter bounded from his wheel, letting the vessel spin off to +destruction, and danced, stretching his long mustaches abroad in both +hands as the ancients must have rent their clothes. He cried that he had +been cheated, stripped, starved. + +"I thought they were straitened in Monsieur's court," he raged, "and +they have been maintaining a false dauphin!" + +"As I said, Bellenger," remarked his superior, "you are either a fool or +the greatest rascal I ever saw." + +He looked at Bellenger attentively. + +"Yet why should you want to mix clues--and be rewarded with evident +misery? And how could you lose him out of your hand and remain +unconscious of it? He was sent to the ends of the earth for safety--poor +shattered child!--and if he is safe elsewhere, why should you be +pensioned to maintain another child? They say that a Bourbon never +learns anything; but I protest that a Bourbon knows well what he does +know. I feel sure my uncle intends no harm to the disabled heir. Who is +guilty of this double dealing? I confess I don't understand it." + +Now whether by our long and silent stare we drew his regard, or chance +cast his eye upward, the potter that instant saw us standing in the +cloud above him. He dropped by his motionless wheel, all turned to clay +himself. The eyeballs stuck from his face. He opened his mouth and +screeched as if he had been started and could not leave off-- + +"The king!--the king!--the king!--the king!" + + + + +IX + + +The fool's outcry startled me less than Madame de Ferrier. She fell +against me and sank downward, so that I was obliged to hold her up in my +arms. I had never seen a woman swoon. I thought she was dying, and +shouted to them below to come and help me. + +The potter sat sprawling on the ground, and did not bestir himself to do +anything. As soon as my hands and mind were free I took him by the +scruff of the neck and kicked him behind with a good will. My rage at +him for disregarding her state was the savage rage of an Iroquois. The +other man laughed until the woods rang. Madame de Ferrier sat up in what +seemed to me a miraculous manner. We bathed her temples with brandy, and +put her on a cushion of leaves raked up and dried to make a seat by the +fire. The other man, who helped me carry her into the ravine, stood with +his hat off, as was her due. She thanked him and thanked me, half +shrouding her face with her hood, abashed at finding herself lost among +strangers in the night; which was my fault. I told him I had been a bad +guide for a lady who had missed her way; and he said we were fortunate +to reach a camp instead of stumbling into some danger. + +He was much older than I, at least fourteen years, I learned +afterwards, but it was like meeting Skenedonk again, or some friend from +whom I had only been parted. + +The heartening warmth of the fire made steam go up from our clothes; and +seeing Madame de Ferrier alive once more, and the potter the other side +of his wheel taking stock of his hurt, I felt happy. + +We could hear in the cabin behind us a whining like that uttered by a +fretful babe. + +My rage at the potter ending in good nature, I moved to make some amends +for my haste; but he backed off. + +"You startled us," said the other man, "standing up in the clouds like +ghosts. And your resemblance to one who has been dead many years is very +striking, monsieur." + +I said I was sorry if I had kicked the potter without warrant, but it +seemed to me a base act to hesitate when help was asked for a woman. + +"Yet I know little of what is right among men, monsieur," I owned. "I +have been learning with a master in Count de Chaumont's manor house less +than a year. Before that my life was spent in the woods with the +Indians, and they found me so dull that I was considered witless until +my mind awoke." + +"You are a fine fellow," the man said, laying his hands on my shoulders. +"My heart goes out to you. You may call me Louis Philippe. And what may +I call you?" + +"Lazarre." + +He had a smiling good face, square, but well curved and firm. Now that I +saw him fronting me I could trace his clear eyebrows, high forehead, and +the laughter lines down his cheeks. He was long between the eyes and +mouth, and he had a full and resolute chin. + +"You are not fat, Lazarre," said Philippe, "your forehead is wide rather +than receding, and you have not a double chin. Otherwise you are the +image of one--Who are you?" + +"I don't know." + +"Don't know who you are?" + +"No. We heard all that you and the potter were saying down here, and I +wondered how many boys there are in America that are provided for +through an agent in New York, without knowing their parents. Now that is +my case." + +"Do you say you have lived among the Indians?" + +"Yes: among the Iroquois." + +"Who placed you there?" + +"No one could tell me except my Indian father; and he would not tell." + +"Do you remember nothing of your childhood?" + +"Nothing." + +"Did you ever see Bellenger before?" + +"I never saw him before to-night." + +"But I saw him," said Madame de Ferrier, "in London, when I was about +seven years old. It made a stronger impression on me than anything else +that ever happened in my life, except"--she stopped. + +"Except the taking off of my mother and brothers to the guillotine." + +The man who told me to call him Louis Philippe turned toward her, with +attention as careful as his avoidance when she wished to be unobserved. +She rose, and came around the fire, making a deep courtesy. + +"My family may not be unknown to his royal highness the Duke of Orleans. +We are De Ferriers of Mont-Louis; emigrés now, like many others." + +"Madame, I knew your family well. They were loyal to their king." + +"My father died here in America. Before we sailed we saw this man in +London." + +"And with him--" + +"A boy." + +"Do you remember the boy well?" + +"I remember him perfectly." + +The wailing in the cabin became louder and turned to insistent animal +howls. Instead of a babe the imprisoned creature was evidently a dog. I +wondered that the potter did not let him out to warm his hide at the +fire. + +"Did you ever see the boy again?" + +"I did not see him again until he was brought to Count de Chaumont's +house last summer." + +"Why to De Chaumont? Le Ray de Chaumont is not one of us. He is of the +new nobility. His chateau near Blois was bought by his grandfather, and +he takes his name from the estate. I have heard he is in favor with +Bonaparte." + +"Even we of the old nobility, prince, may be reduced to seek favor of +Bonaparte." + +"Heaven forbid, madame. I say nothing against him; though I could say +much." + +"Say nothing against Count de Chaumont. Count de Chaumont befriends all +emigrés." + +"I have nothing to say against Count de Chaumont. He is not of our +party; he is of the new. Fools! If we princes had stood by each other as +the friends of the Empire stand by their emperor, we could have killed +the Terror." + +The animal in the cabin by this time was making such doleful cries I +said to the potter. + +"Let him out. It is dreadful to be shut in by walls." + +The potter, stooping half over and rolling stiffly from foot to foot in +his walk, filled me with compunction at having been brutal to so pitiful +a creature, and I hurried to open the door for him. The animal clawed +vigorously inside, and the instant I pushed back the ill-fitted slabs, +it strained through and rushed on all fours to the fire. Madame de +Ferrier fled backward, for what I liberated could hardly be seen without +dread. + +It was a human being. Its features were a boy's, and the tousled hair +had a natural wave. While it crouched for warmth I felt the shock of +seeing a creature about my own age grinning back at me, fishy eyed and +black mouthed. + +"There!" Bellenger said, straightening up in his place like a bear +rising from all fours. "That is the boy your De Ferriers saw in London." + +I remembered the boy Madame Tank had told about. Whether myself or this +less fortunate creature was the boy, my heart went very pitiful toward +him. Madame de Ferrier stooped and examined, him; he made a juicy noise +of delight with his mouth. + +"This is not the boy you had in London, monsieur," she said to +Bellenger. + +The potter waved his hands and shrugged. + +"You believe, madame, that Lazarre is the boy you saw in London?" said +Louis Philippe. + +"I am certain of it." + +"What proofs have you?" + +"The evidence of my eyes." + +"Tell that to Monsieur!" exclaimed the potter. + +"Who is Monsieur?" I asked. + +"The eldest brother of the king of France is called Monsieur. The Count +de Provence will be called Monsieur until he succeeds Louis XVII and is +crowned Louis XVIII--if that time ever comes. He cannot be called Louis +XVII"--the man who told me to call him Louis Philippe took my arm, and I +found myself walking back and forth with him as in a dream while he +carefully formed sentence after sentence. "Because the dauphin who died +in the Temple prison was Louis XVII. But there are a few who say he did +not die: that a dying child was substituted for him: that he was +smuggled out and carried to America, Bellenger was the agent employed. +The dauphin's sister is married to her cousin, the nephew of Monsieur. +She herself believes these things; and it is certain a sum of money is +sent out to America every year for his maintenance. He was reduced to +imbecility when removed from the Temple. It is not known whether he will +ever be fit to reign if the kingdom returns to him. No communication has +been held with him. He was nine years old when removed from the Temple: +he would now be in his nineteenth year. When I last saw him he was a +smiling little prince with waving hair and hazel eyes, holding to his +mother's hand"-- + +"Stop!" + +The frenzy of half recollection came on me, and that which I had put +away from my mind and sworn to let alone, seized and convulsed me. +Dreams, and sensations, and instincts massed and fell upon me in an +avalanche of conviction. + +I was that uncrowned outcast, the king of France! + + + + +BOOK II + +WANDERING + + + + +I + + +A primrose dawn of spring touched the mountains as Madame de Ferrier and +I stepped into the tunnel's mouth. The wind that goes like a besom +before sunrise, swept off the fog to corners of the sky, except a few +spirals which still unwound from the lake. The underground path to De +Chaumont's manor descended by terraces of steps and entered blackness. + +A rank odor of earth filled it; and I never passed that way without +hearkening for the insect-like song of the rattlesnake. The ground was +slippery, and thick darkness seemed to press the soul out of the body. +Yet I liked it; for when we reached the staircase of rock that entered +the house, she would vanish. + +And so it was. + +She did say--"Good-night--and good-morning." + +And I answered, "Good-morning and good-night." + +We were both physically exhausted. My head swarmed as with sparkles, and +a thousand emotions tore me, for I was at the age when we risk all on +chances. I sat alone on the steps, unmindful of that penetrating chill +of stone which increases rather than decreases, the longer you sit upon +it, and thought of all that had been said by my new friend at the +camp-fire, while the moon went lower and lower, the potter turned his +wheel, and the idiot slept. + +The mixed and oblique motives of human nature--the boy's will--worked +like gigantic passions. + +She had said very little to me in the boat, and I had said very little +to her; not realizing that the camp talk, in which she took no part, +separated us in a new way. + +Sitting alone on the steps I held this imaginary conversation with her. + +"I am going to France!" + +"You, monsieur?" + +"Yes, I!" + +"How are you going?" + +"I don't know; but I am going!" + +"The Duke of Orleans did not mention such a thing." + +"Bother the Duke of Orleans!" + +"When are you going?" + +"Now!" + +"But it may not be best to go at this time." + +"It is always best to go where you are!" + +"Monsieur, do not throw away your future on an unconsidered move." + +"Madame, I will throw away my eternity!" + +Then I went back through the tunnel to the beach, stripped, and took a +plunge to clear my head and warm my blood, rubbing off with my shirt. + +On reaching my room the first thing I did was to make a bundle of +everything I considered necessary and desirable. There was no reason for +doing this before lying down; but with an easier mind I closed my eyes; +and opened them to find sunset shining through the windows, and Doctor +Chantry keeping guard in an arm-chair at my side. + +"Nature has taken her revenge on you, my lad," said he. "And now I am +going to take mine." + +"I have slept all day!" + +"Renegades who roam the woods all night must expect to sleep all day." + +"How do you know I have been in the woods all night?" + +"I heard you slipping up the tunnel stairs without any shoes on at +daylight. I have not been able to sleep two nights on account of you." + +"Then why don't you go to bed yourself, my dear master?" + +"Because I am not going to let you give me the slip another time. I am +responsible for you: and you will have me on your back when you go +prowling abroad again." + +"Again?" I questioned innocently. + +"Yes, again, young sir! I have been through your luggage, and find that +you have packed changes of clothing and things necessary and unnecessary +to a journey,--even books." + +"I hope you put them neatly together"-- + +"Nothing of the kind. I scattered them." + +"Do you want me to go bare into the world?" I laughed. + +"Lazarre," said my master, "you were a good lad, studious and zealous +beyond anything I ever saw." + +"And now I am bad and lazy." + +"You have dropped your books and taken to wild ways." + +"There is one thing, dear master, I haven't done: I haven't written +poetry." + +He blinked and smiled, and felt in his breast pocket, but thought better +of it, and forebore to draw the paper out. There was no escaping his +tenacious grip. He sat by and exercised me in Latin declensions while I +dressed. We had our supper together. I saw no member of the household +except the men, Pierre and Jean. Doctor Chantry ordered a mattress put +in my room and returned there with me. + +We talked long on the approaching departure of the count and Madame de +Ferrier. He told me the latest details of preparation, and tremulously +explained how he must feel the loss of his sister. + +"I have nothing left but you, Lazarre." + +"My dear master," I said, patting one of his shriveled hands between +mine, "I am going to be open with you." + +I sat on the side of my bed facing his arm-chair, and the dressing-glass +reflected his bald head and my young head drawn near together. + +"Did you ever feel as if you were a prince?" + +Doctor Chantry wagged a pathetic negative. + +"Haven't you ever been ready to dare anything and everything, because +something in you said--I must!" + +Again Doctor Chantry wagged a negative. + +"Now I have to break bounds--I have to leave the manor and try my +fortune! I can't wait for times and seasons--to be certain of this--to +be certain of that!--I am going to leave the house to-night--and I am +going to France!" + +"My God!" cried Doctor Chantry, springing up. "He is going to +France!--Rouse the servants!--Call De Chaumont!" He struck his gouty +foot against the chair and sat down nursing it in both hands. I +restrained him and added my sympathy to his groans. + +"Have you as much as a Spanish real of your own, my lad?" he catechised +me, when the foot was easy. + +I acknowledged that I had not. + +"It costs dear to travel about the world. It is not like coming down the +trail from St. Regis to Lake George. How are you to travel without +money?" + +I laughed at the very uncertainty, and answered that money would be +found. + +"Found! It isn't found, I tell you! It is inherited by the idle, or +gathered by the unscrupulous, or sweated and toiled for! It costs days +and years, and comes in drops. You might as well expect to find a +kingdom, lad!" + +"Maybe I shall find a kingdom, master!" + +"Oh, what a thing it is to be young!" sighed Doctor Chantry. + +I felt it myself, and hugged my youth. + +"Do you know how to reach the sea-port?" he continued. + +I said anybody could follow the Hudson to New York. + +"You're bitten, my poor lad! It's plain what ails you. You might as well +try to swim the Atlantic. De Chaumont intends her for himself. And in +the unjust distribution of this world, your rival has the power and you +have the feelings. Stay where you are. You'll never forget it, but it +will hurt less as years go by." + +"Master," I said to him, "good sense is on your side. But if I knew I +should perish, I would have to go!" + +And I added from fullness of conviction-- + +"I would rather undertake to do something, and perish, than live a +thousand years as I am." + +Doctor Chantry struck the chair arm with his clenched fist. + +"My lad, so would I--so would I!--I wish I had been dowered with your +spirit!--I'm going with you!" + +As soon as he had made this embarrassing resolution my master blew his +nose and set his British jaws firmly together. I felt my own jaw drop. + +"Have you as much as a Spanish real of your own?" I quoted. + +"That I have, young sir, and some American notes, such as they are, and +good English pounds, beside." + +"And do you know how to reach the seaport?" + +"Since I came that way I can return that way. You have youth, my lad, +but I have brains and experience." + +"It's plain what ails you, Doctor Chantry. And you might as well try to +swim the Atlantic." + +My poor master dropped his head on his breast, and I was ashamed of +baiting him and began to argue tenderly. I told him he could not bear +hardships; he was used to the soft life in De Chaumont's house; while my +flesh had been made iron in the wilderness. I intended to take a boat +from those hidden at our summer camp, to reach the head of Lake George. +But from that point to the Hudson river--where the town of Luzerne now +stands--it was necessary to follow a trail. I could carry the light +canoe over the trail, but he could not even walk it. + +The more I reasoned with him the more obstinate he became. There was a +wonderful spring called Saratoga, which he had visited with De Chaumont +a few years before as they came into the wilderness; he was convinced +that the water would set him on foot for the rest of the journey. + +"It is twenty-nine miles above Albany. We could soon reach it," he +urged. + +"I have heard of it," I answered. "Skenedonk has been there. But he says +you leave the river and go into the woods." + +"I know the way," he testily insisted. "And there used to be near the +river a man who kept horses and carried visitors to the spring." + +The spirit of reckless adventure, breaking through years of extreme +prudence, outran youth. + +"What will you do in France?" I put to him. He knew no more than I what +I should do. + +And there was Count de Chaumont to be considered. How would he regard +such a leave-taking? + +Doctor Chantry was as insensible to De Chaumont as I myself. Still he +agreed to write a note to his protector while I prepared my quill to +write one to Madame de Ferrier. With the spirit of the true parasite he +laid all the blame on me, and said he was constrained by duty to follow +and watch over me since it was impossible to curb a nature like mine. +And he left a loop-hole open for a future return to De Chaumont's easy +service, when the hardships which he willingly faced brought him his +reward. + +This paper he brazenly showed me while I was struggling to beg Madame de +Ferrier's pardon, and to let her know that I aimed at something definite +whether I ever reached port or not. + +I reflected with satisfaction that he would probably turn back at +Saratoga. We descended together to his room and brought away the things +he needed. In bulk they were twice as large as the load I had made for +myself. He also wrote out strict orders to Pierre to seal up his room +until his return. The inability of an old man to tear himself from his +accustomed environment cheered my heart. + +We then went back to bed, and like the two bad boys we were, slept +prepared for flight. + + + + +II + + +"This is fine!" said Doctor Chantry, when we descended from the rough +stage which had brought us across a corduroy trail, and found ourselves +at the entrance of a spacious wooden tavern. "When I passed Saratoga +before there were only three log houses, and the inn had two rooms below +and one above. It was lighted by pine torches stuck in the chinks of the +wall--and see how candles shine through these windows!" + +The tavern stood in a cleared place with miles of forest around it, and +a marsh stretching near by. Dusk could not prevent our seeing a few log +habitations, one of them decorated with a merchant's sign. We entered +among swarming crowds, a little world dropped into the backwoods. This +was more surprising because we had just left behind us a sense of wild +things gathering to their night haunts, and low savage cries, and +visions of moose and deer through far-off arches. + +A man who appeared to be the host met us, his sprightly interest in our +welfare being tempered by the consciousness of having many guests; and +told us the house was full, but he would do what he could for us. + +"Why is the house full?" fretted Doctor Chantry. "What right have you, +my dear sir, to crowd your house and so insure our discomfort?" + +"None at all, sir," answered the host good naturedly. "If you think you +can do better, try for lodgings at the store-keeper's." + +"The store-keeper's!" Doctor Chantry's hysterical cry turned some +attention to us. "I shall do nothing of the kind. I demand the best you +have, sir." + +"The best I can give you," amended our host. "You see we are very full +of politicians from Washington. They crowd to the spring." + +My master turned his nose like the inflamed horn of a unicorn against +the politicians from Washington, and trotted to the fireplace where +blazing knots cheered a great tap-room set with many tables and benches. + +And there rested Skenedonk in silent gravity, toasting his moccasins. +The Iroquois had long made Saratoga a gathering place, but I thought of +this Oneida as abiding in St. Regis village; for our people did not come +to the summer hunting in May. + +Forgetting that I was a runaway I met him heartily, and the fawn eyes in +his bald head beamed their accustomed luster upon me. I asked him where +my father and mother and the rest of the tribe were, and he said they +had not left St. Regis. + +"And why are you so early?" I inquired. + +He had been at Montreal, and had undertaken to guide a Frenchman as far +as Saratoga. It is not easy to surprise an Indian. But I wondered that +Skenedonk accepted my presence without a question, quite as if he had +himself made the appointment. + +However, the sights to be seen put him out of my head. Besides the +tap-room crowded with men there was a parlor in which women of fashion +walked about, contrasting with the place. They had all been to a spring +to drink water; for only one spring was greatly used then; and they +talked about the medicinal effects. Some men left the stronger waters, +which could be had at a glittering portcullised bar opposite the +fireplace in the tap-room, to chat with these short-waisted beauties. I +saw one stately creature in a white silk ball costume, his stockings +splashed to the knees with mud from the corduroy road. + +But the person who distinguished himself from everybody else by some +nameless attraction, was a man perhaps forty years old, who sat in a +high-backed settle at a table near the fire. He was erect and thin as a +lath, long faced, square browed and pale. His sandy hair stood up like +the bristles of a brush. Carefully dressed, with a sword at his side--as +many of the other men had--he filled my idea of a soldier; and I was not +surprised to hear his friends sitting opposite call him General Jackson. + +An inkstand, a quill and some paper were placed before him, but he +pushed them aside with his glass of toddy to lift one long fore-finger +and emphasize his talk. He had a resonant, impressive voice, with a +manner gentle and persuasive, like a woman's: and he was speaking of +Aaron Burr, the man whose duel had made such a noise in the newspapers. + +[Illustration: He pushed them aside with his glass of toddy to lift one +long fore-finger and emphasize his talk.] + +"I disagree with you, Mr. Campbell. You are prejudiced against Mr. Burr +on account of his late unfortunate affair. Even in that case I maintain +every man has a right to honor and satisfaction. But he loves the +Spanish on our southwestern borders no better than I do,--and you know +how I love the Spanish!" + +The other man laughed, lounging against the table. + +"You can't believe anything ill of Aaron Burr, General." + +I might have given attention to what they were saying, since here were +men from Washington, the very fountain of government, if Doctor Chantry +had not made me uneasy. He chose the table at which they were sitting +and placed himself in the seat nearest the fire, with the utmost nicety +about his own comfort. He wiped his horn spectacles, and produced his +own ink and quill and memorandum from a breast pocket. I had begged the +doctor to keep strict account between us, that I might pay back from my +pension whatever he spent on me, and with fine spider-like characters he +was proceeding to debit me with the stage fare, when another quill +barred his entrance to his ink-horn. + +He took off his spectacles and glared pink-eyed at the genial gentleman +with sandy upright hair. + +"Sir!" he cried, "that is my ink!" + +General Jackson, absorbed in talk, did not notice Doctor Chantry, who +half arose and shouted directly at his ear, + +"Sir, that is my ink!" + +He knocked the interloping quill in the direction of its owner. + +The genial sandy gentleman changed countenance in a way to astonish +beholders. + +"Have I disputed it, sir?" + +"No, sir, but you have dipped into it without asking leave." + +"By God, sir, what is a fip'ny-bit's worth of ink?" + +"But it's mine, sir!" + +"I see, sir; you're a Yankee, sir!" + +"I'm not, sir; I'm English--the finest race in the world!" + +General Jackson looked him up and down as they rose fronting each other, +and filled the air with dazzling words. + +"I should judge so, sir, by the specimen I see before me!" + +Doctor Chantry was like a fighting-cock, and it was plainly his age +which kept the other from striking him. He was beginning our journey +well, but I felt bound to intercept whatever fell upon him, and stood +between them. The other men at the table rose with General Jackson. + +"Gentlemen," I pleaded with the best words I could command in the +language, "do not forget your dignity, and disturb the peace of this +house for a bottle of ink!" + +The quarrel was ridiculous, and the Southerners laughed. General +Jackson himself again changed countenance, and gave me, I do not know +why, a smile that must have been reflected from the face of a woman he +adored. But my poor master showed the bull-dog; and taking him by the +arm and the collar I toddled him away from that table to a dark entry, +where I held him without any admonition save a sustained grip. He became +like a child, weeping and trembling, and declaring that everybody was in +league against him. Argument is wasted on people having such infirmity +of temper. When he was well cooled I put him in an arm-chair by a fire +in the ladies' parlor, and he was soon very meek and tractable, watching +the creatures he so admired. + +"You must go to bed as soon as you have your supper," I said to him. +"The journey to Saratoga has been a hard one for you. But Skenedonk is +here fortunately, and he can take you home again." + +My master looked at me with the shrewishness of an elephant. I had not +at that time seen an elephant. When I did see one, however, the shifting +of its eyes brought back the memory of Doctor Chantry when I had him at +bay by the fire. + +"You are not going to get away from me," he responded. "If you are tired +of it, so am I. Otherwise, we proceed." + +"If you pick quarrels with soldiers and duelists at every step, what are +we to do?" + +"I picked no quarrel. It is my luck. Everyone is against me!" He hung +his head in such a dejected manner that I felt ashamed of bringing his +temperament to account: and told him I was certain no harm would come +of it. + +"I am not genial," Doctor Chantry owned; "I wish I were. Now you are +genial, Lazarre. People take to you. You attract them. But whatever I +am, you are obliged to have my company: you cannot get along without me. +You have no experience, and no money. I have experience,--and a few +pounds:--not enough to retire into the country upon, in England; but +enough to buy a little food for the present." + +I thought I could get along better without the experience and even the +few pounds, than with him as an encumbrance; though I could not bring +myself to the cruelty of telling him so. For there is in me a fatal +softness which no man can have and overbear others in this world. It +constrains me to make the other man's cause my own, though he be at war +with my own interests. + +Therefore I was at the mercy of Skenedonk, also. The Indian appeared in +the doorway and watched me. I knew he thought there was to be trouble +with the gentleman from Washington, and I went to him to ease his mind. + +Skenedonk had nothing to say, however, and made me a sign to follow him. +As we passed through the tap-room, General Jackson gave me another +pleasant look. He had resumed his conversation and his own ink-bottle as +if he had never been interrupted. + +The Indian led me upstairs to one of the chambers, and opened the door. + +In the room was Louis Philippe, and when we were shut alone together, he +embraced me and kissed me as I did not know men embraced and kissed. + +"Do you know Skenedonk?" I exclaimed. + +"If you mean the Indian who brought you at my order, he was my guide +from Montreal." + +"But he was not with you at the potter's camp." + +"Yes, he was in the hut, wrapped in his blanket, and after you drove the +door in he heard all that was said. Lazarre"--Louis Philippe took my +face in his hands--"make a clean breast of it." + +We sat down, and I told him without being questioned what I was going to +do. He gravely considered. + +"I saw you enter the house, and had a suspicion of your undertaking. It +is the worst venture you could possibly make at this time. We will begin +with my family. Any belief in you into which I may have been betrayed is +no guaranty of Monsieur's belief. You understand," said Louis Philippe, +"that Monsieur stands next to the throne if there is no dauphin, or an +idiot dauphin?" + +I said I understood. + +"Monsieur is not a bad man. But Bellenger, who took charge of the +dauphin, has in some manner and for some reason, provided himself with a +substitute, and he utterly denies you. Further: supposing that you are +the heir of France, restored to your family and proclaimed--of what use +is it to present yourself before the French people now? They are +besotted with this Napoleon. The Empire seems to them a far greater +thing than any legitimate monarchy. Of what use, do I say? It would be a +positive danger for you to appear in France at this time! Napoleon has +proscribed every Bourbon. Any prince caught alive in France will be put +to death. Do you know what he did last year to the Duke d'Enghien? He +sent into Germany for the duke, who had never harmed him, never +conspired against him--had done nothing, in fact, except live an +innocent life away from the seat of Napoleon's power. The duke was +brought to Paris under guard and put in the dungeons of Vincennes. He +demanded to see Bonaparte. Bonaparte would not see him. He was tried by +night, his grave being already dug in the castle ditch. That lovely +young fellow--he was scarcely above thirty--was taken out to the ditch +and shot like a dog!" + +I stood up with my hands clenched. + +"Sit down," said Louis Philippe. "There is no room in the world at this +time for anybody but that jealous monster." + +"He shall not tie me here," I said. + +"You intend to go?" + +"I intend to go." + +"This Bonaparte," said Louis Philippe, "has his troubles. His brother +Jerome has married an American in Baltimore. A fine explosion that will +make when it reaches his ears. Where are you going to land, Lazarre?" + +I said that must depend on the ship I took. + +"And what are you going to do when you land?" + +I said I would think that out later. + +Then the spirit being upon me, I burst bounds and told him impetuously +that I was going to learn what the world held for me. Without means, +without friends, or power or prospects, or certainty of any good +results--impudent--reckless--utterly rash--"I am going," I cried, +"because I must go!" + +"There is something about you which inspires love, my boy," said Louis +Philippe; and I heard him with astonishment. "Perhaps it comes from the +mother; she was a witcher of all mankind." + +"I cannot understand why any one should love so ignorant a creature, but +God grant there be others that love me, too; for I have lived a life +stinted of all affection. And, indeed, I did not know I wanted it until +last year. When we talked late the other night, and you told me the +history of all my family, the cruelest part of my lot seemed the +separation from those that belonged to me. Separation from what is our +own ought not to be imposed upon us even by God Himself!" + +"What!" said Louis Philippe, "is he following a woman!" + +My face burned, and probably went white, for I felt the blood go back on +my heart. He took my hand and stroked it. + +"Don't chain yourself behind that chariot. Wait a little while for your +good star to rise. I wish I had money. I wish I could be of use to you +in France. I wish I stood nearer to Monsieur, for your sake. Every one +must love this bold pure face. It bears some resemblance to Madame +Royal. The sister of the dauphin is a good girl, not many years your +senior. Much dominated by her uncles, but a royal duchess. It is the +fashion now to laugh at chivalry. You are the most foolish example of it +I ever saw! It is like seeing a knight without horse, armor, or purse, +set out to win an equipment before he pursues his quest! Yet I love you +for it, my boy!" + +"It would be well for me if I had more friends like you." + +"Why, I can be of no use! I cannot go back to France at this time, and +if I could, what is my influence there? I must wander around in foreign +parts, a private gentleman eking out my living by some kind of industry. +What are you going to do with the fretful old fellow you have with you?" + +I groaned and laughed. + +"Carry him on my back. There is no getting rid of him. He is following +me to France. He is my lesson-master." + +"How will you support him?" + +"He is supporting me at present. But I would rather take my chances +alone." + +"You have another follower," said Louis Philippe. "Your Indian has been +in France, and after hearing our talk at the camp, he foresaw you might +be moved to this folly, and told me he intended to guide you there, or +wherever you go!" + +"And Skenedonk, too!" + +I shook with laughter. It was so like Skenedonk to draw his conclusions +and determine on the next step. + +"What shall I do with them?" + +"The old master can be your secretary, and as for the Indian, you can +take him for your servant." + +"A secretary and a servant, for an outcast without a penny to his +pouch!" + +"You see the powers that order us are beginning well with you. Starting +with a secretary and a servant, you may end with a full household and a +court! I ought to add my poor item of tribute, and this I can do. There +is a ship-master taking cargo this month in New York bay, who is a +devoted royalist; a Breton sailor. For a letter from me he will carry +you and your suite to the other side of the world; but you will have to +land in his port." + +"And what will the charges be?" + +"Nothing, except gratitude, if I put the case as strongly to him as I +intend to do. God knows I may be casting a foul lot for you. His ship is +staunch, rigged like the Italian salt ships. But it is dirty work +crossing the sea; and there is always danger of falling into the hands +of pirates. Are you determined?" + +I looked him in the eyes, and said I was; thanking him for all his +goodness to one who had so little expectation of requiting him. The +sweet heartiness of an older man so far beyond myself in princely +attainments and world knowledge, who could stoop to such a raw savage, +took me by storm. + +I asked him if he had any idea who the idiot was that we had seen in +Bellenger's camp. He shook his head, replying that idiots were +plentiful, and the people who had them were sometimes glad to get rid of +them. + +"The dauphin clue has been very cleverly managed by--Bellenger, let us +say," Louis Philippe remarked. "If you had not appeared, I should not +now believe there is a dauphin." + +I wanted to tell him all the thoughts tossing in my mind; but silence is +sometimes better than open speech. Facing adventure, I remembered that I +had never known the want of food for any length of time during my +conscious life. And I had a suspicion the soft life at De Chaumont's had +unstrung me for what was before me. But it lasted scarce a year, and I +was built for hardship. + +He turned to his table to write the ship-master's letter. Behold, there +lay a book I knew so well that I exclaimed---- + +"Where did you get my missal?" + +"Your missal, Lazarre? This is mine." + +I turned the leaves, and looked at the back. It was a continuation of +the prayers of the church. There were blank leaves for the inscribing of +prayers, and one was written out in a good bold hand. + +"His Majesty Louis XVI composed and wrote that prayer himself," said +Louis Philippe. "The comfort-loving priests had a fashion of dividing +the missal into three or four parts, that a volume might not be so heavy +to carry about in their pockets. This is the second volume. It was +picked up in the Tuileries after that palace was sacked." + +I told him mine must be the preceding volume, because I did not know +there was any continuation. The prayers of the church had not been my +study. + +"Where did you get yours, Lazarre?" + +"Madame de Ferrier gave it to me. When I saw it I remembered, as if my +head were split open to show the picture, that my mother had read from +that very book to me. I cannot explain it, but so it was." + +"I am not surprised she believes, against Bellenger's evidence, that you +are Louis of France." + +"I will bring my book and show it to you." + +We compared the volumes after supper, and one was the mate of the other. + +The inn dining-room had one long table stretched down its entire length, +heaped with wild meats and honey and pastries and fish in abundance. +General Jackson sat at one end, and at the other sat the landlord, +explaining to all his guests what each dish was, and urging good +appetite. I sat by Louis Philippe, whose quality was known only to +myself, with Doctor Chantry on the other side fretting for the +attendance to which Jean had used him. + +My master was so tired that I put him early to bed; and then sat talking +nearly all night with the gracious gentleman to whom I felt bound by +gratitude and by blood. + + + + +III + + +Dieppe, high and glaring white above the water, will always symbolize to +me the gate of France. The nobility of that view remained in my thoughts +when half the distance to Paris was traversed. + +I could shut my eyes and see it as I lay on the straw in a post-house +stable. A square hole in the front of the grenier gave upon the +landscape. Even respectable houses in that part of the country were then +built with few or no windows; but delicious masses of grayness they +were, roofed with thick and overhanging thatch. + +"The stables of France are nothing but covered dunghills," Doctor +Chantry grumbled; so when I crept with the Indian to lodgings over the +cattle, one of the beds in the house was hired for the gouty master. +Even at inns there were two or three beds in a room where they set us to +dine. + +"An English inn-keeper would throw their furniture into the fire!" he +cried in a language fortunately not understood. + +"But we have two good rooms on the ground floor, and another for +Skenedonk," I sometimes remonstrated with him, "at three shillings and +sixpence a day, in your money." + +"You would not see any man, let his rank be what it may," Doctor +Chantry retorted, "dining in his bedroom, in England. And look at these +walls!--papered with two or three kinds of paper, the bare spots hung +with tapestry moth-eaten and filled with spiders! And what have we for +table?--a board laid on cross-bars! And the oaken chairs are +rush-bottomed, and so straight the backs are a persecution! The door +hinges creak in these inns, the wind blows through--" + +So his complaints went on, for there never was a man who got so much out +of small miseries. Skenedonk and I must have failed to see all in our +travels that he put before us. For we were full of enjoyment and wonder: +at the country people, wooden shod, the women's caps and long cloaks; at +the quiet fair roads which multiplied themselves until we often paused +enchanted in a fairy world of sameness; at market-towns, where fountains +in the squares were often older than America, the country out of which +we arrived. + +Skenedonk heard without shifting a muscle all Doctor Chantry's +grievances; and I told him we ought to cherish them, for they were views +of life we could not take ourselves. Few people are made so delicately +that they lose color and rail at the sight of raw tripe brought in by a +proud hostess to show her resources for dinner; or at a chicken coming +upon the table with its head tucked beneath its wing. + +"We are fed with poulet, poulet, nothing but poulet," said Doctor +Chantry, "until the poulets themselves are ashamed to look us in the +face!" + +We fared well, indeed, and the wine was good, and my master said he must +sustain himself on it though it proved his death. He could not march as +Skenedonk and I regularly marched. We hired a cart to lift him and our +knapsacks from village to village, with a driver who knew the road to +Paris. When the distances were long we sometimes mounted beside him. I +noticed that the soil of this country had not the chalk look of other +lands which I afterwards saw to the east and north; but Napoleon was +already making good the ancient thoroughfares. + +When my master was on shipboard he enjoyed the sea even less than the +free air of these broad stretches; for while he could cast an eye about +and approve of something under the sky--perhaps a church steeple, or the +color of a thatch which filled me with joy--he could not approve of +anything aboard a ship. Indeed, it was pity to have no delight in +cleaving the water, and in the far-off spouting of whales, to say +nothing of a living world that rides in undulations. For my part, I +loved even the creaking of a ship, and the uncertainty of ever coming to +port, and the anxiety lest a black flag should show above every sail we +passed. The slow progress of man from point to point in his experience, +while it sometimes enrages, on the whole interests me; and the monotony +of a voyage has a sweetness like the monotony of daily bread. I looked +out of the grenier window upon the high road, and upon the June sun in +the act of setting; for we had supped and gone early to rest after a +hard day. Post horses were stamping underneath, all ready for some noble +count who intended to make another stage of his journey before +nightfall. + +Small obtrusive cares, such as the desire that my shoes should last well +into Paris, mingled with joy in the smell of the earth at sunset, and +the looking forward to seeing Madame de Ferrier again. I wrapped myself +every night in the conviction that I should see her, and more freely +than I had ever seen her in America. + +There was a noise of horses galloping, and the expected noble count +arrived; being no other than De Chaumont with his post coaches. He +stepped out of the first, and Ernestine stepped out of the second, +carrying Paul. She took him to his mother. The door flew open, and the +woman I adored received her child and walked back and forth with him. +Annabel leaned out while the horses were changed. I saw Miss Chantry, +and my heart misgave me, remembering her brother's prolonged lament at +separation from her. + +He was, I trusted, already shut into one of those public beds which are +like cupboards; for the day had begun for us at three of the morning. +But if he chose to show himself, and fall upon De Chaumont for luxurious +conveyance to Paris, I was determined that Skenedonk and I should not +appear. I wronged my poor master, who told me afterwards he watched +through a crack of the cupboard bed with his heart in his mouth. + +The pause was a very short one, for horses are soon changed. Madame de +Ferrier threw a searching eye over the landscape. It was a mercy she did +not see the hole in the grenier, through which I devoured her, daring +for the first time to call her secretly--Eagle--the name that De +Chaumont used with common freedom! Now how strange is this--that one +woman should be to a man the sum of things! And what was her charm I +could not tell, for I began to understand there were many beautiful +women in the world, of all favors, and shapely perhaps as the one of my +love. Only her I found drawing the soul out of my body; and none of the +others did more than please the eye like pictures. + +The carriages were gone with the sun, and it was no wonder all fell gray +over the world. + +De Chaumont had sailed behind us, and he would be in Paris long before +us. + +I had first felt some uneasiness, and dread of being arrested on our +journey; though our Breton captain--who was a man of gold that I would +travel far to see this day, if I could, even beneath the Atlantic, where +he and his ship now float--obtained for us at Dieppe, on his own pledge, +a kind of substitute for passports. We were a marked party, by reason of +the doctor's lameness and Skenedonk's appearance. The Oneida, during his +former sojourn in France, had been encouraged to preserve the novelty +of his Indian dress. As I had nothing to give him in its place it did +not become me to find fault. And he would have been more conspicuous +with a cocked hat on his bare red scalp, and knee breeches instead of +buckskins. Peasants ran out to look at him, and in return we looked at +them with a good will. + +We reached the very barriers of Paris, however, without falling into +trouble. And in the streets were so many men of so many nations that +Skenedonk's attire seemed no more bizarre than the turbans of the east +or the white burnous of the Arab. + +It was here that Skenedonk took his rôle as guide, and stalked through +narrow crooked streets, which by comparison made New York, my first +experience of a city, appear a plain and open village. + +I do not pretend to know anything about Paris. Some spots in the mystic +labyrinth stand out to memory, such as that open space where the +guillotine had done its work, the site of the Bastille, and a long +street leading from the place of the Bastille, parallel with the river; +and this I have good reason to remember. It is called Rue St. Antoine. I +learned well, also, a certain prison, and a part of the ancient city +called Faubourg St. Germain. One who can strike obscure trails in the +wilderness of nature, may blunt his fine instincts on the wilderness of +man. + +This did not befall the Indian. He took a bee line upon his old tracks, +and when the place was sighted we threaded what seemed to be a rivulet +between cliffs, for a moist depressed street-center kept us straddling +something like a gutter, while with outstretched hands we could brace +the opposite walls. + +We entered a small court where a gruff man, called a concierge, having a +dirty kerchief around his head, received us doubtfully. He was not the +concierge of Skenedonk's day. We showed him coin; and Doctor Chantry sat +down in his chair and looked at him with such contempt that his respect +increased. + +The house was clean, and all the stairs we climbed to the roof were well +scoured. From the mansard there was a beautiful view of Paris, with +forest growth drawing close to the heart of the city. For on that side +of the world men dare not murder trees, but are obliged to respect and +cherish them. + +My poor master stretched himself on a bed by the stooping wall, and in +disgust of life and great pain of feet, begged us to order a pan of +charcoal and let him die the true Parisian death when that is not met on +the scaffold. Skenedonk said to me in Iroquois that Doctor Chantry was a +sick old woman who ought to be hidden some place to die, and it was his +opinion that the blessing of the church would absolve us. We could then +make use of the pouch of coin to carry on my plans. + +My plans were more ridiculous than Skenedonk's. His at least took sober +shape, while mine were still the wild emotions of a young man's mind. +Many an hour I had spent on the ship, watching the foam speed past her +side, trying to foresee my course like hers in a trackless world. But it +seemed I must wait alertly for what destiny was making mine. + +We paid for our lodgings, three commodious rooms, though in the mansard; +my secretary dragging himself to sit erect with groans and record the +increasing debt of myself and my servant. + +"Come, Skenedonk," I then said. "Let us go down to the earth and buy +something that Doctor Chantry can eat." + +That benevolent Indian was quite as ready to go to market as to abate +human nuisances. And Doctor Chantry said he could almost see English +beef and ale across the channel; but translated into French they would, +of course, be nothing but poulet and sour wine. I pillowed his feet with +a bag of down which he had kicked off his bed, and Skenedonk and I +lingered along the paving as we had many a time lingered through the +woods. There were book stalls a few feet square where a man seemed +smothered in his own volumes; and victual shops where you could almost +feed yourself for two or three sous; and people sitting outdoors +drinking wine, as if at a general festival. I thought Paris had comfort +and prosperity--with hereditary kings overthrown and an upstart in their +place. Yet the streets were dirty, with a smell of ancientness that +sickened me. + +We got a loaf of bread as long as a staff, a pat of butter in a leaf, +and a bottle of wine. My servant, though unused to squaw labor, took on +himself the porterage of our goods, and I pushed from street to street, +keenly pleased with the novelty, which held somewhere in its volatile +ether the person of Madame de Ferrier. + +Skenedonk blazed our track with his observant eye, and we told ourselves +we were searching for Doctor Chantry's beef. Being the unburdened hunter +I undertook to scan cross places, and so came unexpectedly upon the Rue +St. Antoine, as a man told me it was called, and a great hurrahing that +filled the mouths of a crowd blocking the thoroughfare. + +"Long live the emperor!" they shouted. + +The man who told me the name of the street, a baker all in white, with +his tray upon his head, objected contemptuously. + +"The emperor is not in Paris: he is in Boulogne." + +"You never know where he is--he is here--there--everywhere!" declared +another workman, in a long dark garment like a hunting-shirt on the +outside of his small clothes. + +"Long live the emperor!--long live the emperor!" + +I pushed forward as two or three heavy coaches checked their headlong +speed, and officers parted the crowd. + +"There he is!" admitted the baker behind me. Something struck me in the +side, and there was Bellenger the potter, a man I thought beyond the +seas in America. His head as I saw it that moment put the emperor's head +out of my mind. He had a knife, and though he had used the handle, I +foolishly caught it and took it from him. With all his strength he then +pushed me so that I staggered against the wheel of a coach. + +"Assassin!" he screamed; and then Paris fell around my ears. + +If anybody had seen his act nobody refrained from joining in the cry. + +"Assassin! Assassin! To the lamp post with him!" + +I stood stupefied and astonished as an owl blinking in the sunshine, and +two guards held my collar. The coaches lashed away, carrying the man of +destiny--as I have since been told he called himself--as rapidly as +possible, leaving the victim of destiny to be bayed at by that +many-headed dog, the mongrel populace of Paris. + + + + +IV + + +The idiot boy somewhere upon the hills of Lake George, always in a world +of fog which could not be discovered again, had often come to my mind +during my journeys, like a self that I had shed and left behind. But +Bellenger was a cipher. I forgot him even at the campfire. Now here was +this poor crazy potter on my track with vindictive intelligence, the day +I set foot in Paris. Time was not granted even to set the lodging in +order. He must have crossed the ocean with as good speed as Doctor +Chantry and Skenedonk and I. He may have spied upon us from the port, +through the barriers, and even to our mansard. At any rate he had found +me in a crowd, and made use of me to my downfall: and I could have +knocked my stupid head on the curb as I was haled away. + +One glimpse of Skenedonk I caught while we marched along Rue St. +Antoine, the gendarmes protecting me from the crowd. He thought I was +going to the scaffold, where many a strapping fellow had gone in the +Paris of his youth, and fought to reach me, laying about him with his +loaf of bread. Skenedonk would certainly trail me, and find a way to be +of use, unless he broke into trouble as readily as I had done. + +My guards crossed the river in the neighborhood of palaces, and came by +many windings to a huge pile rearing its back near a garden place, and +there I was turned over to jailers and darkness. The entrance was +unwholesome. A man at a table opened a tome which might have contained +all the names in Paris. He dipped his quill and wrote by candlelight. + +"Political offender or common criminal?" he inquired. + +"Political offender," the officer answered. + +"What is he charged with?" + +"Trying to assassinate the emperor in his post-chaise." + +"La, la, la!" the recorder grunted. "Another attempt! And gunpowder put +in the street to blow the emperor up only last week. Good luck attends +him:--only a few windows broken and some common people killed. Taken in +the act, was this fellow?" + +"With the knife in his hand." + +"What name?" the recorder inquired. + +I had thought on the answer, and told him merely that my name was +Williams. + +"Eh, bien, Monsieur Veeleeum. Take him to the east side among the +political offenders," said the master-jailer to an assistant or turnkey. + +"But it's full," responded the turnkey. + +"Shove him in some place." + +They searched me, and the turnkey lighted another candle. The meagerness +of my output was beneath remark. When he had led me up a flight of +stone steps he paused and inquired, + +"Have you any money?" + +"No." + +"So much the worse for you." + +"What is the name of this prison?" I asked. + +"Ste. Pélagie," he answered. "If you have no money, and expect to eat +here, you better give me some trinket to sell for you." + +"I have no trinkets to give you." + +He laughed. + +"Your shirt or breeches will do." + +"Are men shut up here to starve?" + +The jailer shrugged. + +"The bread is very bad, and the beans too hard to eat. We do not furnish +the rations; it is not our fault. The rule here is nothing buys nothing. +But sleep in your breeches while you can. You will soon be ready enough +to eat them." + +I was ready enough to eat them then, but forbore to let him know it. The +whole place was damp and foul. We passed along a corridor less than four +feet wide, and he unlocked a cell from which a revolting odor came. +There was no light except what strained through a loophole under the +ceiling. He turned the key upon me, and I held my nose. Oh, for a deep +draught of the wilderness! + +There seemed to be an iron bed at one side, with a heap of rags on top. +I resolved to stand up all night before trusting myself to that couch. +The cell was soon explored. Two strides in each direction measured it. +The stone walls were marked or cut with names I could dimly see. + +I braced my back against the door and watched the loophole where a gray +hint of daylight told that the sun must be still shining. This faded to +a blotch in the thick stone, and became obliterated. + +Tired by the day's march, and with a taste of clean outdoor air still in +my lungs, I chose one of the two corners not occupied by the ill odored +bed, sat down, and fell asleep, dropping my cares. A grating of the lock +disturbed me. The jailer pushed a jug of water into the room, and +replaced his bolts. + +Afterwards I do not remember anything except that the stone was not +warm, and my stomach craved, until a groan in my ear stabbed sleep. I +sat up awake in every nerve. There was nobody in the cell with me. +Perhaps the groan had come from a neighboring prisoner. + +Then a faint stir of covering could be heard upon the bed. + +I rose and pressed as far as I could into my corner. No beast of the +wilderness ever had such terror for me as the unknown thing that had +been my cell-mate half a night without my knowledge. + +Was a vampire--a demon--a witch--a ghost locked in there with me? + +It moaned again, so faintly, that compassion instantly got the better of +superstition. + +"Who is there?" I demanded; as if the knowledge of a name would cure +terror of the suffering thing naming itself. + +I got no answer, and taking my resolution in hand, moved toward the bed, +determined to know what housed with me. The jug of water stood in the +way, and I lifted it with instinctive answer to the groan. + +The creature heard the splash, and I knew by its mutter what it wanted. +Groping darkly, to poise the jug for an unseen mouth, I realized that +something helpless to the verge of extinction lay on the bed, and I +would have to find the mouth myself or risk drowning it. I held the +water on the bed-rail with my right hand, groped with the other, and +found a clammy, death-cold forehead, a nose and cavernous cheeks, an +open and fever roughened mouth. I poured water on my handkerchief and +bathed the face. That would have been my first desire in extreme +moments. The poor wretch gave a reviving moan, so I felt emboldened to +steady the jug and let drop by drop gurgle down its throat. + +Forgetting the horror of the bed I sat there, repeating at intervals +this poor ministration until the porthole again dawned, and blackness +became the twilight of day. + +My cell-mate could not see me. I doubt if he ever knew that a hand gave +him water. His eyes were meaningless, and he was so gaunt that his body +scarcely made a ridge on the bed. + +Some beans and mouldy bread were put in for my rations. The turnkey +asked me how I intended to wash myself without basin or ewer or towels, +and inquired further if he could be of service in disposing of my shirt +or breeches. + +"What ails this man?" + +He shrugged, and said the prisoner had been wasting with fever. + +"You get fever in Ste. Pélagie," he added, "especially when you eat the +prison food. This man ought to be sent to the infirmary, but the +infirmary is overflowing now." + +"Who is he?" + +"A journalist, or poet, or some miserable canaille of that sort. He will +soon be out of your way." Our guard craned over to look at him. +"_Oui_--da! He is a dying man! A priest must be sent to him soon. I +remember he demanded one several days ago." + +But that day and another dragged through before the priest appeared. I +sent out my waistcoat, and got a wretched meal, and a few spoonfuls of +wine that I used to moisten the dying man's lips. His life may or may +not have been prolonged; but out of collapse he opened his mouth +repeatedly and took the drops. He was more my blessing than I was his. + +For I had an experience which has ever since given me to know the souls +of prisoners. + +The first day, in spite of the cell's foulness, I laughed secretly at +jailers and felt at peace, holding the world at bay. I did not then know +that Ste. Pélagie was the tomb of the accused, where more than one +prisoner dragged out years without learning why he was put there. I was +not brought to any trial or examination. + +But gradually an uneasiness which cannot be imagined by one who has not +felt it, grew upon me. I wanted light. The absence of it was torture! +Light--to vivify the stifling air, which died as this man was dying--as +I should die--in blinding mirk! + +Moisture broke out all over my body, and cold dew stood on my forehead. +How could human lungs breathe the midnight of blackening walls? The +place was hot with the hell of confinement. I said over and over--"O +God, Thou art Light!--in Thee is no darkness at all!" + +This anguish seemed a repetition of something I had endured once before. +The body and spirit remembered, though the mind had no register. I +clawed at the walls. If I slept, it was to wake gasping, fighting upward +with both hands. + +The most singular phase was that I reproached myself for not soaking up +more sun in the past. Oh, how much light was going to waste over wide +fields and sparkling seas! The green woods, the green grass--they had +their fill of sun, while we two perished! + +I remembered creeping out of glare under the shadow of rocks, and +wondered how I could have done it! If I ever came to the sun again I +would stretch myself and roll from side to side, to let it burn me well! +How blessed was the tan we got in summer from steeping in light! + +Looking at my cell-mate I could have rent the walls. + +"We are robbed," I told his deaf ears. "The light, poured freely all +over the city, the light that belongs to you and me as much as to +anybody, would save you! I wish I could pick you up and carry you out +where the sun would shine through your bones! But let us be glad, you +and I, that there is a woman who is not buried like a whitening sprout +under this weight of stone! She is free, to walk around and take the +light in her gray eyes and the wind in her brown hair. I swear to God if +I ever come out of this I will never pass so much as a little plant +prostrate in darkness, without helping it to the light." + +It was night by the loophole when our turnkey threw the door open. I +heard the priest and his sacristan joking in the corridor before they +entered carrying their sacred parcels. The priest was a doddering old +fellow, almost deaf, for the turnkey shouted at his ear, and dim of +sight, for he stooped close to look at the dying man, who was beyond +confession. + +"Bring us something for a temporary altar," he commanded the turnkey, +who stood candle in hand. + +The turnkey gave his light to the sacristan, and taking care to lock us +in, hurried to obey. + +I measured the lank, ill-strung assistant, more an overgrown boy than a +man of brawn, but expanded around his upper part by the fullness of a +short white surplice. He had a face cheerful to silliness. + +The turnkey brought a board supported by crosspieces; and withdrew, +taking his own candle, as soon as the church's tapers were lighted. + +The sacristan placed the temporary altar beside the foot of the bed, +arrayed it, and recited the Confiteor. + +Then the priest mumbled the Misereatur and Indulgentiam. + +I had seen extreme unction administered as I had seen many another +office of the church in my dim days, with scarcely any attention. Now +the words were terribly living. I knew every one before it rolled off +the celebrant's lips. Yet under that vivid surface knowledge I carried +on as vivid a sequence of thought. + +The priest elevated the ciborium, repeating, + +"Ecce Agnus Dei." + +Then three times--"Domine, non sum dignus." + +I heard and saw with exquisite keenness, yet I was thinking, + +"If I do not get out of here he will have to say those words over me." + +He put the host in the parted mouth of the dying, and spoke-- + +"Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vetam +aeternam." + +I thought how easy it would be to strip the loose surplice over the +sacristan's head. There was a swift clip of the arm around your +opponent's neck which I had learned in wrestling, that cut the breath +off and dropped him as limp as a cloth. It was an Indian trick. I said +to myself it would be impossible to use that trick on the sacristan if +he left the cell behind the deaf old priest. I did not want to hurt him. +Still, he would have a better chance to live after I had squeezed his +neck, than I should have if I did not squeeze it. + +The priest took out of a silver case a vessel of oil, and a branch. He +sprinkled holy water with the branch, upon the bed, the walls, the +sacristan and me, repeating, + +"Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem +dealbabor." + +While I bent my head to the drops, I knew it was impossible to choke +down the sacristan, strip off his surplice, invest myself with it and +get out of the cell before priest or turnkey looked back. The sacrilege +of such an attack would take all the strength out of me. + +The priest said the Exaudi nos, exhorted the insensible figure, then +recited the Credo and the Litany, the sacristan responding. + +Silence followed. + +I knew the end was approaching. My hands were as cold as the nerveless +one which would soon receive the candle. I told myself I should be a +fool to attempt it. There was not one chance in a hundred. I should not +squeeze hard enough. The man would yell. If I were swift as lightning +and silent as force, they would take me in the act. It was impossible. +But people who cannot do impossible things have to perish. + +The priest dipped his thumb in oil, and with it crossed the eyes, ears, +nose, mouth, and hands of him who was leaving the use of these five +senses and instruments of evil. + +Then he placed a lighted candle in the stiffened fingers, and ended +with-- + +"Accipe lampadem ardentem custodi unctionem tuam." + +I said to myself--"I cannot do it! Nobody could! It is impossible!" + +The sacristan now began to strip the altar and pack all the sacred +implements into their cases: preparing his load in the center of the +room. + +The man was dead. + +The sacristan's last office was to fix the two lighted altar candles on +the head and foot railing of the bed. They showed the corpse in its +appalling stillness, and stood like two angels, with the pit between +them. + +The sacristan rapped upon the door to let the turnkey know it was time +to unlock. + +I drew the thick air to my lung depths. The man who would breathe no +more was not as rigid as I stood. But there was no use in attempting +such a thing! + +The turnkey opened a gap of doorway through which he could see the +candles and the bed. He opened no wider than the breadth of the priest, +who stepped out as the sacristan bent for the portables. + +There was lightning in my arm as it took the sacristan around the neck +and let him limp upon the stones. The tail of the priest's cassock was +scarcely through the door. + +"Eh bien! sacristan," called the turnkey. "Make haste with your load. I +have this death to report. He is not so pretty that you must stand +gazing at him all night!" + +I had the surplice over the sacristan's head and over mine, and backed +out with my load, facing the room. + +If my jailer had thrust his candle at me, if the priest had turned to +speak, if the man in the cell had got his breath before the bolt was +turned, if my white surplice had not appeared the principal part of me +in that black place--. + +It was impossible!--but I had done it. + + + + +V + + +The turnkey's candle made a star-point in the corridor. He walked ahead +of the priest and I walked behind. We descended to the entrance where +the man with the big book sat taking stock of another wretch between +officers. I saw as I shaded my face with the load, that his inattentive +eye dwelt on my surplice, which would have passed me anywhere in France. + +"Good-night, monsieur the curé," said the turnkey, letting us through +the outer door. + +"Good-night, good-night," the priest responded. + +"And to you, sacristan." + +"Good-night," I muttered, and he came a step after me. The candle was +yet in his hand, showing him my bulk, and perhaps the small clothes he +had longed to vend. I expected hue and cry, but walked on after the +priest, and heard the heavy doors jar, and breathed again. + +Hearkening behind and in front, on the right and the left, I followed +him in the direction of what I have since learned to call the Jardin des +Plantes. It is near Ste. Pélagie. + +The priest, wearied by his long office, spoke only once about the +darkness; for it was a cloudy night; and did not attend to my muttered +response. I do not know what sympathy the excellent old man might have +shown to an escaped prisoner who had choked his sacristan, and I had no +mind to test it. He turned a corner, and with the wall angle between us, +I eased down the sacred furniture, drew off the surplice and laid that +upon it, and took to my heels up the left hand street; for the guard had +brought me across the river to Ste. Pélagie. + +I had no hat, and the cut of my coat showed that I had lost a waistcoat. +Avoiding the little circles of yellowness made by lamp posts, I reached +without mishap of falling into the hands of any patrol, a bridge +crossing to an island point, and from the other side of the point to the +opposite shore. At intervals along the parapet dim lights were placed. + +Compared to Lake George, which wound like a river, and the mighty St. +Lawrence as I remembered it, the Seine was a narrow stream. Some boats +made constellations on the surface. The mass of island splitting it into +two branches was almost the heart of Paris. There were other foot +passengers on the bridge, and a gay carriage rolled by. I did not see +any gendarmes, and only one foot passenger troubled me. + +I was on the bridge above the left arm of the river when an ear trained +in the woods caught his footstep, pausing as mine paused, and hurrying +as mine hurried. If the sacristan had been found in Ste. Pélagie a +pursuer would not track me so delicately, and neither would Skenedonk +hold back on the trail. I stopped in the shade when we two were alone on +the second span, and wheeled, certain of catching my man under the +flare of a cresset. I caught him, and knew that it was Bellenger +following me. + +My mind was made up in an instant. I walked back to settle matters with +him, though slaughter was far from my thoughts. I had done him no harm; +but he was my enemy, and should be forced to let me alone. + +The fellow who had appeared so feeble at his cabin that I opened the +door for him, and so poor-spirited that his intellect claimed pity, +stood up as firm as a bear at my approach, and met my eyes with perfect +understanding. + +Not another thing do I remember. The facts are simply these: I faced +Bellenger; no blows passed; my mind flashed blank with the partial +return of that old eclipse which has fallen upon me after strong +excitement, in more than one critical moment. The hiatus seems brief +when I awake though it may have lasted hours. I know the eclipse has +been upon me, like the wing-shadow of eternity; but I have scarcely let +go of time. + +I could not prove that Bellenger dragged me to the parapet and threw me +into the river. If I had known it I should have laughed at his doing so, +for I could swim like a fish, through or under water, and sit on the +lake bottom holding my breath until Skenedonk had been known to dive for +me. + +When next I sensed anything at all it was a feeling of cold. + +I thought I was lying in one of the shallow runlets that come into Lake +George, and the pebbles were an uneasy bed, chilling my shoulders. I was +too stiff to move, or even turn my head to lift out of water the ear on +which it rested. But I could unclose my eyelids, and this is what I +saw:--a man naked to his waist, half reclining against a leaning slab of +marble, down which a layer of water constantly moved. His legs were +clothed, and his other garments lay across them. His face had sagged in +my direction. There was a deep slash across his forehead, and he showed +his teeth and his glassy eyes at the joke. + +Beyond this silent figure was a woman as silent. The ridge of his body +could not hide the long hair spread upon her breast. I considered the +company and the moisture into which I had fallen with unspeakable +amazement. We were in a low and wide stone chamber with a groined +ceiling, supported by stone pillars. A row of lamps was arranged above +us, so that no trait or feature might escape a beholder. + +That we were put there for show entered my mind slowly and brought +indignation. To be so helpless and so exposed was an outrage against +which I struggled in nightmare impotence; for I was bare to my hips +also, and I knew not what other marks I carried beside those which had +scarred me all my conscious life. + +Now in the distance, and echoing, feet descended stairs. + +I knew that people were coming to look at us, and I could not move a +muscle in resentment. + +I heard their voices, fringed with echoes, before either speaker came +within my vision. + +"This is the mortuary chapel of the Hôtel Dieu?" + +"Yes, monsieur the marquis, this is the mortuary chapel." + +"Um! Cheerful place!" + +"Much more cheerful than the bottom of the river, monsieur the marquis." + +"No doubt. Never empty, eh?" + +"I have been a servant of the Hôtel Dieu fourteen years, monsieur the +marquis, and have not yet seen all the marble slabs vacant." + +"You receive the bodies of the drowned?" + +"And place them where they may be seen and claimed." + +"How long do you keep them?" + +"That depends. Sometimes their friends seek them at once. We have kept a +body three months in the winter season, though he turned very green." + +"Are all in your present collection gathering verdure?" + +"No, monsieur. We have a very fresh one, just brought in; a big stalwart +fellow, with the look of the country about him." + +"Small clothes?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Buckle shoes?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Hair light and long?" + +"The very man, monsieur the marquis." + +"I suppose I shall have to look at him. If he had to make himself +unpleasant he should have stayed at the chateau where his mother could +identify him. He is one of my peasants, come to Paris to see life! I +must hold my nose and do it." + +"It is not necessary to hold the nose, monsieur." + +"After fourteen years, perhaps not." + +I heard the snap of a snuff-box lid as the marquis fortified himself. + +My agony for the woman who was to be looked at turned so sharp that I +uttered a click in my throat. But they passed her, and merely glanced at +my next neighbor. + +The old marquis encountered my fixed stare. Visibly it shocked through +him. He was all gray, and curled and powdered, instead of being clipped +close and smooth in the style of the Empire; an exquisite, thin-featured +man, high of nose and eyebrows, not large, but completely turned out as +ample man and bright spirit. The slightest fragrance of scent was in his +presence, and a shade of snuff on his upper lip appeared fine +supercilious hairs. + +I did not look at the servant of the Hôtel Dieu. The old noble and I +held each other with unflinching gaze. + +"Do you recognize him, monsieur?" + +"I do," the old noble deliberately answered. "I should know this face +anywhere. Have him taken to my carriage directly." + +"Your carriage, monsieur! He can be sent--" + +"I said take him to my carriage." + +"It shall be done. His eyes have opened since he came in. But they +sometimes look as if they would speak! Their faces change constantly. +This other man who is grinning to-night may be quite serious to-morrow." + +"And by the end of the month sorry enough, eh?" + +The servant of the Hôtel Dieu tittered amiably, and I knew he was going +for help to lift me off the slab, when he uttered a cry of surprise. The +old marquis wheeled sharply, and said: + +"Eh, bien! Is this another of them, promenading himself?" + +I felt the Oneida coming before his silent moccasins strode near me. He +did not wait an instant, but dragged me from the wet and death cold +marble to the stone floor, where he knelt upon one knee and supported +me. O Skenedonk! how delicious was the warmth of your healthy body--how +comforting the grip of your hunter arms! Yet there are people who say an +Indian is like a snake! I could have given thanks before the altar at +the side of the crypt, which my fixed eyes encountered as he held me. +The marble dripped into its gutter as if complaining of my escape. + +"Oh, my dear friend!" cried the servant. + +Skenedonk answered nothing at all. + +"Who is this gentleman," the marquis inquired, "that seems to have the +skin of a red German sausage drawn tight over his head?" + +"This is an American Indian, monsieur the marquis." + +"An Indian?" + +"Yes, monsieur; but he understands French." + +"Thank you for the hint. It may save me from having a German sausage +drawn tight over my head. I have heard that American Indians practice +giving their friends that appearance. How do you know he understands +French?" + +"I think it is the man who used to come to the Hôtel Dieu years ago, +when I was new in its service. He was instructed in religion by +churchmen in Paris, and learned the language. Oh, my dear monsieur--I +think it is Iroquois that he is called--I am aware the Americans have +different manners, but here we do not go into the mortuary chapel of the +Hôtel Dieu and disarrange the bodies without permission!" + +Skenedonk's eyes probably had less of the fawn in them than usual. I +felt the guttural sound under his breast. + +"I have found him, and now I will take him." + +"But that is the marquis' servant!" + +"The marquis is his servant!" + +"Oh, my dear monsieur the Indian! You speak of a noble of France, the +Marquis du Plessy! Be satisfied," pleaded the servitor of the Hôtel +Dieu, "with this other body, whom no one is likely to claim! I may be +permitted to offer you that, if you are determined--though it may cost +me my place!--and after fourteen years' service! It you would appease +him, monsieur the marquis--though I do not know whether they ever take +money." + +"I will appease him," said the old noble. "Go about your errand and be +quick." + +The servant fled up the stairs. + +"This man is not dead, my friend," said the Marquis du Plessy. + +Skenedonk knew it. + +"But he will not live long in this cursed crypt," the noble added. "You +will get into my carriage with him, we will take him and put him in hot +sheets, and see what we can do for him." + +I could feel Skenedonk's antagonism giving way in the relaxing of his +muscles. + +But maintaining his position the Oneida asserted: + +"He is not yours!" + +"He belongs to France." + +"France belongs to him!" the Indian reversed. + +"Eh, eh! Who is this young man?" + +"The king." + +"We have no king now, my friend. But assuming there is a man who should +be king, how do you know this is the one?" + +If Skenedonk made answer in words it was lost to me. The spirit sank to +submergence in the body, I remember combating motion like a drugged +person. + +Torpor and prostration followed the recurring eclipse as that followed +excitement and shock. I was not ill; and gathered knowledge of the +environment, which was different from anything I had before experienced. +De Chaumont's manor was a wilderness fortress compared to this private +hotel of an ancient family in the heart of Paris. + +I lay in a bed curtained with damask, and looked through open glass +doors at a garden. Graveled walks, bosky trees and masses of flowers, +plats of grass where arbored seats were placed, stretched their vista to +a wall clothed in ivy, which proved to be the end of a chapel. For high +over the curtain of thick green shone a rose window. The afternoon sun +laid bare its fine staining, but only in the darkness when the church +was illuminated and organ music rolled from it, did the soul of that +window appear struck through with light. + +Strange servants and Doctor Chantry by glimpses, and the old noble and +the Oneida almost constantly, were about me. Doctor Chantry looked +complacently through the curtains and wished me good-morning. I smiled +to see that he was lodged as he desired, and that his clothes had been +renewed in fine cloth, with lawn to his neck and silk stockings for his +shrunk calves. My master was an elderly beau; and I gave myself no care +that he had spent his money--the money of the expedition--on foppery. + +Skenedonk also had new toggery in scarfs and trinkets which I did not +recognize, and his fine buckskins were cleaned. The lackeys appeared +subservient to him, and his native dignity was never more impressive +than in that great house. I watched my host and my servant holding +interviews, which Skenedonk may have considered councils, on the benches +in the garden, and from which my secretary, the sick old woman, seemed +excluded. But the small interest of seeing birds arrive on branches, and +depart again, sufficed me; until an hour when life rose strongly. + +I sat up in bed, and finding myself alone, took advantage of an +adjoining room where a marble bath was set in the floor. Returning +freshened from the plunge, with my sheet drawn around me, I found one of +those skilled and gentle valets who seem less men than he-maids. + +"I am to dress monsieur when monsieur is ready," said this person. + +"I am ready now," I answered, and he led me into a suite of rooms and +showed me an array which took my breath: dove-colored satin knee +breeches, and a long embroidered coat of like color, a vest sprigged +with rosebuds, cravat and lace ruffles, long silk stockings and shoes to +match in extravagance, a shirt of fine lawn, and a hat for a nobleman. + +"Tell your master," I said to the lackey, "that he intends me great +kindness, but I prefer my own clothes." + +"These are monsieur's own clothes, made to his order and measure." + +"But I gave no order, and I was not measured." + +The man raised his shoulders and elbows with gentlest dissent. + +"These are only a few articles of monsieur's outfit. Here is the key. If +monsieur selects another costume he will find each one complete." + +By magic as it seemed, there was a wardrobe full of fineries provided +for my use. The man displayed them; in close trousers and coats with +short fronts, or knee breeches and long tails; costumes, he said, for +the street, for driving, riding, traveling, for evening, and for +morning; and one white satin court dress. At the marquis' order he had +laid out one for a ball. Of my old clothes not a piece was to be seen. + +The miracle was that what he put upon me fitted me. I became transformed +like my servant and my secretary, and stood astonished at the result. + + + + +VI + + +"Enter the prince of a fairy tale," said the Marquis du Plessy when the +lackey ushered me into the garden. + +It was a nest of amber at that time of sunset, and he waited for me at a +table laid for supper, under a flat canopy of trees which had their tops +trained and woven into a mat. + +I took his hand to kiss, but he rose up and magnificently placed me in a +chair opposite himself. + +"Your benefits are heavy, monsieur," I said. "How shall I acknowledge +them?" + +"You owe me nothing at all," he answered; "as you will see when I have +told you a true story. It would sound like a lie if anything were +incredible in these fabulous times." + +"But you do not know anything about me." + +"I am well instructed in your history, by that charming attendant in +fringed leather breeches, who has been acquainted with you much longer +than you have been acquainted with yourself." + +"Yet I am not sure of deserving the marquis' interest." + +"Has the marquis admitted that he feels any interest in you? Though this +I will own: few experiences have affected me like your living eyes +staring out of the face of my dead king!" + +We met each other again with a steady gaze like that in the mortuary +chapel. + +"Do you believe I am ----?" + +"Do I believe you are ----? Who said there was such a person in +existence?" + +"Louis Philippe." + +"The Duke of Orleans? Eh, bien! What does he know of the royal family? +He is of the cadette branch." + +"But he told me the princess, the dauphin's sister, believes that the +dauphin was taken alive from the Temple and sent to America." + +"My dear Lazarre, I do not say the Duke of Orleans would lie--far be it +from me--though these are times in which we courageously attack our +betters. But he would not object to seeing the present pretender ousted. +Why, since his father voted for the death of Louis XVI, he and his are +almost outlawed by the older branch! Madame Royal, the Duchess of +Angoulęme, cannot endure him. I do not think she would speak to him!" + +"He is my friend," I said stoutly. + +"Remember you are another pretender, and he has espoused your cause. I +think him decent myself--though there used to be some pretty stories +told about him and the fair sentimentalist who educated him--Madame de +Genlis. But I am an old man; I forget gossip." + +My host gave lively and delicate attention to his food as it was +brought, and permitted nothing to be overheard by his lackeys. + +The evening was warm, and fresh with the breath of June; and the garden, +by a contrivance of lamps around its walls, turned into a dream world +after sunset faded. + +It was as impossible to come to close terms with this noble of the old +régime as with a butterfly. He alighted on a subject; he waved his +wings, and rose. I felt a clumsy giant while he fluttered around my +head, smiling, mocking, thrusting his pathos to the quick. + +"My dear boy, I do not say that I believe in you; I do not observe +etiquette with you. But I am going to tell you a little story about the +Tuileries. You have never seen the palace of the Tuileries?" + +I said I had not. + +"It has been restored for the use of these Bonapartes. When I say these +Bonapartes, Lazarre, I am not speaking against the Empire. The Empire +gave me back my estates. I was not one of the stringent emigrés. My +estates are mine, whoever rules in France. You may consider me a +betwixt-and-betweener. Do so. My dear boy, I am. My heart is with my +dead king. My carcass is very comfortable, both in Paris and on my +ancestral lands. Napoleon likes me as an ornament to his bourgeois +court. I keep my opinion of him to myself. Do you like garlic, my boy?" + +I told him I was not addicted to the use of it. + +"Garlic is divine. God gave it to man. A hint of it in the appropriate +dish makes life endurable. I carry a piece in a gold box at the bottom +of my vest pocket, that I may occasionally take it out and experience a +sense of gratitude for divine benefits." + +He took out his pet lump, rubbed it on the outside of his wine bottle, +poured out a glassful and drank it, smiling adorably at me in ecstasy! + +"We were speaking of the Tuileries. You should have seen the place when +it was sacked after the flight of the royal family. No, you should not +have seen it! I am glad you were gone. Mirrors were shattered, and +lusters, vases, china, gold candlesticks, rolled about and were trampled +on the floor. The paintings were stabbed with pikes; tables, screens, +gilt stools, chairs crushed, and carpets cut to pieces; garments of all +kinds strewn and torn; all that was not carried off by pillagers being +thus destroyed. It was yet a horrible sight days after the mob had done +their work, and slaughtered bodies of guards had been carried away, and +commissioners with their clerks and assistants began to restore order." + +"Did you see the Tuileries at that time, monsieur?" + +"I did. I put on the clothes of one of my peasants, slumped in Jacquot's +wooden shoes, and kept my mouth open as well as I could for the dust. +The fantastic was yet in my blood. Exile takes that out of everybody +except your royal uncle of Provence. But I knew in my heart what I would +help do with that mob, if our turn ever came again!" + +His dark eyes rested on the red wine as on a pool of blood. + +"Sick of the ruin, I leaned out to look in the garden, from a window in +the queen's own apartment. I stepped on a shelf, which appeared fixed +under the window; but it moved, and I found that it could be pushed on +grooves into the wall. There was a cavity made to hold it. It had +concealed two armchairs placed opposite each other, so cunningly that +their paneled sides yet looked a part of the thick wall. I sat down in +one of them, and though the cushion was stiff, I felt something hard +under it." + +Monsieur du Plessy glanced around in every direction to satisfy himself +that no ears lurked within hearing. + +"Eh, bien! Under the cushion I found the queen's jewel-case! +Diamonds--bags of gold coin--a half circlet of gems!--since the great +necklace was lost such an array had not seen the light in France. The +value must be far above a million francs." + +The marquis fixed his eyes on me and said: + +"What should I have done with it, Lazarre?" + +"It belonged to the royal family," I answered. + +"But everything which belonged to the royal family had been confiscated +to the state. I had just seen the belongings of the royal family +trampled as by cattle. First one tyrant and then another rose up to tell +us what we should do, to batten himself off the wretched commonwealth, +and then go to the guillotine before his successor. As a good citizen I +should have turned these jewels and stones and coins over to the state. +But I was acting the part of Jacquot, and as an honest peasant I whipped +them under my blouse and carried them away. In my straits of exile I +never decreased them. And you may take inventory of your property and +claim it when we rise from the table." + +My heart came up in my throat. I reached across and caught his hands. + +"You believe in me--you believe in me!" + +"Do I observe any etiquette with you, Lazarre? This is the second time I +have brought the fact to your notice. I particularly wish you to note +that I do not observe any etiquette with you." + +"What does a boy who has been brought up among Indians know about +etiquette! But you accept me, or you could not put the property you have +loyally and at such risk saved for my family, into my hands." + +"I don't accept even your uncle of Provence. The king of Spain and I +prefer to call him by that modest title. Since you died or were removed +from the Temple, he has taken the name of Louis XVIII, and maintained a +court at the expense of the czar of Russia and the king of Spain. He is +a fine Latinist; quotes Latin verse; and keeps the mass bells +everlastingly ringing; the Russians laugh at his royal masses! But in my +opinion the sacred gentleman is either moral slush or a very deep +quicksand. It astonishes me," said the Marquis du Plessy, "to find how +many people I do disapprove of! I really require very little of the +people I am obliged to meet." + +He smoothed my hands which were yet holding his, and exploded: + +"The Count of Provence is an old turtle! Not exactly a reptile, for +there is food in him. But of a devilish flat head and cruel snap of the +jaws!" + +"How can that be," I argued, "when his niece loves him so? And even I, +in the American woods, with mind eclipsed, was not forgotten. He sent me +of the money that he was obliged to receive in charity!" + +"It is easy to dole out charity money; you are squeezing other people's +purses, not your own. What I most object to in the Count of Provence, is +that assumption of kingly airs, providing the story is true which leaked +secretly among the emigrés. The story which I heard was that the dauphin +had not died, but was an idiot in America. An idiot cannot reign. But +the throne of France is not clamoring so loud for a Bourbon at present +that the idiot's substitute must be proclaimed and hold a beggar's +court. There are mad loyalists who swear by this eighteenth Louis. I am +not one of them. In fact, Lazarre, I was rather out of tune with your +house!" + +"Not you!" I said. + +"I do not fit in these times. I ought to have gone with my king and my +friends under the knife. Often I am ashamed of myself for slipping away. +That I should live to see disgusting fools in the streets of Paris, +after the Terror was over!--young men affecting the Greek and Roman +manner--greeting one another by wagging of the head! They wore gray +coats with black collars, gray or green cravats, carried cudgels, and +decreed that all men should have the hair plaited, powdered, and +fastened up with a comb, like themselves! The wearer of a queue was +likely to be knocked on the head. These creatures used to congregate at +the old Feydeau theater, or meet around the entrance of the Louvre, to +talk classical jargon, and wag!" + +The Marquis du Plessy drew himself together with a strong shudder. I had +the desire to stand between him and the shocks of an alien world. Yet +there was about him a tenacious masculine strength, an adroitness of +self-protection which needed no champion. + +"Did the Indian tell you about a man named Bellenger?" I inquired. + +"Bellenger is part of the old story about the dauphin's removal. I heard +of him first at Coblenz. And I understand now that he is following you +with another dauphin, and objecting to you in various delicate ways. +Napoleon Bonaparte is master of France, and in the way to be master of +Europe, because he has a nice sense of the values of men, and the best +head for detail that was ever formed in human shape. There is something +almost supernatural in his grasp of affairs. He lets nothing escape him. +The only mistake he ever made was butchering the young Duke +d'Enghien--the courage and clearness of the man wavered that one +instant; and by the way, he borrowed my name for the duke's incognito +during the journey under arrest! England, Russia, Austria and Sweden are +combining against Napoleon. He will beat them. For while other men +sleep, or amuse themselves, or let circumstance drive them, he is +planning success and providing for all possible contingencies. Take a +leaf out of the general's book, my boy. No enemy is contemptible. If you +want to force the hand of fortune--scheme!--scheme!--all the +time!--out-scheme the other fellow!" + +The marquis rose from the table. + +"I am longer winded," he said, "than a man named De Chaumont, who has +been importuning Bonaparte, in season and out of season, to reinstate an +American emigré, a Madame de Ferrier." + +"Will Bonaparte restore her lands?" I asked, feeling my voice like a +rope in my throat. + +"Do you know her family?" + +"I knew Madame de Ferrier in America." + +"Their estate lies next to mine. And what is the little De Ferrier like +since she is grown?" + +"A beautiful woman." + +"Ah--ah! Bonaparte's plan will then be easy of execution. You may see +her this evening here in the Faubourg St. Germain. I believe she is to +appear at Madame de Permon's, where Bonaparte may look in." + +My host bolted the doors of his private cabinet, and took from the +secret part of a wall cupboard the queen's jewel-case. We opened it +between us. The first thing I noticed was a gold snuffbox, set with +portraits of the king, the queen, and their two children. + +How I knew them I cannot tell. Their pictured faces had never been put +before my conscious eyes until that moment. Other portraits might have +been there. I had no doubt, no hesitation. + +I was on my knees before the face I had seen in spasms of +remembrance--with oval cheeks, and fair hair rolled high--and open +neck--my royal mother! + +Next I looked at the king, heavier of feature, honest and straight +gazing, his chin held upward; at the little sister, a smaller miniature +of the queen; at the softly molded curves of the child that was myself! + +The marquis turned his back. + +Before I could speak I rose and put my arms around him. He wheeled, took +my hand, stood at a little distance, and kissed it. + +We said not one word about the portraits, but sat down with the +jewel-case again between us. + +"These stones and coins are also my sister's, monsieur the marquis?" + +He lifted his eyebrows. + +"I had ample opportunity, my dear boy, to turn them into the exchequer +of the Count of Provence. Before his quarrel with the late czar of +Russia he maintained a dozen gentlemen-in-waiting, and perhaps as many +ladies, to say nothing of priests, servants, attendants of attendants, +and guards. This treasure might last him two years. If the king of Spain +and his majesty of Russia got wind of it, and shut off their pensions, +it would not last so long. I am too thrifty a Frenchman to dissipate the +hoards of the state in foreign parts! Yet, if you question my taste--I +will not say my honesty, Lazarre--" + +"I question nothing, monsieur! I ask advice." + +"Eh, bien! Then do not be quite as punctilious as the gentleman who got +turned out of the debtor side of Ste. Pélagie into an alley. 'This will +not do,' says he. So around he posts to the entrance, and asks for +admittance again!" + +"Catch me knocking at Ste. Pélagie for admittance again!" + +"Then my advice is to pay your tailor, if he has done his work +acceptably." + +"He has done it marvelously, especially in the fitting." + +"A Parisian workman finds it no miracle to fit a man from his old +clothes. I took the liberty of sending your orders. Having heard my +little story, you understand that you owe me nothing but your society; +and a careful inventory of this trust." + +We were a long time examining the contents of the case. There were six +bags of coin, all gold louis; many unset gems; rings for the hand; and +clusters of various sorts which I knew not how to name, that blazed +with a kind of white fire very dazzling. The half-way crown was crusted +thick with colored stones the like of which I could not have imagined in +my dreams. Their names, the marquis told me, were sapphires, emeralds, +rubies; and large clear diamonds, like beads of rain. When everything +was carefully returned to place, he asked: + +"Shall I still act as your banker?" + +I begged him to hide the jewel box again, and he concealed it in the +wall. + +"We go to the Rue Ste. Croix, Lazarre, which is an impossible place for +your friend Bellenger at this time. Do you dance a gavotte?" + +I told him I could dance the Indian corn dance, and he advised me to +reserve this accomplishment. + +"Bonaparte's police are keen on any scent, especially the scent of a +prince. His practical mind would reject the Temple story, if he ever +heard it; and there are enough live Bourbons for him to watch." + +"But there is the Count de Chaumont," I suggested. + +"He is not a man that would put faith in the Temple story, either, and I +understand he is kindly disposed towards you." + +"I lived in his house nearly a year." + +"He is not a bad fellow for the new sort. I feel certain of him. He is +coaxing my friendship because of ancient amity between the houses of Du +Plessy and De Ferrier." + +"Did you say, monsieur, that Bonaparte intends to restore Madame de +Ferrier's lands?" + +"They have been given to one of his rising officers." + +"Then he will not restore them?" + +"Oh, yes, with interest! His plan is to give her the officer for a +husband." + + + + +VII + + +Even in those days of falling upon adventure and taking hold of life +with the arrogance of young manhood, I knew the value of money, though +it has always been my fault to give it little consideration. Experience +taught me that poverty goes afoot and sleeps with strange bed-fellows. +But I never minded going afoot or sharing the straw with cattle. +However, my secretary more than once took a high hand with me because he +bore the bag; and I did mind debt chasing my heels like a rising tide. + +Our Iroquois had their cottages in St. Regis and their hunting cabins on +Lake George. They went to church when not drunk and quarrelsome, paid +the priest his dues, labored easily, and cared nothing for hoarding. But +every step of my new life called for coin. + +As I look back on that hour the dominating thought rises clearly. + +To see men admitting that you are what you believe yourself to be, is +one of the triumphs of existence. The jewel-case stamped identification +upon me. I felt like one who had communicated with the past and received +a benediction. There was special provision in the way it came to me; +for man loves to believe that God watches over and mothers him. + +Forgetting--if I had ever heard--how the ancients dreaded the powers +above when they had been too fortunate, I went with the marquis in high +spirits to the Rue Ste. Croix. There were pots of incense sending little +wavers of smoke through the rooms, and the people might have peopled a +dream. The men were indeed all smooth and trim; but the women had given +rein to their fancies. + +Our hostess was a fair and gracious woman, of Greek ancestry, as +Bonaparte himself was, and her daughter had been married to his favorite +general, the marquis told me. + +I notice only the unusual in clothing; the scantiness of ladies' apparel +that clung like the skin, and lay upon the oak floor in ridges, among +which a man must shove his way, was unusual to me. + +I saw, in space kept cleared around her chair, one beauty with nothing +but sandals on her feet, though these were white as milk, silky skinned +like a hand, and ringed with jewels around the toes. + +Bonaparte's youngest sister stood receiving court. She was attired like +a Bacchante, with bands of fur in her hair, topped by bunches of gold +grapes. Her robe and tunic of muslin fine as air, woven in India, had +bands of gold, clasped with cameos, under the bosom and on the arms. +Each woman seemed to have planned outdoing the others in conceits which +marked her own fairness. + +I looked anxiously down the spacious room without seeing Madame de +Ferrier. The simplicity, which made for beauty of houses in France, +struck me, in the white and gold paneling, and the chimney, which lifted +its mass of design to the ceiling. I must have been staring at this and +thinking of Madame de Ferrier when my name was called in a lilting and +excited fashion: + +"Lazarre!" + +There was Mademoiselle de Chaumont in the midst of gallants, and better +prepared to dance a gavotte than any other charmer in the room. For her +gauze dress, fastened on the shoulders so that it fell not quite off her +bosom, reached only to the middle of the calf. This may have been for +the protection of rosebuds with which ribbons drawn lengthwise through +the skirt, were fringed; but it also showed her child-like feet and +ankles, and made her appear tiptoe like a fairy, and more remarkable +than any other figure except the barefooted dame. She held a crook +massed with ribbons and rosebuds in her hand, rallying the men to her +standard by the lively chatter which they like better than wisdom. + +Mademoiselle Annabel gave me her hand to kiss, and made room for the +Marquis du Plessy and me in her circle. I felt abashed by the looks +these courtiers gave me, but the marquis put them readily in the +background, and delighted in the poppet, taking her quite to himself. + +"We hear such wonderful stories about you, Lazarre! Besides, Doctor +Chantry came to see us and told us all he knew. Remember, Lazarre +belonged to us before you discovered him, monsieur the Marquis du +Plessy! He and I are Americans!" + +Some women near us commented, as seemed to be the fashion in that +society, with a frankness which Indians would have restrained. + +"See that girl! The emperor may now imagine what his brother Jerome has +done! Her father has brought her over from America to marry her, and it +will need all his money to accomplish that!" + +Annabel shook the rain of misty hair at the sides of her rose pink face, +and laughed a joyful retort. + +"No wonder poor Prince Jerome had to go to America for a wife! Did you +ever see such hairy faced frights as these Parisians of the Empire! +Lazarre fell ill looking at them. He pretends he doesn't see women, +monsieur, and goes about with his coat skirts loaded with books. I used +to be almost as much afraid of him as I am of you!" + +"Ah, mademoiselle, I dread to enter paradise." + +"Why, monsieur?" + +"The angels are afraid of me!" + +"Not when you smile." + +"Teach me that adorable smile of yours!" + +"Oh, how improving you will be to Lazarre, monsieur! He never paid me a +compliment in his life. He never said anything but the truth." + +"The lucky dog! What pretty things he had to say!" + +Annabel laughed and shook her mist in great enjoyment. I liked to watch +her, yet I wondered where Madame de Ferrier was, and could not bring +myself to inquire. + +"These horrible incense pots choke me," said Annabel. + +"I like them," said the marquis. + +"Do you? So do I," she instantly agreed with him. + +"Though we get enough incense in church." + +"I should think so! Do you like mass?" + +"I was brought up on my knees. But I never acquired the real devotee's +back." + +"Sit on your heels," imparted Annabel in strict confidence. "Try it." + +"I will. Ah, mademoiselle, any one who could bring such comfort into +religion might make even wedlock endurable!" + +Madame de Ferrier appeared between the curtains of a deep window. She +was talking with Count de Chaumont and an officer in uniform. Her face +pulsed a rosiness like that quiver in winter skies which we call +northern lights. The clothes she wore, being always subdued by her head +and shoulders, were not noticeable like other women's clothes. But I +knew as soon as her eyes rested on me that she found me changed. + +De Chaumont came a step to meet me, and I felt miraculously equal to +him, with some power which was not in me before. + +"You scoundrel, you have fallen into luck!" he said heartily. + +"One of our proverbs is, 'A blind pig will find an acorn once in a +while.'" + +"There isn't a better acorn in the woods, or one harder to shake down. +How did you do it?" + +I gave him a wise smile and held my tongue; knowing well that if I had +remained in Ste. Pélagie and the fact ever came to De Chaumont's ears, +like other human beings he would have reprehended my plunging into the +world. + +"We are getting on tremendously, Lazarre! When your inheritance falls +in, come back with me to Castorland. We will found a wilderness empire!" + +I did not inquire what he meant by my inheritance falling in. The +marquis pressed behind me, and when I had spoken to Madame de Ferrier I +knew it was his right to take the hand of the woman who had been his +little neighbor. + +"You don't remember me, madame?" + +"Oh, yes, I do, Monsieur du Plessy; and your wall fruit, too!" + +"The rogue! Permit me to tell you those pears are hastening to be ready +for you once more." + +"And Bichette, monsieur--is dear old Bichette alive?" + +"She is alive, and draws the chair as well as ever. I hear you have a +little son. He may love the old pony and chair as you used to love +them." + +"Seeing you, monsieur, is like coming again to my home!" + +"I trust you may come soon." + +They spoke of fruit and cattle. Neither dared mention the name of any +human companion associated with the past. + +I took opportunity to ask Count de Chaumont if her lands were recovered. +A baffled look troubled his face. + +"The emperor will see her to-night," he answered. "It is impossible to +say what can be done until the emperor sees her." + +"Is there any truth in the story that he will marry her to the officer +who holds her estate?" + +The count frowned. + +"No--no! That's impossible." + +"Will the officer sell his rights if Madame de Ferrier's are not +acknowledged?" + +"I have thought of that. And I want to consult the marquis." + +When he had a chance to draw the marquis aside, I could speak to Madame +de Ferrier without being overheard; though my time might be short. She +stood between the curtains, and the man in uniform had left his place to +me. + +"Well, I am here," I said. + +"And I am glad," she answered. + +"I am here because I love you." + +She held a fold of the curtain in her hand and looked down at it; then +up at me. + +"You must not say that again." + +"Why?" + +"You know why." + +"I do not." + +"Remember who you are." + +"I am your lover." + +She looked quickly around the buzzing drawing-room, and leaned +cautiously nearer. + +"You are my sovereign." + +"I believe that, Eagle. But it does not follow that I shall ever reign." + +"Are you safe here? Napoleon Bonaparte has spies." + +"But he has regard also for old aristocrats like the Marquis du Plessy." + +"Yet remember what he did to the Duke d'Enghien. A Bourbon prince is not +allowed in France." + +"How many people consider me a Bourbon prince? I told you why I am here. +Fortune has wonderfully helped me since I came to France. Lazarre, the +dauphin from the Indian camps, brazenly asks you to marry him, Eagle!" + +Her face blanched white, but she laughed. + +"No De Ferrier ever took a base advantage of royal favor. Don't you +think this is a strange conversation in a drawing-room of the Empire? I +hated myself for being here--until you came in." + +"Eagle, have you forgotten our supper on the island?" + +"Yes, sire." She scarcely breathed the word. + +"My unanointed title is Lazarre. And I suppose you have forgotten the +fog and the mountain, too?" + +"Yes." + +"Lazarre!" + +"Yes, Lazarre." + +"You love me! You shall love me!" + +"As a De Ferrier should; no farther!" + +Her lifted chin expressed a strength I could not combat. The slight, +dark-haired girl, younger than myself, mastered and drew me as if my +spirit was a stream, and she the ocean into which it must flow. Darkness +like that of Ste. Pélagie dropped over the brilliant room. I was nothing +after all but a palpitating boy, venturing because he must venture. +Light seemed to strike through her blood, however, endowing her with a +splendid pallor. + +"I am going," I determined that moment, "to Mittau." + +The adorable curve of her eyelids, unlike any other eyelids I ever saw, +was lost to me, for her eyes flew wide open. + +"To ----" + +She looked around and hesitated to pronounce the name of the Count of +Provence. + +"Yes. I am going to find some one who belongs to me." + +"You have the marquis for a friend." + +"And I have also Skenedonk, and our tribe, for my friends. But there is +no one who understands that a man must have some love." + +"Consult Marquis du Plessy about going to Mittau. It may not be wise. +And war is threatened on the frontier." + +"I will consult him, of course. But I am going." + +"Lazarre, there were ladies on the ship who cursed and swore, and men +who were drunk the greater part of the voyage. I was brought up in the +old-fashioned way by the Saint-Michels, so I know nothing of present +customs. But it seems to me our times are rude and wicked. And you, just +awake to the world, have yet the innocence of that little boy who sank +into the strange and long stupor. If you changed I think I could not +bear it!" + +"I will not change." + +A stir which must have been widening through the house as a ripple +widens on a lake, struck us, and turned our faces with all others to a +man who stood in front of the chimney. He was not large in person, but +as an individual his presence was massive--was penetrating. I could have +topped him by head and shoulders; yet without mastery. He took snuff as +he slightly bowed in every direction, shut the lid with a snap, and +fidgeted as if impatient to be gone. He had a mouth of wonderful beauty +and expression, and his eyes were more alive than the eyes of any other +man in the assembly. I felt his gigantic force as his head dipped +forward and he glanced about under his brows. + +"There is the emperor," De Chaumont told Eagle; and I thought he made +indecent haste to return and hale her away before Napoleon. + +The greatest soldier in Europe passed from one person to another with +the air of doing his duty and getting rid of it. Presently he raised his +voice, speaking to Madame de Ferrier so that, all in the room might +hear. + +"Madame, I am pleased to see that you wear leno. I do not like those +English muslins, sold at the price of their weight in gold, and which do +not look half as well as beautiful white leno. Wear leno, cambric, or +silk, ladies, and then my manufactures will flourish." + +I wondered if he would remember the face of the man pushed against his +wheel and called an assassin, when the Marquis du Plessy named me to him +as the citizen Lazarre. + +"You are a lucky man, Citizen Lazarre, to gain the marquis for your +friend. I have been trying a number of years to make him mine." + +"All Frenchmen are the friends of Napoleon," the marquis said to me. + +I spoke directly to the sovereign, thereby violating etiquette, my +friend told me afterwards, laughing; and Bonaparte was a stickler for +precedent. + +"But all Frenchmen," I could not help reminding the man in power, "are +not faithful friends." + +He gave me a sharp look as he passed on, and repeated what I afterward +learned was one of his favorite maxims: + +"A faithful friend is the true image." + + + + +VIII + + +"Must you go to Mittau?" the Marquis du Plessy said when I told him what +I intended to do. "It is a long, expensive post journey; and part of the +way you may not be able to post. Riga, on the gulf beyond Mittau, is a +fine old town of pointed gables and high stone houses. But when I was in +Mittau I found it a mere winter camp of Russian nobles. The houses are +low, one-story structures. There is but one castle, and in that his +Royal Highness the Count of Provence holds mimic court." + +We were riding to Versailles, and our horses almost touched sides as my +friend put his hand on my shoulder. + +"Don't go, Lazarre. You will not be welcome there." + +"I must go, whether I am welcome or not." + +"But I may not last until you come back." + +"You will last two months. Can't I post to Mittau and back in two +months?" + +"God knows." + +I looked at him drooping forward in the saddle, and said: + +"If you need me I will stay, and think no more about seeing those of my +own blood." + +"I do need you; but you shall not stay. You shall go to Mittau in my +own post-carriage. It will bring you back sooner." + +But his post-carriage I could not accept. The venture to Mittau, its +wear and tear and waste, were my own; and I promised to return with all +speed. I could have undertaken the road afoot, driven by the necessity I +felt. + +"The Duchess of Angoulęme is a good girl," said the marquis, following +the line of my thoughts. "She has devoted herself to her uncle and her +husband. When the late czar withdrew his pension, and turned the whole +mimic court out of Mittau, she went with her uncle, and even waded the +snow with him when they fell into straits. Diamonds given to her by her +grandmother, the Empress Maria Theresa, she sold for his support. But +the new czar reinstated them; and though they live less pretentiously at +Mittau in these days, they still have their priest and almoner, the Duke +of Guiche, and other courtiers hanging upon them. My boy, can you make a +court bow and walk backwards? You must practice before going into +Russia." + +"Wouldn't it be better," I said, "for those who know how, to practice +the accomplishment before me?" + +"Imagine the Count of Provence stepping down from playing royalty to do +that!" my friend laughed. + +"I don't know why he shouldn't, since he knows I am alive. He has sent +money every year for my support." + +"An established custom, Lazarre, gains strength every day it is +continued. You see how hard it is to overturn an existing system, +because men have to undo the work they have been doing perhaps for a +thousand years. Time gives enormous stability. Monsieur the Count of +Provence has been practicing royalty since word went out that his nephew +had died in the Temple. It will be no easy matter to convince him you +are fit to play king in his stead." + +This did not disturb me, however. I thought more of my sister. And I +thought of vast stretches across the center of Europe. The Indian +stirred in me, as it always did stir, when the woman I wanted was +withdrawn from me. + +I could not tell my friend, or any man, about Madame de Ferrier. This +story of my life is not to be printed until I am gone from the world. +Otherwise the things set down so freely would remain buried in myself. + +Some beggars started from hovels, running like dogs, holding diseased +and crooked-eyed children up for alms, and pleading for God's sake that +we would have pity on them. When they disappeared with their coin I +asked the marquis if there had always been wretchedness in France. + +"There is always wretchedness everywhere," he answered. "Napoleon can +turn the world upside down, but he cannot cure the disease of hereditary +poverty. I never rode to Versailles without encountering these people." + +When we entered the Place d'Armes fronting the palace, desolation worse +than that of the beggars faced us. That vast noble pile, untenanted and +sacked, symbolized the vanished monarchy of France. Doors stood wide. +The court was strewn with litter and filth; and grass started rank +betwixt the stones where the proudest courtiers in the world had trod. I +tried to enter the queen's rooms, but sat on the steps leading to them, +holding my head in my hands. It was as impossible as it had been to +enter the Temple. + +The fountains which once made a concert of mist around their lake basin, +satisfying like music, the marquis said, were dried, and the figures +broken. Millions had been spent upon this domain of kings, and nothing +but the summer's natural verdure was left to unmown stretches. The foot +shrank from sending echoes through empty palace apartments, and from +treading the weedy margins of canal and lake. + +"I should not have brought you here, Lazarre," said my friend. + +"I had to come, monsieur." + +We walked through meadow and park to the little palaces called Grand and +Petit Trianon, where the intimate life of the last royal family had been +lived. I looked well at their outer guise, but could not explore them. + +The groom held our horses in the street that leads up to the Place +d'Armes, and as we sauntered back, I kicked old leaves which had fallen +autumn after autumn and banked the path. + +It rushed over me again! + +I felt my arms go above my head as they did when I sank into the depths +of recollection. + +"Lazarre! Are you in a fit?" The Marquis du Plessy seized me. + +"I remember! I remember! I was kicking the leaves--I was walking with my +father and mother--somewhere--somewhere--and something threatened us!" + +"It was in the garden of the Tuileries," said the Marquis du Plessy +sternly. "The mob threatened you, and you were going before the National +Assembly! I walked behind. I was there to help defend the king." + +We stood still until the paroxysmal rending in my head ceased. Then I +sat on the grassy roadside trying to smile at the marquis, and shrugging +an apology for my weakness. The beauty of the arched trees disappeared, +and when next I recognized the world we were moving slowly toward Paris +in a heavy carriage, and I was smitten with the conviction that my +friend had not eaten the dinner he ordered in the town of Versailles. + +I felt ashamed of the weakness which came like an eclipse, and withdrew +leaving me in my strength. It ceased to visit me within that year, and +has never troubled me at all in later days. Yet, inconsistently, I look +back as to the glamour of youth; and though it worked me hurt and +shame, I half regret that it is gone. + +The more I saw of the Marquis du Plessy the more my slow tenacious heart +took hold on him. We went about everywhere together. I think it was his +hope to wed me to his company and to Paris, and shove the Mittau venture +into an indefinite future; yet he spared no pains in obtaining for me my +passports to Courland. + +At this time, with cautious, half reluctant hand, he raised the veil +from a phase of life which astonished and revolted me. I loved a woman. +The painted semblances of women who inhabited a world of sensation had +no effect upon me. + +"You are wonderfully fresh, Lazarre," the marquis said. "If you were not +so big and male I would call you mademoiselle! Did they never sin in the +American backwoods?" + +Then he took me in his arms like a mother, and kissed me, saying, "Dear +son and sire, I am worse than your great-grandfather!" + +Yet my zest for the gaiety of the old city grew as much as he desired. +The golden dome of the Invalides became my bubble of Paris, floating +under a sunny sky. + +Whenever I went to the hotel which De Chaumont had hired near the +Tuileries, Madame de Ferrier received me kindly; having always with her +Mademoiselle de Chaumont or Miss Chantry, so that we never had a word in +private. I thought she might have shown a little feeling in her rebuff, +and pondered on her point of view regarding my secret rank. De +Chaumont, on the other hand, was beneath her in everything but wealth. +How might she regard stooping to him? + +Miss Chantry was divided between enforced deference and a Saxon +necessity to tell me I would not last. I saw she considered me one of +the upstarts of the Empire, singularly favored above her brother, but +under my finery the same French savage she had known in America. + +Eagle brought Paul to me, and he toddled across the floor, looked at me +wisely, and then climbed my knee. + +Doctor Chantry had been living in Paris a life above his dreams of +luxury. When occasionally I met my secretary he was about to drive out; +or he was returning from De Chaumont's hotel. And there I caught my poor +master reciting poems to Annabel, who laughed and yawned, and made faces +behind her fan. I am afraid he drew on the marquis' oldest wines, +finding indulgence in the house; and he sent extravagant bills to me for +gloves and lawn cravats. It was fortunate that De Chaumont took him +during my absence. He moved his belongings with positive rapture. The +marquis and I both thought it prudent not to publish my journey. + +Doctor Chantry went simpering, and abasing himself before the French +noble with the complete subservience of a Saxon when a Saxon does become +subservient. + +"The fool is laughable," said the Marquis du Plessy. "Get rid of him, +Lazarre. He is fit for nothing but hanging upon some one who will feed +him." + +"He is my master," I answered. "I am a fool myself." + +"You will come back from Mittau convinced of that, my boy. The wise +course is to join yourself to events, and let them draw your chariot. My +dislikers say I have temporized with fate. It is true I am not so +righteous as to smell to heaven. But two or three facts have been deeply +impressed on me. There is nothing more aggressive than the virtue of an +ugly, untempted woman; or the determination of a young man to set every +wrong thing in the world right. He cannot wait, and take mellow interest +in what goes on around him, but must leap into the ring. You could live +here with me indefinitely, while the nation has Bonaparte, like the +measles. When the disease has run its course--we may be able to bring +evidence which will make it unnecessary for the Count of Provence to +hasten here that France may have a king." + +"I want to see my sister, monsieur." + +"And lose her and your own cause forever." + +But he helped me to hire a strong traveling chaise, and stock it with +such comforts as it would bear. He also turned my property over to me, +recommending that I should not take it into Russia. Half the jewels, at +least, I considered the property of the princess in Mittau; but his +precaution influenced me to leave three bags of coin in Doctor +Chantry's care; for Doctor Chantry was the soul of thrift with his own; +and to send Skenedonk with the jewel-case to the marquis' bank. The +cautious Oneida took counsel of himself and hid it in the chaise. He +told me when we were three days out. + +It is as true that you are driven to do some things as that you can +never entirely free yourself from any life you have lived. That sunny +existence in the Faubourg St. Germain, the morning and evening talks +with a man who bound me to him as no other man has since bound me, were +too dear to leave even briefly without wrenching pain. I dreamed nightly +of robbers and disaster, of being ignominiously thrust out of Mittau, of +seeing a woman whose face was a blur and who moved backward from me when +I called her my sister; of troops marching across and trampling me into +the earth as straw. I groaned in spirit. Yet to Mittau I was spurred by +the kind of force that seems to press from unseen distances, and is as +fatal as temperament. + +When I paid my last visit at De Chaumont's hotel, and said I was going +into the country, Eagle looked concerned, as a De Ferrier should; but +she did not turn her head to follow my departure. The game of man and +woman was in its most blindfold state between us. + +There was one, however, who watched me out of sight. The marquis was +more agitated than I liked to see him. He took snuff with a constant +click of the lid. + +The hills of Champagne, green with vines, and white as with an underlay +of chalk, rose behind us. We crossed the frontier, and German hills took +their places, with a castle topping each. I was at the time of life when +interest stretches eagerly toward every object; and though this journey +cannot be set down in a story as long as mine, the novelty--even the +risks, mischances and wearinesses of continual post travel, come back +like an invigorating breath of salt water. + +The usual route carried us eastward to Cracow, the old capital of +Poland, scattered in ruined grandeur within its brick walls. Beyond it I +remember a stronghold of the Middle Ages called the fortress of +Landskron. + +The peasants of this country, men in shirts and drawers of coarse linen, +and women with braided hair hanging down under linen veils, stopped +their carts as soon as a post-carriage rushed into sight, and bent +almost to the earth. At post-houses the servants abased themselves to +take me by the heel. In no other country was the spirit of man so +broken. Poles of high birth are called the Frenchmen of the north, and +we saw fair men and women in sumptuous polonaises and long robes who +appeared luxurious in their traveling carriages. But stillness and +solitude brooded on the land. From Cracow to Warsaw wide reaches of +forest darkened the level. Any open circle was belted around the horizon +with woods, pines, firs, beech, birch, and small oaks. Few cattle fed on +the pastures, and stunted crops of grain ripened in the melancholy +light. + +From Cracow to Warsaw is a distance of one hundred and thirty leagues, +if the postilion lied not, yet on that road we met but two carriages and +not more than a dozen carts. Scattering wooden villages, each a line of +hovels, appeared at long intervals. + +Post-houses were kept by Jews, who fed us in the rooms where their +families lived. Milk and eggs they had none to offer us; and their beds +were piles of straw on the ground, seldom clean, never untenanted by +fleas. + +Beggars ran beside us on the wretched roads as neglected as themselves. +Where our horses did not labor through sand, the marshy ground was paved +with sticks and boughs, or the surface was built up with trunks of trees +laid crosswise. + +In spacious, ill-paved Warsaw, through which the great Vistula flows, we +rested two days. I knelt with confused thoughts, trying to pray in the +Gothic cathedral. We walked past it into the old town, of high houses +and narrow streets, like a part of Paris. + +In Lithuania the roads were paths winding through forests full of stumps +and roots. The carriage hardly squeezed along, and eight little horses +attached to it in the Polish way had much ado to draw us. The postilions +were young boys in coarse linen, hardy as cattle, who rode bare-back +league upon league. + +Old bridges cracked and sagged when we crossed them. And here the +forests rose scorched and black in spots, because the peasants, bound to +pay their lords turpentine, fired pines and caught the heated ooze. + +Within the proper boundary of Russia our way was no better. There we saw +queer projections of boards around trees to keep bears from climbing +after the hunters. + +The Lithuanian peasants had few wants. Their carts were put together +without nails. Their bridles and traces were made of bark. They had no +tools but hatchets. A sheepskin coat and round felt cap kept a man warm +in cold weather. His shoes were made of bark, and his home of logs with +penthouse roof. + +In houses where travelers slept the candles were laths of deal, about +five feet long, stuck into crevices of the wall or hung over tables. Our +hosts carried them about, dropping unheeded sparks upon the straw beds. + +In Grodno, a town of falling houses and ruined palaces, we rested again +before turning directly north. + +There my heart began to sink. We had spent four weeks on a comfortless +road, working always toward the goal. It was nearly won. A speech of my +friend the marquis struck itself out sharply in the northern light. + +"You are not the only Pretender, my dear boy. Don't go to Mittau +expecting to be hailed as a novelty. At least two peasants have started +up claiming to be the prince who did not die in the Temple, and have +been cast down again, complaining of the treatment of their dear sister! +The Count d'Artois says he would rather saw wood for a living than be +king after the English fashion. I would rather be the worthless old +fellow I am than be king after the Mittau fashion; especially when his +Majesty, Louis XVIII, sees you coming!" + + + + +IX + + +Purposely we entered Mittau about sunset, which was nearer ten o'clock +than nine in that northern land; coming through wheat lands to where a +network of streams forms the river Aa. In this broad lap of the province +of Courland sat Mittau. Yelgava it was called by the people among whom +we last posted, and they pronounced the word as if naming something as +great as Paris. + +It was already July, St. John's day being two weeks gone; yet the echoes +of its markets and feastings lingered. The word "Johanni" smote even an +ear deaf to the language. It was like a dissolving fair. + +"You are too late for Johanni," said the German who kept the house for +travelers, speaking the kind of French we heard in Poland. "Perhap it is +just as well for you. This Johanni has nearly ruined me!" + +Yet he showed a disposition to hire my singular servant from me at a +good wage, walking around and around Skenedonk, who bore the scrutiny +like a pine tree. + +The Oneida enjoyed his travels. It was easy for him to conform to the +thoughts and habits of Europe. We had not talked about the venture into +Russia. He simply followed me where I went without asking questions, +proving himself faithful friend and liberal minded gentleman. + +We supped privately, and I dressed with care. Horses were put in for our +last short post of a few streets. We had suffered such wretched quarters +on the way that the German guest-house spread itself commodiously. Yet +its walls were the flimsiest slabs. I heard some animal scratching and +whining in the next chamber. On the post-road, however, we had not +always a wall betwixt ourselves and the dogs. + +The palace in Mittau stood conspicuous upon an island in the river. As +we approached, it looked not unlike a copy of Versailles. The pile was +by no means brilliant with lights, as the court of a king might glitter, +finding reflection upon the stream. We drove with a clatter upon the +paving, and a sentinel challenged us. + +I had thought of how I should obtain access to this secluded royal +family, and Skenedonk was ready with the queen's jewel-case in his +hands. Not on any account was he to let it go out of them until I took +it and applied the key; but gaining audience with Madame d'Angoulęme, he +was to tell her that the bearer of that casket had traveled far to see +her, and waited outside. + +Under guard the Oneida had the great doors shut behind him. The wisdom +of my plan looked less conspicuous as time went by. The palace loomed +silent, without any cheer of courtiers. The horses shook their straps, +and the postilion hung lazily by one leg, his figure distinct against +the low horizon still lighted by after-glow. Some Mittau noises came +across the Aa, the rumble of wheels, and a barking of dogs. + +When apprehension began to pinch my heart of losing my servant and my +whole fortune in the abode of honest royal people, and I felt myself but +a poor outcast come to seek a princess for my sister, a guard stood by +the carriage, touching his cap, and asked me to follow him. + +We ascended the broad steps. He gave the password to a sentinel there, +and held wide one leaf of the door. He took a candle; and otherwise dark +corridors and ante-chambers, somber with heavy Russian furnishings, rugs +hung against the walls, barbaric brazen vessels and curious vases, +passed like a half-seen vision. + +Then the guard delivered me to a gentleman in a blue coat, with a red +collar, who belonged to the period of the Marquis du Plessy without +being adorned by his whiteness and lace. The gentleman staring at me, +strangely polite and full of suspicion, conducted me into a well-lighted +room where Skenedonk waited by the farther door, holding the jewel-case +as tenaciously as he would a scalp. + +I entered the farther door. It closed behind me. + +A girl stood in the center of this inner room, looking at me. I remember +none of its fittings, except that there was abundant light, showing her +clear blue eyes and fair hair, the transparency of her skin, and her +high expression. She was all in black, except a floating muslin cape or +fichu, making a beholder despise the finery of the Empire. + +We must have examined each other even sternly, though I felt a sudden +giving way and heaving in my breast. She was so high, so sincere! If I +had been unfit to meet the eyes of that princess I must have shriveled +before her. + +From side to side her figure swayed, and another young girl, the only +attendant in the room, stretched out both arms to catch her. + +We put her on a couch, and she sat gasping, supported by the lady in +waiting. Then the tears ran down her face, and I kissed the transparent +hands, my own flesh and blood, I believed that hour as I believe to +this. + +"O Louis--Louis!" + +The wonder of her knowledge and acceptance of me, without a claim being +put forward, was around me like a cloud. + +"You were so like my father as you stood there--I could see him again as +he parted from us! What miracle has restored you? How did you find your +way here? You are surely Louis?" + +I sat down beside her, keeping one hand between mine. + +"Madame, I believe as you believe, that I am Louis Charles, the dauphin +of France. And I have come to you first, as my own flesh and blood, who +must have more knowledge and recollection of things past than I myself +can have. I have not long been waked out of the tranced life I formerly +lived." + +"I have wept more tears for the little brother--broken in intellect and +exiled farther than we--than for my father and mother. They were at +peace. But you, poor child, what hope was there for you? Was the person +who had you in his charge kind to you? He must have been. You have grown +to be such a man as I would have you!" + +"Everybody has been kind to me, my sister." + +"Could they look in that face and be unkind? All the thousand questions +I have to ask must be deferred until the king sees you. I cannot wait +for him to see you! Mademoiselle de Choisy, send a message at once to +the king!" + +The lady in waiting withdrew to the door, and the royal duchess quivered +with eager anticipation. + +"We have had pretended dauphins, to add insult to exile. You may not +take the king unaware as you took me! He will have proofs as plain as +his Latin verse. But you will find his Majesty all that a father could +be to us, Louis! I think there never was a man so unselfish!--except, +indeed, my husband, whom you cannot see until he returns." + +Again I kissed my sister's hand. We gazed at each other, our different +breeding still making strangeness between us, across which I yearned; +and she examined me. + +Many a time since I have reproached myself for not improving those +moments with the most candid and right-minded princess in Europe, by +forestalling my enemies. I should have told her of my weakness instead +of sunning my strength in the love of her. I should have made her see my +actual position, and the natural antagonism of the king, who would not +so readily see a strong personal resemblance when that was not +emphasized by some mental stress, as she and three very different men +had seen it. + +Instead of making cause with her, however, I said over and +over--"Marie-Therese! Marie-Therese!"--like a homesick boy come again to +some familiar presence. "You are the only one of my family I have seen +since waking; except Louis Philippe." + +"Don't speak of that man, Louis! I detest the house of Orleans as a +Christian should detest only sin! His father doomed ours to death!" + +"But he is not to blame for what his father did." + +"What do you mean by waking?" + +"Coming to my senses." + +"All that we shall hear about when the king sees you." + +"I knew your picture on the snuffbox." + +"What snuffbox?" + +"The one in the queen's jewel-case." + +"Where did you find that jewel-case?" + +"Do you remember the Marquis du Plessy?" + +"Yes. A lukewarm loyalist, if loyalist at all in these times." + +"My best friend." + +"I will say for him that he was not among the first emigrés. If the +first emigrés had stayed at home and helped their king, they might have +prevented the Terror." + +"The Marquis du Plessy stayed after the Tuileries was sacked. He found +the queen's jewel-case, and saved it from confiscation to the state." + +"Where did he find it? Did you recognize the faces?" + +"Oh, instantly!" + +The door opened, deferring any story, for that noble usher who had +brought me to the presence of Marie-Therese stood there, ready to +conduct us to the king. + +My sister rose and I led her by the hand, she going confidently to +return the dauphin to his family, and the dauphin going like a fool. +Seeing Skenedonk standing by the door, I must stop and fit the key to +the lock of the queen's casket, and throw the lid back to show her +proofs given me by one who believed in me in spite of himself. The +snuffbox and two bags of coin were gone, I saw with consternation, but +the princess recognized so many things that she missed nothing, +controlling herself as her touch moved from trinket to trinket that her +mother had worn. + +"Bring this before the king," she said. And we took it with us, the +noble in blue coat and red collar carrying it. + +"His Majesty," Marie-Therese told me as we passed along a corridor, +"tries to preserve the etiquette of a court in our exile. But we are +paupers, Louis. And mocking our poverty, Bonaparte makes overtures to +him to sell the right of the Bourbons to the throne of France!" + +She had not yet adjusted her mind to the fact that Louis XVIII was no +longer the one to be treated with by Bonaparte or any other potentate, +and the pretender leading her smiled like the boy of twenty that he was. + +"Napoleon can have no peace while a Bourbon in the line of succession +lives." + +"Oh, remember the Duke d'Enghien!" she whispered. + +Then the door of a lofty but narrow cabinet, lighted with many candles, +was opened, and I saw at the farther end a portly gentleman seated in an +arm-chair. + +A few gentlemen and two ladies in waiting, besides Mademoiselle de +Choisy, attended. + +Louis XVIII rose from his seat as my sister made a deep obeisance to +him, and took her hand and kissed it. At once, moved by some singular +maternal impulse, perhaps, for she was half a dozen years my senior, as +a mother would whimsically decorate her child, Marie-Therese took the +half circlet of gems from the casket, reached up, and set it on my head. + +For an instant I was crowned in Mittau, with my mother's tiara. + +I saw the king's features turn to granite, and a dark red stain show on +his jaws like coloring on stone. The most benevolent men, and by all his +traits he was one of the most benevolent, have their pitiless moments. +He must have been prepared to combat a pretender before I entered the +room. But outraged majesty would now take its full vengeance on me for +the unconsidered act of the child he loved. + +"First two peasants, Hervagault and Bruneau, neither of whom had the +audacity to steal into the confidence of the tenderest princess in +Europe with the tokens she must recognize, or to penetrate into the +presence," spoke the king: "and now an escaped convict from Ste. +Pélagie, a dandy from the Empire!" + +I was only twenty, and he stung me. + +"Your royal highness," I said, speaking as I believed within my rights, +"my sister tries to put a good front on my intrusion into Mittau." + +I took the coronet from my head and gave it again to the hand which had +crowned me. Marie-Therese let it fall, and it rocked near the feet of +the king. + +"Your sister, monsieur! What right have you to call Madame d'Angoulęme +your sister!" + +"The same right, monsieur, that you have to call her your niece." + +The features of the princess became pinched and sharpened under the +softness of her fair hair. + +"Sire, if this is not my brother, who is he?" + +Louis XVIII may have been tender to her every other moment of his life, +but he was hard then, and looked beyond her toward the door, making a +sign with his hand. + +That strange sympathy which works in me for my opponent, put his +outraged dignity before me rather than my own wrong. Deeper, more +sickening than death, the first faintness of self-distrust came over me. +What if my half-memories were unfounded hallucinations? What if my +friend Louis Philippe had made a tool of me, to annoy this older Bourbon +branch that detested him? What if Bellenger's recognition, and the +Marquis du Plessy's, and Marie-Therese's, went for nothing? What if some +other, and not this angry man, had sent the money to America-- + +The door opened again. We turned our heads, and I grew hot at the +cruelty which put that idiot before my sister's eyes. He ran on all +fours, his gaunt wrists exposed, until Bellenger, advancing behind, took +him by the arm and made him stand erect. It was this poor creature I had +heard scratching on the other side of the inn wall. + +How long Bellenger had been beforehand with me in Mittau I could not +guess. But when I saw the scoundrel who had laid me in Ste. Pélagie, and +doubtless dropped me in the Seine, ready to do me more mischief, smug +and smooth shaven, and fine in the red-collared blue coat which seemed +to be the prescribed uniform of that court, all my confidence returned. +I was Louis of France. I could laugh at anything he had to say. + +Behind him entered a priest, who advanced up the room, and made +obeisance to the king, as Bellenger did. + +Madame d'Angoulęme looked once at the idiot, and hid her eyes: the king +protecting her. I said to myself, + +"It will soon be against my breast, not yours, that she hides her face, +my excellent uncle of Provence!" + +Yet he was as sincere a man as ever said to witnesses, + +"We shall now hear the truth." + +The few courtiers, enduring with hardiness a sight which they perhaps +had seen before though Madame d'Angoulęme had not, made a rustle among +themselves as if echoing, + +"Yes, now we shall hear the truth!" + +The king again kissed my sister's hand, and placed her in a seat beside +his arm-chair, which he resumed. + +"Monsieur the Abbé Edgeworth," he said, "having stood on the scaffold +with our martyred sovereign, as priest and comforter, is eminently the +one to conduct an examination like this, which touches matters of +conscience. We leave it in his hands." + +Abbé Edgeworth, fine and sweet of presence, stood by the king, facing +Bellenger and the idiot. That poor creature, astonished by his +environment, gazed at the high room corners, or smiled experimentally at +the courtiers, stretching his cracked lips over darkened fangs. + +"You are admitted here, Bellenger," said the priest, "to answer his +Majesty's questions in the presence of witnesses." + +"I thank his Majesty," said Bellenger. + +The abbé began as if the idiot attracted his notice for the first time. + +"Who is the unfortunate child you hold with your right hand?" + +"The dauphin of France, monsieur the abbé," spoke out Bellenger, his +left hand on his hip. + +"What! Take care what you say! How do you know that the dauphin of +France is yet among the living?" + +Bellenger's countenance changed, and he took his hand off his hip and +let it hang down. + +"I received the prince, monsieur, from those who took him out of the +Temple prison." + +"And you never exchanged him for another person, or allowed him to be +separated from you?" + +Bellenger swore with ghastly lips--"Never, on my hopes of salvation, +monsieur the abbé!" + +"Admitting that somebody gave you this child to keep--by the way, how +old is he?" + +"About twenty years, monsieur." + +"What right had you to assume he was the dauphin?" + +"I had received a yearly pension, monsieur, from his Majesty himself, +for the maintenance of the prince." + +"You received the yearly pension through my hand, acting as his +Majesty's almoner, His Majesty was ever too bountiful to the +unfortunate. He has many dependents. Where have you lived with your +charge?" + +"We lived in America, sometimes in the woods; and sometimes in towns." + +"Has he ever shown hopeful signs of recovering his reason?" + +"Never, monsieur the abbé." + +Having touched thus lightly on the case of the idiot, Abbé Edgeworth +turned to me. + +The king's face retained its granite hardness. But Bellenger's passed +from shade to shade of baffled confidence; recovering only when the +priest said, + +"Now look at this young man. Have you ever seen him before?" + +"Yes, monsieur, I have; both in the American woods, and in Paris." + +"What was he doing in the American woods?" + +"Living on the bounty of one Count de Chaumont, a friend of +Bonaparte's." + +"Who is he?" + +"A French half-breed, brought up among the Indians." + +"What name does he bear?" + +"He is called Lazarre." + +"But why is a French half-breed named Lazarre attempting to force +himself on the exiled court here in Mittau?" + +"People have told him that he resembles the Bourbons, monsieur." + +"Was he encouraged in this idea by the friend of Bonaparte whom you +mentioned?" + +"I think not, monsieur the abbé. But I heard a Frenchman tell him he was +like the martyred king, and since that hour he has presumed to consider +himself the dauphin." + +"Who was this Frenchman?" + +"The Duke of Orleans, Louis Philippe de Bourbon, monsieur the abbé." + +There was an expressive movement among the courtiers. + +"Was Louis Philippe instrumental in sending him to France?" + +"He was. He procured shipping for the pretender." + +"When the pretender reached Paris, what did he do?" + +"He attempted robbery, and was taken in the act and thrown into Ste. +Pélagie. I saw him arrested." + +"What were you doing in Paris?" + +"I was following and watching this dangerous pretender, monsieur the +abbé." + +"Did you leave America when he did?" + +"The evening before, monsieur. And we outsailed him." + +"Did you leave Paris when he did?" + +"Three days later, monsieur. But we passed him while he rested." + +"Why do you call such an insignificant person a dangerous pretender?" + +"He is not insignificant, monsieur: as you will say, when you hear what +he did in Paris." + +"He was thrown into the prison of Ste. Pélagie, you told me." + +"But he escaped, by choking a sacristan so that the poor man will long +bear the marks on his throat. And the first thing I knew he was high in +favor with the Marquis du Plessy, and Bonaparte spoke to him; and the +police laughed at complaints lodged against him." + +"Who lodged complaints against him?" + +"I did, monsieur." + +"But he was too powerful for you to touch?" + +"He was well protected, monsieur the abbé. He flaunted. While the poor +prince and myself suffered inconvenience and fared hard--" + +"The poor prince, you say?" + +"We never had a fitting allowance, monsieur," Bellenger declared +aggressively. "Yet with little or no means I tried to bring this +pretender to justice and defend his Majesty's throne." + +"Pensioners are not often so outspoken in their dissatisfaction," +remarked the priest. + +I laughed as I thought of the shifts to which Bellenger must have been +put. Abbé Edgeworth with merciless dryness inquired, + +"How were you able to post to Mittau?" + +"I borrowed money of a friend in Paris, monsieur, trusting that his +Majesty will requite me for my services." + +"But why was it necessary for you to post to Mittau, where this +pretender would certainly meet exposure?" + +"Because I discovered that he carried with him a casket of the martyred +queen's jewels, stolen from the Marquis du Plessy." + +"How did the Marquis du Plessy obtain possession of the queen's jewels?" + +"That I do not know." + +"But the jewels are the lawful property of Madame d'Angoulęme. He must +have known they would be seized." + +"I thought it necessary to bring my evidence against him, monsieur." + +"There was little danger of his imposing himself upon the court. Yet you +are rather to be commended than censured, Bellenger. Did this pretender +know you were in Paris?" + +"He saw me there." + +"Many times?" + +"At least twice, monsieur the abbé." + +"Did he avoid you?" + +"I avoided him. I took pains to keep him from knowing how I watched +him." + +"You say he flaunted. When he left Paris for Mittau was the fact +generally reported?" + +"No, monsieur." + +"You learned it yourself?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"But he must have known you would pursue him." + +"He left with great secrecy, monsieur the abbé." It was given out that +he was merely going to the country." + +"What made you suspect he was coming to Mittau?" + +"He hired a strong post-chaise and made many preparations." + +"But didn't his friend the Marquis du Plessy discover the robbery? Why +didn't he follow and take the thief?" + +"Dead men don't follow, monsieur the abbé. The Marquis du Plessy had a +duel on his hands, and was killed the day after this Lazarre left +Paris." + +Of all Bellenger's absurd fabrications this story was the most +ridiculous. I laughed again. Madame d'Angoulęme took her hands from her +face and our eyes met one instant, but the idiot whined like a dog. She +shuddered, and covered her sight. + +The priest turned from Bellenger to me with a fair-minded expression, +and inquired, + +"What have you to say?" + +I had a great deal to say, though the only hearer I expected to convince +was my sister. If she believed in me I did not care whether the others +believed or not. I was going to begin with Lake George, the mountain, +and the fog, and Bellenger's fear of me, and his rage when Louis +Philippe told him the larger portion of the money sent from Europe was +given to me. + +Facing Marie-Therese, therefore, instead of the Abbé Edgeworth, I spoke +her name. She looked up once more. And instead of being in Mittau, I +was suddenly on a balcony at Versailles! + +The night landscape, chill and dim, stretched beyond a multitude of +roaring mouths, coarse lips, flaming eyes, illuminated by torches, the +heads ornamented with a three-colored thing stuck into the caps. My hand +stretched out for support, and met the tight clip of my mother's +fingers. I knew that she was towering between Marie-Therese and me a +fearless palpitating statue. The devilish roaring mob shot above itself +a forced, admiring, piercing cry--"Long live the queen!" Then all became +the humming of bees--the vibration of a string--nothing! + + + + +X + + +Blackness surrounded the post-carriage in which I woke, and it seemed to +stand in a tunnel that was afire at one end. Two huge trees, branches +and all, were burning on a big hearth, stones glowing under them; and +figures with long beards, in black robes, passed betwixt me and the +fire, stirring a cauldron. If ever witches' brewing was seen, it looked +like that. + +The last eclipse of mind had come upon me without any rending and +tearing in the head, and facts returned clearly and directly. I saw the +black robed figures were Jews cooking supper at a large fireplace, and +we had driven upon the brick floor of a post-house which had a door +nearly the size of a gable. At that end spread a ghostly film of open +land, forest and sky. I lay stretched upon cushions as well as the +vehicle would permit, and was aware by a shadow which came between me +and the Jews that Skenedonk stood at the step. + +"What are you about?" I spoke with a rush of chagrin, sitting up. "Are +we on the road to Paris?" + +"Yes," he answered. + +"You have made a mistake, Skenedonk!" + +"No mistake," he maintained. "Wait until I bring you some supper. After +supper we can talk." + +"Bring the supper at once then, for I am going to talk now." + +"Are you quite awake?" + +"Quite awake. How long did it last this time?" + +"Two days." + +"We are not two days' journey out of Mittau?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, when you have horses put in to-morrow morning, turn them back to +Mittau." + +Skenedonk went to the gigantic hearth, and one of the Jews ladled him +out a bowlful of the cauldron stew, which he brought to me. + +The stuff was not offensive and I was hungry. He brought another bowlful +for himself, and we ate as we had often done in the woods. The fire +shone on his bald pate and gave out the liquid lights of his fawn eyes. + +"I have made a fool of myself in Mittau, Skenedonk." + +"Why do you want to go back?" + +"Because I am not going to be thrown out of the palace without a +hearing." + +"What is the use?" said Skenedonk. "The old fat chief will not let you +stay. He doesn't want to hear you talk. He wants to be king himself." + +"Did you see me sprawling on the floor like the idiot?" + +"Not like the idiot. Your face was down." + +"Did you see the duchess?" + +"Yes." + +"What did she do?" + +"Nothing. She leaned on the women and they took her away." + +"Tell me all you saw." + +"When you went in to hold council, I watched, and saw a priest and +Bellenger and the boy that God had touched, all go in after you. So I +knew the council would be bad for you, Lazarre, and I stood by the door +with my knife in my hand. When the talk had gone on awhile I heard +something like the dropping of a buck on the ground, and sprang in, and +the men drew their swords and the women screamed. The priest pointed at +you and said, 'God has smitten the pretender!' Then they all went out of +the room except the priest, and we opened your collar. I told him you +had fallen like that before, and the stroke passed off in sleep. He said +your carriage waited, and if I valued your safety I would put you in it +and take you out of Russia. He called servants to help me carry you. I +thought about your jewels; but some drums began to beat, and I thought +about your life!" + +"But, Skenedonk, didn't my sister--the lady I led by the hand, you +remember--speak to me again, or look at me, or try to revive me?" + +"No. She went away with the women carrying her." + +"She believed in me--at first! Before I said a word she knew me! She +wouldn't leave me merely because her uncle and a priest thought me an +impostor! She is the tenderest creature on earth, Skenedonk--she is +more like a saint than a woman!" + +"Some saints on the altar are blind and deaf," observed the Oneida. "I +think she was sick." + +"I have nearly killed her! And I have been tumbled out of Mittau as a +pretender!" + +"You are here. Get some men to fight, and we will go back." + +"What a stroke--to lose my senses at the moment I needed them most!" + +"You kept your scalp." + +"And not much else. No! If you refuse to follow me, and wait here at +this post-house, I am going back to Mittau!" + +"I go where you go," said Skenedonk. "But best go to sleep now." + +This I was not able to do until long tossing on the thorns of chagrin +wore me out. I was ashamed like a prodigal, baffled, and hurt to the +bruising of my soul. A young man's chastened confidence in himself is +hard to bear, but the loss of what was given as a heritage at birth is +an injustice not to be endured. + +The throne of France was never my goal, to be reached through blood and +revolution. Perhaps the democratic notions in my father's breast have +found wider scope in mine. I wanted to influence men, and felt even at +that time that I could do it; but being king was less to my mind than +being acknowledged dauphin, and brother, and named with my real name. + +I took my fists in my hands and swore to force recognition, if I +battered a lifetime on Mittau. + +At daylight our post-horses were put to the chaise and I gave the +postilion orders myself. The little fellow bowed himself nearly double, +and said that troops were moving behind us to join the allied forces +against Napoleon. + +At once the prospect of being snared among armies and cut off from all +return to Paris, appalled me as a greater present calamity than being +cast out of Mittau. Mittau could wait for another expedition. + +"Very well," I said. "Take the road to France." + +We met August rains. We were bogged. A bridge broke under us. We dodged +Austrian troops. It seemed even then a fated thing that a Frenchman +should retreat ignominiously from Russia. + +There is a devilish antagonism of inanimate and senseless things, begun +by discord in ourselves, which works unreasonable torture. Our return +was an abominable journal which I will not recount, and going with it +was a mortifying facility for drawing opposing forces. + +However, I knew my friend the marquis expected me to return defeated. He +gave me my opportunity as a child is indulged with a dangerous +plaything, to teach it caution. + +He would be in his chateau of Plessy, cutting off two days' posting to +Paris. And after the first sharp pangs of chagrin and shame at losing +the fortune he had placed in my hands, I looked forward with impatience +to our meeting. + +"We have nothing, Skenedonk!" I exclaimed the first time there was +occasion for money on the road. "How have you been able to post? The +money and the jewel-case are gone." + +"We have two bags of money and the snuffbox," said the Oneida. "I hid +them in the post-carriage." + +"But I had the key of the jewel-case." + +"You are a good sleeper," responded Skenedonk. + +I blessed him heartily for his forethought, and he said if he had known +I was a fool he would not have told me we carried the jewel-case into +Russia. + +I dared not let myself think of Madame de Ferrier. The plan of buying +back her estates, which I had nurtured in the bottom of my heart, was +now more remote than America. + +One bag of coin was spent in Paris, but three remained there with Doctor +Chantry. We had money, though the more valuable treasure stayed in +Mittau. + +In the sloping hills and green vines of Champagne we were no longer +harassed dodging troops, and slept the last night of our posting at +Epernay. Taking the road early next morning, I began to watch for Plessy +too soon, without forecasting that I was not to set foot within its +walls. + +We came within the marquis' boundaries upon a little goose girl, +knitting beside her flock. Her bright hair was bound with a woolen cap. +Delicious grass, and the shadow of an oak, under which she stood, were +not to be resisted, so I sent the carriage on. She looked open-mouthed +after Skenedonk, and bobbed her dutiful, frightened courtesy at me. + +The marquis' peasants were by no means under the influence of the +Empire, as I knew from observing the lad whom he had sought among the +drowned in the mortuary chapel of the Hôtel Dieu, and who was afterwards +found in a remote wine shop seeing sights. The goose girl dared not +speak to me unless I required it of her, and the unusual notice was an +honor she would have avoided. + +"What do you do here?" I inquired. + +Her little heart palpitated in the answer--"Oh, guard the geese." + +"Do they give you trouble?" + +"Not much, except that wicked gander." She pointed out with her +knitting-needle a sleek white fellow, who flirted his tail and turned an +eye, quavering as if he said--"La, la, la!" + +"What does he do?" + +"He would be at the vines and the corn, monsieur." + +"Bad gander!" + +"I switch him," she informed me, like a magistrate. + +"But that would only make him run." + +"Also I have a string in my pocket, and I tie him by the leg to a +tree." + +"Serves him right. Is the Marquis du Plessy at the chateau?" + +Her face grew shaded, as a cloud chases sunlight before it across a +meadow. "Do you mean the new marquis, the old marquis' cousin, monsieur? +He went away directly after the burial." + +"What burial?"' + +"The old marquis' burial. That was before St. John's day." + +"Be careful what you say, my child!" + +"Didn't you know he was dead, _monsieur?_" + +"I have been on a journey. Was his death sudden?" + +"He was killed in a duel in Paris." + +I sat down on the grass with my head in my hands. Bellenger had told the +truth. + +One scant month the Marquis du Plessy fostered me like a son. To this +hour my slow heart aches for the companionship of the lightest, most +delicate spirit I ever encountered in man. + +Once I lifted my head and insisted, + +"It can't be true!" + +"Monsieur," the goose girl asserted solemnly, "it is true. The blessed +St. Alpin, my patron, forget me if I tell you a lie." + +Around the shadowed spot where I sat I heard trees whispering on the +hills, and a cart rumbling along the hardened dust of the road. + +"Monsieur," spoke the goose girl out of her good heart, "if you want to +go to his chapel I will show you the path." + +She tied a string around the leg of the wicked gander and attached him +to the tree, shaking a wand at him in warning. He nipped her sleeve, and +hissed, and hopped, his wives remonstrating softly; but his guardian +left him bound and carried her knitting down a valley to a stream, +across the bridge, and near an opening in the bushes at the foot of a +hill. + +"Go all to the right, monsieur," she said, "and you will come to the +chapel where the Du Plessys are buried." + +I gave her the largest coin in my pocket, and she flew back as well as +the spirit of childhood could fly in wooden shoes. All the geese, formed +in a line, waddled to meet her, perhaps bearing a memorial of wrongs +from their husband. + +The climb was steep, rounding a darkened ferny shoulder of lush forest, +yet promising more and more a top of sunlight. At the summit was a +carriage road which ascended by some easier plane. Keeping all to the +right as the goose girl directed, I found a chapel like a shrine. + +It was locked. Through the latticed door I could see an altar, +whereunder the last Du Plessy who had come to rest there, doubtless lay +with his kin. + +I sat down on one of the benches under the trees. The ache within me +went deep. But all that sunny hillcrest seemed brightened by the +marquis. It was cheerful as his smile. "Let us have a glass of wine and +enjoy the sun," he said in the breeze flowing around his chapel. "And +do you hear that little citizen of the tree trunks, Lazarre?" + +The perfume of the woods rose invisibly to a cloudless sky. My last +tryst with my friend was an hour in paradise's antechamber. + +The light quick stepping of horses and their rattling harness brought +Madame de Ferrier's carriage quickly around the curve fronting the +chapel. Her presence was the one touch which the place lacked, and I +forgot grief, shame, impatience at being found out in my trouble, and +stood at her step with my hat in my hand. + +She said--"O Lazarre!"--and Paul beat on Ernestine's knee, echoing--"O +Zar!" and my comfort was absolute as release from pain, because she had +come to visit her old friend the marquis. + +I helped her down and stood with her at the latticed door. + +"How bright it is here!" said Eagle. + +"It is very bright. I came up the hill from a dark place." + +"Did the news of his death meet you on the post-road?" + +"It met me at the foot of this hill. The goose girl told me." + +"Oh, you have been hurt!" she said, looking at me. "Your face is all +seamed. Don't tell me about Mittau to-day. Paul and I are taking +possession of the estates!" + +"Napoleon has given them back to you!" + +"Yes, he has! I begged the De Chaumonts to let me come alone! By hard +posting we reached Mont-Louis last night. You are the only person in +France to whom I would give that vacant seat in the carriage to-day." + +I cared no longer for my own loss, as I am afraid has been too much my +way all through life; or whether I was a prince or not. Like paradise +after death, as so many of our best days come, this perfect day was +given me by the marquis himself. Eagle's summer dress touched me. Paul +and Ernestine sat facing us, and Paul ate cherries from a little basket, +and had his fingers wiped, beating the cushion with his heels in excess +of impatience to begin again. + +We paused at a turn of the height before descending, where fields could +be seen stretching to the horizon, woods fair and clean as parks, +without the wildness of the American forest, and vineyards of bushy +vines that bore the small black grapes. Eagle showed me the far +boundaries of Paul's estates. Then we drove where holly spread its +prickly foliage near the ground, where springs from cliffs trickled +across delicious lanes. + +Hoary stone farmhouses, built four-square like a fortress, each having a +stately archway, saluted us as we passed by. The patron and his wife +came out, and laborers, pulling their caps, dropped down from high-yoked +horses. + +But when the long single street of stone cottages which formed the +village opened its arms, I could see her breast swelling and her gray +eyes sweeping all with comprehensive rush. + +An elderly man, shaking some salad in a wire basket, dropped it at his +feet, and bowed and bowed, sweeping his cap to the ground. Some women +who were washing around a roofed pool left their paddles, and ran, +wiping suds from their arms; and houses discharged their inmates, babies +in children's arms, wives, old men, the simplicity of their lives and +the openness of their labor manifest. They surrounded the carriage. +Eagle stood Paul upon his feet that they might worship him, and his +mouth corners curled upward, his blue-eyed fearless look traveled from +face to face, while her gloved hand was kissed, and God was praised that +she had come back. + +"O Jean!" she cried, "is your mother alive?" and "Marguerite! have you a +son so tall?" + +An old creature bent double, walked out on four feet, two of them being +sticks, lifted her voice, and blessed Eagle and the child a quarter of +an hour. Paul's mother listened reverently, and sent him in Ernestine's +arms for the warped human being to look upon at close range with her +failing sight. He stared at her unafraid, and experimentally put his +finger on her knotted cheek; at which all the women broke into chorus as +I have heard blackbirds rejoice. + +"I have not seen them for so long!" Madame de Ferrier said, wiping her +eyes. "We have all forgotten our behavior!" + +An inverted pine tree hung over the inn door, and dinner was laid for us +in its best room, where host and hostess served the marquise and the +young marquis almost on their knees. + +When we passed out at the other end of the village, Eagle showed me a +square-towered church. + +"The De Ferriers are buried there--excepting my father. I shall put a +tablet in the wall for Cousin Philippe. Few Protestants in France had +their rights and privileges protected as ours were by the throne. I +mention this fact, sire, that you may lay it up in your mind! We have +been good subjects, well worth our salt in time of war." + +Best of all was coming to the chateau when the sun was about an hour +high. The stone pillars of the gateway let us upon a terraced lawn, +where a fountain played, keeping bent plumes of water in the air. The +lofty chateau of white stone had a broad front, with wings. Eagle bade +me note the two dove-cotes or pigeon towers, distinctly separate +structures, one flanking each wing, and demonstrating the antiquity of +the house. For only nobles in medieval days were accorded the privilege +of keeping doves. + +Should there be such another evening for me when I come to paradise, if +God in His mercy brings me there, I shall be grateful, but hardly with +such fresh-hearted joy. Night descends with special benediction on +remote ancient homes like Mont-Louis. We walked until sunset in the +park, by lake, and bridged stream, and hollied path; Ernestine +carrying Paul or letting him pat behind, driving her by her long cap +ribbons while he explored his mother's playground. But when the birds +began to nest, and dewfall could be felt, he was taken to his supper and +his bed, giving his mother a generous kiss, and me a smile of his +upcurled mouth corners. His forehead was white and broad, and his blue +eyes were set well apart. + +[Illustration: We walked until sunset in the park, by lake, and bridged +stream, and hollied path.] + +I can yet see the child looking over Ernestine's shoulder. She carried +him up stairs of oak worn hollow like stone, a mighty hand-wrought +balustrade rising with them from hall to roof. + +We had our supper in a paneled room where the lights were reflected as +on mirrors of polished oak, and the man who served us had served Madame +de Ferrier's father and grandfather. The gentle old provincial went +about his duty as a religious rite. + +There was a pleached walk like that in the marquis' Paris garden, of +branches flattened and plaited to form an arbor supported by tree +columns; which led to a summer-house of stone smothered in ivy. We +walked back and forth under this thick roof of verdure. Eagle's cap of +brown hair was roughened over her radiant face, and the open throat of +her gown showed pulses beating in her neck. Her lifted chin almost +touched my arm as I told her all the Mittau story, at her request. + +"Poor Madame d'Angoulęme! The cautious priest and the king should not +have taken you from me like that! She knew you as I knew you; and a +woman's knowing is better than a man's proofs. She will have times of +doubting their policy. She will remember the expression of your mouth, +your shrugs, and gestures--the little traits of the child Louis, that +reappear in the man." + +"I wish I had never gone to Mittau to give her a moment's distress." + +"Is she very beautiful?" + +"She is like a lily made flesh. She has her strong dislikes, and one of +them is Louis Philippe--" + +"Naturally," said Eagle. + +"But she seemed sacred to me. Perhaps a woman brings that hallowedness +out of martyrdom." + +"God be with the royal lady! And you, sire!" + +"And you!--may you be always with me, Eagle!" + +"This journey to Mittau changes nothing. You were wilful. You would go +to the island in Lake George: you would go to Mittau." + +"Both times you sent me." + +"Both times I brought you home! Let us not be sorrowful to-night." + +"Sorrowful! I am so happy it seems impossible that I come from Mittau, +and this day the Marquis du Plessy died to me! I wish the sun had been +tied to the trees, as the goose girl tied her gander." + +"But I want another day," said Eagle. "I want all the days that are my +due at home." + +We ascended the steps of the stone pavilion, and sat down in an arch +like a balcony over the sunken garden. Pears and apricots, their +branches flattened against the wall, showed ruddy garnered sunlight +through the dusk. The tangled enclosure sloped down to the stream, from +which a fairy wisp of mist wavered over flower bed and tree. Dew and +herbs and the fragrance of late roses sent up a divine breath, invisibly +submerging us, like a tide rising out of the night. + +Madame de Ferrier's individual traits were surprised in this nearness, +as they never had been when I saw her at a distance in alien +surroundings. A swift ripple, involuntary and glad, coursed down her +body; she shuddered for joy half a minute or so. + +Two feet away, I worshiped her smiling eyes and their curved ivory lids, +her rounded head with its abundant cap of hair, her chin, her shoulders, +her bust, the hands in her lap, the very sweep of her scant gown about +her feet. + +The flash of extreme happiness passing, she said gravely, + +"But that was a strange thing--that you should fall unconscious!" + +"Not so strange," I said; and told her how many times before the +eclipse--under the edge of which my boyhood was passed--had completely +shadowed me. At the account of Ste. Pélagie she leaned toward me, her +hands clenched on her breast. When we came to the Hôtel Dieu she leaned +back pallid against the stone. + +"Dear Marquis du Plessy!" she whispered, as his name entered the story. + +When it was ended she drew some deep breaths in the silence. + +"Sire, you must be very careful. That Bellenger is an evil man." + +"But a weak one." + +"There may be a strength of court policy behind him." + +"The policy of the court at Mittau is evidently a policy of denial." + +"Your sister believed in you." + +"Yes, she believed in me." + +"I don't understand," said Madame de Ferrier, leaning forward on her +arms, "why Bellenger had you in London, and another boy on the +mountain." + +"Perhaps we shall never understand it." + +"I don't understand why he makes it his business to follow you." + +"Let us not trouble ourselves about Bellenger." + +"But are you safe in France since the Marquis du Plessy's death?" + +"I am safe to-night, at least." + +"Yes, far safer than you would be in Paris." + +"And Skenedonk is my guard." + +"I have sent a messenger to Plessy for him," Madame de Ferrier said. "He +will be here in the morning." + +I thanked her for remembering him in the excitement of her home coming. +We heard a far sweet call through a cleft of the hills, and Eagle turned +her head. + +"That must be the shepherd of Les Rochers. He has missed a lamb. Les +Rochers is the most distant of our farms, but its night noises can be +heard through an opening in the forest. Paul will soon be listening for +all these sounds! We must drive to Les Rochers to-morrow. It was there +that Cousin Philippe died." + +I could not say how opportunely Cousin Philippe had died. The violation +of her childhood by such a marriage rose up that instant a wordless +tragedy. + +"Sire, we are not observing etiquette in Mont-Louis as they observe it +at Mittau. I have been talking very familiarly to my king. I will keep +silent. You speak." + +"Madame, you have forbidden me to speak!" + +She gave me a startled look, and said, + +"Did you know Jerome Bonaparte has come back? He left his wife in +America. She cannot be received in France, because she has committed the +crime of marrying a prince. She is to be divorced for political +reasons." + +"Jerome Bonaparte is a hound!" I spoke hotly. + +"And his wife a venturesome woman--to marry even a temporary prince." + +"I like her sort, madame!" + +"Do you, sire?" + +"Yes, I like a woman who can love!" + +"And ruin?" + +"How could you ruin me?" + +"The Saint-Michels brought me up," said Eagle. "They taught me what is +lawful and unlawful. I will never do an unlawful thing, to the disgrace +and shame of my house. A woman should build her house, not tear it +down." + +"What is unlawful?" + +"It is unlawful for me to encourage the suit of my sovereign." + +"Am I ever likely to be anything but what they call in Mittau a +pretender, Eagle?" + +"That we do not know. You shall keep yourself free from entanglements." + +"I am free from them--God knows I am free enough!--the lonesomest, most +unfriended savage that ever set out to conquer his own." + +"You were born to greatness. Great things will come to you." + +"If you loved me I could make them come!" + +"Sire, it isn't healthy to sit in the night air. We must go out of the +dew." + +"Oh, who would be healthy! Come to that, who would be such a royal +beggar as I am?" + +"Remember," she said gravely, "that your claim was in a manner +recognized by one of the most cautious, one of the least ardent +royalists, in France." + +The recognition she knew nothing about came to my lips, and I told her +the whole story of the jewels. The snuffbox was in my pocket. Sophie +Saint-Michel had often described it to her. + +She sat and looked at me, contemplating the stupendous loss. + +"The marquis advised me not to take them into Russia," I acknowledged. + +"There is no robbery so terrible as the robbery committed by those who +think they are doing right." + +"I am one of the losing Bourbons." + +"Can anything be hidden in that closet in the queen's dressing-room +wall?" mused Eagle. "I believe I could find it in the dark, Sophie told +me so often where the secret spring may be touched. When the De +Chaumonts took me to the Tuileries I wanted to search for it. But all +the state apartments are now on the second floor, and Madame Bonaparte +has her own rooms below. Evidently she knows nothing of the secrets of +the place. The queen kept her most beautiful robes in that closet. It +has no visible door. The wall opens. And we have heard that a door was +made through the back of it to let upon a spiral staircase of stone, and +through this the royal family made their escape to Varennes, when they +were arrested and brought back." + +We fell into silence at mention of the unsuccessful flight which could +have changed history; and she rose and said--"Good-night, sire." + +Next morning there was such a delicious world to live in that breathing +was a pleasure. Dew gauze spread far and wide over the radiant domain. +Sounds from cattle, and stables, and the voices of servants drifted on +the air. Doves wheeled around their towers, and around the chateau +standing like a white cliff. + +I walked under the green canopy watching the sun mount and waiting for +Madame de Ferrier. When she did appear the old man who had served her +father followed with a tray. I could only say--"Good-morning, madame," +not daring to add--"I have scarcely slept for thinking of you." + +"We will have our coffee out here," she told me. + +It was placed on the broad stone seat under the arch of the pavilion +where we sat the night before; bread, unsalted butter from the farms, +the coffee, the cream, the loaf sugar. Madame de Ferrier herself opened +a door in the end of the wall and plunged into the dew of the garden. +Her old servant exclaimed. She caught her hair in briers and laughed, +tucking it up from falling, and brought off two great roses, each the +head and the strength of a stem, to lay beside our plates. The breath of +roses to this hour sends through my veins the joy of that. + +Then the old servant gathered wall fruit for us, and she sent some in +his hand to Paul. Through a festooned arch of the pavilion giving upon +the terraces, we saw a bird dart down to the fountain, tilt and drink, +tilt and drink again, and flash away. Immediately the multitudinous +rejoicing of a skylark dropped from upper air. When men would send +thanks to the very gate of heaven their envoy should be a skylark. + +Eagle was like a little girl as she listened. + +"This is the first day of September, sire." + +"Is it? I thought it was the first day of creation." + +"I mention the date that you may not forget it. Because I am going to +give you something to-day." + +My heart leaped like a conqueror's. + +Her skin was as fresh as the roses, looking marvelous to touch. The +shock of imminent discovery went through me. For how can a man consider +a woman forever as a picture? A picture she was, in the short-waisted +gown of the Empire, of that white stuff Napoleon praised because it was +manufactured in France. It showed the line of her throat, being parted +half way down the bosom by a ruff which encircled her neck and stood +high behind it. The transparent sleeves clung to her arms, and the +slight outline of her figure looked long in its close casing. + +The gown tail curled around her slippered foot damp from the plunge in +the garden. She gave it a little kick, and rippled again suddenly +throughout her length. + +Then her face went grave, like a child's when it is surprised in +wickedness. + +"But our fathers and mothers would have us forget their suffering in the +festival of coming home, wouldn't they, Lazarre?" + +"Surely, Eagle." + +"Then why are you looking at me with reproach?" + +"I'm not." + +"Perhaps you don't like my dress?" + +I told her it was the first time I had ever noticed anything she wore, +and I liked it. + +"I used to wear my mother's clothes. Ernestine and I made them over. But +this is new; for the new day, and the new life here." + +"And the day," I reminded her, "is the first of September." + +She laughed, and opened her left hand, showing me two squat keys so +small that both had lain concealed under two of her finger tips. + +"I am going to give you a key, sire." + +"Will it unlock a woman's mind?" + +"It will open a padlocked book. Last night I found a little blank-leaved +book, with wooden covers. It was fastened by a padlock, and these keys +were tied to it. You may have one key: I will keep the other." + +"The key to a padlocked book with nothing in it." + +Her eyes tantalized me. + +"I am going to put something in it. Sophie Saint-Michel said I had a +gift for putting down my thoughts. If the gift appeared to Sophie when I +was a child, it must grow in me by use. Every day I shall put some of my +life into the book. And when I die I will bequeath it to you!" + +"Take back the key, madame. I have no desire to look into your coffin." + +She extended her hand. + +"Then our good and kind friend Count de Chaumont shall have it." + +"He shall not!" + +I held to her hand and kept my key. + +She slipped away from me. The laughter of the child yet rose through the +dignity of the woman. + +"When may I read this book, Eagle?" + +"Never, of my free will, sire. How could I set down all I thought about +you, for instance, if the certainty was hanging over me that you would +read my candid opinions and punish me for them!" + +"Then of what use is the key?" + +"You would rather have it than give it to another, wouldn't you?" + +"Decidedly." + +"Well, you will have the key to my thoughts!" + +"And if the book ever falls into my hands--" + +"I will see that it doesn't!" + +"I will say, years from now--" + +"Twenty?" + +"Twenty? O Eagle!" + +"Ten." + +"Months? That's too long!" + +"No, ten years, sire." + +"Not ten years, Eagle. Say eight." + +"No, nine." + +"Seven. If the book falls into my hands at the end of seven years, may I +open it?" + +"I may safely promise you that," she laughed. "The book will never fall +into your hands." + +I took from my pocket the gold snuffbox with the portraits on the lid, +and placed my key carefully therein. Eagle leaned forward to look at +them. She took the box in her hand, and gazed with long reverence, +drooping her head. + +Young as I was, and unskilled in the ways of women, that key worked +magic comfort. She had given me a link to hold us together. The +inconsistent, contradictory being, old one instant with the wisdom of +the Saint-Michels, rippling full of unrestrained life the next, denying +me all hope, yet indefinitely tantalizing, was adorable beyond words. I +closed my eyes: the blinding sunshine struck them through the ivied +arch. + +Turning my head as I opened them, I saw an old man come out on the +terrace. + +He tried to search in every direction, his gray head and faded eyes +moving anxiously. Madame de Ferrier was still. I heard her lay the +snuffbox on the stone seat. I knew, though I could not let myself watch +her, that she stood up against the wall, a woman of stone, her lips +chiseled apart. + +"Eagle--Eagle!" the old man cried from the terrace. + +She whispered--"Yes, Cousin Philippe!" + + + + +XI + + +Swiftly as she passed between the tree columns, more swiftly her youth +and vitality died in that walk of a few yards. + +We had been girl and boy together a brief half hour, heedless and gay. +When she reached the arbor end, our chapter of youth was ended. + +I saw her bloodless face as she stepped upon the terrace. + +The man stretched his arms to her. As if the blight of her spirit fell +upon him, the light died out of his face and he dropped his arms at his +sides. + +He was a courtly gentleman, cadaverous and shabby as he stood, all the +breeding of past generations appearing in him. + +"Eagle?" he said. The tone of piteous apology went through me like a +sword. + +She took his hands and herself drew them around her neck. He kissed her +on both cheeks. + +"O Cousin Philippe!" + +"I have frightened you, child! I meant to send a message first--but I +wanted to see you--I wanted to come home!" + +"Cousin Philippe, who wrote that letter?" + +"The notary, child. I made him do it." + +"It was cruel!" She gave way, and brokenly sobbed, leaning helpless +against him. + +The old marquis smoothed her head, and puckered his forehead under the +sunlight, casting his eyes around like a culprit. + +"It was desperate. But I could do nothing else! You see it has +succeeded. While I lay in hiding, the sight of the child, and your +youth, has softened Bonaparte. That was my intention, Eagle!" + +"The peasants should have told me you were living!" + +"They didn't know I came back. Many of them think I died in America. The +family at Les Rochers have been very faithful; and the notary has held +his tongue. We must reward them, Eagle. I have been hidden very closely. +I am tired of such long hiding!" + +He looked toward the chateau and lifted his voice sharply-- + +"Where's the baby? I haven't seen the baby!" + +With gracious courtesy, restraining an impulse to plunge up the steps, +he gave her his arm; and she swayed against it as they entered. + +When I could see them no more, I rose, and put my snuffbox in my breast. +The key rattled in it. + +A savage need of hiding when so wounded, worked first through the +disorder that let me see none of the amenities of leave-taking, +self-command, conduct. + +I was beyond the gates, bare-headed, walking with long strides, when an +old mill caught my eye, and I turned towards it, as we turn to trifles +to relieve us from unendurable tension. The water dripped over the +wheel, and long green beard trailed from its chin down the sluice. In +this quieting company Skenedonk spied me as he rattled past with the +post-carriage; and considering my behavior at other times, he was not +enough surprised to waste any good words of Oneida. + +He stopped the carriage and I got in. He pointed ahead toward a curtain +of trees which screened the chateau. + +"Paris," I answered. + +"Paris," he repeated to the postilion, and we turned about. I looked +from hill to stream, from the fruited brambles of blackberry to reaches +of noble forest, realizing that I should never see those lands again, or +the neighboring crest where my friend the marquis slept. + +We posted the distance to Paris in two days. + +What the country was like or what towns we passed I could not this hour +declare with any certainty. At first making effort and groping numbly in +my mind, but the second day grasping determination, I formed my plans, +and talked them over with Skenedonk. We would sail for America on the +first convenient ship; waiting in Paris only long enough to prepare for +the post journey to a port. Charges must at once be settled with Doctor +Chantry, who would willingly stay in Paris while the De Chaumonts +remained there. + +Beyond the voyage I did not look. The first faint tugging of my foster +country began to pull me as it has pulled many a broken wretch out of +the conditions of the older world. + +Paris was horrible, with a lonesomeness no one could have foreseen in +its crowded streets. A taste of war was in the air. Troops passed to +review. Our post-carriage met the dashing coaches of gay young men I +knew, who stared at me without recognition. Marquis du Plessy no longer +made way for me and displayed me at his side. + +I drove to his hotel in the Faubourg St. Germain for my possessions. It +was closed: the distant relative who inherited after him being an heir +with no Parisian tastes. The care-taker, however, that gentle old valet +like a woman, who had dressed me in my first Parisian finery, let us in, +and waited upon us with food I sent him out to buy. He gave me a letter +from my friend, which he had held to deliver on my return, in case any +accident befell the marquis. He was tremulous in his mourning, and all +his ardent care of me was service rendered to the dead. + +I sat in the garden, with the letter spread upon the table where we had +dined. Its brevity was gay. The writer would have gone under the knife +with a jest. He did not burden me with any kind of counsel. We had +touched. We might touch again. It was as if a soul sailed by, waving its +hat. + +"My Dear Boy:-- + +"I wanted you, but it was best you should not stay and behold the +depravity of your elders. It is about a woman. + +"May you come to a better throne than the unsteady one of France. + + "Your friend and servant, + Etienne du Plessy. + +"Garlic is the spice of life, my boy!" + +I asked no questions about the affair in which he had been engaged. If +he had wanted me to know he would have told me. + +The garden was more than I could endure. I lay down early and slept +late, as soon as I awoke in the morning beginning preparation for +leaving France. Yet two days passed, for we were obliged to exchange our +worn post-carriage for another after waiting for repairs. The old valet +packed my belongings; though I wondered what I was going to do with them +in America. The outfit of a young man of fashion overdressed a refugee +of diminished fortune. + +For no sooner was I on the street than a sense of being unmistakably +watched grew upon me. I scarcely caught anybody in the act. A succession +of vanishing people passed me from one to another. A working man in his +blouse eyed me; and disappeared. In the afternoon it was a soldier who +turned up near my elbow, and in the evening he was succeeded by an +equally interested old woman. I might not have remembered these people +with distrust if Skenedonk had not told me he was trailed by changing +figures, and he thought it was time to get behind trees. + +Bellenger might have returned to Paris, and set Napoleon's spies on the +least befriended Bourbon of all; or the police upon a man escaped from +Ste. Pélagie after choking a sacristan. + +The Indian and I were not skilled in disguises as our watchers were. Our +safety lay in getting out of Paris. Skenedonk undertook to stow our +belongings in the post-chaise at the last minute. I went to De +Chaumont's hotel to bring the money from Doctor Chantry and to take +leave without appearing to do so. + +Mademoiselle de Chaumont seized me as I entered. Her carriage stood in +the court. Miss Chantry was waiting in it while Annabel's maid fastened +her glove. + +"O Lazarre!" the poppet cried, her heartiness going through me like +wine. "Are you back? And how you are changed! They must have abused you +in Russia. We heard you went to Russia. But since dear Marquis du Plessy +died we never hear the truth about anything." + +I acknowledged that I had been to Russia. + +"Why did you go there? Tell your dearest Annabel. She won't tell." + +"To see a lady." + +Annabel shook her fretwork of misty hair. + +"That's treason to me. Is she beautiful?" + +"Very." + +"Kind?" + +"Perfectly." + +"Well, you're not. By the way, why are you looking so wan if she is +beautiful and kind?" + +"I didn't say she was beautiful and kind for me, did I?" + +"No, of course not. She has jilted you, the wretch. Your dearest Annabel +will console you, Lazarre!" She clasped my arm with both hands. "Madame +de Ferrier's husband is alive!" + +"What consolation is there in that?" + +"A great deal for me. She has her estates back, and he was only hiding +until she got them. I know the funniest thing!" + +Annabel hooked her finger and led me to a small study or cabinet at the +end of the drawing-room. + +A profusion of the most beautiful stuffs was arranged there for display. + +"Look!" the witch exclaimed, pinching my wrist in her rapture. "India +muslin embroidered in silver lama, Turkish velvet, ball dresses for a +bride, ribbons of all colors, white blond, Brussels point, Cashmere +shawls, veils in English point, reticules, gloves, fans, essences, a +bridal purse of gold links--and worse than all,--except this string of +perfect pearls--his portrait on a medallion of ivory, painted by +Isabey!" + +"What is this collection?" + +"A corbeille!" + +"What's a corbeille?" + +Annabel crossed her hands in desperation. "Oh, haven't you been in Paris +long enough to know what a corbeille is? It's the collection of gifts a +bridegroom makes for his bride. He puts his taste, his sentiment, +his"--she waved her fingers in the air--"as well as his money, into it. +A corbeille shows what a man is. He must have been collecting it ever +since he came to France. I feel proud of him. I want to pat him on his +dear old back!" + +Not having him there to pat she patted me. + +"You are going to be married?" + +"Who said I was going to be married?" + +"Isn't this your corbeille?" + +Annabel lifted herself to my ear. + +"It was Madame de Ferrier's!" + +"What!" + +"I'm sure of it!" + +"Who bought it?" + +"Count de Chaumont, of course." + +"Was Madame de Ferrier going to marry him?" + +"Who wouldn't marry a man with such a corbeille?" + +"Was she?" + +"Don't grind your teeth at your dearest Annabel. She hadn't seen it, but +it must have decided her. I am sure he intended to marry Madame de +Ferrier, and he does most things he undertakes to do. That inconsiderate +wretch of a Marquis de Ferrier--to spoil such a corbeille as this! But +Lazarre!" She patted her gloved hands. "Here's the consolation:--my +father will be obliged to turn his corbeille into my trousseau when I am +married!" + +"What's a trousseau?" + +"Goose! It's a bride's wardrobe, I knew he had something in this +cabinet, but he never left the key in the door until to-day. He was so +completely upset when the De Ferriers came into Paris!" + +"Are they in Paris?" + +"Yes, at their own hotel. The old marquis has posted here to thank the +emperor! The emperor is away with the troops, so he is determined at +least to thank the empress at the assembly to-night." + +"Will Madame de Ferrier go to the Tuileries?" + +"Assuredly. Fancy how furious my father must be!" + +"May I enter?" said the humblest of voices outside the door. + +We heard a shuffling step. + +Annabel made a face and clenched her hands. The sprite was so harmless I +laughed at her mischief. She brought in Doctor Chantry as she had +brought me, to behold the corbeille; covering her father's folly with +transparent fabrications, which anybody but the literal Briton must have +seen through. He scarcely greeted me at all, folding his hands, pale and +crushed, the sharp tip of his nose standing up more than ever like a +porcelain candle-extinguisher, while I was anxious to have him aside, to +get my money and take my leave. + +"See this beautiful corbeille, Doctor Chantry! Doesn't it surprise you +Lazarre should have such taste? We are going this morning to the mayor +of the arrondissement. Nothing is so easy as civil marriage under the +Empire! Of course the religious sacrament in the church of the Capuchins +follows, and celebrating that five minutes before midnight, will make +all Paris talk! Go with us to the mayor, Doctor Chantry!" + +"No," he answered, "no!" + +"My father joins us there. We have kept Miss Chantry waiting too long. +She will be tired of sitting in the carriage." + +Chattering with every breath Annabel entrained us both to the court, my +poor master hobbling after her a victim, and staring at me with hatred +when I tried to get a word in undertone. + +I put Annabel into the coach, and Miss Chantry made frigid room for me. + +"Hasten yourself, Lazarre," said Mademoiselle de Chaumont. + +I looked back at the poor man who was being played with, and she cried +out laughing-- + +"Did you go to Russia a Parisian to come back a bear?" + +I entered her coach, intending to take my leave as soon as I had seen +Count de Chaumont. Annabel chattered all the way about civil marriage, +and directed Miss Chantry to wait for us while we went in to the mayor. +I was perhaps too indifferent to the trick. The usually sharp governess, +undecided and piqued, sat still. + +The count was not in the mayor's office. A civil marriage was going +forward, and a strange bridal party looked at us. + +"Now, Lazarre," the strategist confided, "your dearest Annabel is going +to cover herself with Parisian disgrace. You don't know how maddening +it is to have every step dogged by a woman who never was, never could +have been--and manifestly never will be--young! Wasn't that a divine +flash about the corbeille and the mayor? Miss Chantry will wait outside +half a day. As I said, she will be very tired of sitting in the +carriage. This is what you must do; smuggle me out another way; call +another carriage, and take me for a drive and wicked dinner. I don't +care what the consequences are, if you don't!" + +I said I certainly didn't, and that I was ready to throw myself in the +Seine if that would amuse her; and she commended my improvement in +manners. We had a drive, with a sympathetic coachman; and a wicked +dinner in a suburb, which would have been quite harmless on American +ground. The child was as full of spirits as she had been the night she +mounted the cabin chimney. But I realized that more of my gold pieces +were slipping away, and I had not seen Doctor Chantry. + +"We were going to the mayor's," she maintained, when reproached. "My +father would have joined us if he had been there. He would certainly +have joined us if he had seen me alone with you. Nothing is so easy as +civil marriage under the Empire. Of course the religious sacrament +follows, when people want it, and if it is celebrated in the church of +the Capuchins--or any other church--five minutes before midnight, it +will make all Paris talk! Every word I said was true!" + +"But Doctor Chantry believed something entirely different." + +"You can't do anything for the English," said Annabel. "Next week he +will say haw-haw." + +Doctor Chantry could not be found when we returned to her father's +hotel. She gave me her fingers to kiss in good-bye, and told me I was +less doleful. + +"We thought you were the Marquis du Plessy's son, Lazarre. I always have +believed that story the Holland woman told in the cabin, about your rank +being superior to mine. Don't be cut up about Madame de Ferrier! You may +have to go to Russia again for her, but you'll get her!" + +The witch shook the mist of hair at the sides of her pretty aquiline +face, blew a kiss at me, and ran up the staircase and out of my life. +After waiting long for Doctor Chantry I hurried to Skenedonk and sent +him with instructions to find my master and conclude our affair before +coming back. + +The Indian silently entered the Du Plessy hotel after dusk, crestfallen +and suspicious. He brought nothing but a letter, left in Doctor +Chantry's room; and no other trace remained of Doctor Chantry. + +"What has he done with himself, Skenedonk?" I exclaimed. + +The Oneida begged me to read that we might trail him. + +It was a long and very tiresome letter written in my master's spider +tracks, containing long and tiresome enumerations of his services. He +presented a large bill for his guardianship on the voyage and across +France. He said I was not only a Rich Man through his Influence, but I +had proved myself an ungrateful one, and had robbed him of his only +Sentiment after a disappointed Existence. My Impudence was equaled only +by my astonishing Success, and he chose not to contemplate me as the +Husband of Beauty and Lofty Station, whose Shoes he in his Modesty and +Worth, felt unworthy to unlatch. Therefore he withdrew that very day +from Paris, and would embrace the Opportunity of going into pensive +Retirement and rural Contemplation, in his native Kingdom; where his +Sister would join him when she could do so with Dignity and Propriety. + +I glanced from line to line smiling, but the postscript brought me to my +feet. + +"The Deposit which you left with me I shall carry with me, as no more +than my Due for lifting low Savagery to high Gentility, and beg to +subscribe my Thanks for at least this small Tribute of Gratitude." + +"Doctor Chantry is gone with the money!" + +Skenedonk bounded up grasping the knife which he always carried in a +sheath hanging from his belt. + +"Which way did the old woman go?" + +"Stop," I said. + +The Indian half crouched for counsel. + +"I'll be a prince! Let him have it." + +"Let him rob you?" + +"We're quits, now. I've paid him for the lancet stab I gave him." + +"But you haven't a whole bagful of coin left." + +"We brought nothing into France, and it seems certain we shall take +nothing but experience out of it. And I'm young, Skenedonk. He isn't." + +The Oneida grunted. He was angrier than I had ever seen him. + +"We ought to have knocked the old woman on the head at Saratoga," he +responded. + +Annabel's trick had swept away my little fortune. With recklessness +which repeated loss engenders I proposed we scatter the remaining coin +in the street, but Skenedonk prudently said we would divide and conceal +it in our clothes. I gave the kind valet a handful to keep his heart +warm; and our anxieties about our valuables were much lightened. + +Then we consulted about our imminent start, and I told my servant it +would be better to send the post-chaise across the Seine. He agreed with +me. And for me to come to it as if by accident the moment we were ready +to join each other on the road. He agreed to that. All of our belongings +would be put into it by the valet and himself, and when we met we would +make a circuit and go by the way of St. Denis. + +"We will meet," I told him, "at eleven o'clock in front of the +Tuileries." + +Skenedonk looked at me without moving a muscle. + +"I want to see the palace of the Tuileries before I leave France." + +He still gazed at me. + +"At any risk, I am going to the Tuileries to-night!" + +My Iroquois grunted. A glow spread all over his copper face and head. If +I had told him I was going to an enemy's central camp fire to shake a +club in the face of the biggest chief, he could not have thought more of +my daring or less of my common sense. + +"You will never come out." + +"If I don't, Skenedonk, go without me." + +He passed small heroics unnoticed. + +"Why do you do it?" + +I couldn't tell him. Neither could I leave Paris without doing it. I +assured him many carriages would be there, near the entrance, which was +called, I believed, the pavilion of Flora; and by showing boldness we +might start from that spot as well as from any other. He abetted the +reckless devil in me, and the outcome was that I crossed the Seine +bridge by myself about ten o'clock; remembering my escape from Ste. +Pélagie; remembering I should never see the gargoyles on Notre Dame any +more, or the golden dome of the Invalides, or hear the night hum of +Paris, whether I succeeded or not. For if I succeeded I should be away +toward the coast by morning; and if I did not succeed, I should be +somewhere under arrest. + +I can see the boy in white court dress, with no hint of the traveler +about him, who stepped jauntily out of a carriage and added himself to +groups entering the Tuileries. The white court dress was armor which he +put on to serve him in the dangerous attempt to look once more on a +woman's face. He mounted with a strut toward the guardians of the +imperial court, not knowing how he might be challenged; and fortune was +with him. + +"Lazarre!" exclaimed Count de Chaumont, hurrying behind to take my +elbow. "I want you to help me!" + +Remembering with sudden remorse Annabel's escape and our wicked dinner, +I halted eager to do him service. He was perhaps used to Annabel's +escapes, for a very different annoyance puckered his forehead as he drew +me aside within the entrance. + +"Have you heard the Marquis de Ferrier is alive?" + +I told him I had heard it. + +"Damned old fox! He lay in hiding until the estates were recovered. Then +out he creeps to enjoy them!" + +I pressed the count's hand. We were one in disapproval. + +"It's a shame!" said the count. + +It was a shame, I said. + +"And now he's posted into Paris to make a fool of himself." + +"How?" + +"Have you seen Madame de Ferrier?" + +"No, I have not seen her." + +"I believe we are in time to intercept him. You have a clever head, boy. +Use it. How shall we get this old fellow out of the Tuileries without +letting him speak to the emperor?" + +"Easily, I should think, since Napoleon isn't here." + +"Yes, he is. He dashed into Paris a little while ago, and may leave +to-night. But he is here." + +"Why shouldn't the Marquis de Ferrier speak to Napoleon?" + +"Because he is going to make an ass of himself before the court, and +what's worse, he'll make a laughing-stock of me." + +"How can he do that?" + +"He is determined to thank the emperor for restoring his estates. He +might thank the empress, and she wouldn't know what he was talking +about. But the emperor knows everything. I have used all the arguments I +dared to use against it, but he is a pig for stubbornness. For my sake, +for Madame de Ferrier's sake, Lazarre, help me to get him harmlessly out +of the Tuileries, without making a public scandal about the restitution +of the land!" + +"What scandal can there be, monsieur? And why shouldn't he thank +Napoleon for giving him back his estates after the fortunes of +revolution and war?" + +"Because the emperor didn't do it. I bought them!" + +"You!" + +"Yes, I bought them. Come to that, they are my property!" + +"Madame de Ferrier doesn't know this?" + +"Certainly not. I meant to settle them on her. Saints and angels, boy, +anybody could see what my intentions were!" + +"Then she is as poor as she was in America?" + +"Poorer. She has the Marquis de Ferrier!" + +We two who loved her, youth and man, rich and powerful, or poor and +fugitive, felt the passionate need of protecting her. + +"She wouldn't accept them if she knew it." + +"Neither would the marquis," said De Chaumont. "The Marquis de Ferrier +might live on the estates his lifetime without any interference. But if +he will see the emperor, and I can't prevent it any other way, I shall +have to tell him!" + +"Yes, you will have to tell him!" + +I thought of Eagle in the village, and the old woman who blessed her a +quarter of an hour, and Paul standing on the seat to be worshiped. How +could I go to America and leave her? And what could I do for her when a +rich man like De Chaumont was powerless? + +"Can't you see Napoleon," I suggested, "and ask him to give the marquis +a moment's private audience, and accept his thanks?" + +"No!" groaned De Chaumont. "He wouldn't do it. I couldn't put myself in +such a position!" + +"If Napoleon came in so hurriedly he may not show himself in the state +apartments to-night." + +"But he is accessible, wherever he is. He doesn't deny himself to the +meanest soldier. Why should he refuse to see a noble of the class he is +always conciliating when he can?" + +"Introduce me to the Marquis de Ferrier," I finally said, "and let me +see if I can talk against time while you get your emperor out of his +way." + +I thought desperately of revealing to the old royalist what I believed +myself to be, what Eagle and he believed me to be, and commanding him, +as his rightful prince, to content himself with less effusive and less +public gratitude to an usurper. He would live in the country, shrinking +so naturally from the court that a self-imposed appearance there need +never be repeated. + +I believe this would have succeeded. A half hour more of time might have +saved years of comfort to Eagle--for De Chaumont was generous--and have +changed the outcome of my own life. But in scant fifteen minutes our +fate was decided. + +De Chaumont and I had moved with our heads together, from corridor to +antechamber, from antechamber to curtained salon of the lower floor. The +private apartments of the Bonaparte family were thrown open, and in the +mahogany furnished room, all hung with yellow satin, I noticed a Swiss +clock which pointed its minute finger to a quarter before eleven. I made +no hurry. My errand was not accomplished. Skenedonk would wait for me, +and even dare a search if he became suspicious. + +The count, knowing what Madame de Ferrier considered me, perhaps knew my +plan. He turned back at once assenting. + +The Marquis and Marquise de Ferrier were that instant going up the grand +staircase, and would be announced. Eagle turned her face above me, the +long line of her throat uplifted, and went courageous and smiling on her +way. The marquis had adapted himself to the court requirements of the +Empire. Noble gentleman of another period, he stalked a piteous +masquerader where he had once been at home. + +Count de Chaumont grasped my arm and we hurried up the stairs after +them. The end of a great and deep room was visible, and I had a glimpse, +between heads and shoulders, of a woman standing in the light of many +lusters. She parted her lips to smile, closing them quickly, but having +shown little dark teeth. She was of exquisite shape, her face and arms +and bosom having a clean fair polish like the delicate whiteness of a +magnolia, as I have since seen that flower in bloom. She wore a small +diadem in her hair, and her short-waisted robe trailed far back among +her ladies. I knew without being told that this was the empress of the +French. + +De Chaumont's hand was on my arm, but another hand touched my shoulder. +I looked behind me. This time it was not an old woman, or a laborer in +a blouse, or a soldier; but I knew my pursuer in his white court dress. +Officer of the law, writ in the lines of his face, to my eyes appeared +all over him. + +"Monsieur Veeleeum!" + +As soon as he said that I understood it was the refugee from Ste. +Pélagie that he wanted. + +"Certainly," I answered. "Don't make a disturbance." + +"You will take my arm and come with me, Monsieur Veeleeum." + +"I will do nothing of the kind until my errand is finished," I answered +desperately. + +De Chaumont looked sharply at the man, but his own salvation required +him to lay hold on the marquis. As he did so, Eagle's face and my face +encountered in a panel of mirror, two flashes of pallor; and I took my +last look. + +"You will come with me now," said the gendarme at my ear. + +She saw him, and understood his errand. + +There was no chance. De Chaumont wheeled ready to introduce me to the +marquis. I was not permitted to speak to him. But Eagle took my right +arm and moved down the corridor with me. + +Decently and at once the disguised gendarme fell behind where he could +watch every muscle without alarming Madame de Ferrier. She appeared not +to see him. I have no doubt he praised himself for his delicacy and her +unconsciousness of my arrest. + +"You must not think you can run away from me," she said. + +"I was coming back," I answered, making talk. + +My captor's person heaved behind me, signifying that he silently +laughed. He kept within touch. + +"Do you know the Tuileries well?" inquired Eagle. + +"No. I have never been in the palace before." + +"Nor I, in the state apartments." + +We turned from the corridor into a suite in these upper rooms, the +gendarme humoring Madame de Ferrier, and making himself one in the crowd +around us. De Chaumont and the Marquis de Ferrier gave chase. I saw them +following, as well as they could. + +"This used to be the queen's dressing-room," said Eagle. We entered the +last one in the suite. + +"Are you sure?" + +"Quite sure." + +"This is the room you told me you would like to examine?" + +"The very one. I don't believe the Empire has made any changes in it. +These painted figures look just as Sophie described them." + +Eagle traced lightly with her finger one of the shepherdesses dancing on +the panel; and crossed to the opposite side of the room. People who +passed the door found nothing to interest them, and turned away, but the +gendarme stayed beside us. Eagle glanced at him as if resenting his +intrusion, and asked me to bring her a candle and hold it near a mark +on the tracery. The gendarme himself, apologetic but firm, stepped to +the sconce and took the candle. I do not know how the thing was done, or +why the old spring and long unused hinges did not stick, but his back +was toward us--she pushed me against the panel and it let me in. + +And I held her and drew her after me, and the thing closed. The wall had +swallowed us. + +We stood on firm footing as if suspended in eternity. No sound from the +swarming palace, not even possible noise made by the gendarme, reached +us. It was like being earless, until she spoke in the hollow. + +"Here's the door on the staircase, but it will not open!" + +I groped over every inch of it with swift haste in the blackness. + +"Hurry--hurry!" she breathed. "He may touch the spring himself--it moves +instantly!" + +"Does this open with a spring, too?" + +"I don't know. Sophie didn't know!" + +"Are you sure there is any door here?" + +"She told me there was." + +"This is like a door, but it will not move." + +It sprang inward against us, a rush of air and a hollow murmur as of +wind along the river, following it. + +"Go--be quick!" said Madame de Ferrier. + +"But how will you get out?" + +"I shall get out when you are gone." + +"O, Eagle, forgive me!" (Yet I would have dragged her in with me again!) + +"I am in no danger. You are in danger. Goodbye, my liege." + +Cautiously she pushed me through the door, begging me to feel for every +step. I stood upon the top one, and held to her as I had held to her in +passing through the other wall. + +I thought of the heavy days before her and the blank before me. I could +not let go her wrists. We were fools to waste our youth. I could work +for her in America. My vitals were being torn from me. I should go to +the devil without her. I don't know what I said. But I knew the brute +love which had risen like a lion in me would never conquer the woman who +kissed me in the darkness and held me at bay. + +"O Louis--O Lazarre! Think of Paul and Cousin Philippe! You shall be +your best for your little mother! I will come to you sometime!" + +Then she held the door between us, and I went down around and around the +spiral of stone. + + + + +BOOK III + +ARRIVING + + + + +I + + +Even when a year had passed I said of my escape from the Tuileries: "It +was a dream. How could it have happened?" For the adventures of my +wandering fell from me like a garment, leaving the one changeless +passion. + +Skenedonk and I met on the ship a New England minister, who looked upon +and considered us from day to day. I used to sit in the stern, the miles +stretching me as a rack stretches flesh and tendons. The minister +regarded me as prostrated by the spider bite of that wicked Paris; out +of which he learned I had come, by talking to my Oneida. + +The Indian and I were a queer pair that interested him, and when he +discovered that I bore the name of Eleazar Williams his friendship was +sealed to us. Eunice Williams of Deerfield, the grandmother of Thomas +Williams, was a traditional brand never snatched from the burning, in +the minister's town of Longmeadow, where nearly every inhabitant was +descended from or espoused to a Williams. Though he himself was born +Storrs, his wife was born Williams; and I could have lain at his feet +and cried, so open was the heart of this good man to a wanderer +rebounding from a family that disowned the pretender. He was my welcome +back to America. The breath of eastern pines, and the resinous sweetness +of western plains I had not yet seen, but which drew me so that I could +scarcely wait to land, came to me with that man. Before the voyage ended +I had told him my whole history as far as I knew it, except the story of +Madame de Ferrier; and the beginning of it was by no means new to him. +The New England Williamses kept a prayerful eye on that branch +descending through the Iroquois. This transplanted Briton, returning +from his one memorable visit to the England of his forefathers, despised +my Bourbon claims, and even the French contraction of my name. + +"What are you going to do now, Eleazar?" he inquired. + +Hugging my old dream to myself, feeling my heart leap toward that +western empire which must fascinate a young man as long as there remain +any western lands to possess, I told him I intended to educate our +Iroquois as soon as I could prepare myself to do it, and settle them +where they could grow into a greater nation. + +The man of God kindled in the face. He was a dark-eyed, square-browed, +serious man, with black hair falling below his white band. His mouth had +a sweet benign expression, even when he quizzed me about my dauphinhood. +A New England pastor was a flame that burned for the enlightenment of +the nations. From that hour it was settled that I should be his pupil, +and go with him to Longmeadow to finish my education. + +When we landed he helped me to sell my Babylonish clothes, except the +white court dress, to which I clung with tenacity displeasing to him, +and garb myself in more befitting raiment. By Skenedonk's hand I sent +some of the remaining gold coins to my mother Marianne and the chief, +when he rejoined the tribe and went to pass the winter at St. Regis. And +by no means did I forget to tell him to bring me letters from De +Chaumont's manor in the spring, if any arrived there for me. + +How near to heaven the New England village seemed, with Mount Tom on the +horizon glorious as Mount Zion, the mighty sweep of meadow land, the +Connecticut river flowing in great peace, the broad street of elms like +some gigantic cathedral nave, and in its very midst a shrine--the +meetinghouse, double-decked with fan-topped windows. + +Religion and education were the mainsprings of its life. Pastor Storrs +worked in his study nearly nine hours a day, and spent the remaining +hours in what he called visitation of his flock. + +This being lifted out of Paris and plunged into Longmeadow was the +pouring of white hot metal into chill moulds. It cast me. With a +seething and a roar of loosened forces, the boy passed to the man. + +Nearly every night during all those years of changing, for even +faithfulness has its tides, I put the snuffbox under my pillow, and +Madame de Ferrier's key spoke to my ear. I would say to myself: "The one +I love gave me this key. Did I ever sit beside her on a ledge of stone +overlooking a sunken garden?--so near that I might have touched her! +Does she ever think of the dauphin Louis? Where is she? Does she know +that Lazarre has become Eleazar Williams?" + +The pastor's house was fronted with huge white fluted pillars of wood, +upholding a porch roof which shaded the second floor windows. The doors +in that house had a short-waisted effect with little panels above and +long panels below. I had a chamber so clean and small that I called it +in my mind the Monk's Cell, nearly filled with the high posted bed, the +austere table and chairs. The whitewashed walls were bare of pictures, +except a painted portrait of Stephen Williams, pastor of Longmeadow from +1718 to 1783. Daily his laughing eyes watched me as if he found my +pretensions a great joke. He had a long nose, and a high forehead. His +black hair crinkled, and a merry crease drew its half circle from one +cheek around under his chin to the other. + +Longmeadow did not receive me without much question and debate. There +were Williamses in every direction; disguised, perhaps, for that +generation, under the names of Cooley, Stebbins, Colter, Ely, Hole, and +so on. A stately Sarah Williams, as Mrs. Storrs, sat at the head of the +pastor's table. Her disapproval was a force, though it never manifested +itself except in withdrawal. If Mrs. Storrs had drawn back from me while +I lived under her roof, I should have felt an outcast indeed. The subtle +refinement of those Longmeadow women was like the hinted sweetness of +arbutus flower. Breeding passed from generation to generation. They had +not mixed their blood with the blood of any outsiders; and their +forbears were English yeomen. + +I threw myself into books as I had done during my first months at De +Chaumont's, before I grew to think of Madame de Ferrier. One of those +seven years I spent at Dartmouth. But the greater part of my knowledge I +owe to Pastor Storrs. Greek and Hebrew he gave me to add to the +languages I was beginning to own; and he unlocked all his accumulations +of learning. It was a monk's life that I lived; austere and without +incident, but bracing as the air of the hills. The whole system was +monastic, though abomination alighted on that word in Longmeadow. I took +the discipline into my blood. It will go down to those after me. + +There a man had to walk with God whether he wanted to or not. + +Living was inexpensive, each item being gaged by careful housekeeping. +It was a sin to gorge the body, and godly conversation was better than +abundance. Yet the pastor's tea-table arises with a halo around it. The +rye and Indian bread, the doughnuts fragrant as flowers, the sparing +tea, the prim mats which saved the cloth, the wire screen covering +sponge cake--how sacred they seem! + +The autumn that I came to Longmeadow, Napoleon Bonaparte was beaten on +the sea by the English, but won the battle of Austerlitz, defeating the +Russian coalition and changing the map of Europe. + +I felt sometimes a puppet while this man played his great part. It was +no comfort that others of my house were nothing to France. Though I did +not see Louis Philippe again, he wandered in America two or three years, +and went back to privacy. + +During my early novitiate at Longmeadow, Aaron Burr's conspiracy went to +pieces, dragging down with it that pleasant gentleman, Harmon +Blennerhassett, startling men like Jackson, who had best befriended him +unawares. But this in nowise affected my own plans of empire. The +solidarity of a nation of Indians on a remote tract could be no menace +to the general government. + +Skenedonk came and went, and I made journeys to my people with him. But +there was never any letter waiting at De Chaumont's for me. After some +years indeed, the count having returned to Castorland, to occupy his new +manor at Le Rayville, the mansion I had known was torn down and the +stone converted to other uses. Skenedonk brought me word early that +Mademoiselle de Chaumont had been married to an officer of the Empire, +and would remain in France. + +The door between my past and me was sealed. Madame de Ferrier stood on +the other side of it, and no news from her penetrated its dense barrier. +I tried to write letters to her. But nothing that I could write was fit +to send, and I knew not whether she was yet at Mont-Louis. Forever she +was holding the door against me. + +Skenedonk, coming and going at his caprice, stayed a month in every +year at Longmeadow, where the townspeople, having had a surfeit of +aboriginal names, called him John. He raised no objection, for that with +half a dozen other Christian titles had been bestowed on him in baptism; +and he entered the godly list of Williamses as John Williams. + +The first summer I spent in Longmeadow there was an eclipse of the sun +about the middle of June. I remember lying on open land, my book on its +face beside me, and watching it through my eyelashes; until the weird +and awful twilight of a blotted sun in mid-heaven sent birds and beasts +to shelter as from wrath. When there was but a hairy shining around the +orbed blackness, and stars trembled out and trembled back, as if they +said: "We are here. The old order will return," and the earth held its +breath at threat of eternal darkness, the one I loved seemed to approach +in the long shadows. It was a sign that out of the worst comes the best. +But it was a terror to the unprepared; and Pastor Storrs preached about +it the following Sunday. + +The missionary spirit of Longmeadow stirred among the Williamses, and +many of them brought what they called their mites to Pastor Storrs for +my education. If I were made a king no revenue could be half so sweet as +that. The village was richer than many a stonier New England place, but +men were struggling then all over the wide states and territories for +material existence. + +The pension no longer came from Europe. It ceased when I returned from +France. Its former payment was considered apocryphal by Longmeadow, +whose very maids--too white, with a pink spot in each cheek--smiled with +reserved amusement at a student who thought it possible he could ever be +a king. I spoke to nobody but Pastor Storrs about my own convictions. +But local newspapers, with their omniscient grip on what is in the air, +bandied the subject back and forth. + +We sometimes walked in the burying ground among dead Williamses, while +he argued down my claims, leaving them without a leg to stand on. +Reversing the usual ministerial formula, "If what has been said is true, +then it follows, first, secondly," and so on, he used to say: + +"Eleazar, you were brought up among the Indians, conscious only of +bodily existence, and unconscious of your origin; granted. Money was +sent--let us say from Europe--for your support; granted. Several +persons, among them one who testified strongly against his will, told +you that you resembled the Bourbons; granted. You bear on your person +marks like those which were inflicted on the unfortunate dauphin of +France; granted. You were malignantly pursued while abroad; granted. But +what does it all prove? Nothing. It amounts simply to this: you know +nothing about your early years; some foreign person--perhaps an English +Williams--kindly interested himself in your upbringing; you were +probably scalded in the camps; you have some accidental traits of the +Bourbons; a man who heard you had a larger pension than the idiot he was +tending, disliked you. You can prove nothing more." + +I never attempted to prove anything more to Pastor Storrs. It would have +been most ungrateful to persuade him I was an alien. At the same time he +prophesied his hopes of me, and many a judicious person blamed him for +treating me as something out of the ordinary, and cockering up pride. + +A blunter Williams used to take me by the button on the street. + +"Eleazar Williams," he would say, "do you pretend to be the son of the +French king? I tell you what! I will not let the name of Williams be +disgraced by any relationship to any French monarch! You must do one of +two things: you must either renounce Williamsism or renounce +Bourbonism!" + +Though there was liberty of conscience to criticise the pastor, he was +autocrat of Longmeadow. One who preceded Pastor Storrs had it told about +him that two of his deacons wanted him to appoint Ruling Elders. He +appointed them; and asked them what they thought the duties were. They +said he knew best. + +"Well," said the pastor, "one of the Ruling Elders may come to my house +before meeting, saddle my horse, and hold the stirrup while I get on. +The other may wait at the church door and hold him while I get off, and +after meeting bring him to the steps. This is all of my work that I can +consent to let Ruling Elders do for me." + +The Longmeadow love of disputation was fostered by bouts which Ruling +Elders might have made it their business to preserve, if any Ruling +Elders were willing to accept their appointment. The pastor once went to +the next town to enjoy argument with a scientific doctor. When he +mounted his horse to ride home before nightfall the two friends kept up +their debate. The doctor stood by the horse, or walked a few steps as +the horse moved. Presently both men noticed a fire in the east; and it +was sunrise. They had argued all night. + +In Longmeadow a man could not help practicing argument. I also practiced +oratory. And all the time I practiced the Iroquois tongue as well as +English and French, and began the translation of books into the language +of the nation I hoped to build. That Indians made unstable material for +the white man to handle I would not believe. Skenedonk was not unstable. +His faithfulness was a rock. + +For some reason, and I think it was the reach of Pastor Storrs, men in +other places began to seek me. The vital currents of life indeed sped +through us on the Hartford and Springfield stage road. It happened that +Skenedonk and I were making my annual journey to St. Regis when the +first steamboat accomplished its trip on the Hudson river. About the +time that the Wisconsin country was included in Illinois Territory, I +decided to write a letter to Madame Tank at Green Bay, and insist on +knowing my story as she believed she knew it. Yet I hesitated; and +finally did not do it. I found afterwards that there was no post-office +at Green Bay. A carrier, sent by the officers of the fort and villagers, +brought mail from Chicago. He had two hundred miles of wilderness to +traverse, and his blankets and provisions as well as the mail to carry; +and he did this at the risk of his life among wild men and beasts. + +The form of religion was always a trivial matter to me. I never ceased +to love the sacrifice of the mass, which was an abomination and an +idolatrous practice to Pastor Storrs. The pageantry of the Roman Church +that first mothered and nurtured me touches me to this day. I love the +Protestant prayers of the English Church. And I love the stern and +knotty argument, the sermon with heads and sequences, of the New England +Congregationalist. For this catholicity Catholics have upbraided me, +churchmen rebuked me, and dissenters denied that I had any religion at +all. + +When the Episcopal Bishop of New York showed me kindness, and Pastor +Storrs warned me against being proselyted, I could not tell him the +charm in the form of worship practiced by the woman I loved. There was +not a conscious minute when I forgot her. Yet nobody in Longmeadow knew +of her existence. In my most remorseful days, comparing myself with +Pastor Storrs, I was never sorry I had clung to her and begged her not +to let me go alone. For some of our sins are so honestly the expression +of nature that justification breaks through them. + +On the western border there was trouble with dissatisfied Indians, and +on the sea there was trouble with the British, so that people began to +talk of war long before it was declared, and to blame President Madison +for his over-caution in affairs. A battle was fought at Tippecanoe in +the Indiana Territory, which silenced the Indians for a while. But every +one knew that the English stood behind them. Militia was mustered, the +army recruited, and embargo laid upon shipping in the ports, and all +things were put forward in April of that year, before war was declared +in June. + +I had influence with our tribes. The Government offered me a well paid +commission to act as its secret agent. Pastor Storrs and the Williamses, +who had been nurturing a missionary, were smitten with grief to see him +rise and leap into camps and fields, eager for the open world, the +wilderness smell; the council, where the red man's mind, a trembling +balance, could be turned by vivid language; eager, in fact, to live +where history was being made. + +The pastor had clothed me in his mind with ministerial gown and band, +and the martial blood that quickened he counted an Iroquois strain. Yet +so inconsistent is human nature, so given to forms which it calls +creeds, that when I afterwards put on the surplice and read prayers to +my adopted people, he counted it as great a defection as taking to +saddle and spur. We cannot leave the expression of our lives to those +better qualified than we are, however dear they may be. I had to pack my +saddlebags and be gone, loving Longmeadow none the less because I +grieved it, knowing that it would not approve of me more if I stayed and +failed to do my natural part. + +The snuffbox and the missal which had belonged to my family in France I +always carried with me. And very little could be transported on the road +we took. + +John Williams, who came to Longmeadow in deerskins, and paraded his +burnished red poll among the hatted Williamses, abetted me in turning +from the missionary field to the arena of war, and never left me. It was +Skenedonk who served the United States with brawn and endurance, while I +put such policy and color into my harangues as I could command. We +shared our meals, our camps, our beds of leaves together. The life at +Longmeadow had knit me to good use. I could fast or feast, ride or +march, take the buckskins, or the soldier's uniform. + +Of this service I shall write down only what goes to the making of the +story. The Government was pleased to commend it, and it may be found +written in other annals than mine. + +Great latitude was permitted us in our orders. We spent a year in the +north. My skin darkened and toughened under exposure until I said to +Skenedonk, "I am turning an Indian;" and he, jealous of my French blood, +denied it. + +In July we had to thread trails he knew by the lake toward Sandusky. +There was no horse path wide enough for us to ride abreast. Brush +swished along our legs, and green walls shut our view on each side. The +land dipped towards its basin. Buckeye and gigantic chestnut trees, +maple and oak, passed us from rank to rank of endless forest. Skenedonk +rode ahead, watching for every sign and change, as a pilot now watches +the shifting of the current. So we had done all day, and so we were +doing when fading light warned us to camp. + +A voice literally cried out of the wilderness, startling the horses and +ringing among the tree trunks: + +"The spirit of the Lord is upon me, and He hath anointed me to blow the +trumpet in the wilderness, and sound an alarm in the forest; for behold +the tribes of the heathen are round about your doors, and a devouring +flame followeth after them!" + + + + +II + + +"That's Johnny Appleseed," said Skenedonk, turning in his saddle. + +"What is Johnny Appleseed?" + +"He is a man that God has touched," said Skenedonk, using the aboriginal +phrase that signified a man clouded in mind. + +God had hidden him, too. I could see no one. The voice echo still went +off among the trees. + +"Where is he?" + +"Maybe one side, maybe the other." + +"Does he never show himself?" + +"Oh, yes," Skenedonk said. "He goes to all the settlements. I have often +seen him when I was hunting on these grounds. He came to our camp. He +loves to sleep outdoors better than in a cabin." + +"Why does he shout at us like a prophet?" + +"To warn us that Indians are on the warpath." + +"He might have thought we were on the warpath ourselves." + +"Johnny Appleseed knows Shawanoes and Tecumseh's men." + +The trees, lichened on their north sides, massed rank behind rank +without betraying any face in their glooms. The Ohio and Indiana forests +had a nameless quality. They might have been called home-forests, such +invitations issued from them to man seeking a spot of his own. Nor can +I make clear what this invitation was. It produced thoughts different +from those that men were conscious of in the rugged northwest. + +"I think myself," said Skenedonk, as we moved farther from the invisible +voice, "that he is under a vow. But nobody told me that." + +"Why do you think so?" + +"He plants orchards in every fine open spot; or clears the land for +planting where he thinks the soil is right." + +"Don't other men plant orchards?" + +"No. They have not time, or seed. They plant bread. He does nothing but +plant orchards." + +"He must have a great many." + +"They are not for himself. The apples are for any one who may pass by +when they are ripe. He wants to give apples to everybody. Animals often +nibble the bark, or break down his young trees. It takes long for them +to grow. But he keeps on planting." + +"If other men have no seeds to plant, how does he get them?" + +"He makes journeys to the old settlements, where many orchards have +grown, and brings the seeds from ciderpresses. He carries them from +Pennsylvania on his back, in leather bags, a bag for each kind of seed." + +"Doesn't he ever sell them?" + +"Not often. Johnny Appleseed cares nothing for money. I believe he is +under a vow of poverty. No one laughs at him. The tribes on these +grounds would not hurt a hair of his head, not only because God has +touched him, but because he plants apples. I have eaten his apples +myself." + +"Johnny Appleseed!" I repeated, and Skenedonk hastened to tell me: + +"He has another name, but I forget it. He is called Johnny Appleseed." + +The slim and scarcely perceptible tunnel, among trees, piled with fallen +logs and newly sprung growths, let us into a wide clearing as suddenly +as a stream finds its lake. We could not see even the usual cow tracks. +A cabin shedding light from its hearth surprised us in the midst of +stumps. + +The door stood wide. A woman walked back and forth over a puncheon +floor, tending supper. Dogs rushed to meet us, and the playing of +children could be heard. A man, gun in hand, stepped to his door, a +sentinel. He lowered its muzzle, and made us welcome, and helped us put +our horses under shelter with his own. + +It was not often we had a woman's handiwork in corn bread and game to +feed ourselves upon, or a bed covered with homespun sheets. + +I slept as the children slept, until a voice rang in the clearing: + +"The spirit of the Lord is upon me, and He hath anointed me to blow the +trumpet in the wilderness, and sound an alarm in the forest; for behold +the tribes of the heathen are round about your doors, and a devouring +flame followeth after them!" + +Every sleeper in the cabin sat upright or stirred. We said in whispered +chorus: + +"Johnny Appleseed!" + +A tapping, light and regular, on the window, followed. The man was on +the floor in a breath. I heard the mother groping among the children, +and whispering: + +"Don't wake the baby!" + +The fire had died upon the hearth, and they lighted no candle. When +Johnny Appleseed gave his warning cry in the clearing, and his cautious +tap on the window, and was instantly gone to other clearings and other +windows, it meant that the Indians were near. + +Skenedonk and I, used to the night alarm and boots and saddle in a +hurry, put ourselves in readiness to help the family. I groped for +clothing, and shoved small legs and arms into it. The little creatures, +obedient and silent, made no whimper at being roused out of dreams, but +keenly lent themselves to the march. + +We brought the horses, and put the woman and children upon them. The +very dogs understood, and slunk around our legs without giving mouth. +The cabin door was shut after us without noise, closing in what that +family called home; a few pots and pans; patchwork quilts; a +spinning-wheel; some benches; perhaps a child's store of acorn cups and +broken yellow ware in a log corner. In a few hours it might be smoking a +heap of ashes; and the world offered no other place so dear. What we +suffer for is enriched by our suffering until it becomes priceless. + +So far on the frontier was this cabin that no community block-house +stood near enough to give its inmates shelter. They were obliged to go +with us to Fort Stephenson. + +Skenedonk pioneered the all-night struggle on an obscure trail; and he +went astray sometimes, through blackness of woods that roofed out the +stars. We floundered in swales sponging full of dead leaves, and drew +back, scratching ourselves on low-hung foliage. + +By dawn the way became easier and the danger greater. Then we paused and +lifted our rifles if a twig broke near by, or a fox barked, or wind +rushed among leaves as a patter of moccasins might come. Skenedonk and +I, sure of the northern Indians, were making a venture in the west. We +knew nothing of Tecumseh's swift red warriors, except that scarcely a +year had passed since his allies had tomahawked women and children of +the garrison on the sand teach at Chicago. + +Without kindling any fire we stopped once that day to eat, and by good +luck and following the river, reached that Lower Sandusky which was +called Fort Stephenson, about nightfall. + +The place was merely a high stockade with blockhouses at the angles, and +a gate opening toward the river. Within, besides the garrison of a +hundred and sixty men, were various refugees, driven like our family to +the fort. And there, coming heartily from the commandant's quarters to +receive me, was George Croghan, still a boy in appearance, though +intrusted with this dangerous post. His long face had darkened like +mine. We looked each other over with the quick and critical scrutiny of +men who have not met since boyhood, and laughed as we grasped hands. + +"You are as welcome to the inside of this bear-pen," said Major Croghan, +"as you made me to the outside of the one in the wilderness." + +"I hope you'll not give me such another tramp after shelter for the +night as I gave you," I said. + +"The best in Fort Stephenson is yours. But your rest depends on the +enemy. A runner has just come in from the General warning me Proctor and +Tecumsch are turning their attention this way. I'm ordered to evacuate, +for the post is considered too weak to hold." + +"How soon do you march?" + +"I don't march at all. I stay here. I'm going to disobey orders." + +"If you're going to disobey orders, you have good reason for doing so." + +"I have. It was too late to retreat. I'm going to fight. I hear, +Lazarre, you know how to handle Indians in the French way." + +"My dear Croghan, you insinuate the American way may be better." + +"It is, on the western border. It may not be on the northern." + +"Then you would not have advised my attempting the Indians here?" + +"I shouldn't have discouraged it. When I got the secret order, I said: +'Bring the French--bring the missionaries--bring anything that will cut +the comb of Tecumseh!'" + +"The missionaries and the French like being classed with--anything," I +said. + +"We're Americans here," Croghan laughed. "The dauphin may have to fight +in the ditch with the rest of us." + +"The dauphin is an American too, and used to scars, as you know. Can you +give me any news from Green Bay in the Wisconsin country?" + +"I was ordered to Green Bay last year to see if anything could be done +with old Fort Edward Augustus." + +"Does my Holland court-lady live there?" + +"Not now," he answered soberly. "She's dead." + +"That's bad," I said, thinking of lost opportunities. + +"Is pretty Annabel de Chaumont ever coming back from France?" + +"Not now, she's married." + +"That's worse," he sighed. "I was very silly about her when I was a +boy." + +We had our supper in his quarters, and he busied himself until late in +the night with preparations for defense. The whole place was full of +cheer and plenty of game, and swarmed like a little fair with moving +figures. A camp-fire was built at dark in the center of the parade +ground, heaped logs sending their glow as far as the dark pickets. Heads +of families drew towards it while the women were putting their children +to bed; and soldiers off duty lounged there, the front of the body in +light, the back in darkness. + +Cool forest night air flowed over the stockade, swaying smoke this way +and that. As the fire was stirred, and smoke turned to flame, it showed +more and more distinctly what dimness had screened. + +A man rose up on the other side of it, clothed in a coffee sack, in +which holes were cut for his head and arms. His hat was a tin kettle +with the handle sticking out behind like a stiff queue. + +Indifferent to his grotesqueness, he took it off and put it on the +ground beside him, standing ready to command attention. + +He was a small, dark, wiry man, barefooted and barelegged, whose black +eyes sparkled, and whose scanty hair and beard hung down over shoulders +and breast. Some pokes of leather, much scratched, hung bulging from the +rope which girded his coffee sack. From one of these he took a few +unbound leaves, the fragment of a book, spread them open, and began to +read in a chanting, prophetic key, something about the love of the Lord +and the mysteries of angels. His listeners kept their eyes on him, +giving an indulgent ear to spiritual messages that made less demand on +them than the violent earthly ones to which they were accustomed. + +"It's Johnny Appleseed," a man at my side told me, as if the name +explained anything he might do. + +[Illustration: "It's Johnny Appleseed," a man at my side told me] + +When Johnny Appleseed finished reading the leaves he put them back in +his bag, and took his kettle to the well for water. He then brought some +meal from the cook-house and made mush in his hat. + +The others, turning their minds from future mysteries, began to talk +about present danger, when he stood up from his labor to inquire: + +"Is there plenty in the fort for the children to eat?" + +"Plenty, Johnny, plenty," several voices assured him. + +"I can go without supper if the children haven't enough." + +"Eat your supper, Johnny. Major Croghan will give you more if you want +it," said a soldier. + +"And we'll give you jerked Britisher, if you'll wait for it," said +another. + +"Johnny never eats meat," one of the refugees put in. "He thinks it's +sinful to kill critters. All the things in the woods likes him. Once he +got into a holler log to sleep, and some squirrels warned him to move +out, they settled there first; and he done it. I don't allow he'd pick a +flea off his own hide for fear he'd break its legs so it couldn't hop +around and make a living." + +The wilderness prophet sat down quietly to his meal without appearing to +notice what was said about him; and when he had eaten, carried his hat +into the cook-house, where dogs could not get at his remaining +porridge. + +"Now he'll save that for his breakfast," remarked another refugee. +"There's nothing he hates like waste." + +"Talking about squirrels," exclaimed the man at my side, "I believe he +has a pasture for old, broke-down horses somewhere east in the hills. +All the bates he can find he swaps young trees for, and they go off with +him leading them, but he never comes into the settlements on horseback." + +"Does he always go barefoot?" I asked. + +"Sometimes he makes bark sandals. If you give him a pair of shoes he'll +give them away to the first person that can wear them and needs them. +Hunters wrap dried leaves around their leggins to keep the rattlesnakes +out, but Johnny never protects himself at all." + +"No wonder," spoke a soldier. "Any snake'd be discouraged at them +shanks. A seven-year rattler'd break his fang on 'em." + +Johnny came out of the cook-house with an iron poker, and heated it in +the coals. All the men around the fire waited, understanding what he was +about to do, but my own breath drew with a hiss through my teeth as he +laid the red hot iron first on one long cut and then another in his +travel-worn feet. Having cauterized himself effectually, and returned +the poker, he took his place in perfect serenity, without any show of +pain, prepared to accommodate himself to the company. + +Some boys, awake with the bigness of the occasion, sat down near Johnny +Appleseed, and gave him their frank attention. Each boy had his hair cut +straight around below the ears, where his mother had measured it with an +inverted bowl, and freshly trimmed him for life in the fort, and perhaps +for the discomfiture of savages, if he came under the scalping knife. +Open-mouthed or stern-jawed, according to temperament, the young +pioneers listened to stories about Tecumseh, and surmises on the enemy's +march, and the likelihood of a night attack. + +"Tippecanoe was fought at four o'clock in the morning," said a soldier. + +"I was there," spoke out Johnny Appleseed. + +No other man could say as much. All looked at him as he stood on his +cauterized feet, stretching his arms, lean and sun-cured, upward in the +firelight. + +"Angels were there. In rain and darkness I heard them speak and say, 'He +hath cast the lot for them, and His hand hath divided it unto them by +line; they shall possess it forever; from generation to generation shall +they dwell therein. The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad +for them, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose!'" + +"Say, Johnny, what does an angel look like?" piped up one of the boys, +quite in fellowship. + +Johnny Appleseed turned his rapt vision aside and answered: + +"'White robes were given unto every one of them.' There had I laid me +down in peace to sleep, and the Lord made me to dwell in safety. The +camp-fires burned red in the sheltered place, and they who were to +possess the land watched by the campfires. I looked down from my high +place, from my shelter of leaves and my log that the Lord gave me for a +bed, and saw the red camp-fires blink in the darkness. + +"Then was I aware that the heathen crept betwixt me and the camp, +surrounding it as a cloud that lies upon the ground. The rain fell upon +us all, and there was not so much sound as the rustling of grasshoppers +in tall grass. I said they will surprise the camp and slay the sleepers, +not knowing that they who were to possess the land watched every man +with his weapon. But when I would have sounded the trumpet of warning, I +heard a rifle shot, and all the Indians rose up screeching and rushed at +the red fires. + +"Then a sorcerer leaped upon my high place, rattling many deer hoofs, +and calling aloud that his brethren might hear his voice. Light he +promised them for themselves, and darkness for the camp, and he sang his +war song, shouting and rattling the deer hoofs. Also the Indians rattled +deer hoofs, and it was like a giant breathing his last, being shot with +many musket flashes. + +"I saw steam through the darkness, for the fires were drenched and +trampled by the men of the camp, and no longer shone as candles so that +the Indians might see by them to shoot. The sorcerer danced and +shouted, the deer hoofs rattled, and on this side and that men fought +knee to knee and breast to breast. I saw through the wet dawn, and they +who had crept around the camp as a cloud arose as grasshoppers and fled +to the swamp. + +"Then did the sorcerer sit upon his heels, and I beheld he had but one +eye, and he covered it from the light. + +"But the men in the camp shouted with a mighty shouting. And after their +shouting I heard again the voices of angels saying: 'He hath cast the +lot for them, and His hand hath divided it unto them by line; they shall +possess it forever; from generation to generation shall they dwell +therein. The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them, +and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose!'" + +The speaker sat down, and one of the men remarked: + +"So that's the way the battle of Tippecanoe looked to Johnny Appleseed." + +But the smallest boy thoughtfully inquired: + +"Say, Johnny, haven't the Indians any angels?" + +"You'll wish they was with the angels if they ever get you by the hair," +laughed one of the men. + +Soldiers began moving their single cannon, a six-pounder, from one +blockhouse to another. All the men jumped up to help, as at the raising +of a home, and put themselves in the way so ardently that they had to be +ordered back. + +When everybody but ourselves had left the starlit open place, Johnny +Appleseed lay down and stretched his heels to the blaze. A soldier added +another log, and kicked into the flame those fallen away. Though it was +the end of July, Lake Erie cooled the inland forests. + +Sentinels were posted in the blockhouses. Quiet settled on the camp; and +I sat turning many things in my mind besides the impending battle. +Napoleon Bonaparte had made a disastrous campaign in Russia. If I were +yet in France; if the Marquis du Plessy had lived; if I had not gone to +Mittau; if the self I might have been, that always haunts us, stood +ready to take advantage of the turn-- + +Yet the thing which cannot be understood by men reared under old +governments had befallen me. I must have drawn the wilderness into my +blood. Its possibilities held me. If I had stayed in France at twenty, I +should have been a Frenchman. The following years made me an American. +The passion that binds you to a land is no more to be explained than the +fact that many women are beautiful, while only one is vitally +interesting. + +The wilderness mystic was sitting up looking at me. + +"I see two people in you," he said. + +"Only two?" + +"Two separate men." + +"What are their names?" + +"Their names I cannot see." + +"Well, suppose we call them Louis and Lazarre." + +His eyes sparkled. + +"You are a white man," he pronounced. "By that I mean you are not +stained with many vile sins." + +"I hadn't an equal chance with other men. I lost nine years." + +"Mebby," hazarded Johnny Appleseed cautiously, "you are the one +appointed to open and read what is sealed." + +"If you mean to interpret what you read, I'm afraid I am not the one. +Where did you get those leaves?" + +"From a book that I divided up to distribute among the people." + +"Doesn't that destroy the sense?" + +"No. I carry the pages in their order from cabin to cabin." + +He came around the fire with the lightness of an Indian, and gave me his +own fragment to examine. It proved to be from the writings of one +Emanuel Swedenborg. + +With a smile which seemed to lessen the size of his face and concentrate +its expression to a shining point, Johnny Appleseed slid his leather +bags along the rope girdle, and searched them, one after the other. I +thought he wanted me to notice his apple seeds, and inquired how many +kinds he carried. So he showed them in handfuls, brown and glistening, +or gummed with the sweet blood of cider. These produced pippins; these +produced russets; these produced luscious harvest apples, that fell in +August bursting with juicy ripeness. Then he showed me another bagful +which were not apple seeds at all, but neutral colored specks moving +with fluid swiftness as he poured them from palm to palm. + +"Do you know what this is?" + +I told him I didn't. + +"It's dogfennel seed." + +I laughed, and asked him what kind of apples it bore. + +Johnny Appleseed smiled at me again. + +"It's a flower. I'm spreading it over the whole of Ohio and Indiana! +It'll come up like the stars for abundance, and fill the land with +rankness, and fever and ague will flee away!" + +"But how about the rankness?" + +"Fever and ague will flee away," he repeated, continuing his search +through the bags. + +He next brought out a parcel, wrapped up carefully in doeskin to protect +it from the appleseeds; and turned foolish in the face, as bits of +ribbon and calico fell out upon his knees. + +"This isn't the one," he said, bundling it up and thrusting it back +again. "The little girls, they like to dress their doll-babies, so I +carry patches for the little girls. Here's what I was looking for." + +It was another doeskin parcel, bound lengthwise and crosswise by thongs. +These Johnny Appleseed reverently loosened, bringing forth a small book +with wooden covers fastened by a padlock. + + + + +III + + +"Where did you get this?" I heard myself asking, a strange voice +sounding far down the throat. + +"From an Indian," the mystic told me quietly. "He said it was bad +medicine to him. He never had any luck in hunting after it fell to his +share, so he was glad to give it to me." + +"Where did he get it?" + +"His tribe took it from some prisoners they killed." + +I was running blindly around in a circle to find relief from the news he +dealt me, when the absurdity of such news overtook me. I stood and +laughed. + +"Who were the prisoners?" + +"I don't know," answered Johnny Appleseed. + +"How do you know the Indians killed them?" + +"The one that gave me this book told me so." + +"There are plenty of padlocked books in the world," I said jauntily. "At +least there must be more than one. How long ago did it happen?" + +"Not very long ago, I think; for the book was clean." + +"Give it to me," I said, as if I cursed him. + +"It's a sacred book," he answered, hesitating. + +"Maybe it's sacred. Let me see." + +"There may be holy mysteries in it, to be read only of him who has the +key." + +"I have a key!" + +I took it out of the snuffbox. Johnny Appleseed fixed his rapt eyes on +the little object in my fingers. + +"Mebby you are the one appointed to open and read what is sealed!" + +"No, I'm not! How could my key fit a padlocked book that belonged to +prisoners killed by the Indians?" + +He held it out to me and I took hold of the padlock. It was a small +steel padlock, and the hole looked dangerously the size of my key. + +"I can't do it!" I said. + +"Let me try," said Johnny Appleseed. + +"No! You might break my key in a strange padlock! Hold it still, Johnny. +Please don't shake it." + +"I'm not shaking it," Johnny Appleseed answered tenderly. + +"There's only one way of proving that my key doesn't fit," I said, and +thrust it in. The ward turned easily, and the padlock came away in my +hand. I dropped it and opened the book. Within the lid a name was +written which I had copied a thousand times--"Eagle Madeleine Marie de +Ferrier." + +Still I did not believe it. Nature protects us in our uttermost losses +by a density through which conviction is slow to penetrate. In some +mysterious way the padlocked book had fallen into strange hands, and +had been carried to America. + +"If Eagle were in America, I should know it. For De Chaumont would know +it, and Skenedonk would find it out." + +I stooped for the padlock, hooked it in place, and locked the book +again. + +"Is the message to you alone?" inquired Johnny Appleseed. + +"Did you ever care for a woman?" I asked him. + +Restless misery came into his eyes, and I noticed for the first time +that he was not an old man; he could not have been above thirty-five. He +made no answer; shifting from one bare foot to the other, his body +settling and losing its Indian lightness. + +"A woman gave me the key to this book. Her name is written inside the +lid. I was to read it if it ever fell into my hands, after a number of +years. Somebody has stolen it, and carried it among the Indians. But +it's mine. Every shilling in my wallet, the clothes off my back you're +welcome to--" + +"I don't want your money or your clothes." + +"But let me give you something in exchange for it." + +"What do I need? I always have as much as I want. This is a serviceable +coat, as good as any man need wish for; and the ravens feed me. And if I +needed anything, could I take it for carrying a message? I carry good +tidings of great joy among the people all the time. This is yours. Put +it in your pocket." + +I hid the padlocked book in the breast of my coat, and seized his wrist +and his hand. + +"Be of good courage, white double-man," said Johnny Appleseed. "The Lord +lift up the light of His countenance upon you, the Lord make His face to +shine upon you and give you peace!" + +He returned to his side of the fire and stretched himself under the +stars, and I went to Croghan's quarters and lay down with my clothes on +in the bunk assigned to me. + +The book which I would have rent open at twenty, I now carried unsealed. +The suspense of it was so sweet, and drew my thoughts from the other +suspense which could not be endured. It was not likely that any person +about Mont-Louis had stolen the book, and wandered so far. Small as the +volume was, the boards indented my breast and made me increasingly +conscious of its presence. I waked in the night and held it. + +Next morning Johnny Appleseed was gone from the fort, unafraid of war, +bent only on carrying the apple of civilization into the wilderness. +Nobody spoke about his absence, for shells began to fall around us. The +British and Indians were in sight; and General Proctor sent a flag of +truce demanding surrender. + +Major Croghan's ensign approached the messenger with a flag in reply. + +The women gathered their children as chickens under shelter. All in the +fort were cheerful, and the men joked with the gush of humor which +danger starts in Americans. I saw then the ready laugh that faced in +its season what was called Indian summer, because the Indian took then +advantage of the last pleasant weather to make raids. Such pioneers +could speak lightly even of powwowing time--the first pleasant February +days, when savages held councils before descending on the settlements. + +Major Croghan and I watched the parley from one of the blockhouses that +bastioned the place. Before it ended a Shawanoe sprang out of a ravine +and snatched the ensign's sword. He gave it back reluctantly, and the +British flag bearer hurried the American within the gates. + +General Proctor regretted that so fine a young man as Major Croghan +should fall into the hands of savages, who were not to be restrained. + +"When this fort is taken," said Croghan on hearing the message, "there +will be nobody left in it to kill." + +British gunboats drawn up on the Sandusky river, and a howitzer on the +shore, opened fire, and cannonaded all day with the poor execution of +long range artillery. The northwestern angle of the fort was their +target. Croghan foresaw that the enemy's intention was to make a breach +and enter there. When night came again, his one six-pounder was moved +with much labor from that angle into the southwest blockhouse, as +noiselessly as possible. He masked the embrasure and had the piece +loaded with a double charge of slugs and grape shot and half a charge of +powder. Perhaps the British thought him unprovided with any heavy +artillery. + +They were busy themselves, bringing three of the ineffectual +six-pounders and the howitzer, under darkness, within two hundred and +fifty yards of the fort; giving a background of woods to their battery. +About dawn we saw what they had been doing. They concentrated on the +northwest angle; and still Croghan replied only with muskets, waiting +for them to storm. + +So it went on all day, the gun-proof blockhouse enduring its +bombardment, and smoke thickening until it filled the stockade as water +fills a well, and settled like fog between us and the enemy. An attack +was made on the southern angle where the cannon was masked. + +"This is nothing but a feint," Croghan said to the younger officers. + +While that corner replied with musketry, he kept a sharp lookout for the +safety of the northwest blockhouse. + +One soldier was brought down the ladder and carried through the murky +pall to the surgeon, who could do nothing for him. Another turned from a +loophole with blood upon him, laughing at his mishap. For the +grotesqueness and inconvenience of a wound are sometimes more swiftly +felt than its pain. He came back presently with his shoulder bandaged +and resumed his place at the loophole. + +The exhilaration of that powder atmosphere and its heat made soldiers +throw off their coats, as if the expanding human body was not to be +confined in wrappings. + +In such twilight of war the twilight of Nature overtook us. Another +feint was made to draw attention from a heavy force of assailants +creeping within twenty paces, under cover of smoke, to surprise the +northwest blockhouse. + +Musketry was directed against them: they hesitated. The commander led a +charge, and himself sprang first into the ditch. We saw the fine fellows +leaping to carry the blockhouse, every man determined to be first in +making a breach. They filled the ditch. + +This was the instant for which Croghan had waited. He opened the +porthole and unmasked his exactly trained cannon. It enfiladed the +assailants, sweeping them at a distance of thirty feet; slugs and +grapeshot hissed, spreading fan rays of death! By the flash of the +re-loaded six-pounder, we saw the trench filled with dead and wounded. + +The besiegers turned. + +Croghan's sweating gunners swabbed and loaded and fired, roaring like +lions. + +The Indians, of whom there were nearly a thousand, were not in the +charge, and when retreat began they went in panic. We could hear calls +and yells, the clatter of arms, and a thumping of the earth; the strain +of men tugging cannon ropes; the swift withdrawal of a routed force. + +Two thousand more Indians approaching under Tecumseh, were turned back +by refugees. + +Croghan remarked, as we listened to the uproar, "Fort Stephenson can +hardly be called untenable against heavy artillery." + +Then arose cries in the ditch, which penetrated to women's ears. Neither +side was able to help the wounded there. But before the rout was +complete, Croghan had water let down in buckets to relieve their thirst, +and ordered a trench cut under the pickets of the stockade. Through this +the poor wretches who were able to crawl came in and surrendered +themselves and had their wounds dressed. + +By three o'clock in the morning not a British uniform glimmered red +through the dawn. The noise of retreat ended. Pistols and muskets +strewed the ground. Even a sailboat was abandoned on the river, holding +military stores and the clothing of officers. + +"They thought General Harrison was coming," laughed Croghan, as he sat +down to an early breakfast, having relieved all the living in the trench +and detailed men to bury the dead. "We have lost one man, and have +another under the surgeon's hands. Now I'm ready to appear before a +court-martial for disobeying orders." + +"You mean you're ready for your immortal page in history." + +"Paragraph," said Croghan; "and the dislike of poor little boys and +girls who will stick their fists in their eyes when they have to learn +it at school." + +Intense manhood ennobled his long, animated face. The President +afterwards made him a lieutenant-colonel, and women and his superior +officers praised him; but he was never more gallant than when he said: + +"My uncle, George Rogers Clark, would have undertaken to hold this fort; +and by heavens, we were bound to try it!" + +The other young officers sat at mess with him, hilarious over the +outcome, picturing General Proctor's state of mind when he learned the +age of his conqueror. + +None of them cared a rap that Daniel Webster was opposing the war in the +House of Representatives at Washington, and declaring that on land it +was a failure. + +A subaltern came to the mess room door, touching his cap and asking to +speak with Major Croghan. + +"The men working outside at the trenches saw a boy come up from the +ravine, sir, and fall every few steps, so they've brought him in." + +"Does he carry a dispatch?" + +"No, sir. He isn't more than nine or ten years old. I think he was a +prisoner." + +"Is he a white boy?" + +"Yes, sir, but he's dressed like an Indian." + +"I think it unlikely the British would allow the Shawanoes to burden +their march with any prisoners." + +"Somebody had him, and I'm afraid he's been shot either during the +action or in the retreat. He was hid in the ravine." + +"Bring him here," said Croghan. + +A boy with blue eyes set wide apart, hair clinging brightly and moistly +to his pallid forehead, and mouth corners turning up in a courageous +smile, entered and stood erect before the officer. He was a well made +little fellow. His tiny buckskin hunting shirt was draped with a sash in +the Indian fashion, showing the curve of his naked hip. Down this a +narrow line of blood was moving. Children of refugees, full of pity, +looked through the open door behind him. + +"Go to him, Shipp," said Croghan, as the boy staggered. But he waved the +ensign back. + +"Who are you, my man?" asked the Major. + +"I believe," he answered, "I am the Marquis de Ferrier." + + + + +IV + + +He pitched forward, and I was quicker than Ensign Shipp. I set him on my +knees, and the surgeon poured a little watered brandy clown his throat. + +"Paul!" I said to him. + +"Stand back," ordered the surgeon, as women followed their children, +crowding the room. + +"Do you know him, Lazarre?" asked Croghan. + +"It's Madame de Ferrier's child." + +"Not the baby I used to see at De Chaumont's? What's he doing at Fort +Stephenson?" + +The women made up my bunk for Paul, and I laid him in it. Each wanted to +take him to her care. The surgeon sent them to the cook-house to brew +messes for him, and stripped the child, finding a bullet wound in his +side. Probing brought nothing out, and I did not ask a single question. +The child should live. There could be no thought of anything else. While +the surgeon dressed and bandaged that small hole like a sucked-in mouth, +I saw the boy sitting on saddle-bags behind me, his arms clipping my +waist, while we threaded bowers of horse paths. I had not known how I +wanted a boy to sit behind me! No wonder pioneer men were so confident +and full of jokes: they had children behind them! + +He was burning with fever. His eyes swam in it as he looked at me. He +could not eat when food was brought to him, but begged for water, and +the surgeon allowed him what the women considered reckless quantities. +Over stockades came the August rustle of the forest. Morning bird voices +succeeded to the cannon's reverberations. + +The surgeon turned everybody out but me, and looked in by times from his +hospital of British wounded. I wiped the boy's forehead and gave him his +medicine, fanning him all day long. He lay in stupor, and the surgeon +said he was going comfortably, and would suffer little. Once in awhile +he turned up the corners of his mouth and smiled at me, as if the opiate +gave him blessed sensations. I asked the surgeon what I should do in the +night if he came out of it and wanted to talk. + +"Let him talk," said the doctor briefly. + +Unlike the night before, this was a night of silence. Everybody slept, +but the sentinels, and the men whose wounds kept them awake; and I was +both a sentinel, and a man whose wounds kept him awake. + +Paul's little hands were scratched; and there was a stone bruise on the +heel he pushed from cover of the blankets. His small body, compact of so +much manliness, was fine and sweet. Though he bore no resemblance to his +mother, it seemed to me that she lay there for me to tend; and the +change was no more an astounding miracle than the change of baby to +boy. + +I had him all that night for my own, putting every other thought out of +mind and absorbing his presence. His forehead and his face lost their +burning heat with the coolness of dawn, which blew our shaded candle, +flowing from miles of fragrant oaks. + +He awoke and looked all around the cabin. I tried to put his opiate into +his mouth; but something restrained me. I held his hand to my cheek. + +"I like you," he spoke out. "Don't you think my mother is pretty?" + +I said I thought his mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. +He curled up his mouth corners and gave me a blue-eyed smile. + +"My father is not pretty. But he is a gentleman of France." + +"Where are they, Paul?" + +He turned a look upon me without answering. + +"Paul," I said brutally, "tell me where your father and mother are." + +He was so far gone that my voice recalled him. He simply knew me as a +voice and a presence that he liked. + +"With poor old Ernestine," he answered. + +"And where is poor old Ernestine?" + +He began to shake as if struck with a chill. I drew the blanket closer. + +"Paul, you must tell me!" + +He shook his head. His mouth worked, and his little breast went into +convulsions. + +He shrieked and threw himself toward me. "My pretty little mother!" + +I held him still in a tight grip. "My darling--don't start your wound!" + +I could have beaten myself, but the surgeon afterwards told me the child +was dying when he came into the fort. About dawn, when men's lives sink +to their lowest ebb with night, his sank away, I smoothed his head and +kissed and quieted him. Once he looked into space with blurred eyes, and +curled up his mouth corners when I am sure he no longer saw me. + +Thus swiftly ended Paul's unaccountable appearance at the fort. It was +like the falling of a slain bird out of the sky at my feet. The women +were tender with his little body. They cried over him as they washed him +for burial. The children went outside the stockade and brought green +boughs and August wild flowers, bearing the early autumn colors of gold +and scarlet. With these they bedded the child in his plank coffin, +unafraid of his waxen sleep. + +Before Croghan went to report to his General, he asked me where we +should bury the little fellow. + +"In the fort, by the southern blockhouse," I answered. "Let Fort +Stephenson be his monument. It will stand here forever. The woods around +it will be trampled by prowling savages, and later on by prowling white +men. Within, nothing will obliterate the place. Give a little fellow a +bed here, who died between two countries, and will never be a citizen of +either." + +"I don't want to make a graveyard of the fort," said Croghan. But he +looked at Paul, bent low over him, and allowed him to be buried near the +southwest angle. + +There the child's bones rest to this day. The town of Fremont in the +commonwealth of Ohio has grown up around them. Young children who climb +the grassy bastion, may walk above his head, never guessing that a +little gentleman of France, who died like a soldier of his wound, lies +deeply cradled there. + +Before throwing myself down in the dead heaviness which results from +continual loss of sleep, I questioned the wounded British soldiers about +Paul. None of them had seen him. Straggling bands of Indians continually +joined their force. Captives were always a possibility in the savage +camp. Paul might have been taken hundreds of miles away. + +But I had the padlocked book, which might tell the whole story. With +desperate haste that could hardly wait to open the lids, I took it out, +wondering at the patience which long self-restraint had bred in me. I +was very tired, and stretched my arms across the pillow where Paul's +head had lain, to rest one instant. But I must have slept. My hand woke +first, and feeling itself empty, grasped at the book. It was gone, and +so was the sun. + +I got a light and searched, thrusting my arm between the bunk and the +log wall. It was not on the floor, or in my breast pocket, or in my +saddle-bags. + +The robbery was unendurable. And I knew the Indian who had done it. He +was the quietest, most stubborn Oneida that ever followed an adopted +white man. Why he had taken the book I could not understand. But I was +entirely certain that he had taken it out of my hand while I slept. He +would not break the padlock and read it, but like a judicious father he +would take care of a possibly unwholesome volume himself. + +I went out and found the bald-headed and well-beloved wretch. He was +sitting with his knees to his chin by the evening log fire. + +"Skenedonk," I said, "I want my book." + +"Children and books make a woman of you," he responded. "You had enough +books at Longmeadow." + +"I want it at once," I repeated. + +"It's sorcery," he answered. + +"It's a letter from Madame de Ferrier, and may tell where she is." + +His fawn eyes were startled, but he continued to hug his knees. + +"Skenedonk, I can't quarrel with you. You were my friend before I could +remember. When you know I am so bound to you, how can you deal me a +deadly hurt?" + +"White woman sorcery is the worst sorcery. You thought I never saw it. +But I did see it. You went after her to Paris. You did not think of +being the king. So you had to come back with nothing. That's what woman +sorcery does. Now you have power with the tribes. The President sees +you are a big man! And she sends a book to you to bewitch you! I knew +she sent the book as soon as I saw it." + +"Do you think she sent Paul?" + +He made no answer. + +"Madame de Ferrier does not know I have the book." + +"You haven't it," said Skenedonk. + +"But you have." + +"If she wrote and sent a letter she expected it would be received." + +"When I said a letter I meant what is called a journal: the writing down +of what happens daily. Johnny Appleseed got the book from an Indian. +That is how it was sent to me." + +"If you read it you will want to drop everything else and go to find +her." + +This was the truth, for I was not under military law. + +"Where is the book?" + +"Down my back," said Skenedonk. + +I felt the loose buckskin. + +"It isn't there." + +"In my front," said Skenedonk. + +I ran my hand over his chest, finding nothing but bone and brawn. + +"There it is," he said, pointing to a curled wisp of board at the edge +of the fire. "I burnt it." + +"Then you've finished me." + +I turned and left him sitting like an image by the fire. + + + + +V + + +Before I left Fort Stephenson, I wrote a letter to Count de Chaumont, +telling him about Paul's death and asking for news of the De Ferriers. +The answer I begged him to send to Sandusky, which the British now +despaired of taking. But although Skenedonk made a long journey for it +twice during the half year, I got no answer. + +The dangerous work of the next few months became like a long debauch. +Awake, we were dodging betwixt hostile tribes, or dealing with those +inclined to peace. Asleep, I was too exhausted to dream. It was a +struggle of the white force of civilization with the red sense of +justice. I wrestled with Algonquin dialects as I had wrestled with +Greek. Ottawas and Chippewas, long friendly to the French, came more +readily than other tribes to agreement with Americans. + +Wherever I went I pushed the quest that was uppermost in my mind, but +without finding any trace of Madame de Ferrier. + +From the measure constantly taken betwixt other men of my time and +myself, this positive knowledge resulted. + +In spite of the fact that many treated me as a prince, I found myself an +average man. I had no military genius. In argument, persuasive, +graceful--even eloquent--were the adjectives applied to me; not sweeping +and powerful. I should have made a jog-trot king, no better than my +uncle of Provence; no worse than my uncle of Artois, who would rather +saw wood than reign a constitutional monarch, and whom the French people +afterward turned out to saw wood. My reign might have been neat; it +would never have been gaudily splendid. As an average man, I could well +hold my own in the world. + +Perry on the lakes, General Jackson in the southwest, Harrison in the +west, and Lawrence on the ocean were pushing the war towards its close; +though as late as spring the national capital was burned by the British, +and a gentleman whom they gaily called "Old Jimmy Madison," temporarily +driven out. But the battle on the little river Thames, in October, +settled matters in the Northwest. + +The next April, after Leipsic, Napoleon Bonaparte was banished to the +island of Elba; and Louis XVIII passed from his latest refuge at +Hartwell House in England, to London; where the Prince Regent honored +him and the whole capital cheered him; and thence to Paris where he was +proclaimed king of France. We heard of it in due course, as ships +brought news. I was serving with the American forces. + +The world is fluid to a boy. He can do and dare anything. But it hardens +around a man and becomes a wall through which he must cut. I felt the +wall close around me. + +In September I was wounded at the battle of Plattsburg on Lake +Champlain. Three men, besides the General and the doctor, and my Oneida, +showed a differing interest in me, while I lay with a gap under my left +arm, in a hospital tent. + +First came Count de Chaumont, his face plowed with lines; no longer the +trim gentleman, youthfully easy, and in his full maturity, that he had +been when I first saw him at close range. + +He sat down on a camp seat by my cot, and I asked him before he could +speak-- + +"Where is Madame de Ferrier?" + +"She's dead," he answered. + +"I don't believe it." + +"You're young. I'm going back to France for a while. France will not be +what it was under the Empire. I'm tired of most things, however, and my +holdings here make me independent of changes there." + +"What reason have you to think that she is dead?" + +"Do you know the Indiana Territory well?" + +"The northern part only." + +"It happened in what was called the Pigeon Roost settlement at the fork +of the White River. The Kickapoos and Winnebagoes did it. There were +about two dozen people in the settlement." + +"I asked how you know these things." + +"I have some of the best Indian runners that ever trod moccasins, and +when I set them to scouting, they generally find what I want;--so I know +a great many things." + +"But Paul--" + +"It's an old custom to adopt children into the tribes. You know your +father, Chief Williams, is descended from a white girl who was a +prisoner. There were about two dozen people in the settlement, men, +women and children. The majority of the children were dashed against +trees. It has been consolation to me to think she did not survive in the +hands of savages." + +The hidden causes which work out results never worked out a result more +improbable. I lay silent, and De Chaumont said, + +"Do you remember the night you disappeared from the Tuileries?" + +"I remember it." + +"You remember we determined not to let the Marquis de Ferrier see +Napoleon. When you went down the corridor with Eagle I thought you were +luring him. But she told us afterward you were threatened with arrest, +and she helped you out of the Tuileries by a private stairway." + +"Did it make any stir in the palace?" + +"No. I saw one man hurrying past us. But nobody heard of the arrest +except Eagle." + +"How did she get out?" + +"Out of what?" + +"The queen's closet." + +"She was in the garden. She said she went down the private stairway to +avoid the gendarme. She must have done it cleverly, for she came in on +the arm of Junot and the matter was not noticed. There stood my +emergency facing me again. You had deserted. What made you imagine you +were threatened with arrest?" + +"Because a gendarme in court dress laid his hand on my shoulder and told +me I was to come with him." + +"Well, you may have drawn the secret police upon you. You had been +cutting a pretty figure. It was probably wise to drop between walls and +get out of France. Do you know why you were arrested?" + +"I think the groundless charge would have been an attack upon Napoleon." + +"You never attacked the emperor!" + +"No. But I had every reason to believe such a charge would be sworn +against me if I ever came to trial." + +"Perhaps that silly dauphin story leaked out in Paris. The emperor does +hate a Bourbon. But I thought you had tricked me. And the old marquis +never took his eyes off the main issue. He gave Eagle his arm, and was +ready to go in and thank the emperor." + +"You had to tell him?" + +"I had to tell him." + +"What did he say?" + +"Not a word. All the blood seemed to be drawn out of his veins, and his +face fell in. Then it burned red hot, and instead of good friend and +benefactor, I saw myself a convict. His big staring blue eyes came out +of a film like an owl's, and shot me through. I believe he saw +everything I ever did in my life, and my intentions about Eagle most +plainly of all. He bowed and wished me good-night, and took her out of +the Tuileries." + +"But you saw him again?" + +"He never let me see him again, or her either. I am certain he forbade +her to communicate with us. They did not go back to Mont-Louis. They +left their hotel in Paris. I wrote imploring him to hold the estates. My +messages were returned. I don't know how he got money enough to +emigrate. But emigrate they did; avoiding Castorland, where the +Saint-Michels, who brought her up, lived in comfort, and might have +comforted her, and where I could have made her life easy. He probably +dragged her through depths of poverty, before they joined a company +bound for the Indiana Territory, where the Pigeon Roost settlement was +planted. I have seen old Saint-Michel work at clearing, and can imagine +the Marquis de Ferrier sweating weakly while he chopped trees. It is a +satisfaction to know they had Ernestine with them. De Ferrier might have +plowed with Eagle," said the count hotly. "He never hesitated to make +use of her." + +While I had been living a monk's studious, well-provided life, was she +toiling in the fields? I groaned aloud. + +De Chaumont dropped his head on his breast. + +"It hurts me more than I care to let anybody but you know, Lazarre. If I +hadn't received that letter I should have avoided you. I wish you had +saved Paul. I would adopt him." + +"I think not, my dear count." + +"Nonsense, boy! I wouldn't let you have him." + +"You have a child." + +"Her husband has her. But let us not pitch and toss words. No use +quarreling over a dead boy. What right have you to Eagle's child?" + +"Not your right of faithful useful friendship. Only my own right." + +"What's that?" + +"Nothing that she ever admitted." + +"I was afraid of you," said De Chaumont, "when you flowered out with old +Du Plessy, like an heir lost in emigration and found again. You were a +startling fellow, dropping on the Faubourg; and anything was possible +under the Empire. You know I never believed the dauphin nonsense, but a +few who remembered, said you looked like the king. You were the king to +her; above mating with the best of the old nobility. She wouldn't have +married you." + +"Did she ever give you reason to think she would marry you?" + +"She never gave me reason to think she would marry anybody. But what's +the use of groaning? There's distraction abroad. I took the trails to +see you, when I heard you were with the troops on Champlain. I shall be +long in France. What can I do for you, my boy?" + +"Nothing, count. You have already done much." + +"She had a foolish interest in you. The dauphin!--Too good to sit at +table with us, you raw savage!--Had to be waited on by old Jean! And she +would have had me serve you, myself!" + +He laughed, and so did I. We held hands, clinging in fellowship. + +"I might not have refused your service; like Marquis de Ferrier." + +The count's face darkened. + +"I'll not abuse him. He's dead." + +"Are you sure he's dead this time, count?" + +"A Kickapoo is carrying his scalp. Trust my runners. They have traced +him so much for me they know the hair on his stubborn head. I must go +where I can have amusement, Lazarre. This country is a young man's +country. I'm getting old. Adieu. You're one of the young men." + +Some changes of light and darkness passed over me, and the great anguish +of my wound increased until there was no rest. However, the next man who +visited me stood forth at the side of the stretcher as Bellenger. I +thought I dreamed him, being light-headed with fever. He was +unaccountably weazened, robbed of juices, and powdering to dust on the +surface. His mustache had grown again, and he carried it over his ears +in the ridiculous manner affected when I saw him in the fog. + +"Where's your potter's wheel?" I inquired. + +"In the woods by Lake George, sire." + +"Do you still find clay that suits you?" + +"Yes, sire." + +"Have you made that vase yet?" + +"No, sire. I succeed in nothing." + +"You succeed in tracking me." + +He swam before my eyes, and I pointed to the surgeon's camp-chair. + +"Not in your presence, sire." + +"Have you lost your real dauphin?" I inquired. + +"I have the honor of standing before the real dauphin." + +"So you swore at Mittau!" + +"I perjured myself." + +"Well, what are you doing now?" + +"Sire, I am a man in failing health. Before the end I have come to tell +you the truth." + +"Do you think you can do it?" + +"Sire"--said Bellenger. + +"Your king is Louis XVIII," I reminded him. + +"He is not my king." + +"Taken your pension away, has he?" + +"I no longer receive anything from that court." + +"And your dauphin?" + +"He was left in Europe." + +"Look here, Bellenger! Why did you treat me so? Dauphin or no dauphin, +what harm was I doing you?" + +"I thought a strong party was behind you. And I knew there had been +double dealing with me. You represented some invisible power tricking +me. I was beside myself, and faced it out in Mittau. I have been used +shamefully, and thrown aside when I am failing. Hiding out in the hills +ruined my health." + +"Let us get to facts, if you have facts. Do you know anything about me, +Bellenger?" + +"Yes, sire." + +"Who am I?" + +"Louis XVII of France." + +"What proof can you give me?" + +"First, sire, permit a man who has been made a wretched tool, to implore +forgiveness of his rightful sovereign, and a little help to reach a +warmer climate before the rigors of a northern winter begin." + +"Bellenger, you are entrancing," I said. "Why did I ever take you +seriously? Ste. Pélagie was a grim joke, and tipping in the river merely +your playfulness. You had better take yourself off now, and keep on +walking until you come to a warmer climate." + +He wrung his hands with a gesture that touched my natural softness to my +enemy. + +"Talk, then. Talk, man. What have you to say?" + +"This, first, sire. That was a splendid dash you made into France!" + +"And what a splendid dash I made out of it again, with a gendarme at my +coat tails, and you behind the gendarme!" + +"But it was the wrong time. If you were there now;--the French people +are so changeable--" + +"I shall never be there again. His Majesty the eighteenth Louis is +welcome. What the blood stirs in me to know is, have I a right to the +throne?" + +"Sire, the truth as I know it, I will tell you. You were the boy taken +from the Temple prison." + +"Who did it?" + +"Agents of the royalist party whose names would mean nothing to you if I +gave them." + +"I was placed in your hands?" + +"You were placed in my hands to be taken to America." + +"I was with you in London, where two royalists who knew me, recognized +me?" + +"The two De Ferriers." + +"Did a woman named Madame Tank see me?" + +Bellenger was startled. + +"You were noticed on the ship by a court-lady of Holland; a very clever +courtier. I had trouble in evading her. She suspected too much, and +asked too many questions; and would have you to play with her baby on +the deck, though at that time you noticed nothing." + +"But where does the idiot come into my story?" + +"Sire, you have been unfortunate, but I have been a victim. When we +landed in New York I went directly and made myself known to the man who +was to act as purveyor of your majesty's pension. He astonished me by +declaring that the dauphin was already there, and had claimed the +pension for that year. The country and the language were unknown to me. +The agent spoke French, it is true, but we hardly understood each other. +I supposed I had nothing to do but present my credentials. Here was +another idiot--I crave your majesty's pardon--" + +"Quite right--at the time, Bellenger." + +--"drawing the annuity intended for the dauphin. I inquired into his +rights. The agent showed me papers like my own. I asked who presented +them. He knew no more of the man than he did of me. I demanded to face +the man. No such person could be found. I demanded to see the idiot. He +was shut in a room and fed by a hired keeper. I sat down and thought +much. Clearly it was not the agent's affair. He followed instructions. +Good! I would follow instructions also. Months would have been required +to ask and receive explanations from the court of Monsieur. He had +assumed the title of Louis XVIII, for the good of the royalist cause, as +if there were no prince. I thought I saw what was expected of me." + +"And what did you see, you unspeakable scoundrel?" + +"I saw that there was a dauphin too many, hopelessly idiotic. But if he +was the one to be guarded, I would guard him." + +"Who was that idiot?" + +"Some unknown pauper. No doubt of that." + +"And what did you do with me?" + +"A chief of the Iroquois Indians can tell you that." + +"This is a clumsy story, Bellenger. Try again." + +"Sire--" + +"If you knew so little of the country, how did you find an Iroquois +chief?" + +"I met him in the woods when he was hunting. I offered to give you to +him, pretending you had the annuity from Europe. Sire, I do not know why +trickery was practiced on me, or who practiced it: why such pains were +taken to mix the clues which led to the dauphin. But afterwards the same +agent had orders to give you two-thirds and me only one-third of the +yearly sum. I thought the court was in straits;--when both Russia and +Spain supported it! I was nothing but a court painter. But when you went +to France, I blocked your way with all the ingenuity I could bring." + +"I would like to ask you, Bellenger, what a man is called who attempts +the life of his king?" + +"Sire, the tricks of royalists pitted us against each other." + +"That's enough, Bellenger. I don't believe a word you say, excepting +that part of your story agreeing with Madame de Ferrier's. Put your hand +under my pillow and find my wallet. Now help yourself, and never let me +see you again." + +He helped himself to everything except a few shillings, weeping because +his necessities were so great. But I told him I was used to being +robbed, and he had done me all the harm he could; so his turn to pluck +me naturally followed. + +Then I softened, as I always do towards the claimant of the other part, +and added that we were on the same footing; I had been a pensioner +myself. + +"Sire, I thank you," said Bellenger, having shaken the wallet and poked +his fingers into the lining where an unheard-of gold piece could have +lodged. + +"It tickles my vanity to be called sire." + +"You are a true prince," said Bellenger. "My life would be well spent if +I could see you restored to your own." + +"So I infer, from the valuable days you have spent trying to bring that +result about." + +"Your majesty is sure of finding support in France." + +"The last king liked to tinker with clocks. Perhaps I like to tinker +with Indians." + +"Sire, it is due to your birth--" + +"Never mind my birth," I said. "I'm busy with my life." + +He bowed himself out of my presence without turning. This tribute to +royalty should have touched me. He took a handsome adieu, and did not +afterward seek further reward for his service. I heard in the course of +years that he died in New Orleans, confessing much regarding myself to +people who cared nothing about it, and thought him crazy. They doubtless +had reason, so erratic was the wanderer whom I had first consciously +seen through Lake George fog. His behavior was no more incredible than +the behavior of other Frenchmen who put a hand to the earlier years of +their prince's life. + +The third to appear at my tent door was Chief Williams, himself. The +surgeon told him outside the tent that it was a dangerous wound. He had +little hope for me, and I had indifferent hope myself, lying in torpor +and finding it an effort to speak. But after several days of effort I +did speak. + +The chief sat beside me, concerned and silent. + +"Father," I said. + +The chief harkened near to my lips. + +"Tell me," I begged, after resting, "who brought me to you." + +His dark sullen face became tender. "It was a Frenchman," he answered. +"I was hunting and met him on the lake with two boys. He offered to give +you to me. We had just lost a son." + +When I had rested again, I asked: + +"Do you know anything else about me?" + +"No." + +The subject was closed between us. And all subjects were closed betwixt +the world and me, for my face turned the other way. The great void of +which we know nothing, but which our faith teaches us to bridge, opened +for me. + + + + +VI + + +But the chief's and Skenedonk's nursing and Indian remedies brought me +face earthward again, reviving the surgeon's hope. + +When blood and life mounted, and my torn side sewed up its gap in a +healthy scar, adding another to my collection, autumn was upon us. From +the hunting lodges on Lake George, and the Williamses of Longmeadow, I +went to the scorched capital of Washington. In the end the Government +helped me with my Indian plan, though when Skenedonk and I pushed out +toward Illinois Territory we had only my pay and a grant of land. Peace +was not formally made until December, but the war ended that summer. + +Man's success in the world is proportioned to the number of forces he +can draw around himself to work with him. I have been able to draw some +forces; though in matters where most people protect themselves, I have a +quality of asinine patience which the French would not have tolerated. + +The Oneidas were ready to follow wherever I led them. And so were many +families of the Iroquois federation. But the Mohawk tribe held back. +However, I felt confident of material for an Indian state when the +foundation should be laid. + +We started lightly equipped upon the horse paths. The long journey by +water and shore brought us in October to the head of Green Bay. We had +seen Lake Michigan, of a light transparent blueness, with fire ripples +chasing from the sunset. And we had rested at noon in plum groves on the +vast prairies, oases of fertile deserts, where pink and white fruit +drops, so ripe that the sun preserves it in its juice. The freshness of +the new world continually flowed around us. We shot deer. Wolves sneaked +upon our trail. We slept with our heels to the campfire, and our heads +on our saddles. Sometimes we built a hunter's shed, open at front and +sloping to ground at back. To find out how the wind blew, we stuck a +finger in our mouths and held it up. The side which became cold first +was the side of the wind. + +Physical life riots in the joy of its revival. I was so glad to be alive +after touching death that I could think of Madame de Ferrier without +pain, and say more confidently--"She is not dead," because resurrection +was working in myself. + +Green Bay or La Baye, as the fur hunters called it, was a little post +almost like a New England village among its elms: one street and a few +outlying houses beside the Fox River. The open world had been our +tavern; or any sod or log hut cast up like a burrow of human prairie +dogs or moles. We did not expect to find a tavern in Green Bay. Yet such +a place was pointed out to us near the Fur Company's block warehouse. It +had no sign post, and the only visible stable was a pen of logs. Though +negro slaves were owned in the Illinois Territory, we saw none when a +red-headed man rushed forth shouting: + +"Sam, you lazy nigger, come here and take the gentleman's horses! Where +is that Sam? Light down, sir, with your Indian, and I will lead your +beasts to the hostler myself." + +In the same way our host provided a supper and bed with armies of +invisible servants. Skenedonk climbed a ladder to the loft with our +saddlebags. + +"Where is that chambermaid?" cried the tavern keeper. + +"Yes, where is she?" said a man who lounged on a bench by the entrance. +"I've heard of her so often I would like to see her myself." + +The landlord, deaf to raillery, bustled about and spread our table in +his public room. + +"Corn bread, hominy, side meat, ven'zin," he shouted in the kitchen. +"Stir yourself, you black rascal, and dish up the gentleman's supper." + +Skenedonk walked boldly to the kitchen door and saw our landlord stewing +and broiling, performing the offices of cook as he had performed those +of stableman. He kept on scolding and harrying the people who should +have been at his command:--"Step around lively, Sam. Tell the gentleman +the black bottle is in the fireplace cupboard if he wants to sharpen his +appetite. Where is that little nigger that picks up chips? Bring me some +more wood from the wood-pile! I'll teach you to go to sleep behind the +door!" + +Our host served us himself, running with sleeves turned back to admonish +an imaginary cook. His tap-room was the fireplace cupboard, and it was +visited while we ate our supper, by men in elkskin trousers, and caps +and hooded capotes of blue cloth. These Canadians mixed their own drink, +and made a cross-mark on the inside of the cupboard door, using a system +of bookkeeping evidently agreed upon between themselves and the +landlord. He shouted for the lazy barkeeper, who answered nothing out of +nothingness. + +Nightfall was very clear and fair in this Northwestern territory. A man +felt nearer to the sunset. The region took hold upon me: particularly +when one who was neither a warehouseman nor a Canadian fur hunter, +hurried in and took me by the hand. + +"I am Pierre Grignon," he said. + +Indeed, if he had held his fiddle, and tuned it upon an arm not quite so +stout, I should have known without being told that he was the man who +had played in the Saint-Michel cabin while Annabel de Chaumont climbed +the chimney. + +We sat and talked until the light faded. The landlord brought a candle, +and yelled up the loft, where Skenedonk had already stretched himself in +his blanket, as he loved to do: + +"Chambermaid, light up!" + +"You drive your slaves too hard, landlord," said Pierre Grignon. + +"You'd think I hadn't any, Mr. Grignon; for they're never in the way +when they're wanted." + +"One industrious man you certainly have." + +"Yes, Sam is a good fellow; but I'll have to go out and wake him up and +make him rub the horses down." + +"Never mind," said Pierre Grignon. "I'm going to take these travelers +home with me." + +"Now I know how a tavern ought to be kept," said the landlord. "But +what's the use of my keeping one if Pierre Grignon carries off all the +guests?" + +"He is my old friend," I told the landlord. + +"He's old friend to everybody that comes to Green Bay. I'll never get so +much as a sign painted to hang in front of the Palace Tavern." + +I gave him twice his charges and he said: + +"What a loss it was to enterprise in the Bay when Pierre Grignon came +here and built for the whole United States!" + +The Grignon house, whether built for the whole United States or not, was +the largest in Green Bay. Its lawn sloped down to the Fox River. It was +a huge square of oak timbers, with a detached kitchen, sheltered by +giant elms. To this day it stands defying time with its darkening frame +like some massive rock, the fan windows in the gables keeping guard +north and south. + +A hall divided the house through the center, and here Madame Grignon +welcomed me as if I were a long-expected guest, for this was her custom; +and as soon as she clearly remembered me, led me into a drawing-room +where a stately old lady sat making lace. + +This was the grandmother of the house. Such a house would have been +incomplete without a grandmother at the hearth. + +The furniture of this hall or family room had been brought from +Montreal; spindle chairs and a pier table of mahogany; a Turkey carpet, +laid smoothly on the polished floor to be spurned aside by young dancers +there; some impossible sea pictures, with patron saints in the clouds +over mariners; an immense stuffed sofa, with an arm dividing it across +the center;--the very place for those head-to-head conversations with +young men which the girls of the house called "twosing." It was, in +fact, the favorite "twosing" spot of Green Bay. + +Stools there were for children, and armchairs for old people were not +lacking. The small yellow spinning wheel of Madame Ursule, as I found +afterwards Madame Grignon was commonly called, stood ready to revolve +its golden disk wherever she sat. + +The servants were Pawnee Indians, moving about their duties almost with +stealth. + +The little Grignon daughter who had stood lost in wonder at the dancing +of Annabel de Chaumont, was now a turner of heads herself, all flaxen +white, and contrasting with the darkness of Katarina Tank. Katarina was +taken home to the Grignon's after her mother's death. Both girls had +been educated in Montreal. + +The seigniorial state in which Pierre Grignon lived became at once +evident. I found it was the custom during Advent for all the villagers +to meet in his house and sing hymns. On Christmas day his tables were +loaded for everybody who came. If any one died, he was brought to Pierre +Grignon's for prayer, and after his burial, the mourners went back to +Pierre Grignon's for supper. Pierre Grignon and his wife were god-father +and god-mother to most of the children born at La Baye. If a child was +left without father and mother, Pierre Grignon's house became its asylum +until a home could be found for it. The few American officers stationed +at the old stockade, nearly every evening met the beauties of Green Bay +at Pierre Grignon's, and if he did not fiddle for them he led Madame in +the dancing. The grandmother herself sometimes took her stick and +stepped through a measure to please the young people. Laughter and the +joy of life filled the house every waking hour of the twenty-four. +Funerals were never horrible there. Instead, they seemed the mystic +beginning of better things. + +"Poor Madame Tank! She would have been so much more comfortable in her +death if she had relieved her mind," Madame Ursule said, the first +evening, as we sat in a pause of the dancing. "She used to speak of you +often, for seeing you made a great impression upon her, and she never +let us forget you. I am sure she knew more about you than she ever told +me. 'I have an important disclosure to make,' she says. 'Come around me, +I want all of you to hear it!' Then she fell back and died without +telling it." + +A touch of mystery was not lacking to the house. Several times I saw the +tail of a gray gown disappear through an open door. Some woman half +entered and drew back. + +"It's Madeleine Jordan," an inmate told me each time. "She avoids +strangers." + +I asked if Madeleine Jordan was a relative. + +"Oh, no," Madame Ursule replied; "but the family who brought her here, +went back to Canada, and of course they left her with us." + +Of course Madeleine Jordan, or anybody else who lacked a roof, would be +left with the Grignons; but in that house a hermit seemed out of place, +and I said so to Madame Ursule. + +"Poor child!" she responded. "I think she likes the bustle and noise. +She is not a hermit. What difference can it make to her whether people +are around her or not?" + +The subject of Madeleine Jordan was no doubt beyond a man's handling. I +had other matters to think about, and directly plunged into them. First +the Menominees and Winnebagoes must be assembled in council. They held +all the desirable land. + +"We don't like your Indian scheme in Green Bay," said Pierre Grignon. +"But if the tribes here are willing to sell their lands, other settlers +can't prevent it." + +He went with me to meet the savages on the opposite side of the Fox near +the stockade. There the talking and eating lasted two days. At the end +of that time I had a footing for our Iroquois in the Wisconsin portion +of the Illinois Territory; and the savages who granted it danced a war +dance in our honor. Every brave shook over his head the scalps he had +taken. I saw one cap of soft long brown hair. + +"Eh!" said Pierre Grignon, sitting beside me. "Their dirty trophies make +you ghastly! Do your eastern tribes never dance war dances?" + +After the land was secured its boundaries had to be set. Then my own +grant demanded attention; and last, I was anxious to put my castle on it +before snow flew. Many of those late autumn nights Skenedonk and I spent +camping. The outdoor life was a joy to me. Our land lay up the Fox River +and away from the bay. But more than one stormy evening, when we came +back to the bay for supplies, I plunged into the rolling water and swam +breasting the waves. It is good to be hardy, and sane, and to take part +in the visible world, whether you are great and have your heart's desire +or not. + +When we had laid the foundation of the Indian settlement, I built my +house with the help of skilled men. It was a spacious one of hewn logs, +chinked with cat-and-clay plaster, showing its white ribs on the hill +above the Fox. In time I meant to cover the ribs with perennial vines. +There was a spring near the porches. The woods banked me on the rear, +and an elm spread its colossal umbrella over the roof. Fertile fields +stretched at my left, and on my right a deep ravine lined with white +birches, carried a stream to the Fox. + +From my stronghold to the river was a long descent. The broadening and +narrowing channel could be seen for miles. A bushy island, beloved of +wild ducks, parted the water, lying as Moses hid in osiers, amidst tall +growths of wild oats. Lily pads stretched their pavements in the oats. +Beyond were rolling banks, and beyond those, wooded hills rising terrace +over terrace to the dawn. Many a sunrise was to come to me over those +hills. Oaks and pines and sumach gathered to my doorway. + +In my mind I saw the garden we afterward created; with many fruit trees, +beds, and winding walks, trellised seats, squares of flaming tulips, +phlox, hollyhocks, roses. It should reach down into the ravine, where +humid ferns and rocks met plants that love darkling ground. Yet it +should not be too dark. I would lop boughs rather than have a growing +thing spindle as if rooted in Ste. Pélagie!--and no man who loves trees +can do that without feeling the knife at his heart. What is long +developing is precious like the immortal part of us. + +The stoicism that comes of endurance has something of death in it. I +prepared a home without thought of putting any wife therein. I had grown +used to being alone, with the exception of Skenedonk's taciturn company. +The house was for castle and resting place after labor. I took +satisfaction in the rude furniture we made for it. In after years it +became filled with rich gifts from the other side of the world, and +books that have gladdened my heart. Yet in its virginhood, before pain +or joy or achievement had entered there, before spade struck the ground +which was to send up food, my holding on the earth's surface made me +feel prince of a principality. + +The men hewed a slab settle, and stationed it before the hearth, a thing +of beauty in its rough and lichen-tinted barks, though you may not +believe it. My floors I would have smooth and neatly joined, of hard +woods which give forth a shining for wear and polish. Stools I had, +easily made, and one large round of a tree for my table, like an Eastern +tabouret. + +Before the river closed and winter shut in, Skenedonk and I went back to +Green Bay. I did not know how to form my household, and had it in mind +to consult Madame Ursule. Pawnees could be had: and many French +landholders in the territory owned black slaves. Pierre Grignon himself +kept one little negro like a monkey among the stately Indians. + +Dealing with acres, and with people wild as flocks, would have been +worth while if nothing had resulted except our welcome back to Pierre +Grignon's open house. The grandmother hobbled on her stick across the +floor to give me her hand. Madame Ursule reproached me with delaying, +and Pierre said it was high time to seek winter quarters. The girls +recounted harvest reels and even weddings, with dances following, which +I had lost while away from the center of festivity. + +The little negro carried my saddlebags to the guest room. Skenedonk was +to sleep on the floor. Abundant preparations for the evening meal were +going forward in the kitchen. As I mounted the stairway at Madame +Ursule's direction, I heard a tinkle of china, her very best, which +adorned racks and dressers. It was being set forth on the mahogany +board. + +The upper floor of Pierre Grignon's house was divided by a hall similar +to the one below. I ran upstairs and halted. + +Standing with her back to the fading light which came through one fan +window at the hall end, was a woman's figure in a gray dress. I gripped +the rail. + +My first thought was: "How shall I tell her about Paul?" My next was: +"What is the matter with her?" + +She rippled from head to foot in the shiver of rapture peculiar to her, +and stretched her arms to me crying: + +"Paul! Paul!" + + + + +VII + + +"Oh, Madame!" I said, bewildered, and sick as from a stab. It was no +comfort that the high lady who scarcely allowed me to kiss her hand +before we parted, clung around my neck. She trembled against me. + +"Have you come back to your mother, Paul?" + +"Eagle!" I pleaded. "Don't you know me? You surely know Lazarre!" + +She kissed me, pulling my head down in her arms, the velvet mouth like a +baby's, and looked straight into my eyes. + +"Madame, try to understand! I am Louis! If you forget Lazarre, try to +remember Louis!" + +She heard with attention, and smiled. The pressure of my arms spoke to +her. A man's passion addressed itself to a little child. All other +barriers which had stood between us were nothing to this. I held her, +and she could never be mine. She was not ill in body; the contours of +her upturned face were round and softened with much smiling. But +mind-sickness robbed me of her in the moment of finding her. + +"She can't be insane!" I said aloud. "Oh, God, anything but that! She +was not a woman that could be so wrecked." + +Like a fool I questioned, and tried to get some explanation. + +Eagle smoothed my arm, nested her hand in my neck. + +"My little boy! He has grown to be a man--while his mother has grown +down to be a child! Do you know what I am now, Paul?" + +I choked a sob in my throat and told her I did not. + +"I am your Cloud-Mother. I live in a cloud. Do you love me while I am in +the cloud?" + +I told her I loved her with all my strength, in the cloud or out of it. + +"Will you take care of me as I used to take care of you?" + +I swore to the Almighty that she should be my future care. + +"I need you so! I have watched for you in the woods and on the water, +Paul! You have been long coming back to me." + +I heard Madame Ursule mounting the stairs to see if my room was in +order. + +Who could understand the relation in which Eagle and I now stood, and +the claim she made upon me? She clung to my arm when I took it away. I +led her by the hand. Even this sight caused Madame Ursule a shock at the +head of the stairs. + +"M's'r Williams!" + +My hostess paused and looked at us. + +"Did she come to you of her own accord?" + +"Yes, madame." + +"I never knew her to notice a stranger before." + +"Madame, do you know who this is?" + +"Madeleine Jordan." + +"It is the Marquise de Ferrier." + +"The Marquise de Ferrier?" + +"Yes, madame." + +"Did you know her?" + +"I have known her ever since I can remember." + +"The Marquise de Ferrier! But, M's'r Williams, did she know you?" + +"She knows me," I asserted. "But not as myself. I am sure she knows me! +But she confuses me with the child she lost! I cannot explain to you, +madame, how positive I am that she recognizes me; any more than I can +explain why she will call me Paul. I think I ought to tell you, so you +will see the position in which I am placed, that this lady is the lady I +once hoped to marry." + +"Saints have pity, M's'r Williams!" + +"I want to ask you some questions." + +"Bring her down to the fire. Come, dear child," said Madame Ursule, +coaxing Eagle. "Nobody is there. The bedrooms can never be so warm as +the log fire; and this is a bitter evening." + +The family room was unlighted by candles, as often happened. For such an +illumination in the chimney must have quenched any paler glare. We had a +few moments of brief privacy from the swarming life which constantly +passed in and out. + +I placed Eagle by the fire and she sat there obediently, while I talked +to Madame Ursule apart. + +"Was her mind in this state when she came to you?" + +"She was even a little wilder than she is now. The girls have been a +benefit to her." + +"They were not afraid of her?" + +"Who could be afraid of the dear child? She is a lady--that's plain. Ah, +M's'r Williams, what she must have gone through!" + +"Yet see how happy she looks!" + +"She always seemed happy enough. She would come to this house. So when +the Jordans went to Canada, Pierre and I both said, 'Let her stay.'" + +"Who were the Jordans?" + +"The only family that escaped with their lives from the massacre when +she lost her family. Madame Jordan told me the whole story. They had +friends among the Winnebagoes who protected them." + +"Did they give her their name?" + +"No, the people in La Baye did that. We knew she had another name. But I +think it very likely her title was not used in the settlement where they +lived. Titles are no help in pioneering." + +"Did they call her Madeleine?" + +"She calls herself Madeleine." + +"How long has she been with your family?" + +"Nearly a year." + +"Did the Jordans tell you when this change came over her?" + +"Yes. It was during the attack when her child was taken from her. She +saw other children killed. The Indians were afraid of her. They respect +demented people; not a bit of harm was done to her. They let her alone, +and the Jordans took care of her." + +The daughter and adopted daughter of the house came in with a rush of +outdoor air, and seeing Eagle first, ran to kiss her on the cheek one +after the other. + +"Madeleine has come down!" said Marie. + +"I thought we should coax her in here sometime," said Katarina. + +Between them, standing slim and tall, their equal in height, she was yet +like a little sister. Though their faces were unlined, hers held a +divine youth. + +To see her stricken with mind-sickness, and the two girls who had done +neither good nor evil, existing like plants in sunshine, healthy and +sound, seemed an iniquitous contrast. + +If ever woman was made for living and dying in one ancestral home, she +was that woman. Yet she stood on the border of civilization, without a +foothold to call her own. If ever woman was made for one knightly love +which would set her in high places, she was that woman. Yet here she +stood, her very name lost, no man so humble as to do her reverence. + +"Paul has come," Eagle told Katarina and Marie. Holding their hands, she +walked between them toward me, and bade them notice my height. "I am +his Cloud-Mother," she said. "How droll it is that parents grow down +little, while their children grow up big!" + +Madame Ursule shook her head pitifully. But the girls really saw the +droll side and laughed with my Cloud-Mother. + +Separated from me by an impassable barrier, she touched me more deeply +than when I sued her most. The undulating ripple which was her peculiar +expression of joy was more than I could bear. I left the room and was +flinging myself from the house to walk in the chill wind; but she caught +me. + +"I will be good!" pleaded my Cloud-Mother, her face in my breast. + +Her son who had grown up big, while she grew down little, went back to +the family room with her. + +My Cloud-Mother sat beside me at table, and insisted on cutting up my +food for me. While I tried to eat, she asked Marie and Katarina and +Pierre Grignon and Madame Ursule to notice how well I behaved. The +tender hearted host wiped his eyes. + +I understood why she had kept such hold upon me through years of +separateness. A nameless personal charm, which must be a gift of the +spirit, survived all wreck and change. It drew me, and must draw me +forever, whether she knew me again or not. One meets and wakes you to +vivid life in an immortal hour. Thousands could not do it through +eternity. + +The river piled hillocks of water in a strong north wind, and no officer +crossed from the stockade. Neither did any neighbor leave his own fire. +It seldom happened that the Grignons were left with inmates alone. Eagle +sat by me and watched the blaze streaming up the chimney. + +If she was not a unit in the family group and had no part there, they +were most kind to her. + +"Take care!" the grandmother cried with swift forethought when Marie and +Katarina marshaled in a hopping object from the kitchen. "It might +frighten Madeleine." + +Pierre Grignon stopped in the middle of a bear hunt. Eagle was not +frightened. She clapped her hands. + +"This is a pouched turkey!" Marie announced, leaning against the wall, +while Katarina chased the fowl. It was the little negro, his arms and +feet thrust into the legs of a pair of Pierre Grignon's trousers, and +the capacious open top fastened upon his back. Doubled over, he waddled +and hopped as well as he could. A feather duster was stuck in for a +tail, and his woolly head gave him the uncanny look of a black harpy. To +see him was to shed tears of laughter. The pouched turkey enjoyed being +a pouched turkey. He strutted and gobbled, and ran at the girls; tried +to pick up corn from the floor with his thick lips, tumbling down and +rolling over in the effort; for a pouched turkey has no wings with which +to balance himself. So much hilarity in the family room drew the Pawnee +servants. I saw their small dark eyes in a mere line of open door, +gazing solemnly. + +When the turkey was relieved from his pouching and sent to bed, Pierre +Grignon took his violin. The girls answered with jigs that ended a reel, +when couples left the general figure to jig it off. + +When Eagle had watched them awhile she started up, spread her skirts in +a sweeping courtesy, and began to dance a gavotte. The fiddler changed +his tune, and the girls rested and watched her. Alternately swift and +languid, with the changes of the movement, she saluted backward to the +floor, or spun on the tips of rapid feet. I had seen her dance many +times, but never with such abandon of joy. + +Our singular relationship was established in the house, where +hospitality made room and apology for all human weakness. + +Nobody of that region, except the infirm, stayed indoors to shiver by a +fire. Eagle and the girls in their warm capotes breasted with me the +coldest winter days. She was as happy as they were; her cheeks tingled +as pink as theirs. Sometimes I thought her eyes must answer me with her +old self-command; their bright grayness was so natural. + +I believed if her delusions were humored, they would unwind from her +like the cloud which she felt them to be. The family had long fallen +into the habit of treating her as a child, playing some imaginary +character. She seemed less demented than walking in a dream, her +faculties asleep. It was somnambulism rather than madness. She had not +the expression of insane people, the shifty eyes, the cunning and +perverseness, the animal and torpid presence. + +If I called her Madame de Ferrier instead of my Cloud-Mother, a strained +and puzzled look replaced her usual satisfaction. I did not often use +the name, nor did I try to make her repeat my own. It was my daily +effort to fall in with her happiness, for if she saw any anxiety she was +quick to plead: + +"Don't you like me any more, Paul? Are you tired of me, because I am a +Cloud-Mother?" + +"No," I would answer. "Lazarre will never be tired of you." + +"Do you think I am growing smaller? Will you love me if I shrink to a +baby?" + +"I will love you." + +"I used to love you when you were so tiny, Paul, before you knew how to +love me back. If I forget how"--she clutched the lapels of my +coat--"will you leave me then?" + +"Eagle, say this: 'Lazarre cannot leave me.'" + +"Lazarre cannot leave me." + +I heard her repeating this at her sewing. She boasted to Marie +Grignon--"Lazarre cannot leave me!--Paul taught me that." + +My Cloud-Mother asked me to tell her the stories she used to tell me. +She had forgotten them. + +"I am the child now," she would say. "Tell me the stories." + +I repeated mythical tribe legends, gathered from Skenedonk on our long +rides, making them as eloquent as I could. She listened, holding her +breath, or sighing with contentment. + +If any one in the household smiled when she led me about by the hand, +there was a tear behind the smile. + +She kept herself in perfection, bestowing unceasing care upon her dress, +which was always gray. + +"I have to wear gray; I am in a cloud," she had said to the family. + +"We have used fine gray stuff brought from Holland, and wools that +Mother Ursule got from Montreal," Katarina told me. "The Pawnees dye +with vegetable colors. But they cannot make the pale gray she loves." + +Eagle watched me with maternal care. If a hair dropped on my collar she +brushed it away, and smoothed and settled my cravat. The touch of my +Cloud-Mother, familiar and tender, like the touch of a wife, charged +through me with torture, because she was herself so unconscious of it. + +Before I had been in the house a week she made a little pair of trousers +a span long, and gave them to me. Marie and Katarina turned their faces +to laugh. My Cloud-Mother held the garment up for their inspection, and +was not at all sensitive to the giggles it provoked. + +"I made over an old pair of his father's," she said. + +The discarded breeches used by the pouched turkey had been devoted to +her whim. Every stitch was neatly set. I praised her beautiful +needlework, and she said she would make me a coat. + +Skenedonk was not often in the house. He took to the winter hunting and +snow-shoeing with vigor. Whenever he came indoors I used to see him +watching Madame de Ferrier with saturnine wistfulness. She paid no +attention to him. He would stand gazing at her while she sewed; being +privileged as an educated Indian and my attendant, to enter the family +room where the Pawnees came only to serve. They had the ample kitchen +and its log fire to themselves. I wondered what was working in +Skenedonk's mind, and if he repented calling one so buffeted, a +sorceress. + +Kindly ridicule excited by the incongruous things she did, passed over +without touching her. She was enveloped in a cloud, a thick case +guarding overtaxed mind and body, and shutting them in its pellucid +chrysalis. The Almighty arms were resting her on a mountain of vision. +She had forgot how to weep. She was remembering how to laugh. + +The more I thought about it the less endurable it became to have her +dependent upon the Grignons. My business affairs with Pierre Grignon +made it possible to transfer her obligations to my account. The +hospitable man and his wife objected, but when they saw how I took it to +heart, gave me my way. I told them I wished her to be regarded as my +wife, for I should never have another; and while it might remain +impossible for her to marry me, on my part I was bound to her. + +"You are young, M's'r Williams," said Madame Ursule. "You have a long +life before you. A man wants comfort in his house. And if he makes +wealth, he needs a hand that knows how to distribute and how to save. +She could never go to your home as she is." + +"I know it, madame." + +"You will change your mind about a wife." + +"Madame, I have not changed my mind since I first wanted her. It is not +a mind that changes." + +"Well, that's unusual. Young men are often fickle. You never made +proposals for her?" + +"I did, madame, after her husband died." + +"But she was still a wife--the wife of an old man--in the Pigeon Roost +settlement." + +"Her father married her to a cousin nearly as old as himself, when she +was a child. Her husband was reported dead while he was in hiding. She +herself thought, and so did her friends, that he was dead." + +"I see. Eh! these girls married to old men! Madame Jordan told me +Madeleine's husband was very fretful. He kept himself like silk, and +scarcely let the wind blow upon him for fear of injuring his health. +When other men were out toiling at the clearings, he sat in his house to +avoid getting chills and fever in the sun. It was well for her that she +had a faithful servant. Madeleine and the servant kept the family with +their garden and corn field. They never tasted wild meat unless the +other settlers brought them venison. Madame Jordan said they always +returned a present of herbs and vegetables from their garden. It grew +for them better than any other garden in the settlement. Once the old +man did go out with a hunting party, and got lost. The men searched for +him three days, and found him curled up in a hollow tree, waiting to be +brought in. They carried him home on a litter and he popped his head +into the door and said: 'Here I am, child! You can't kill me!'" + +"What did Madame de Ferrier say?" + +"Nothing. She made a child of him, as if he were her son. He was in his +second childhood, no doubt. And Madame Jordan said she appeared to hold +herself accountable for the losses and crosses that made him so fretful. +The children of the emigration were brought up to hardship, and accepted +everything as their elders could not do." + +"I thought the Marquis de Ferrier a courteous gentleman." + +"Did you ever see him?" + +"Twice only." + +"He used to tell his wife he intended to live a hundred years. And I +suppose he would have done it, if he had not been tomahawked and +scalped. 'You'll never get De Chaumont,' he used to say to her. 'I'll +see that he never gets you!' I remember the name very well, because it +was the name of that pretty creature who danced for us in the cabin on +Lake George." + +"De Chaumont was her father," I said. "He would have married Madame de +Ferrier, and restored her estate, if she had accepted him, and the +marquis had not come back." + +"Saints have pity!" said Madame Ursule. "And the poor old man must make +everybody and himself so uncomfortable!" + +"But how could he help living?" + +"True enough. God's times are not ours. But see what he has made of +her!" + +I thought of my Cloud-Mother walking enclosed from the world upon a +height of changeless youth. She could not feel another shock. She was +past both ambition and poverty. If she had ever felt the sweet anguish +of love--Oh! she must have understood when she kissed me and said: "I +will come to you sometime!"--the anguish--the hoping, waiting, +expecting, receiving nothing, all were gone by. Even mother cares no +longer touched her. Paul was grown. She could not be made anything that +was base. Unseen forces had worked with her and would work with her +still. + +"You told me," I said to Madame Ursule, "the Indians were afraid of her +when they burned the settlement. Was the change so sudden?" + +"Madame Jordan's story was like this: It happened in broad daylight. Two +men went into the woods hunting bee trees. The Indians caught and killed +them within two miles of the clearing--some of those very Winnebagoes +you treated with for your land. It was a sunshiny day in September. You +could hear the poultry crowing, and the children playing in the +dooryards. Madeleine's little Paul was never far away from her. The +Indians rushed in with yells and finished the settlement in a few +minutes. Madame Jordan and her family were protected, but she saw +children dashed against trees, and her neighbors struck down and scalped +before she could plead for them. And little good pleading would have +done. An Indian seized Paul. His father and the old servant lay dead +across the doorstep. His mother would not let him go. The Indian dragged +her on her knees and struck her on the head. Madame Jordan ran out at +the risk of being scalped herself, and got the poor girl into her cabin. +The Indian came back for Madeleine's scalp. Madeleine did not see him. +She never seemed to notice anybody again. She stood up quivering the +whole length of her body, and laughed in his face. It was dreadful to +hear her above the cries of the children. The Indian went away like a +scared hound. And none of the others would touch her." + +After I heard this story I was thankful every day that Eagle could not +remember; that natural happiness had its way with her elastic body. + +Madame Ursule told me the family learned to give her liberty. She rowed +alone upon the river, and went where she pleased. The men in La Baye +would step aside for her. Strangers disturbed her by bringing the +consciousness of something unusual. + +Once I surprised Marie and Katarina sitting close to the fire at +twilight, talking about lovers. Eagle was near them on a stool. + +"That girl," exclaimed Katarina, speaking of the absent with strong +disapproval, "is one of the kind that will let another girl take her +sweetheart and then sit around and look injured! Now if she could get +him from me she might have him! But she'd have to get him first!" + +Eagle listened in the attitude of a young sister, giving me to +understand by a look that wisdom flowed, and she was learning. + +We rose one morning to find the world buried in snow. The river was +frozen and its channel padded thick. As for the bay, stretches of snow +fields, with dark pools and broken gray ridges met ice at the end of the +world. + +It was so cold that paper stuck to the fingers like feathers, and the +nails tingled with frost. The white earth creaked under foot, and when a +sled went by the snow cried out in shrill long resistance, a spirit +complaining of being trampled. Explosions came from the river, and elm +limbs and timbers of the house startled us. White fur clothed the inner +key holes. Tree trunks were black as ink against a background of snow. +The oaks alone kept their dried foliage, which rattled like many +skeletons, instead of rustling in its faded redness, because there was +no life in it. + +But the colder it grew the higher Grignon's log fires mounted. And when +channels were cut in the snow both along the ridge above Green Bay, and +across country in every direction, French trains moved out with jangling +bells, and maids and men uttered voice sounds which spread as by miracle +on the diffusing air from horizon to horizon. You could hear the +officers speaking across the river; and dogs were like to shake the sky +down with their barking. Echoes from the smallest noises were born in +that magnified, glaring world. + +The whole festive winter spun past. Marie and Katarina brought young men +to the peaks of hope in the "twosing" seat, and plunged them down to +despair, quite in the American fashion. Christmas and New Year's days +were great festivals, when the settlement ate and drank at Pierre +Grignon's expense, and made him glad as if he fathered the whole post. +Madame Grignon spun and looked to the house. And a thousand changes +passed over the landscape. But in all that time no one could see any +change in my Cloud-Mother. She sewed like a child. She laughed, and +danced gavottes. She trod the snow, or muffled in robes, with Madame +Ursule and the girls, flew over it in a French train; a sliding box with +two or three horses hitched tandem. Every evening I sat by her side at +the fire, while she made little coats and trousers for me. But +remembrance never came into her eyes. The cloud stood round about her as +it did when I first tried to penetrate it. + +My own dim days were often in mind. I tried to recall sensations. But I +had lived a purely physical life. Her blunders of judgment and delusion +of bodily shrinking were no part of my experience. The thinking self in +me had been paralyzed. While the thinking self in her was alive, in a +cloud. Both of us were memoryless, excepting her recollection of Paul. + +After March sent the ice out of river and bay, spring came with a rush +as it comes in the north. Perhaps many days it was silently rising from +tree roots. In February we used to say:--"This air is like spring." But +after such bold speech the arctic region descended upon us again, and we +were snowed in to the ears. Yet when the end of March unlocked us, it +seemed we must wait for the month of Mary to give us soft air and blue +water. Then suddenly it was spring, and every living soul knew it. Life +revived with passion. Longings which you had forgotten came and took you +by the throat, saying, "You shall no longer be satisfied with negative +peace. Rouse, and live!" Then flitting, exquisite, purple flaws struck +across milk-opal water in the bay. Fishing boats lifted themselves in +mirage, sailing lightly above the water; and islands sat high, with a +cushion of air under them. + +The girls manifested increasing interest in what they called the Pigeon +Roost settlement affair. Madame Ursule had no doubt told them what I +said. They pitied my Cloud-Mother and me with the condescending pity of +the very young, and unguardedly talked where they could be heard. + +"Oh, she'll come to her senses some time, and he'll marry her of +course," was the conclusion they invariably reached; for the thing must +turn out well to meet their approval. How could they foresee what was to +happen to people whose lives held such contrasts? + +"Father Pierre says he's nearly twenty-eight; I call him an old +bachelor," declared Katarina; "and she was a married woman. They are +really very old to be in love." + +"You don't know what you'll do when you are old," said Marie. + +"Ah, I dread it," groaned Katarina. + +"So do I." + +"But there is grandmother. She doesn't mind it. And beaux never trouble +her now." + +"No," sighed the other. "Beaux never trouble her now." + +Those spring days I was wild with restlessness. Life revived to dare +things. We heard afterwards that about that time the meteor rushed once +more across France. Napoleon landed at a Mediterranean port, gathering +force as he marched, swept Louis XVIII away like a cobweb in his path, +and moved on to Waterloo. The greatest Frenchman that ever lived fell +ultimately as low as St. Helena, and the Bourbons sat again upon the +throne. But the changes of which I knew nothing affected me in the +Illinois Territory. + +Sometimes I waked at night and sat up in bed, hot with indignation at +the injustice done me, which I could never prove, which I did not care +to combat, yet which unreasonably waked the fighting spirit in me. Our +natures toss and change, expand or contract, influenced by invisible +powers we know not why. + +One April night I sat up in the veiled light made by a clouded moon. +Rain points multiplied themselves on the window glass; I heard their +sting. The impulse to go out and ride the wind, or pick the river up and +empty it all at once into the bay, or tear Eagle out of the cloud, or go +to France and proclaim myself with myself for follower; and other feats +of like nature, being particularly strong in me, I struck the pillow +beside me with my fist. Something bounced from it on the floor with a +clack like wood. I stretched downward from one of Madame Ursule's thick +feather beds, and picked up what brought me to my feet. Without letting +go of it I lighted my candle. It was the padlocked book which Skenedonk +said he had burned. + +And there the scoundrel lay at the other side of the room, wrapped in +his blanket from head to foot, mummied by sleep. I wanted to take him by +the scalp lock and drag him around on the floor. + +He had carried it with him, or secreted it somewhere, month after month. +I could imagine how the state of the writer worked on his Indian mind. +He repented, and was not able to face me, but felt obliged to restore +what he had withheld. So waiting until I slept, he brought forth the +padlocked book and laid it on the pillow beside my head; thus beseeching +pardon, and intimating that the subject was closed between us. + +I got my key, and then a fit of shivering seized me. I put the candle +stand beside the pillow and lay wrapped in bedding, clenching the small +chilly padlock and sharp-cornered boards. Remembering the change which +had come upon the life recorded in it, I hesitated. Remembering how it +had eluded me before, I opened it. + +The few entries were made without date. The first pages were torn out, +crumpled, and smoothed and pasted to place again. Rose petals and +violets and some bright poppy leaves, crushed inside its lids, slid down +upon the bedcover. + + + + +VIII + + +The padlocked book--In this book I am going to write you, Louis, a +letter which will never be delivered; because I shall burn it when it is +finished. Yet that will not prevent my tantalizing you about it. To the +padlocked book I can say what I want to say. To you I must say what is +expedient. + +That is a foolish woman who does violence to love by inordinate loving. +Yet first I will tell you that I sink to sleep saying, "He loves me!" +and rise to the surface saying, "He loves me!" and sink again saying, +"He loves me!" all night long. + +The days when I see you are real days, finished and perfect, and this is +the best of them all. God forever bless in paradise your mother for +bearing you. If you never had come to the world I should not have waked +to life myself. And why this is I cannot tell. The first time I ever saw +your tawny head and tawny eyes, though you did not notice me, I said, +"Whether he is the king or not would make no difference." Because I knew +you were more than the king to me. + +Sire, you told me once you could not understand why people took kindly +to you. There is in you a gentle dignity and manhood, most royal. As you +come into a room you cast your eyes about unfearing. Your head and +shoulders are erect. You are like a lion in suppleness and tawny color, +which influences me against my will. You inspire Confidence. Even girls +like Annabel, who feel merely at their finger ends, and are as well +satisfied with one husband as another, know you to be solid man, not the +mere image of a man. Besides these traits there is a power going out +from you that takes hold of people invisibly. My father told me there +was a man at the court of your father who could put others to sleep by a +waving of his hands. I am not comparing you to this charlatan; yet when +you touch my hand a strange current runs through me. + +When we were in Paris I used to dress myself every morning like a +priestess going to serve in a temple. And what was it for? To worship +one dear head for half an hour perhaps. + +You robbed me of the sight of you for two months. + + * * * * * + +Sophie Saint-Michel told me to beware of loving a man. To-day he says, +"I love you! I need you! I shall go to the devil without you!" To-morrow +he turns to his affairs. In six months he says, "I was a fool!" Next +year he says, "Who was it that drove me wild for a time last year? What +was her name?" + + * * * * * + +Is love a game where men and women try to outwit each other, and man +boasts, "She loves me"--not "I love her"? + +You are two persons. Lazarre belongs to me. He follows, he thinks about +me. He used to slip past my windows at Lake George, and cast his eyes up +at the panes. But Louis is my sovereign. He sees and thinks and acts +without me, and his lot is apart from mine. + + * * * * * + +We are in a ship going to the side of the world where you are. Except +that we are going towards you, it is like being pushed off a cliff. All +my faith in the appearances of things is at an end. I have been juggled +with. I have misjudged. + +I could have insisted that we hold Mont-Louis as tenants. The count is +our friend. It is not a strong man's fault that a weak man is weak and +unfortunate. Yet seeing Cousin Philippe wince, I could not put the daily +humiliation upon him. He is like my father come back, broken, helpless. +And Paul and I, who are young, must take care of him where he will be +least humbled. + +I was over-pampered in Mont-Louis and Paris. I like easy living, +carriages, long-tailed gowns, jewels, trained servants, music, and +spectacles on the stage; a park and wide lands all my own; seclusion +from people who do not interest me; idleness in enjoyment. + +I am the devil of vanity. Annabel has not half the points I have. When +the men are around her I laugh to think I shall be fine and firm as a +statue when she is a mass of wrinkles and a wisp of fuzz. When she is a +mass of wrinkles and a wisp of fuzz she will be riper and tenderer +inside. But will the men see that? No. They will be off after a fresher +Annabel. So much for men. On the other hand, I had but a few months of +luxury, and may count on the hardness that comes of endurance; for I was +an exile from childhood. There is strength in doing the right thing. If +there were no God, if Christ had never died on the cross, I should have +to do the right thing because it is right. + +Why should we lay up grievances against one another? They must +disappear, and they only burn our hearts. + +Sometimes I put my arms around Ernestine, and rest her old head against +me. She revolts. People incline to doubt the superiority of a person who +will associate with them. But the closer our poverty rubs us the more +Ernestine insists upon class differences. + +There should be a colossal mother going about the world to turn men over +her lap and give them the slipper. They pine for it. + +Am I helping forward the general good, or am I only suffering Nature's +punishment? + +A woman can fasten the bonds of habit on a man, giving him food from her +table, hourly strengthening his care for her. By merely putting herself +before him every day she makes him think of her. What chance has an +exiled woman against the fearful odds of daily life? + +Yet sometimes I think I can wait a thousand years. In sun and snow, in +wind and dust, a woman waits. If she stretched her hand and said "Come," +who could despise her so much as she would despise herself? + +What is so cruel as a man? Hour after hour, day after day, year after +year, he presses the iron spike of silence in. + +Coward!--to let me suffer such anguish! + +Is it because I kissed you? That was the highest act of my life! I +groped down the black stairs of the Tuileries blinded by light. Why are +the natural things called wrong, and the unnatural ones just? + +Is it because I said I would come to you sometime? This is what I meant: +that it should give me no jealous pang to think of another woman's head +on your breast; that there is a wedlock which appearances cannot touch. + +No, I never would--I never would seek you; though sometimes the horror +of doing without you turns into reproach. What is he doing? He may need +me--and I am letting his life slip away. Am I cheating us both of what +could have harmed no one? + +It is not that usage is broken off. + +Yet if you were to come, I would punish you for coming! + +Fine heroic days I tell myself we are marching to meet each other. If +the day has been particularly hard, I say, "Perhaps I have carried his +load too, and he marches lighter." + +You have faults, no doubt, but the only one I could not pardon would be +your saying, "I repent!" + +The instinct to conceal defeat and pain is so strong in me that I would +have my heart cut out rather than own it ached. Yet many women carry all +before them by a little judicious whining and rebellion. + +I never believe in your unfaith. If you brought a wife and showed her to +me I should be sorry for her, and still not believe in your unfaith. + +Louis, I have been falling down flat and crawling the ground. Now I am +up again. It didn't hurt. + +It is the old German fairy story. Every day gold must be spun out of +straw. How big the pile of straw looks every morning, and how little the +handful of gold every night! + +This prairie in the Indiana Territory that I dreaded as a black gulf, is +a grassy valley. + +I love the garden; and I love to hoe the Indian corn. It springs so +clean from the sod, and is a miracle of growth. After the stalks are +around my knees, they are soon around my shoulders. The broad leaves +have a fragrance, and the silk is sweet as violets. + +We wash our clothes in the river. Women who hoe corn, dig in a garden, +and wash clothes, earn the wholesome bread of life. + +To-day Paul brought the first bluebells of spring, and put them in water +for me. They were buds; and when they bloomed out he said, "God has +blessed these flowers." + +We have to nurse the sick. The goodness of these pioneer women is +unfailing. It is like the great and kind friendship of the Du Chaumonts. +They help me take care of Cousin Philippe. + +Paul meditated to-day, "I don't want to hurt the Father's feelings. I +don't want to say He was greedy and made a better place for Himself in +heaven than He made for us down here. Is it nicer just because He is +there?" + +His prayer: "God bless my father and mother and Ernestine. God keep my +father and mother and Ernestine. And keep my mother with me day and +night, dressed and undressed! God keep together all that love each +other." + +When he is a man I am going to tell him, and say: "But I have built my +house, not wrecked it, I have been yours, not love's." + +He tells me such stories as this: "Once upon a time there was such a +loving angel came down. And they ran a string through his stomach and +hung him on the wall. He never whined a bit." + +The people in this country, which is called free, are nearly all bound. +Those who lack money as we do cannot go where they please, or live as +they would live. Is that freedom? + + * * * * * + +On a cool autumn night, when the fire crackles, the ten children of the +settlement, fighting or agreeing, come running from their houses like +hens. We sit on the floor in front of the hearth, and I suffer the +often-repeated martyrdom of the "Fire Pig." This tale, invented once as +fast as I could talk, I have been doomed to repeat until I dread the +shades of evening. + +The children bunch their heads together; their lips part, as soon as I +begin to say: + +Do you see that glowing spot in the heart of the coals? That is the +house of the Fire Pig. One day the Fire Pig found he had no more corn, +and he was very hungry. So he jumped out of his house and ran down the +road till he came to a farmer's field. + +"Good morning, Mr. Farmer," said the little pig. "Have you any corn for +me to-day?" + +"Why, who are you?" said the farmer. + +"I'm a little Fire Pig." + +"No, I haven't any corn for a Fire Pig." + +The pig ran on till he came to another farmer's field. + +"Good morning, Mr. Farmer, have you any corn for me to-day?" + +"Who are you?" said the farmer. + +"Oh, I'm the little Fire Pig." + +"I don't know," said the farmer. "I would give you a great bagful if you +could kill the snake which comes every night and steals my cattle." + +The pig thought, "How can I kill that snake?" but he was so hungry he +knew he should starve without corn, so he said he would try. The farmer +told him to go down in the field, where the snake came gliding at night +with its head reared high in air. The pig went down in the meadow, and +the first creature he saw was a sheep. + +"Baa!" said the sheep. That was its way of saying "How do you do?" "Who +are you?" + +"I'm the little Fire Pig." + +"What are you doing here?" + +"I've come to kill the great snake that eats the farmer's cattle." + +"I'm very glad," said the sheep, "for it takes my lambs. How are you +going to kill it?" + +"I don't know," said the pig; "can't you help me?" + +"I'll give you some of my wool." + +The pig thanked the sheep, and went a little farther and met a horse. +"He-ee-ee!" said the horse. That was his way of saying "How do you do?" +"Who are you?" + +"I am the little Fire Pig." + +"What are you doing here?" + +"I've come to kill the great snake that eats the farmer's cattle." + +"I'm glad of that," said the horse; "for it steals my colts. How are you +going to do it?" + +"I don't know," said the pig. "Can't you help me?" + +"I'll give you some of the long hairs from my tail," said the horse. + +The pig took them and thanked the horse. And when he went a little +farther he met a cow. + +"Moo!" said the cow. That was her way of saying "How do you do?" "Who +are you?" + +"I'm the little Fire Pig." + +"What are you doing here?" + +"I've come to kill the great snake that eats the farmer's cattle." + +"I am glad of that, for it steals my calves. How are you going to do +it?" + +"I don't know. Can't you help me?" + +"I'll give you one of my sharp horns," said the cow. + +So the pig took it and thanked her. Then he spun and he twisted, and he +spun and he twisted, and made a strong woolen cord of the sheep's wool. +And he wove and he braided, and he wove and he braided, and made a +cunning snare of the horse's tail. And he whetted and sharpened, and he +whetted and sharpened, and made a keen dart of the cow's horn. + +--Now when the little pig has all his materials ready, and sees the +great snake come gliding, gliding--I turn the situation over to the +children. What did he do with the rope, the snare and the horn? They +work it out each in his own way. There is a mighty wrangling all around +the hearth. + +One day is never really like another, though it seems so. + +Perhaps being used to the sight of the Iroquois at Lake George, makes it +impossible for me to imagine what the settlers dread, and that is an +attack. We are shut around by forests. In primitive life so much time +and strength go to the getting of food that we can think of little else. + +It is as bad to slave at work as to slave at pleasure. But God may +forgive what people cannot help. + +There is a very old woman among the settlers whom they call Granny. We +often sit together. She cannot get a gourd edge betwixt her nose and +chin when she drinks, and has forgotten she ever had teeth. She does not +expect much; but there is one right she contends for, and that is the +right of ironing her cap by stretching it over her knee. When I have +lived in this settlement long enough, my nose and chin may come +together, and I shall forget my teeth. But this much I will exact of +fate. My cap shall be ironed. I will not--I will not iron it by +stretching it over my knee! + +Count du Chaumont would be angry if he saw me learning to weave, for +instance. You would not be angry. That makes a difference between you +as men which I feel but cannot explain. + +We speak English with our neighbors. Paul, who is to be an American, +must learn his language well. I have taught him to read and write. I +have taught him the history of his family and of his father's country. +His head is as high as my breast. When will my head be as high as his +breast? + +Skenedonk loves you as a young superior brother. I have often wondered +what he thought about when he went quietly around at your heels. You +told me he had killed and scalped, and in spite of education, was as +ready to kill and scalp again as any white man is for war. + +I dread him like a toad, and wish him to keep on his side of the walk. +He is always with you, and no doubt silently urges, "Come back to the +wigwams that nourished you!" + +Am I mistaken? Are we moving farther and farther apart instead of +approaching each other? Oh, Louis, does this road lead to nothing? + +I am glad I gave you that key. It was given thoughtlessly, when I was in +a bubble of joy. But if you have kept it, it speaks to you every day. + +Sophie Saint-Michel told me man sometimes piles all his tokens in a +retrospective heap, and says, "Who the deuce gave me this or that?" + +Sophie's father used to be so enraged at his wife and daughter because +he could not restore their lost comforts. But this is really a better +disposition than a mean subservience to misfortune. + +The children love to have me dance gavottes for them. Some of their +mothers consider it levity. Still they feel the need of a little levity +themselves. + +We had a great festival when the wild roses were fully in bloom. The +prairie is called a mile square, and wherever a plow has not struck, +acres of wild roses grow. They hedge us from the woods like a parapet +edging a court. These volunteers are very thorny, bearing tender claws +to protect themselves with. But I am nimble with my scissors. + +We took the Jordan oxen, a meek pair that have broken sod for the +colony, and twined them with garlands of wild roses. Around and around +their horns, and around and around their bodies the long ropes were +wound, their master standing by with his goad. That we wound also, and +covered his hat with roses. The huge oxen swayed aside, looking ashamed +of themselves. And when their tails were ornamented with a bunch at the +tip, they switched these pathetically. Still even an ox loves festivity, +whether he owns to it or not. We made a procession, child behind child, +each bearing on his head all the roses he could carry, the two oxen +walking tandem, led by their master in front. Everybody came out and +laughed. It was a beautiful sight, and cheered us, though we gave it no +name except the Procession of Roses. + +Often when I open my eyes at dawn I hear music far off that makes my +heart swell. It is the waking dream of a king marching with drums and +bugles. While I am dressing I hum, "Oh, Richard, O my king!" + +Louis! Louis! Louis! + +I cannot--I cannot keep it down! How can I hold still that righteousness +may be done through me, when I love--love--love--when I clench my fists +and walk on my knees-- + +I am a wicked woman! What is all this sweet pretense of duty! It covers +the hypocrite that loves--that starves--that cries, My king!--my king! + +Strike me!--drive me within bounds! This long repression--years, years +of waiting--for what?--for more waiting!--it is driving me mad! + +You have the key. + +I have nothing! + + + + +IX + + +My God! What had she seen in me to love? I sat up and held the book +against my bosom. Its cry out of her past filled the world from horizon +to horizon. The ox that she had wreathed in roses would have heard it +through her silence. But the brutal, slow Bourbon had gone his way, +turning his stupid head from side to side, leaving her to perish. + +Punctuated by years, bursting from eternities of suppression, it brought +an accumulated force that swept the soul out of my body. + +All that had not been written in the book was as easily read as what was +set down. I saw the monotony of her life, and her gilding of its +rudeness, the pastimes she thought out for children; I saw her nursing +the helplessness which leaned upon her, and turning aside the contempt +of pioneer women who passionately admired strong men. I saw her eyes +waiting on the distant laggard who stupidly pursued his own affairs +until it was too late to protect her. I read the entries over and over. +When day broke it seemed to me the morning after my own death, such +knowing and experiencing had passed through me. I could not see her +again until I had command of myself. + +So I dressed and went silently down stairs. The Pawnees were stirring +in the kitchen. I got some bread and meat from them, and also some grain +for the horse; then mounted and rode to the river. + +The ferryman lived near the old stockade. Some time always passed after +he saw the signals before the deliberate Frenchman responded. I led my +horse upon the unwieldly craft propelled by two huge oars, which the +ferryman managed, running from one to another according to the swing of +the current. It was broad day when we reached the other shore; one of +those days, gray overhead, when moisture breaks upward through the +ground, instead of descending. Many light clouds flitted under the +grayness. The grass showed with a kind of green blush through its old +brown fleece. + +I saw the first sailing vessel of spring coming to anchor, from the +straits of the great lakes. Once I would have hailed that vessel as +possible bearer of news. Now it could bring me nothing of any +importance. + +The trail along the Fox river led over rolling land, dipping into coves +and rising over hills. The Fox, steel blue in the shade, becomes tawny +as its namesake when its fur of rough waves is combed to redness in the +sunlight. Under grayness, with a soft wind blowing, the Fox showed his +blue coat. + +The prospect was so large, with a ridge running along in the distance, +and open country spreading away on the other side, that I often turned +in my saddle and looked back over the half-wooded trail. I thought I saw +a figure walking a long way behind me, and being alone, tried to +discern what it was. But under that gray sky nothing was sharply +defined. I rode on thinking of the book in the breast of my coat. + +It was certain I was not to marry. And being without breakfast and +unstimulated by the sky, I began to think also what unstable material I +had taken in hand when I undertook to work with Indians. Instinctively I +knew then what a young southern statesman named Jefferson Davis whom I +first met as a commandant of the fort at Green Bay--afterwards told me +in Washington: "No commonwealth in a republic will stand with interests +apart from the federated whole." White men, who have exclaimed from the +beginning against the injustice done the red man, and who keep on +pitying and exterminating him, made a federated whole with interests +apart from his. + +Again when I looked back I saw the figure, but it was afoot, and I soon +lost it in a cove. + +My house had been left undisturbed by hunters and Indians through the +winter. I tied the horse to a gallery post and unfastened the door. A +pile of refuse timbers offered wood for a fire, and I carried in several +loads of it, and lighted the virgin chimney. Then I brought water from +the spring and ate breakfast, sitting before the fire and thinking a +little wearily and bitterly of my prospect in life. + +Having fed my horse, I covered the fire, leaving a good store of fuel by +the hearth, and rode away toward the Menominee and Winnebago lands. + +The day was a hard one, and when I came back towards nightfall I was +glad to stop with the officers of the stockade and share their mess. + +"You looked fagged," said one of them. + +"The horse paths are heavy," I answered, "and I have been as far as the +Indian lands." + +I had been as far as that remote time when Eagle was not a Cloud-Mother. +To cross the river and see her smiling in meaningless happiness seemed +more than I could do. + +Yet she might notice my absence. We had been housed together ever since +she had discovered me. Our walks and rides, our fireside talks and +evening diversions were never separate. At Pierre Grignon's the family +flocked in companies. When the padlocked book sent me out of the house I +forgot that she was used to my presence and might be disturbed by an +absence no one could explain. + +"The first sailing vessel is in from the straits," said the lieutenant. + +"Yes, I saw her come to anchor as I rode out this morning." + +"She brought a passenger." + +"Anybody of importance?" + +"At first blush, no. At second blush, yes." + +"Why 'no' at first blush?" + +"Because he is only a priest." + +"Only a priest, haughty officer! Are civilians and churchmen dirt under +army feet?" + +The lieutenant grinned. + +"When you see a missionary priest landing to confess a lot of +Canadians, he doesn't seem quite so important, as a prelate from Ghent, +for instance." + +"Is this passenger a prelate from Ghent?" + +"That is where the second blush comes in. He is." + +"How do you know?" + +"I saw him, and talked with him." + +"What is he doing in Green Bay?" + +"Looking at the country. He was inquiring for you." + +"For me!" + +"Yes." + +"What could a prelate from Ghent want with me?" + +"Says he wants to make inquiries about the native tribes." + +"Oh! Did you recommend me as an expert in native tribes?" + +"Naturally. But not until he asked if you were here." + +"He mentioned my name?" + +"Yes. He wanted to see you. You'll not have to step out of your way to +gratify him." + +"From that I infer there is a new face at Pierre Grignon's." + +"Your inference is correct. The Grignons always lodge the priests, and a +great man like this one will be certainly quartered with them." + +"What is he like?" + +"A smooth and easy gentleman." + +"In a cassock?" + +"Tell a poor post lieutenant what a cassock is." + +"The long-skirted black coat reaching to the heels." + +"Our missionary priests don't wear it here. He has the bands and broad +hat and general appearance of a priest, but his coat isn't very long." + +"Then he has laid aside the cassock while traveling through this +country." + +The prelate from Ghent, no doubt a common priest, that the lieutenant +undertook to dignify, slipped directly out of my mind. + +Madame Ursule was waiting for me, on the gallery with fluted pillars at +the front of the house. + +"M's'r Williams, where is Madeleine?" + +Her anxiety vibrated through the darkness. + +"Isn't she here, madame?" + +"She has not been seen to-day." + +We stood in silence, then began to speak together. + +"But, madame--" + +"M's'r Williams--" + +"I went away early--" + +"When I heard from the Pawnees that you had gone off on horseback so +early I thought it possible you might have taken her with you." + +"Madame, how could I do that?" + +"Of course you wouldn't have done that. But we can't find her. We've +inquired all over La Baye. She left the house when no one saw her. She +was never out after nightfall before." + +"But, madame, she must be here!" + +"Oh, m's'r, my hope was that you knew where she is--she has followed you +about so! The poor child may be at the bottom of the river!" + +"She can't be at the bottom of the river!" I retorted. + +The girls ran out. They were dressed for a dance, and drew gauzy scarfs +around their anxious faces. The house had been searched from ground to +attic more than once. They were sure she must be hiding from them. + +I remembered the figure that appeared to me on the trail. My heart +stopped. I could not humiliate my Cloud-Mother by placing her before +them in the act of tracking me like a dog. I could not tell any one +about it, but asked for Skenedonk. + +The Indian had been out on the river in a canoe. He came silently, and +stood near me. The book was between us. I had it in the breast of my +coat, and he had it on his conscience. + +"Bring out your horse and get me a fresh one," I said. + +"Where shall I find one?" + +"Pierre will give you one of ours," said Madame Ursule. "But you must +eat." + +"I had my supper with the officers of the fort, madame. I would have +made a briefer stay if I had known what had happened on this side of the +river." + +"I forgot to tell you, M's'r Williams, there is an abbé here from +Europe. He asked for you." + +"I cannot see him to-night." + +Skenedonk drew near me to speak, but I was impatient of any delay. We +went into the house, and Madame Ursule said she would bring a blanket +and some food to strap behind my saddle. The girls helped her. There was +a hush through the jolly house. The master bustled out of the family +room. I saw behind him, standing as he had stood at Mittau, a priest of +fine and sweet presence, waiting for Pierre Grignon to speak the words +of introduction. + +"It is like seeing France again!" exclaimed the master of the house. +"Abbé Edgeworth, this is M's'r Williams." + +"Monsieur," said the abbé to me with perfect courtesy, "believe me, I am +glad to see you." + +"Monsieur," I answered, giving him as brief notice as he had given me in +Mittau, yet without rancor;--there was no room in me for that. "You have +unerringly found the best house in the Illinois Territory, and I leave +you to the enjoyment of it." + +"You are leaving the house, monsieur?" + +"I find I am obliged to make a short journey." + +"I have made a long one, monsieur. It may be best to tell you that I +come charged with a message for you." + +I thought of Madame d'Angoulęme. The sister who had been mine for a few +minutes, and from whom this priest had cast me out, declaring that God +had smitten the pretender when my eclipse laid me at his +feet--remembered me in her second exile, perhaps believed in me still. +Women put wonderful restraints upon themselves. + +Abbé Edgeworth and I looked steadily at each other. + +"I hope Madame d'Angoulęme is well?" + +"She is well, and is still the comforter of his Majesty's misfortune." + +"Monsieur the Abbé, a message would need to be very urgent to be +listened to to-night. I will give you audience in the morning, or when I +return." + +We both bowed again. I took Pierre Grignon into the hall for counsel. + +In the end he rode with me, for we concluded to send Skenedonk with a +party along the east shore. + +Though searching for the lost is an experience old as the world, its +poignancy was new to me. I saw Eagle tangled in the wild oats of the +river. I saw her treacherously dealt with by Indians who called +themselves at peace. I saw her wandering out and out, mile beyond mile, +to undwelt-in places, and the tender mercy of wolves. + +We crossed the ferry and took to the trail, Pierre Grignon talking +cheerfully. + +"Nothing has happened to her, M's'r Williams," he insisted. "No Indian +about La Baye would hurt her, and the child is not so crazy as to hurt +herself." + +It was a starless night, muffled overhead as the day had been, but +without rain or mist. He had a lantern hanging at his saddle bow, ready +to light. In the open lands we rode side by side, but through growths +along the Fox first one and then the other led the way. + +We found my door unfastened. I remembered for the first time I had not +locked it. Some one had been in the house. A low fire burned in the +chimney. We stirred it and lighted the lantern. Footprints not our own +had dried white upon the smooth dark floor. + +They pointed to the fireplace and out again. They had been made by a +woman's feet. + +We descended the hill to the river, and tossed our light through every +bush, the lantern blinking in the wind. We explored the ravine, the +light stealing over white birches that glistened like alabaster. It was +no use to call her name. She might be hidden behind a rock laughing at +us. We had to surprise her to recover her. Skenedonk would have traced +her where we lost the trail. + +When we went back to the house, dejected with physical weariness, I +unstrapped the blanket and the food which Madame Ursule had sent, and +brought them to Pierre Grignon. He threw the blanket on the settee, laid +out bread and meat on the table, and ate, both of us blaming ourselves +for sending the Indian on the other side of the river. + +We traced the hard route which I had followed the day before, and +reached Green Bay about dawn. Pierre Grignon went to bed exhausted. I +had some breakfast and waited for Skenedonk. He had not returned, but +had sent one man back to say there was no clue. The meal was like a +passover eaten in haste. I could not wait, but set out again, with a +pillion which I had carried uselessly in the night strapped again upon +the horse for her seat, in case I found her; and leaving word for the +Oneida to follow. + +I had forgotten there was such a person as Abbé Edgeworth, when he led a +horse upon the ferry boat. + +"You ride early as well as late. May I join you?" + +"I ride on a search which cannot interest you, monsieur." + +"You are mistaken. I understand what has disturbed the house, and I want +to ride with you." + +"It will be hard for a horseman accustomed to avenues." + +"It will suit me perfectly." + +It did not suit me at all, but he took my coldness with entire courtesy. + +"Have you breakfasted, monsieur?" + +"I had my usual slice of bread and cup of water before rising," he +answered. + +Again I led on the weary trail to my house. Abbé Edgeworth galloped +well, keeping beside me where there was room, or riding behind where +there was not. The air blew soft, and great shadow clouds ran in an +upper current across the deepest blueness I had seen in many a day. The +sun showed beyond rows of hills. + +I bethought myself to ask the priest if he knew anything about Count de +Chaumont. He answered very simply and directly that he did; that I might +remember Count de Chaumont was mentioned in Mittau. The count, he said, +according to common report, had retired with his daughter and his +son-in-law to Blois, where he was vigorously rebuilding his ruined +chateau of Chaumont. + +If my mind had been upon the priest, I should have wondered what he came +for. He did not press his message. + +"The court is again in exile?" I said, when we could ride abreast. + +"At Ghent." + +"Bellenger visited me last September. He was without a dauphin." + +"We could supply the deficiency," Abbé Edgeworth pleasantly replied. + +"With the boy he left in Europe?" + +"Oh, dear no. With royal dukes. You observed his majesty could not +pension a helpless idiot without encouraging dauphins. These dauphins +are thicker than blackberries. The dauphin myth has become so common +that whenever we see a beggar approaching, we say, 'There comes another +dauphin.' One of them is a fellow who calls himself the Duke of +Richemont. He has followers who believe absolutely in him. Somebody, +seeing him asleep, declared it was the face of the dead king!" + +I felt stung, remembering the Marquis du Plessy's words. + +"Oh, yes, yes," said Abbé Edgeworth. "He has visions too. Half memories, +when the face of his mother comes back to him!" + +"What about his scars?" I asked hardily. + +"Scars! yes, I am told he has the proper stigmata of the dauphin. He was +taken out of the Temple prison; a dying boy being substituted for him +there. We all know the dauphin's physician died suddenly; some say he +was poisoned; and a new physician attended the boy who died in the +Temple. Of course the priest who received the child's confession should +have known a dauphin when he saw one. But that's neither here nor there. +We lived then in surprising times." + +"Madame d'Angoulęme would recognize him as her brother if she saw him?" +I suggested. + +"I think she is not so open to tokens as at one time. Women's hearts are +tender. The Duchess d'Angoulęme could never be convinced that her +brother died." + +"But others, including her uncle, were convinced?" + +"The Duke of Richemont was not. What do you yourself think, Monsieur +Williams?" + +"I think that the man who is out is an infinite joke. He tickles the +whole world. People have a right to laugh at a man who cannot prove he +is what he says he is. The difference between a pretender and a usurper +is the difference between the top of the hill and the bottom." + +The morning sun showed the white mortar ribs of my homestead clean and +fair betwixt hewed logs; and brightened the inside of the entrance or +hall room. For I saw the door stood open. It had been left unfastened +but not ajar. Somebody was in the house. + +I told Abbé Edgeworth we would dismount and tie our horses a little +distance away. And I asked him to wait outside and let me enter alone. + +He obligingly sauntered on the hill overlooking the Fox; I stepped upon +the gallery and looked in. + +The sweep of a gray dress showed in front of the settle. Eagle was +there. I stood still. + +She had put on more wood. Fire crackled in the chimney. I saw, and +seemed to have known all night, that she had taken pieces of unbroken +bread and meat left by Pierre Grignon on my table; that her shoes were +cleaned and drying in front of the fire; that she must have carried her +dress above contact with the soft ground. + +When I asked Abbé Edgeworth not to come in, her dread of strangers +influenced me less than a desire to protect her from his eyes, haggard +and draggled as she probably was. The instinct which made her keep her +body like a temple had not failed under the strong excitement that drove +her out. Whether she slept under a bush, or not at all, or took to the +house after Pierre Grignon and I left it, she was resting quietly on the +settle before the fireplace, without a stain of mud upon her. + +I could see nothing but the foot of her dress. Had any change passed +over her face? Or had the undisturbed smile of my Cloud-Mother followed +me on the road? + +Perhaps the cloud had thickened. Perhaps thunders and lightnings moved +within it. Sane people sometimes turn wild after being lost, running +from their friends, and fighting against being restrained and brought +home. + +The gray dress in front of my hearth I could not see without a heaving +of the breast. + + + + +X. + + +How a man's life is drawn, turned, shaped, by a woman! He may deny it. +He may swagger and lie about it. Heredity, ambition, lust, noble +aspirations, weak self-indulgence, power, failure, success, have their +turns with him. But the woman he desires above all others, whose breast +is his true home, makes him, mars him. + +Had she cast herself on the settle exhausted and ill after exposure? +Should I find her muttering and helpless? Worse than all, had the night +made her forget that she was a Cloud-Mother? + +I drew my breath with an audible sound in the throat. Her dress stirred. +She leaned around the edge of the settle. + +Eagle de Ferrier, not my Cloud-Mother, looked at me. Her features were +pinched from exposure, but flooded themselves instantly with a blush. +She snatched her shoes from the hearth and drew them on. + +I was taken with such a trembling that I held to a gallery post. + +Suppose this glimpse of herself had been given to me only to be +withdrawn! I was afraid to speak, and waited. + +She stood up facing me. + +"Louis!" + +"Madame!" + +"What is the matter, sire?" + +"Nothing, madame, nothing." + +"Where is Paul?" + +I did not know what to do, and looked at her completely helpless; for if +I told her Paul was dead, she might relapse; and evasions must be +temporary. + +"The Indian took him," she cried. + +"But the Indian didn't kill him, Eagle." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because Paul came to me." + +"He came to you? Where?" + +"At Fort Stephenson." + +"Where is my child?" + +"He is at Fort Stephenson." + +"Bring him to me!" + +"I can't bring him, Eagle." + +"Then let me go to him." + +I did not know what to say to her. + +"And there were Cousin Philippe and Ernestine lying across the step. I +have been thinking all night. Do you understand it?" + +"Yes, I understand it, Eagle." + +By the time I had come into the house her mind leaped forward in +comprehension. The blanket she had held on her shoulders fell around her +feet. It was a striped gay Indian blanket. + +"You were attacked, and the settlement was burned." + +"But whose house is this?" + +"This is my house." + +"Did you bring me to your house?" + +"I wasn't there." + +"No, I remember. You were not there. I saw you the last time at the +Tuileries." + +"When did you come to yourself, madame?" + +"I have been sick, haven't I? But I have been sitting by this fire +nearly all night, trying to understand. I knew I was alone, because +Cousin Philippe and Ernestine--I want Paul!" + +I looked at the floor, and must have appeared miserable. She passed her +hands back over her forehead many times as if brushing something away. +"If he died, tell me." + +"I held him, Eagle." + +"They didn't kill him?" + +"No." + +"Or scalp him?" + +"The knife never touched him." + +"But--" + +"It was in battle." + +"My child died in battle? How long have I been ill?" + +"More than a year, Eagle." + +"And he died in battle?" + +"He had a wound in his side. He was brought into the fort, and I took +care of him." + +She burst out weeping, and laughed and wept, the tears running down her +face and wetting her bosom. + +"My boy! My little son! You held him! He died like a man!" + +I put her on the settle, and all the cloud left her in that tempest of +rain. Afterwards I wiped her face with my handkerchief and she sat erect +and still. + +A noise of many birds came from the ravine, and winged bodies darted +past the door uttering the cries of spring. Abbé Edgeworth sauntered by +and she saw him, and was startled. + +"Who is that?" + +"A priest." + +"When did he come?" + +"He rode here with me this morning." + +"Louis," she asked, leaning back, "who took care of me?" + +"You have been with the Grignons since you came to the Illinois +Territory." + +"Am I in the Illinois Territory?" + +"Yes, I found you with the Grignons." + +"They must be kind people!" + +"They are; the earth's salt." + +"But who brought me to the Illinois Territory?" + +"A family named Jordan." + +"The Indians didn't kill them?" + +"No." + +"Why wasn't I killed?" + +"The Indians regarded you with superstition." + +"What have I said and done?" + +"Nothing, madame, that need give you any uneasiness." + +"But what did I say?" she insisted. + +"You thought you were a Cloud-Mother." + +"A Cloud-Mother!" She was astonished and asked, "What is a +Cloud-Mother?" + +"You thought I was Paul, and you were my Cloud-Mother." + +"Did I say such a foolish thing as that?" + +"Don't call it foolish, madame." + +"I hope you will forget it." + +"I don't want to forget it." + +"But why are you in Illinois Territory, sire?" + +"I came to find land for the Iroquois. I intend to make a state with the +tribe." + +"But what of France?" + +"Oh, France is over supplied with men who want to make a state of her. +Louis XVIII has been on the throne eleven months, and was recently +chased off by Napoleon. + +"Louis XVIII on the throne? Did true loyalists suffer that?" + +"Evidently." + +"Sire, what became of Napoleon?" + +"He was beaten by the allies and sent to Elba. Louis XVIII was brought +in with processions. But in about eleven months Napoleon made a dash +across France--" + +"Tell me slowly. You say I have been ill more than a year. I know +nothing of what has happened." + +"Napoleon escaped from Elba, made a dash across France, and incidentally +swept the Bourbon off the throne. The last news from Europe shows him +gathering armies to meet the allies." + +"Oh, sire, you should have been there!" + +"Abbé Edgeworth suggests that France is well supplied with dauphins +also. Turning off dauphins has been a pastime at court." + +"Abbé Edgeworth? You do not mean the priest you saw at Mittau? + +"Confessor and almoner to his majesty. The same man." + +"Is he here?" + +"You saw him pass the door." + +"Why has he come to America?" + +"I have not inquired." + +"Why is he here with you?" + +"Because it pleases him, not me." + +"He brings you some message?" + +"So he says." + +"What is it?" + +"I have not had time to ask." + +She stood up. As she became more herself and the spirit rushed forward +in her face, I saw how her beauty had ripened. Hoeing corn and washing +in the river does not coarsen well-born women. I knew I should feel the +sweetness of her presence stinging through me and following me wherever +I went in the world. + +"Call the priest in, sire. I am afraid I have hindered the interview." + +"I did not meet him with my arms open, madame." + +"But you would have heard what he had to say, if I had not been in your +house. Why am I in your house?" + +"You came here." + +"Was I wandering about by myself?" + +"Yes, madame." + +"I thought I must have been walking. When I came to myself I was so +tired, and my shoes were muddy. If you want to see the priest I will go +into another room." + +"No, I will bring him in and let him give his message in your presence." + +When Abbé Edgeworth was presented to her, he slightly raised his +eyebrows, but expressed no astonishment at meeting her lucid eyes. Nor +did I explain--"God has given her back her senses in a night." + +The position in which she found herself was trying. She made him a grave +courtesy. My house might have been the chateau in which she was born, so +undisturbed was her manner. Her night wandering and mind-sickness were +simply put behind us in the past, with her having taken refuge in my +house, as matters which need not concern Abbé Edgeworth. He did not +concern himself with them, but bent before her as if he had no doubt of +her sanity. + +I asked her to resume her place on the settle. There was a stool for the +abbé and one for myself. We could see the river glinting in its valley, +and the windrows of heights beyond it. A wild bee darted into the room, +droning, and out again, the sun upon its back. + +"Monsieur," I said to Abbé Edgeworth, "I am ready now to hear the +message which you mentioned to me last night." + +"If madame will pardon me," he answered, "I will ask you to take me +where we can confer alone." + +"It is not necessary, monsieur. Madame de Ferrier knows my whole story." + +But the priest moved his shoulders. + +"I followed you in this remote place, monsieur, that we might talk +together without interruption, unembarrassed by any witness." + +Madame de Ferrier rose. I put her into her seat again with authority. + +"It is my wish, madame, to have at least one witness with Abbé Edgeworth +and myself." + +"I hope," he protested, "that madame will believe there can be no +objection to her presence. I am simply following instructions. I was +instructed to deliver my message in private." + +"Monsieur," Eagle answered, "I would gladly withdraw to another room." + +"I forbid it, madame," I said to her. + +"Very well," yielded Abbé Edgeworth. + +He took a folded paper from his bosom, and spoke to me with startling +sharpness. + +"You think I should address you as Monseigneur, as the dauphin of France +should be addressed?" + +"I do not press my rights. If I did, monsieur the abbé, you would not +have the right to sit in my presence." + +"Suppose we humor your fancy. I will address you as Monseigneur. Let us +even go a little farther and assume that you are known to be the dauphin +of France by witnesses who have never lost track of you. In that case, +Monseigneur, would you put your name to a paper resigning all claim upon +the throne?" + +"Is this your message?" + +"We have not yet come to the message." + +"Let us first come to the dauphin. When dauphins are as plentiful as +blackberries in France and the court never sees a beggar appear without +exclaiming: 'Here comes another dauphin!'--why, may I ask, is Abbé +Edgeworth sent so far to seek one?" + +He smiled. + +"We are supposing that Monseigneur, in whose presence I have the honor +to be, is the true dauphin." + +"That being the case, how are we to account for the true dauphin's +reception at Mittau?" + +"The gross stupidity and many blunders of agents that the court was +obliged to employ, need hardly be assumed." + +"Poor Bellenger! He has to take abuse from both sides in order that we +may be polite to each other." + +"As Monseigneur suggests, we will not go into that matter." + +Eagle sat as erect as a statue and as white. + +I felt an instant's anxiety. Yet she had herself entirely at command. + +"We have now arrived at the paper, I trust," said the priest. + +"The message?" + +"Oh, no. The paper in which you resign all claim to the throne of +France, and which may give you the price of a principality in this +country." + +"I do not sign any such paper." + +"Not at all?" + +"Not at all." + +"You are determined to hold to your rights?" + +"I am determined not to part with my rights." + +"Inducements large enough might be offered." He paused suggestively. + +"The only man in France," I said, "empowered to treat for abdication of +the throne at present, is Napoleon Bonaparte. Did you bring a message +from him?" + +Abbé Edgeworth winced, but laughed. + +"Napoleon Bonaparte will not last. All Europe is against him. I see we +have arrived at the message." + +He rose and handed me the paper he held in his hand. I rose and received +it, and read it standing. + +It was one brief line:-- + + "Louis: You are recalled. + Marie-Therese." + +The blood must have rushed over my face. I had a submerged feeling, +looking out of it at the priest. + +"Well, Monseigneur?" + +"It is like her heavenly goodness." + +"Do you see nothing but her heavenly goodness in it?" + +"This is the message?" + +"It is a message I crossed the ocean to bring." + +"With the consent of her uncle?" + +"Madame d'Angoulęme never expresses a wish contrary to the wishes of his +majesty." + +"We are then to suppose that Louis XVIII offers me, through you, +monsieur, the opportunity to sign away my rights, and failing that, the +opportunity of taking them?" + +"Supposing you are Monseigneur the dauphin, we will let our supposition +run as far as this." + +I saw distinctly the position of Louis XVIII. Marquis du Plessy had told +me he was a mass of superstition. No doubt he had behaved, as Bellenger +said, for the good of the royalist cause. But the sanction of heaven was +not on his behavior. Bonaparte was let loose on him like the dragon from +the pit. And Frenchmen, after yawning eleven months or so in the king's +august face, threw up their hats for the dragon. In his second exile the +inner shadow and the shadow of age combined against him. He had tasted +royalty. It was not as good as he had once thought. Beside him always, +he saw the face of Marie-Therese. She never forgot the hushed mystery of +her brother. Her silence and obedience to the crown, her loyalty to +juggling and evasion, were more powerful than resistance. + +A young man, brought suddenly before the jaded nation and proclaimed at +an opportune moment, might be a successful toy. The sore old king would +oil more than the royalist cause, and the blessing of heaven would +descend on one who restored the veritable dauphin. + +I never have seen the most stupid man doubt his power to ride if +somebody hoists him into the saddle. + +"Let us go farther with our suppositions," I said. "Suppose I decline?" + +I heard Madame de Ferrier gasp. + +The priest raised his eyebrows. + +"In that case you will be quite willing to give me a signed paper +declaring your reasons." + +"I sign no paper." + +"Let me suggest that Monseigneur is not consistent. He neither resigns +his supposed rights nor will he exercise them." + +"I will neither resign them nor exercise them." + +"This is virtually resigning them." + +"The abbé will pardon me for saying it is not. My rights are mine, +whether I use them or not." + +"Monseigneur understands that opportunity is a visitor that comes but +once." + +"I understand that the most extraordinary thing has happened to-day that +will ever go unrecorded in history. One Bourbon offers to give away a +throne he has lost and another Bourbon refuses it." + +"You may well say it will go unrecorded in history. Excepting this +lady,"--the abbé bowed toward Eagle,--"there is no witness." + +"Wise precautions have been taken," I agreed. "This scrap of paper may +mean anything or nothing." + +"You decline?" he repeated. + +"I think France is done with the Bourbons, monsieur the abbé. A fine +spectacle they have made of themselves, cooling their heels all over +Europe, waiting for Napoleon's shoes! Will I go sneaking and trembling +to range myself among impotent kings and wrangle over a country that +wants none of us? No, I never will! I see where my father slipped. I see +where the eighteenth Louis slipped. I am a man tenacious beyond belief. +You cannot loose my grip when I take hold. But I never have taken hold, +I never will take hold--of my native country, struggling as she is to +throw off hereditary rule!" + +"You are an American!" said Abbé Edgeworth contemptuously. + +"If France called to me out of need, I would fight for her. A lifetime +of peaceful years I would toss away in a minute to die in one achieving +battle for her. But she neither calls me nor needs me. A king is not +simply an appearance--a continuation of hereditary rights!" + +"Your position is incredible," said the priest. + +"I do not belittle the prospect you open before me. I see the practical +difficulties, but I see well the magnificence beyond them." + +"Then why do you hesitate?" + +"I don't hesitate. A man is contemptible who stands shivering and +longing outside of what he dare not attempt. I would dare if I longed. +But I don't long." + +"Monseigneur believes there will be complications?" + +"I know my own obstinacy. A man who tried to work me with strings behind +a throne, would think he was struck by lightning." + +"Sire," Madame de Ferrier spoke out, "this is the hour of your life. +Take your kingdom." + +"I should have to take it, madame, if I got it. My uncle of Provence has +nothing to give me. He merely says--'My dear dauphin, if Europe knocks +Napoleon down, will you kindly take hold of a crank which is too heavy +for me, and turn it for the good of the Bourbons? We may thus keep the +royal machine in the family!'" + +"You have given no adequate reason for declining this offer," said the +priest. + +"I will give no reason. I simply decline." + +"Is this the explanation that I shall make to Madame d'Angoulęme? Think +of the tender sister who says--'Louis, you are recalled!" + +"I do think of her. God bless her!" + +"Must I tell her that Monseigneur planted his feet like one of these +wild cattle, and wheeled, and fled from the contemplation of a throne?" + +"You will dress it up in your own felicitous way, monsieur." + +"What do you wish me to say?" + +"That I decline. I have not pressed the embarrassing question of why I +was not recalled long ago. I reserve to myself the privilege of +declining without saying why I decline." + +"He must be made to change his mind, monsieur!" Madame de Ferrier +exclaimed. + +"I am not a man that changes his mind every time the clock strikes." + +I took the padlocked book out of my breast and laid it upon the table. I +looked at the priest, not at her. The padlocked book seemed to have no +more to do with the conversation, than a hat or a pair of gloves. + +I saw, as one sees from the side of the eye, the scarlet rush of blood +and the snow-white rush of pallor which covered her one after the other. +The moment was too strenuous. I could not spare her. She had to bear it +with me. + +She set her clenched hands on her knees. + +"Sire!" + +I faced her. The coldest look I ever saw in her gray eyes repelled me, +as she deliberately said-- + +"You are not such a fool!" + +I stared back as coldly and sternly, and deliberately answered-- + +"I am--just--such a fool!" + +"Consider how any person who might be to blame for your decision, would +despise you for it afterwards!" + +"A boy in the first flush of his youth," Abbé Edgeworth said, his fine +jaws squared with a grin, "might throw away a kingdom for some woman who +took his fancy, and whom he could not have perhaps, unless he did throw +his kingdom away. And after he had done it he would hate the woman. But +a young man in his strength doesn't do such things!" + +"A king who hasn't spirit to be a king!" Madame de Ferrier mocked. + +I mercilessly faced her down. + +"What is there about me? Sum me up. I am robbed on every side by any one +who cares to fleece me. Whenever I am about to accomplish anything I +fall down as if knocked on the head!" + +She rose from her seat. + +"You let yourself be robbed because you are princely! You have plainly +left behind you every weakness of your childhood. Look at him in his +strength, Monsieur Abbé! He has sucked in the vigor of a new country! +The failing power of an old line of kings is renewed in him! You could +not have nourished such a dauphin for France in your exiled court! +Burying in the American soil has developed what you see for +yourself--the king!" + +"He is a handsome man," Abbé Edgeworth quietly admitted. + +"Oh, let his beauty alone! Look at his manhood--his kinghood!" + +"Of what use is his kinghood if he will not exercise it?" + +"He must!" + +She turned upon me fiercely. + +"Have you no ambition?" + +"Yes, madame. But there are several kinds of ambition, as there are +several kinds of success. You have to knock people down with each kind, +if you want it acknowledged. As I told you awhile ago, I am tenacious +beyond belief, and shall succeed in what I undertake." + +"What are you undertaking?" + +"I am not undertaking to mount a throne." + +"I cannot believe it! Where is there a man who would turn from what is +offered you? Consider the life before you in this country. Compare it +with the life you are throwing away." She joined her hands. "Sire, the +men of my house who fought for the kings of yours, plead through me that +you will take your inheritance." + +I kept my eyes on Abbé Edgeworth. He considered the padlocked book as an +object directly in his line of vision. Its wooden covers and small metal +padlock attracted the secondary attention we bestow on trifles when we +are at great issues. + +I answered her, + +"The men of your house--and the women of your house, madame--cannot +dictate what kings of my house should do in this day." + +"Well as you appear to know him, madame," said Abbé Edgeworth, "and +loyally as you urge him, your efforts are wasted." + +She next accused me-- + +"You hesitate on account of the Indians!" + +"If there were no Indians in America, I should do just as I am doing." + +"All men," the abbé noted, "hold in contempt a man who will not grasp +power when he can." + +"Why should I grasp power? I have it in myself. I am using it." + +"Using it to ruin yourself!" she cried. + +"Monseigneur!" The abbé rose. We stood eye to eye. "I was at the side of +the king your father upon the scaffold. My hand held to his lips the +crucifix of our Lord Jesus Christ. In his death no word of bitterness +escaped him. True son of St. Louis, he supremely loved France. Upon you +he laid injunction to leave to God alone the punishment of regicides, +and to devote your life to the welfare of all Frenchmen. Monseigneur! +are you deaf to this call of sacred duty? The voice of your father from +the scaffold, in this hour when the fortunes of your house are lowest, +bids you take your rightful place and rid your people of the usurper who +grinds France and Europe into the blood-stained earth!" + +I wheeled and walked across the floor from Abbé Edgeworth, and turned +again and faced him. + +"Monsieur, you have put a dart through me. If anything in the universe +could move me from my position, what you have said would do it. But my +father's blood cries through me to-day--'Shall the son of Louis XVI be +forced down the unwilling throats of his countrymen by foreign +bayonets?--Russians--Germans--English!--Shall the dauphin of France be +hoisted to place by the alien?'--My father would forbid it! . . . You +appeal to my family love. I bear about with me everywhere the pictured +faces of my family. The father whose name you invoke, is always close to +my heart. That royal duchess, whom you are privileged to see daily, +monsieur, and I--never--is so dear and sacred to me that I think of her +with a prayer. . . . But my life is here. . . . Monsieur, in this new +world, no man can say to me--'Come,' or 'Go.' I am as free as the Indian. +But the pretender to the throne of France, the puppet of Russia, of +England, of the enemies of my country,--a slave to policy and intrigue--a +chained wanderer about Europe--O my God! to be such a pretender--gasping +for air--for light--as I gasped in Ste. Pélagie!--O let me be a free +man--a free man!" + +The old churchman whispered over and over-- + +"My royal son!" + +My arms dropped relaxed. + +There was another reason. I did not give it. I would not give it. + +We heard the spring wind following the river channel--and a far faint +call that I knew so well--the triangular wild flock in the upper air, +flying north. + +"Honk! honk!" It was the jubilant cry of freedom! + +"Madame," said Abbé Edgeworth, resting his head on his hands, "I have +seen many stubborn Bourbons, but he is the most obstinate of them all. +We do not make as much impression on him as that little padlocked book." + +Her terrified eyes darted at him--and hid their panic. + +"Monsieur Abbé," she exclaimed piercingly, "tell him no woman will love +him for throwing away a kingdom!" + +The priest began once more. + +"You will not resign your rights?" + +"No." + +"You will not exercise them?" + +"No." + +"If I postpone my departure from to-day until to-morrow, or next week, +or next month, is there any possibility of your reconsidering this +decision?" + +"No." + +"Monseigneur, must I leave you with this answer?" + +"Your staying cannot alter it, Monsieur Abbé." + +"You understand this ends all overtures from France?" + +"I understand." + +"Is there nothing that you would ask?" + +"I would ask Madame d'Angoulęme to remember me." + +[Illustration: "Louis! You are a king! You are a king!"] + +He came forward like a courtier, lifted my hand to his lips, and kissed +it. + +"With your permission, Monseigneur, I will now retire and ride slowly +back along the river until you overtake me. I should like to have some +time for solitary thought." + +"You have my permission, Monsieur Abbé." + +He bowed to Madame de Ferrier, and so moving to the door, he bowed again +to me, and took his leave. + +His horse's impatient start, and his remonstrance as he mounted, came +plainly to our ears. The regular beat of hoofs upon the sward followed; +then an alternating tap-tap of horse's feet diminished down the trail. + +Eagle and I avoided looking at each other. + +A bird inquired through the door with inquisitive chirp, and was away. + +Volcanoes, and whirlwinds, fire, and all force, held themselves +condensed and quiescent in the still room. + +I moved first, laying Marie-Therese's message on the padlocked book. +Standing with folded arms I faced Eagle, and she as stonily faced me. It +was a stare of unspeakable love that counts a thousand years as a day. + +She shuddered from head to foot. Thus a soul might ripple in passing +from its body. + +"I am not worth a kingdom!" her voice wailed through the room. + +I opened my arms and took her. Volcanoes and whirlwinds, fire, and all +force, were under our feet. We trod them breast to breast. + +She held my head between her hands. The tears streamed down her face. + +"Louis!--you are a king!--you are a king!" + + +THE END. + + + + +A LIST OF RECENT FICTION OF THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY + + + + +WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS IN FLOWER + +Over one-quarter of a million copies have been sold of this great +historical love-story of Princess Mary Tudor, sister of Henry VIII. +Price, $1.50 + +ASK YOUR BOOKSELLER FOR IT + + + + +A VIVACIOUS ROMANCE OF REVOLUTIONARY DAYS + +ALICE _of_ OLD VINCENNES + +By MAURICE THOMPSON + +_The Atlanta Constitution says_: + +"Mr. Thompson, whose delightful writings in prose and verse have made +his reputation national, has achieved his master stroke of genius in +this historical novel of revolutionary days in the West." + +_The Denver Daily News says_: + +"There are three great chapters of fiction: Scott's tournament on Ashby +field, General Wallace's chariot race, and now Maurice Thompson's duel +scene and the raising of Alice's flag over old Fort Vincennes." + +_The Chicago Times-Herald says_: + +"More original than 'Richard Carvel,' more cohesive than 'To Have and To +Hold,' more vital than 'Janice Meredith,' such is Maurice Thompson's +superb American romance, 'Alice of Old Vincennes.' 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Relyea + +12mo, Cloth bound + +Price, $1.50 + +_The Chicago Times-Herald says:_ + +"Here are chapters that are Stephen Crane plus sympathy; chapters of +illuminated description fragrant with the atmosphere of art." + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +ANOTHER SUCCESSFUL HISTORICAL NOVEL + +THE BLACK WOLF'S BREED + +By HARRIS DICKSON + +_From the Boston Globe:_ + +"A vigorous tale of France in the old and new world during the reign of +Louis XIV." + +_From the Philadelphia Press:_ + +"As delightfully seductive as certain mint-flavored beverages they make +down South." + +_From the Los Angeles Herald:_ + +"The sword-play is great, even finer than the pictures in 'To Have and +To Hold.'" + +_From the San Francisco Chronicle:_ + +"As fine a piece of sustained adventure as has appeared in recent +fiction." + +_From the St. Louis Globe-Democrat:_ + +"There is action, vivid description and intensely dramatic situations." + +_From the Indianapolis News:_ + +"So full of tender love-making, of gallant fighting, that one regrets +it's no longer." + +Illustrated by C.M. Relyea. Price $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +A FINE STORY OF THE COWBOY AT HIS BEST + +WITH HOOPS _of_ STEEL + +By FLORENCE FINCH KELLY + + "The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, + Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel" + + * * * * * + +_From the San Francisco Chronicle:_ + +"Western men and women will read it because it paints faithfully the +life which they know so well, and because it gives us three big, manly +fellows, fine types of the cowboy at his best. Eastern readers will be +attracted by its splendid realism." + +_From Julian Hawthorne:_ + +"For my own part, I finished it all in one day, and dreamt it over again +that night. And I am an old hand, heaven knows" + +_From the Denver Times:_ + +"Mrs. Kelly's character stands out from the background of the New +Mexican plains, desert and mountain with all the distinctness of a +Remington sketch." + +With six illustrations, in color, by Dan Smith + +Price, $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +A NOVEL OF EARLY NEW YORK + +PATROON VAN VOLKENBERG + +By HENRY THEW STEPHENSON + + * * * * * + +_From the New York Press:_ + +"Many will compare 'Patroon Van Volkenberg,' with its dash, style and +virility, with 'Richard Carvel,' and in that respect they will be right, +as one would compare the strong, sturdy and spreading elm with a slender +sapling." + + +The action of this stirring story begins when New York was a little city +of less than 5,000 inhabitants. + +The Governor has forbidden the port to the free traders or pirate ships, +which sailed boldly under their own flag; while the Patroon and his +merchant colleagues not only traded openly with the buccaneers, but +owned and managed such illicit craft. The story of the clash of these +conflicting interests and the resulting exciting happenings is +absorbing. + +The atmosphere of the tale is fresh in fiction, the plot is stirring and +well knit, and the author is possessed of the ability to write forceful, +fragrant English. + + +_From the Brooklyn Standard-Union:_ + +"The tale is one of vibrant quality. It can not be read at a leisurely +pace. It bears the reader through piratical seas and buccaneering +adventures, through storm and stress of many sorts, but it lands him +safely, and leads him to peace." + +12mo, + +Illustrated in color by C.M. Relyea + +Price, $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +A STORY OF THE MORGAN RAID, DURING THE WAR _of the_ REBELLION + +THE LEGIONARIES + +By HENRY SCOTT CLARK + + * * * * * + +_The Memphis Commercial-appeal says:_ + +"The backbone of the story is Morgan's great raid--one of the most +romantic and reckless pieces of adventure ever attempted in the history +of the world. Mr. Clark's description of the Ride of the Three Thousand +is a piece of literature that deserves to live; and is as fine in its +way as the chariot race from 'Ben Hur.'" + +_The Cincinnati Commercial-Tribune says:_ + +"'The Legionaries' is pervaded with what seems to be the true spirit of +artistic impartiality. The author is simply a narrator. He stands aside, +regarding with equal eye all the issues involved and the scales dip not +in his hands. To sum up, the first romance of the new day on the Ohio is +an eminently readable one--a good yarn well spun." + +_The Rochester Herald says:_ + +"The appearance of a new novel in the West marks an epoch in fiction +relating to the war between the sections for the preservation of the +Union. 'The Legionaries' is a remarkable book, and we can scarcely +credit the assurance that it is the work of a new writer." + +12mo, illustrated Price, $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +THE STORY OF AN AMERICAN CRUCIFIXION + +THE PENITENTES + +By LOUIS HOW + +_The Chicago Record says:_ + +"To describe the customs of this band of intensely religious people, to +retain all the color and picturesqueness of the original scene without +excess, was the difficult task which Mr. How has done well." + +_The Brooklyn Eagle says:_ + +"The author has been fortunate enough to unearth a colossal American +tragedy." + +_The Chicago Tribune says:_ + +"'The Penitentes' abounds in dramatic possibilities. It is full of +action, warm color and variety. The denouement at the little church of +San Rafael, when the soldiers surprise the Penitentes at mass in the +early dawn of their fete day, will appeal strongly to the dramatizer." + +_The Interior says:_ + +"Mr. How has done a truly remarkable piece of work . . . any hand, +however practiced, might well be proud of the marvelously good +descriptions, the dramatic, highly unusual story, the able +characterizations." + +12mo, Cloth, Ornamental + +Price, $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +THE SUBTLE SPIRIT OF THE SEA + +SWEEPERS OF THE SEA + +The Story of a Strange Navy + +By CLAUDE H. WETMORE + + * * * * * + +_From the St. Louis Mirror:_ + +"The recital of the deeds of the 'Sweepers of the Sea' is a breathless +one. The romance is heightened by the realism of the technique of naval +warfare, by the sureness and voluminosity of nautical knowledge." + +_From the Buffalo Review:_ + +"It rivals Stevenson in its ingenuity of plot and dramatic interest." + +_From the Albany Journal:_ + +"There rings the exultant note of tossing billows and a crashing ship." + +_From the Minneapolis Times:_ + +"Mr. Wetmore has the genius of Jules Verne and can make the improbable +seem the actual. In fact, 'Sweepers of the Sea' comes into the class of +important fiction, and as such will be received and read by a +discriminating public." + +Illustrated Price, $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +A STORY TOLD BY A REAL STORYTELLER + +A SON OF AUSTERITY + +By GEORGE KNIGHT + + * * * * * + +Mr. Knight has created a real atmosphere for his men and women to +breathe, and his men and women take deep breaths. They are alive, they +are human, they are real. + +He has a delightful story to tell and knows how to tell it. It is a +story of human life, of possible people in possible situations, living +out their little span of life in that state in which it has pleased God +to call them. + +The reader realizes at once that Mr. Knight is a man who served his +seven years of apprenticeship before opening a shop on his own account. + +The deftness and charm of his literary style, combined with the +absorbing interest of the story, can not but prove a delight to every +reader. + +With a frontispiece by Harrison Fisher + +12mo, Cloth. Price, $1.50 + +_The Liverpool Mercury says:_ + +"This is a book far removed from the ordinary mass of featureless +fiction. There is no gainsaying the strength of characterization and the +command of English language." + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +VIGOROUS, ELEMENTAL, DRAMATIC + +A HEART OF FLAME + +The story of a Master Passion + +BY CHARLES FLEMING EMBREE + +Author of "A Dream of a Throne." + + * * * * * + +The men and women in this story are children of the soil. Their strength +is in their nearness to nature. Their minds are vigorous, their bodies +powerful, their passions elemental, their courage sublime. They are +loyal in friendship, persistent in enmity, determined in purpose. + +The story is a story of great wrongs and of supreme love. It is done in +black and white, with few strokes, but they are masterly. The shadows at +the back are sombre but the value of contrast is appreciated for the +vivid high light in the foreground. + +It is a work of art--powerful, convincing and abiding. Powerful, because +true to life; convincing, for it has the saving touch of humor; and +abiding because love, like "A Heart of Flame," prevails in the end. + +With illustrations by Dan Smith + +12mo. cloth. Price, $1.50. + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAZARRE*** + + +******* This file should be named 15108-8.txt or 15108-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/1/0/15108 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Lazarre</p> +<p>Author: Mary Hartwell Catherwood</p> +<p>Release Date: February 19, 2005 [eBook #15108]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAZARRE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Charlie Kirschner,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/cover.jpg"><img src= +"images/cover.jpg" width="50%" alt="" title="" /></a> +<br /></div> +<div class='center'><a href="#PRELUDE"><b>PRELUDE</b></a><br /> +<a href="#BOOK_I"><b>BOOK I</b></a><br /> +<a href="#Ia"><b>[I]</b></a> <a href="#IIa"><b>[II]</b></a> +<a href="#IIIa"><b>[III]</b></a> <a href="#IVa"><b>[IV]</b></a> +<a href="#Va"><b>[V]</b></a> <a href="#VIa"><b>[VI]</b></a> +<a href="#VIIa"><b>[VII]</b></a> <a href="#VIIIa"><b>[VIII]</b></a> +<a href="#IXa"><b>[IX]</b></a><br /> +<a href="#BOOK_II"><b>BOOK II</b></a><br /> +<a href="#Ib"><b>[I]</b></a> <a href="#IIb"><b>[II]</b></a> +<a href="#IIIb"><b>[III]</b></a> <a href="#IVb"><b>[IV]</b></a> +<a href="#Vb"><b>[V]</b></a> <a href="#VIb"><b>[VI]</b></a> +<a href="#VIIb"><b>[VII]</b></a> <a href="#VIIIb"><b>[VIII]</b></a> +<a href="#IXb"><b>[IX]</b></a> <a href="#Xb"><b>[X]</b></a> +<a href="#XIb"><b>[XI]</b></a><br /> +<a href="#BOOK_III"><b>BOOK III</b></a><br /> +<a href="#Ic"><b>[I]</b></a> <a href="#IIc"><b>[II]</b></a> +<a href="#IIIc"><b>[III]</b></a> <a href="#IVc"><b>[IV]</b></a> +<a href="#Vc"><b>[V]</b></a> <a href="#VIc"><b>[VI]</b></a> +<a href="#VIIc"><b>[VII]</b></a> <a href="#VIIIc"><b>[VIII]</b></a> +<a href="#IXc"><b>[IX]</b></a> <a href="#Xc"><b>[X].</b></a></div> +<h1>LAZARRE</h1> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a href="images/frontispiece.jpg"><img src= +"images/frontispiece.jpg" width="40%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b><i>He mounted toward the guardians of the imperial court and +fortune was with him</i></b> +<br /></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><i>Lazarre</i></h2> +<h3><i>By</i></h3> +<h2><i>Mary Hartwell Catherwood</i></h2> +<h5><i>With illustrations</i></h5> +<h4><i>By André Castaigne</i></h4> +<div class='center'><i>Indianapolis</i><br /> +<br /> +<b><i>The Bown-Merrill Company</i></b><br /> +<br /> +<i>Publishers</i><br /> +<br /> +1901</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LAZARRE</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PRELUDE" id="PRELUDE"></a>PRELUDE</h2> +<h3>ST. BAT'S</h3> +<p>"My name is Eagle," said the little girl.</p> +<p>The boy said nothing.</p> +<p>"My name is Eagle," she repeated. "Eagle de Ferrier. What is +your name?"</p> +<p>Still the boy said nothing.</p> +<p>She looked at him surprised, but checked her displeasure. He was +about nine years old, while she was less than seven. By the dim +light which sifted through the top of St. Bat's church he did not +appear sullen. He sat on the flagstones as if dazed and stupefied, +facing a blacksmith's forge, which for many generations had +occupied the north transept. A smith and some apprentices hammered +measures that echoed with multiplied volume from the Norman roof; +and the crimson fire made a spot vivid as blood. A low stone arch, +half walled up, and blackened by smoke, framed the top of the +smithy, and through this frame could be seen a bit of St. Bat's +close outside, upon which the doors stood open. Now an apprentice +would seize the bellows-handle and blow up flame which briefly +sprang and disappeared. The aproned figures, Saxon and brawny, made +a fascinating show in the dark shop.</p> +<p>Though the boy was dressed like a plain French citizen of that +year, 1795, and his knee breeches betrayed shrunken calves, and his +sleeves, wrists that were swollen as with tumors, Eagle accepted +him as her equal. His fine wavy hair was of a chestnut color, and +his hands and feet were small. His features were perfect as her +own. But while life played unceasingly in vivid expression across +her face, his muscles never moved. The hazel eyes, bluish around +their iris rims, took cognizance of nothing. His left eyebrow had +been parted by a cut now healed and forming its permanent scar.</p> +<p>"You understand me, don't you?" Eagle talked to him. "But you +could not understand Sally Blake. She is an English girl. We live +at her house until our ship sails, and I hope it will sail soon. +Poor boy! Did the wicked mob in Paris hurt your arms?"</p> +<p>She soothed and patted his wrists, and he neither shrank in pain +nor resented the endearment with male shyness.</p> +<p>Eagle edged closer to him on the stone pavement. She was amused +by the blacksmith's arch, and interested in all the unusual life +around her, and she leaned forward to find some response in his +eyes. He was unconscious of his strange environment. The ancient +church of St. Bartholomew the Great, or St. Bat's as it was called, +in the heart of London, had long been a hived village. Not only +were houses clustered thickly around its outside walls and the +space of ground named its close; but the inside, degraded from its +first use, was parceled out to owners and householders. The nave +only had been retained as a church bounded by massive pillars, +which did not prevent Londoners from using it as a thoroughfare. +Children of resident dissenters could and did hoot when it pleased +them, during service, from an overhanging window in the choir. The +Lady Chapel was a fringe-maker's shop. The smithy in the north +transept had descended from father to son. The south transept, +walled up to make a respectable dwelling, showed through its open +door the ghastly marble tomb of a crusader which the thrifty London +housewife had turned into a parlor table. His crossed feet and +hands and upward staring countenance protruded from the midst of +knick-knacks.</p> +<p>Light fell through the venerable clerestory on upper arcades. +Some of these were walled shut, but others retained their arched +openings into the church, and formed balconies from which upstairs +dwellers could look down at what was passing below.</p> +<p>Two women leaned out of the Norman arcades, separated only by a +pillar, watching across the nave those little figures seated in +front of the blacksmith's window. An atmosphere of comfort and +thrift filled St. Bat's. It was the abode of labor and humble +prosperity, not an asylum of poverty. Great worthies, indeed, such +as John Milton, and nearer our own day, Washington Irving, did not +disdain to live in St. Bartholomew's close. The two British +matrons, therefore, spoke the prejudice of the better rather than +the baser class.</p> +<p>"The little devils!" said one woman.</p> +<p>"They look innocent," remarked the other. "But these French do +make my back crawl!"</p> +<p>"How long are they going to stay in St. Bat's?"</p> +<p>"The two men with the little girl and the servant intend to sail +for America next week. The lad, and the man that brought him +in—as dangerous looking a foreigner as ever I saw!—are +like to prowl out any time. I saw them go into the smithy, and I +went over to ask the smith's wife about them. She let two upper +chambers to the creatures this morning."</p> +<p>"What ails the lad? He has the look of an idiot."</p> +<p>"Well, then, God knows what ails any of the crazy French! If +they all broke out with boils like the heathen of scripture, it +would not surprise a Christian. As it is, they keep on beheading +one another, day after day and month after month; and the time must +come when none of them will be left—and a satisfaction that +will be to respectable folks!"</p> +<p>"First the king, and then the queen," mused one speaker. "And +now news comes that the little prince has died of bad treatment in +his prison. England will not go into mourning for him as it did for +his father, King Louis. What a pretty sight it was, to see every +decent body in a bit of black, and the houses draped, they say, in +every town! A comfort it must have been to the queen of France when +she heard of such Christian respect!"</p> +<p>The women's faces, hard in texture and rubicund as beef and good +ale could make them, leaned silent a moment high above the dim +pavement. St. Bat's little bell struck the three quarters before +ten; lightly, delicately, with always a promise of the great +booming which should follow on the stroke of the hour. Its +perfection of sound contrasted with the smithy clangor of metal in +process of welding. A butcher's boy made his way through the front +entrance toward a staircase, his feet echoing on the flags, +carrying exposed a joint of beef on the board upon his head.</p> +<p>"And how do your foreigners behave themselves, Mrs. Blake?" +inquired the neighbor.</p> +<p>"Like French emmy-grays, to be sure. I told Blake when he would +have them to lodge in the house, that we are a respectable family. +But he is master, and their lordships has money in their +purses."</p> +<p>"French lordships!" exclaimed the neighbor. "Whether they calls +themselves counts or markises, what's their nobility worth? +Nothing!"</p> +<p>"The Markis de Ferrier," retorted Mrs. Blake, nettled by a +liberty taken with her lodgers which she reserved for herself, "is +a gentleman if he is an emmy-gray, and French. Blake may be master +in his own house, but he knows landed gentry from +tinkers—whether they ever comes to their land again or +not."</p> +<p>"Well, then," soothed her gossip, "I was only thinking of them +French that comes over, glad to teach their betters, or even to +work with their hands for a crust."</p> +<p>"Still," said Mrs. Blake, again giving rein to her prejudices, +"I shall be glad to see all French papists out of St. Bat's. For +what does scripture say?—'Touch not the unclean thing!' And +that servant-body, instead of looking after her little missus, +galloping out of the close on some bloody errand!"</p> +<p>"You ought to be thankful, Mrs. Blake, to have her out of the +way, instead of around our children, poisoning their hinfant minds! +Thank God they are playing in the church lane like little +Christians, safe from even that lad and lass yonder!"</p> +<p>A yell of fighting from the little Christians mingled with their +hoots at choir boys gathering for the ten o'clock service in St. +Bat's. When Mrs. Blake and her friend saw this preparation, they +withdrew their dissenting heads from the arcades in order not to +countenance what might go on below.</p> +<p>Minute followed minute, and the little bell struck the four +quarters. Then the great bell boomed out ten;—the bell which +had given signal for lighting the funeral piles of many a martyr, +on Smithfield, directly opposite the church. Organ music pealed; +choir boys appeared from their robing-room beside the entrance, +pacing two and two as they chanted. The celebrant stood in his +place at the altar, and antiphonal music rolled among the arches; +pierced by the dagger voice of a woman in the arcades, who called +after the retreating butcher's boy to look sharp, and bring her the +joint she ordered.</p> +<p>Eagle sprang up and dragged the arm of the unmoving boy in the +north transept. There was a weeping tomb in the chancel which she +wished to show him,—lettered with a threat to shed tears for +a beautiful memory if passers-by did not contribute their share; a +threat the marble duly executed on account of the dampness of the +church and the hardness of men's hearts. But it was impossible to +disturb a religious service. So she coaxed the boy, dragging behind +her, down the ambulatory beside the oasis of chapel, where the +singers, sitting side-wise, in rows facing each other, chanted the +Venite. A few worshipers from the close, all of them women, +pattered in to take part in this daily office. The smithy hammers +rang under organ measures, and an odor of cooking sifted down from +the arcades.</p> +<p>Outside the church big fat-bellied pigeons were cooing about the +tower or strutting and pecking on the ground. To kill one was a +grave offense. The worst boy playing in the lane durst not lift a +hand against them.</p> +<p>Very different game were Eagle and the other alien whom she led +past the red faced English children.</p> +<p>"Good day," she spoke pleasantly, feeling their antagonism. They +answered her with a titter.</p> +<p>"Sally Blake is the only one I know," she explained in French, +to her companion who moved feebly and stiffly behind her dancing +step. "I cannot talk English to them, and besides, their manners +are not good, for they are not like our peasants."</p> +<p>Sally Blake and a bare kneed lad began to amble behind the +foreigners, he taking his cue smartly and lolling out his tongue. +The whole crowd set up a shout, and Eagle looked back. She wheeled +and slapped the St. Bat's girl in the face.</p> +<p>That silent being whom she had taken under her care recoiled +from the blow which the bare kneed boy instantly gave him, and +without defending himself or her, shrank down in an attitude of +entreaty. She screamed with pain at this sight, which hurt worse +than the hair-pulling of the mob around her. She fought like a +panther in front of him.</p> +<p>Two men in the long narrow lane leading from Smithfield, +interfered, and scattered her assailants.</p> +<p>You may pass up a step into the graveyard, which is separated by +a wall from the lane. And though nobody followed, the two men +hurried Eagle and the boy into the graveyard and closed the +gate.</p> +<p>It was not a large enclosure, and thread-like paths, grassy and +ungraveled, wound among crowded graves. There was a very high +outside wall: and the place insured such privacy as could not be +had in St. Bat's church. Some crusted stones lay broad as gray +doors on ancient graves; but the most stood up in irregular +oblongs, white and lichened.</p> +<p>A cat call from the lane was the last shot of the battle. Eagle +valiantly sleeked her disarrayed hair, the breast under her bodice +still heaving and sobbing. The June sun illuminated a determined +child of the gray eyed type between white and brown, flushed with +fullness of blood, quivering with her intensity of feeling.</p> +<p>"Who would say this was Mademoiselle de Ferrier!" observed the +younger of the two men. Both were past middle age. The one whose +queue showed the most gray took Eagle reproachfully by her hands; +but the other stood laughing.</p> +<p>"My little daughter!"</p> +<p>"I did strike the English girl—and I would do it again, +father!"</p> +<p>"She would do it again, monsieur the marquis," repeated the +laugher.</p> +<p>"Were the children rude to you?"</p> +<p>"They mocked him, father." She pulled the boy from behind a +grave-stone where he crouched unmoving as a rabbit, and showed him +to her guardians. "See how weak he is! Regard him—how he +walks in a dream! Look at his swollen wrists—he cannot fight. +And if you wish to make these English respect you you have got to +fight them!"</p> +<p>"Where is Ernestine? She should not have left you alone."</p> +<p>"Ernestine went to the shops to obey your orders, father."</p> +<p>The boy's dense inertia was undisturbed by what had so agonized +the girl. He stood in the English sunshine gazing stupidly at her +guardians.</p> +<p>"Who is this boy, Eagle?" exclaimed the younger man.</p> +<p>"He does not talk. He does not tell his name."</p> +<p>The younger man seized the elder's arm and whispered to him.</p> +<p>"No, Philippe, no!" the elder man answered. But they both +approached the boy with a deference which surprised Eagle, and +examined his scarred eyebrow and his wrists. Suddenly the marquis +dropped upon his knees and stripped the stockings down those meager +legs. He kissed them, and the swollen ankles, sobbing like a woman. +The boy seemed unconscious of this homage. Such exaggeration of her +own tenderness made her ask,</p> +<p>"What ails my father, Cousin Philippe?"</p> +<p>Her Cousin Philippe glanced around the high walls and spoke +cautiously.</p> +<p>"Who was the English girl at the head of your mob, Eagle?"</p> +<p>"Sally Blake."</p> +<p>"What would Sally Blake do if she saw the little king of France +and Navarre ride into the church lane, filling it with his retinue, +and heard the royal salute of twenty-one guns fired for him?"</p> +<p>"She would be afraid of him."</p> +<p>"But when he comes afoot, with that idiotic face, giving her +such a good chance to bait him—how can she resist baiting +him? Sally Blake is human."</p> +<p>"Cousin Philippe, this is not our dauphin? Our dauphin is dead! +Both my father and you told me he died in the Temple prison nearly +two weeks ago!"</p> +<p>The Marquis de Ferrier replaced the boy's stockings reverently, +and rose, backing away from him.</p> +<p>"There is your king, Eagle," the old courtier announced to his +child. "Louis XVII, the son of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, +survives in this wreck. How he escaped from prison we do not know. +Why he is here unrecognized in England, where his claim to the +throne was duly acknowledged on the death of his father, we do not +know. But we who have often seen the royal child cannot fail to +identify him; brutalized as he is by the past horrible year of his +life."</p> +<p>The boy stood unwinking before his three expatriated subjects. +Two of them noted the traits of his house, even to his ears, which +were full at top, and without any indentation at the bottom where +they met the sweep of the jaw.</p> +<p>The dauphin of France had been the most tortured victim of his +country's Revolution. By a jailer who cut his eyebrow open with a +blow, and knocked him down on the slightest pretext, the child had +been forced to drown memory in fiery liquor, month after month. +During six worse months, which might have been bettered by even +such a jailer, hid from the light in an airless dungeon, covered +with rags which were never changed, and with filth and vermin which +daily accumulated, having his food passed to him through a slit in +the door, hearing no human voice, seeing no human face, his joints +swelling with poisoned blood, he had died in everything except +physical vitality, and was taken out at last merely a breathing +corpse. Then it was proclaimed that this corpse had ceased to +breathe. The heir of a long line of kings was coffined and +buried.</p> +<p>While the elder De Ferrier shed nervous tears, the younger +looked on with eyes which had seen the drollery of the French +Revolution.</p> +<p>"I wish I knew the man who has played this clever trick, and +whether honest men or the rabble are behind it."</p> +<p>"Let us find him and embrace him!"</p> +<p>"<i>I</i> would rather embrace his prospects when the house of +Bourbon comes again to the throne of France. Who is that fellow at +the gate? He looks as if he had some business here."</p> +<p>The man came on among the tombstones, showing a full presence +and prosperous air, suggesting good vintages, such as were never +set out in the Smithfield alehouse. Instead of being smooth shaven, +he wore a very long mustache which dropped its ends below his +chin.</p> +<p>A court painter, attached to his patrons, ought to have fallen +into straits during the Revolution. Philippe exclaimed with +astonishment—</p> +<p>"Why, it's Bellenger! Look at him!"</p> +<p>Bellenger took off his cap and made a deep reverence.</p> +<p>"My uncle is weeping over the dead English, Bellenger," said +Philippe. "It always moves him to tears to see how few of them +die."</p> +<p>"We can make no such complaint against Frenchmen in these days, +monsieur," the court painter answered. "I see you have my young +charge here, enjoying the gravestones with you;—a pleasing +change after the unmarked trenches of France. With your permission +I will take him away."</p> +<p>"Have I the honor, Monsieur Bellenger, of saluting the man who +brought the king out of prison?" the old man inquired.</p> +<p>Again Bellenger made the marquis a deep reverence, which +modestly disclaimed any exploit.</p> +<p>"When was this done?—Who were your helpers? Where are you +taking him?"</p> +<p>Bellenger lifted his eyebrows at the fanatical royalist.</p> +<p>"I wish I had had a hand in it!" spoke Philippe de Ferrier.</p> +<p>"I am taking this boy to America, monsieur the marquis," the +painter quietly answered.</p> +<p>"But why not to one of his royal uncles?"</p> +<p>"His royal uncles," repeated Bellenger. "Pardon, monsieur the +marquis, but did I say he had any royal uncles?"</p> +<p>"Come!" spoke Philippe de Ferrier. "No jokes with us, Bellenger. +Honest men of every degree should stand together in these +times."</p> +<p>Eagle sat down on a flat gravestone, and looked at the boy who +seemed to be an object of dispute between the men of her family and +the other man. He neither saw nor heard what passed. She said to +herself—</p> +<p>"It would make no difference to me! It is the same, whether he +is the king or not."</p> +<p>Bellenger's eyes half closed their lids as if for protection +from the sun.</p> +<p>"Monsieur de Ferrier may rest assured that I am not at present +occupied with jokes. I will again ask permission to take my charge +away."</p> +<p>"You may not go until you have answered some questions."</p> +<p>"That I will do as far as I am permitted."</p> +<p>"Do Monsieur and his brother know that the king is here?" +inquired the elder De Ferrier, taking the lead.</p> +<p>"What reason have you to believe," responded Bellenger, "that +the Count de Provence and the Count d'Artois have any interest in +this boy?"</p> +<p>Philippe laughed, and kicked the turf.</p> +<p>"We have seen him many a time at Versailles, my friend. You are +very mysterious."</p> +<p>"Have his enemies, or his friends set him free?" demanded the +old Frenchman.</p> +<p>"That," said Bellenger, "I may not tell."</p> +<p>"Does Monsieur know that you are going to take him to +America?"</p> +<p>"That I may not tell."</p> +<p>"When do you sail, and in what vessel?"</p> +<p>"These matters, also, I may not tell."</p> +<p>"This man is a kidnapper!" the old noble cried, bringing out his +sword with a hiss. But Philippe held his arm.</p> +<p>"Among things permitted to you," said Philippe, "perhaps you +will take oath the boy is not a Bourbon?"</p> +<p>Bellenger shrugged, and waved his hands.</p> +<p>"You admit that he is?"</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/opposite_p16.jpg"><img src= +"images/opposite_p16.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"I will again ask permission to take my charge away"</b> +<br /></div> +<p>"I admit nothing, monsieur. These are days in which we save our +heads as well as we can, and admit nothing."</p> +<p>"If we had never seen the dauphin we should infer that this is +no common child you are carrying away so secretly, bound by so many +pledges. A man like you, trusted with an important mission, +naturally magnifies it. You refuse to let us know anything about +this affair?"</p> +<p>"I am simply obeying orders, monsieur," said Bellenger humbly. +"It is not my affair."</p> +<p>"You are better dressed, more at ease with the world than any +other refugee I have seen since we came out of France. Somebody who +has money is paying to have the child placed in safety. Very well. +Any country but his own is a good country for him now. My uncle and +I will not interfere. We do not understand. But liberty of any kind +is better than imprisonment and death. You can of course evade us, +but I give you notice I shall look for this boy in America, and if +you take him elsewhere I shall probably find it out."</p> +<p>"America is a large country," said Bellenger, smiling.</p> +<p>He took the boy by the hand, and made his adieus. The old De +Ferrier deeply saluted the boy and slightly saluted his guardian. +The other De Ferrier nodded.</p> +<p>"We are making a mistake, Philippe!" said the uncle.</p> +<p>"Let him go," said the nephew. "He will probably slip away at +once out of St. Bartholomew's. We can do nothing until we are +certain of the powers behind him. Endless disaster to the child +himself might result from our interference. If France were ready +now to take back her king, would she accept an imbecile?"</p> +<p>The old De Ferrier groaned aloud.</p> +<p>"Bellenger is not a bad man," added Philippe.</p> +<p>Eagle watched her playmate until the closing gate hid him from +sight. She remembered having once implored her nurse for a small +plaster image displayed in a shop. It could not speak, nor move, +nor love her in return. But she cried secretly all night to have it +in her arms, ashamed of the unreasonable desire, but conscious that +she could not be appeased by anything else. That plaster image +denied to her symbolized the strongest passion of her life.</p> +<p>The pigeons wheeled around St. Bat's tower, or strutted +burnished on the wall. The bell, which she had forgotten since +sitting with the boy in front of the blacksmith shop, again boomed +out its record of time; though it seemed to Eagle that a long, +lonesome period like eternity had begun.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BOOK_I" id="BOOK_I"></a>BOOK I</h2> +<h3>AWAKING</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Ia" id="Ia"></a>I</h2> +<p>I remember poising naked upon a rock, ready to dive into Lake +George. This memory stands at the end of a diminishing vista; the +extreme point of coherent recollection. My body and muscular limbs +reflected in the water filled me with savage pride.</p> +<p>I knew, as the beast knows its herd, that my mother Marianne was +hanging the pot over the fire pit in the center of our lodge; the +children were playing with other papooses; and my father was +hunting down the lake. The hunting and fishing were good, and we +had plenty of meat. Skenedonk, whom I considered a person belonging +to myself, was stripping more slowly on the rock behind me. We were +heated with wood ranging. Aboriginal life, primeval and +vigor-giving, lay behind me when I plunged expecting to strike out +under the delicious forest shadow.</p> +<p>When I came up the sun had vanished, the woods and their shadow +were gone. So were the Indian children playing on the shore, and +the shore with them. My mother Marianne might still be hanging her +pot in the lodge. But all the hunting lodges of our people were as +completely lost as if I had entered another world.</p> +<p>My head was bandaged, as I discovered when I turned it to look +around. The walls were not the log walls of our lodge, chinked with +moss and topped by a bark roof. On the contrary they were grander +than the inside of St. Regis church where I took my first +communion, though that was built of stone. These walls were +paneled, as I learned afterward to call that noble finishing, and +ornamented with pictures, and crystal sockets for candles. The use +of the crystal sockets was evident, for one shaded wax light burned +near me. The ceiling was not composed of wooden beams like some +Canadian houses, but divided itself into panels also, reflecting +the light with a dark rosy shining. Lace work finer than a priest's +white garments fluttered at the windows.</p> +<p>I had dived early in the afternoon, and it was night. Instead of +finding myself still stripped for swimming, I had a loose robe +around me, and a coverlet drawn up to my armpits. The couch under +me was by no means of hemlock twigs and skins, like our bunks at +home: but soft and rich. I wondered if I had died and gone to +heaven; and just then the Virgin moved past my head and stood +looking down at me. I started to jump out of a window, but felt so +little power to move that I only twitched, and pretended to be +asleep, and watched her as we sighted game, with eyes nearly shut. +She had a poppet of a child on one arm that sat up instead of +leaning against her shoulder, and looked at me, too. The poppet had +a cap on its head, and was dressed in lace, and she wore a white +dress that let her neck and arms out, but covered her to the +ground. This was remarkable, as the Indian women covered their +necks and arms, and wore their petticoats short. I could see this +image breathe, which was a marvel, and the color moving under her +white skin. Her eyes seemed to go through you and search all the +veins, sending a shiver of pleasure down your back.</p> +<p>Now I knew after the first start that she was a living girl +holding a living baby, and when my father, Thomas Williams, +appeared at the door of the room, it was certain I could not be in +heaven. It came over me in a flash that I myself was changed. In +spite of the bandages my head was as clear as if all its faculties +were washed and newly arranged. I could look back into my life and +perceive things that I had only sensed as a dumb brute. A fish +thawed out after being frozen, and reanimated through every +sparkling scale and tremulous fin, could not have felt its +resurrection more keenly. My broken head gave me no trouble at +all.</p> +<p>The girl and baby disappeared as soon as I saw my father; which +was not surprising, for he could not be called a prepossessing +half-breed. His lower lip protruded and hung sullenly. He had heavy +brows and a shaggy thatch of hair. Our St. Regis Iroquois kept to +the buckskins, though they often had hunting shirts of fulled +flannel; and my father's buckskins were very dirty.</p> +<p>A little man, that I did not know was in the room, shuffled +across the floor to keep my father from entering. Around the base +of his head he had a thin curtain of hair scarcely reaching his +shoulders. His nose pointed upward. Its tip was the shape of a +candle extinguisher. He wore horn spectacles; and knee breeches, +waistcoat and coat of black like the ink which fades to brown in a +drying ink-horn. He put his hands together and took them apart +uncertainly, and shot out his lip and frowned, as if he had an +universal grudge and dared not vent it.</p> +<p>He said something in a language I did not understand, and my +father made no answer. Then he began a kind of Anglo-French, worse +than the patois we used at St. Regis when we did not speak +Iroquois. I made out the talk between the two, understanding each +without hesitation.</p> +<p>"Sir, who are you?"</p> +<p>"The chief, Thomas Williams," answered my father.</p> +<p>"Pardon me, sir; but you are unmistakably an Indian."</p> +<p>"Iroquois chief," said my father. "Mohawk."</p> +<p>"That being the case, what authority have you for calling +yourself Thomas Williams?" challenged the little man.</p> +<p>"Thomas Williams is my name."</p> +<p>"Impossible, sir! Skenedonk, the Oneida, does not assume so +much. He lays no claim to William Jones or John Smith, or some +other honest British name."</p> +<p>The chief maintained silent dignity.</p> +<p>"Come, sir, let me have your Indian name! I can hear it if I +cannot repeat it."</p> +<p>Silently contemptuous, my father turned toward me.</p> +<p>"Stop, sir!" the man in the horn spectacles cried. "What do you +want?"</p> +<p>"I want my boy."</p> +<p>"Your boy? This lad is white."</p> +<p>"My grandmother was white," condescended the chief. "A white +prisoner from Deerfield. Eunice Williams."</p> +<p>"I see, sir. You get your Williams from the Yankees. And is this +lad's mother white, too?"</p> +<p>"No. Mohawk."</p> +<p>"Why, man, his body is like milk! He is no son of yours."</p> +<p>The chief marched toward me.</p> +<p>"Let him alone! If you try to drag him out of the manor I will +appeal to the authority of Le Ray de Chaumont."</p> +<p>My father spoke to me with sharp authority—</p> +<p>"Lazarre!"</p> +<p>"What do you call him?" the little man inquired, ambling beside +the chief.</p> +<p>"Eleazer Williams is his name. But in the lodges, at St. Regis, +everywhere, it is Lazarre."</p> +<p>"How old is he?"</p> +<p>"About eighteen years."</p> +<p>"Well, Thomas Williams," said my fretful guardian, his +antagonism melting to patronage, "I will tell you who I am, and +then you can feel no anxiety. I am Doctor Chantry, physician to the +Count de Chaumont. The lad cut his head open on a rock, diving in +the lake, and has remained unconscious ever since. This is partly +due to an opiate I have administered to insure complete quiet; and +he will not awake for several hours yet. He received the best +surgery as soon as he was brought here and placed in my hands by +the educated Oneida, Skenedonk."</p> +<p>"I was not near the lodge," said my father. "I was down the +lake, fishing."</p> +<p>"I have bled him once, and shall bleed him again; though the +rock did that pretty effectually. But these strapping young +creatures need frequent blood-letting."</p> +<p>The chief gave him no thanks, and I myself resolved to knock the +little doctor down, if he came near me with a knife.</p> +<p>"In the absence of Count de Chaumont, Thomas," he proceeded, "I +may direct you to go and knock on the cook's door, and ask for +something to eat before you go home."</p> +<p>"I stay here," responded my father.</p> +<p>"There is not the slightest need of anybody's watching beside +the lad to-night. I was about to retire when you were permitted to +enter. He is sleeping like an infant."</p> +<p>"He belongs to me," the chief said.</p> +<p>Doctor Chantry jumped at the chief in rage.</p> +<p>"For God's sake, shut up and go about your business!"</p> +<p>It was like one of the little dogs in our camp snapping at the +patriarch of them all, and recoiling from a growl. My father's hand +was on his hunting knife; but he grunted and said nothing. Doctor +Chantry himself withdrew from the room and left the Indian in +possession. Weak as I was I felt my insides quake with laughter. My +very first observation of the whimsical being tickled me with a +kind of foreknowledge of all his weak fretfulness.</p> +<p>My father sat down on the floor at the foot of my couch, where +the wax light threw his shadow, exaggerating its unmoving profile. +I noticed one of the chairs he disdained as useless; though when +eating or drinking with white men he sat at table with them. The +chair I saw was one that I faintly recognized, as furniture of some +previous experience, slim legged, gracefully curved, and brocaded. +Brocaded was the word. I studied it until I fell asleep.</p> +<p>The sun, shining through the protected windows, instead of +glaring into our lodge door, showed my father sitting in the same +position when I woke, and Skenedonk at my side. I liked the +educated Iroquois. He was about ten years my senior. He had been +taken to France when a stripling, and was much bound to the whites, +though living with his own tribe. Skenedonk had the mildest brown +eyes I ever saw outside a deer's head. He was a bald Indian with +one small scalp lock. But the just and perfect dome to which his +close lying ears were attached needed no hair to adorn it. You felt +glad that nothing shaded the benevolence of his all-over forehead. +By contrast he emphasized the sullenness of my father; yet when +occasion had pressed there never was a readier hand than +Skenedonk's to kill.</p> +<p>I tossed the cover back to spring out of bed with a whoop. But a +woman in a high cap with ribbons hanging down to her heels, and a +dress short enough to show her shoes, stepped into the room and +made a courtesy. Her face fell easily into creases when she talked, +and gave you the feeling that it was too soft of flesh. Indeed, her +eyes were cushioned all around. She spoke and Skenedonk answered +her in French. The meaning of every word broke through my mind as +fire breaks through paper.</p> +<p>"Madame de Ferrier sent me to inquire how the young gentleman +is."</p> +<p>Skenedonk lessened the rims around his eyes. My father +grunted.</p> +<p>"Did Madame de Ferrier say 'the young gentleman?'" Skenedonk +inquired.</p> +<p>"I was told to inquire. I am her servant Ernestine," said the +woman, her face creased with the anxiety of responding to +questions.</p> +<p>"Tell Madame de Ferrier that the young gentleman is much better, +and will go home to the lodges to-day."</p> +<p>"She said I was to wait upon him, and give him his breakfast +under the doctor's direction."</p> +<p>"Say with thanks to Madame de Ferrier that I wait upon him."</p> +<p>Ernestine again courtesied, and made way for Doctor Chantry. He +came in quite good natured, and greeted all of us, his inferiors, +with a humility I then thought touching, but learned afterwards to +distrust. My head already felt the healing blood, and I was +ravenous for food. He bound it with fresh bandages, and opened a +box full of glittering knives, taking out a small sheath. From this +he made a point of steel spring like lightning.</p> +<p>"We will bring the wholesome lancet again into play, my lad," +said Doctor Chantry. I waited in uncertainty with my feet on the +floor and my hands on the side of the couch, while he carefully +removed coat and waistcoat and turned up his sleeves.</p> +<p>"Ernestine, bring the basin," he commanded.</p> +<p>My father may have thought the doctor was about to inflict a +vicarious puncture on himself. Skenedonk, with respect for +civilized surgery, waited. I did not wait. The operator bared me to +the elbow and showed a piece of plaster already sticking on my arm. +The conviction of being outraged in my person came upon me +mightily, and snatching the wholesome lancet I turned its spring +upon the doctor. He yelled. I leaped through the door like a deer, +and ran barefooted, the loose robe curdling above my knees. I had +the fleetest foot among the Indian racers, and was going to throw +the garment away for the pure joy of feeling the air slide past my +naked body, when I saw the girl and poppet baby who had looked at +me during my first consciousness. They were sitting on a blanket +under the trees of De Chaumont's park, which deepened into +wilderness.</p> +<p>The baby put up a lip, and the girl surrounded it with her arm, +dividing her sympathy with me. I must have been a charming object. +Though ravenous for food and broken-headed, I forgot my state, and +turned off the road of escape to stare at her like a tame deer.</p> +<p>She lowered her eyes wisely, and I got near enough without +taking fright to see a book spread open on the blanket, showing two +illuminated pages. Something parted in me. I saw my mother, as I +had seen her in some past life:—not Marianne the Mohawk, wife +of Thomas Williams, but a fair oval-faced mother with arched brows. +I saw even her pointed waist and puffed skirts, and the lace around +her open neck. She held the book in her hands and read to me from +it.</p> +<p>I dropped on my knees and stretched my arms above my head, +crying aloud as women cry with gasps and chokings in sudden +bereavement. Nebulous memories twisted all around me and I could +grasp nothing. I raged for what had been mine—for some high +estate out of which I had fallen into degradation. I clawed the +ground in what must have seemed convulsions to the girl. Her poppet +cried and she hushed it.</p> +<p>"Give me my mother's book!" I strangled out of the depths of my +throat; and repeated, as if torn by a devil—"Give me my +mother's book!"</p> +<p>She blanched so white that her lips looked seared, and instead +of disputing my claim, or inquiring about my mother, or telling me +to begone, she was up on her feet. Taking her dress in her finger +tips and settling back almost to the ground in the most beautiful +obeisance I ever saw, she said—</p> +<p>"Sire!"</p> +<p>Neither in Iroquois nor in Iroquois-French had such a name been +given to me before. I had a long title signifying Tree-Cutter, +which belonged to every chief of our family. But that +word—-"Sire!"—and her deep reverence seemed to atone in +some way for what I had lost. I sat up, quieting myself, still +moved as water heaves. She put the missal on the lap of my single +garment, and drew back a step, formally standing. My scarred +ankles, at which the Indian children used to point, were exposed to +her gaze, for I never would sit on them after the manner of the +tribe. There was no restraining the tears that ran down my face. +She might have mocked me, but she remained white and quiet; while I +sat as dumb as a dog, and as full of unuttered speech. Looking back +now I can see what passionate necessity shook me with throbs to be +the equal of her who had received me as a superior.</p> +<p>De Chaumont's manor house, facing a winding avenue, could be +seen from where we were. It was of stone, built to enclose a court +on three sides, in the form that I afterwards recognized as that of +French palaces. There were a great many flowers in the court, and +vines covered the ends of the wings. All those misty half +remembered hunting seasons that I had spent on Lake George were not +without some knowledge. The chimneys and roofs of Le Ray de +Chaumont's manor often looked at me through trees as I steered my +boat among the islands. He was a great land owner, having more than +three hundred thousand acres of wilderness. And he was friendly +with both Indians and Americans. His figure did not mean much to me +when I saw it, being merely a type of wealth, and wealth extends +little power into the wilderness.</p> +<p>The poppet of a child climbed up and held to the girl's dress. +She stooped over and kissed it, saying, "Sit down, Paul." The toy +human being seemed full of intelligence, and after the first +protest examined me fearlessly, with enchanting smiles about the +mouth and eyes. I noticed even then an upward curling of the mouth +corners and a kind of magic in the liquid blue gaze, of which Paul +might never be conscious, but which would work on every +beholder.</p> +<p>That a child should be the appendage of such a very young +creature as the girl, surprised me no more than if it had been a +fawn or a dog. In the vivid moments of my first rousing to life I +had seen her with Paul in her arms; and he remained part of +her.</p> +<p>We heard a rush of horses up the avenue, and out of the woods +came Le Ray de Chaumont and his groom, the wealthy land owner +equipped in gentleman's riding dress from his spurs to his hat. He +made a fine show, whip hand on his hip and back erect as a pine +tree. He was a man in middle life, but he reined up and dismounted +with the swift agility of a youth, and sent his horse away with the +groom, as soon as he saw the girl run across the grass to meet him. +Taking her hand he bowed over it and kissed it with pleasing +ceremony, of which I approved. An Iroquois chief in full council +had not better manners than Le Ray de Chaumont.</p> +<p>Paul and I waited to see what was going to happen, for the two +came toward us, the girl talking rapidly to the man. I saw my +father and Skenedonk and the doctor also coming from the house, and +they readily spied me sitting tame as a rabbit near the baby.</p> +<p>You never can perceive yourself what figure you are making in +the world: for when you think you are the admired of all eyes you +may be displaying a fool; and when life seems prostrated in you it +may be that you show as a monument on the heights. But I could not +be mistaken in De Chaumont's opinion of me. He pointed his whip +handle at me, exclaiming—</p> +<p>"What!—that scarecrow, madame?"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IIa" id="IIa"></a>II</h2> +<p>"But look at him," she urged.</p> +<p>"I recognize first," said De Chaumont as he sauntered, "an old +robe of my own."</p> +<p>"His mother was reduced to coarse serge, I have been told."</p> +<p>"You speak of an august lady, my dear Eagle. But this is Chief +Williams' boy. He has been at the hunting lodges every summer since +I came into the wilderness. There you see his father, the +half-breed Mohawk."</p> +<p>"I saw the dauphin in London, count. I was a little child, but +his scarred ankles and wrists and forehead are not easily +forgotten."</p> +<p>"The dauphin died in the Temple, Eagle."</p> +<p>"My father and Philippe never believed that."</p> +<p>"Your father and Philippe were very mad royalists."</p> +<p>"And you have gone over to Bonaparte. They said that boy had all +the traits of the Bourbons, even to the shaping of his ear."</p> +<p>"A Bourbon ear hears nothing but Bonaparte in these days," said +De Chaumont. "How do you know this is the same boy you saw in +London?"</p> +<p>"Last night while he was lying unconscious, after Doctor Chantry +had bandaged his head and bled him, I went in to see if I might be +of use. He was like some one I had seen. But I did not know him +until a moment ago. He ran out of the house like a wild Indian. +Then he saw us sitting here, and came and fell down on his knees at +sight of that missal. I saw his scars. He claimed the book as his +mother's—and you know, count, it was his mother's!"</p> +<p>"My dear child, whenever an Indian wants a present he dreams +that you give it to him, or he claims it. Chief Williams' boy +wanted your valuable illuminated book. I only wonder he had the +taste. The rings on your hands are more to an Indian's liking."</p> +<p>"But he is not an Indian, count. He is as white as we are."</p> +<p>"That signifies nothing. Plenty of white children have been +brought up among the tribes. Chief Williams' grandmother, I have +heard, was a Yankee woman."</p> +<p>Not one word of their rapid talk escaped an ear trained to +faintest noises in the woods. I felt like a tree, well set up and +sound, but rooted and voiceless in my ignorant helplessness before +the two so frankly considering me.</p> +<p>My father stopped when he saw Madame de Ferrier, and called to +me in Iroquois. It was plain that he and Doctor Chantry disagreed. +Skenedonk, put out of countenance by my behavior, and the +stubbornness of the chief, looked ready to lay his hand upon his +mouth in sign of being confounded before white men; for his +learning had altered none of his inherited instincts.</p> +<p>But as for me, I was as De Chaumont had said, Chief Williams' +boy, faint from blood letting and twenty-four hours' fasting; and +the father's command reminded me of the mother's dinner pot. I +stood up erect and drew the flowered silk robe around me. It would +have been easier to walk on burning coals, but I felt obliged to +return the book to Madame de Ferrier. She would not take it. I +closed her grasp upon it, and stooping, saluted her hand with +courtesy as De Chaumont had done. If he had roared I must have done +this devoir. But all he did was to widen his eyes and strike his +leg with his riding whip.</p> +<p>My father and I seldom talked. An Indian boy who lives in water +and forest all summer and on snowshoes all winter, finds talk +enough in the natural world without falling back upon his family. +Dignified manners were not lacking among my elders, but speech had +seemed of little account to me before this day.</p> +<p>The chief paddled and I sat naked in our canoe;—for we +left the flowered robe with a horse-boy at the stables;—the +sun warm upon my skin, the lake's blue glamour affecting me like +enchantment.</p> +<p>Neither love nor aversion was associated with my father. I took +my head between my hands and tried to remember a face that was +associated with aversion.</p> +<p>"Father," I inquired, "was anybody ever very cruel to me?"</p> +<p>He looked startled, but spoke harshly.</p> +<p>"What have you got in your head? These white people have been +making a fool of you."</p> +<p>"I remember better to-day than I ever remembered before. I am +different. I was a child: but to-day manhood has come. Father, what +is a dauphin?"</p> +<p>The chief made no answer.</p> +<p>"What is a temple? Is it a church, like ours at St. Regis?"</p> +<p>"Ask the priest."</p> +<p>"Do you know what Bourbon is, father,—particularly a +Bourbon ear?"</p> +<p>"Nothing that concerns you."</p> +<p>"But how could I have a Bourbon ear if it didn't concern +me?"</p> +<p>"Who said you had such an ear?"</p> +<p>"Madame de Ferrier."</p> +<p>The chief grunted.</p> +<p>"At least she told De Chaumont," I repeated exactly, "I was the +boy she saw in London, that her father said had all the traits of +the Bourbons. Where is London?"</p> +<p>The chief paddled without replying. Finding him so ignorant on +all points of the conversation, or so determined to put me down, I +gazed awhile at our shadow gliding in the water, and then began +again.</p> +<p>"Father, do you happen to know who Bonaparte is?"</p> +<p>This time he answered.</p> +<p>"Bonaparte is a great soldier."</p> +<p>"Is he a white man or an Indian?"</p> +<p>"He is a Frenchman."</p> +<p>I meditated on the Frenchmen I dimly remembered about St. Regis. +They were undersized fellows, very apt to weep when their emotions +were stirred. I could whip them all.</p> +<p>"Did he ever come to St. Regis?"</p> +<p>The chief again grunted.</p> +<p>"Does France come to St. Regis?" he retorted with an impatient +question.</p> +<p>"What is France, father?"</p> +<p>"A country."</p> +<p>"Shall we ever go there to hunt?"</p> +<p>"Shall we ever go the other side of the sunrise to hunt? France +is the other side of the sunrise. Talk to the squaws."</p> +<p>Though rebuked, I determined to do it if any information could +be got out of them. The desire to know things was consuming. I had +the belated feeling of one who waked to consciousness late in life +and found the world had run away from him. The camp seemed strange, +as if I had been gone many years, but every object was so +wonderfully distinct.</p> +<p>My mother Marianne fed me, and when I lay down dizzy in the +bunk, covered me. The family must have thought it was natural +sleep. But it was a fainting collapse, which took me more than once +afterwards as suddenly as a blow on the head, when my faculties +were most needed. Whether this was caused by the plunge upon the +rock or the dim life from which I had emerged, I do not know. One +moment I saw the children, and mothers from the neighboring lodges, +more interested than my own mother: our smoky rafters, and the fire +pit in the center of unfloored ground: my clothes hanging over the +bunk, and even a dog with his nose in the kettle. And then, as it +had been the night before, I waked after many hours.</p> +<p>By that time the family breathing sawed the air within the +walls, and a fine starlight showed through the open door, for we +had no window. Outside the oak trees were pattering their leaves +like rain, reminding me of our cool spring in the woods. My +bandaged head was very hot, in that dark lair of animals where the +log bunks stretched and deepened shadow.</p> +<p>If Skenedonk had been there I would have asked him to bring me +water, with confidence in his natural service. The chief's family +was a large one, but not one of my brothers and sisters seemed as +near to me as Skenedonk. The apathy of fraternal attachment never +caused me any pain. The whole tribe was held dear.</p> +<p>I stripped off Doctor Chantry's unendurable bandages, and put on +my clothes, for there were brambles along the path. The lodges and +the dogs were still, and I crept like a hunter after game, to avoid +waking them. Our village was an irregular camp, each house standing +where its owner had pleased to build it on the lake shore. Behind +it the blackness of wooded wilderness seemed to stretch to the end +of the world.</p> +<p>The spring made a distinct tinkle in the rush of low sound +through the forest. A rank night sweetness of mints and other lush +plants mixed its spirit with the body of leaf earth. I felt happy +in being a part of all this, and the woods were to me as safe as +the bed-chamber of a mother. It was fine to wallow, damming the +span of escaping water with my fevered head. Physical relief and +delicious shuddering coolness ran through me.</p> +<p>From that wet pillow I looked up and thought again of what had +happened that day, and particularly of the girl whom De Chaumont +had called Madame de Ferrier and Eagle. Every word that she had +spoken passed again before my mind. Possibilities that I had never +imagined rayed out from my recumbent body as from the hub of a vast +wheel. I was white. I was not an Indian. I had a Bourbon ear. She +believed I was a dauphin. What was a dauphin, that she should make +such a deep obeisance to it? My father the chief, recommending me +to the squaws, had appeared to know nothing about it.</p> +<p>All that she believed De Chaumont denied. The rich book which +stirred such torment in me—"you know it was his mother's!" +she said—De Chaumont thought I merely coveted. I can see now +that the crude half-savage boy wallowing in the spring stream, set +that woman as high as the highest star above his head, and made her +the hope and symbol of his possible best.</p> +<p>A woman's long cry, like the appeal of that one on whom he +meditated, echoed through the woods and startled him out of his +wallow.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IIIa" id="IIIa"></a>III</h2> +<p>I sat up with the water trickling down my back. The cry was +repeated, out of the west.</p> +<p>I knew the woods, but night alters the most familiar places. It +was so dark in vaults and tunnels of trees and thickets that I +might have burrowed through the ground almost as easily as thresh a +path. The million scarcely audible noises that fill a forest +surrounded me, and twigs not broken by me cracked or shook. Still I +made directly toward the woman's voice which guided me more +plainly; but left off running as my ear detected that she was only +in perplexity. She called at intervals, imperatively but not in +continuous screams. She was a white woman; for no squaw would +publish her discomfort. A squaw if lost would camp sensibly on a +bed of leaves, and find her way back to the village in the morning. +The wilderness was full of dangers, but when you are elder brother +to the bear and the wildcat you learn their habits, and avoid or +outwit them.</p> +<p>Climbing over rocks and windfalls I came against a solid log +wall and heard the woman talking in a very pretty chatter the other +side of it. She only left off talking to call for help, and left +off calling for help to scold and laugh again. There was a man +imprisoned with her, and they were speaking English, a language I +did not then understand. But what had happened to them was very +plain. They had wandered into a pen built by hunters to trap bears, +and could not find the bush-masked and winding opening, but were +traveling around the walls. It was lucky for them that a bear had +not arrived first, though in that case their horses must have +smelled him. I heard the beasts shaking their bridles.</p> +<p>I found my way to the opening, and whistled. At once the woman +ceased her chatter and drew in her breath, and they both asked me a +question that needed no interpretation. I told them where they +were, and the woman began talking at once in my own tongue and +spoke it as well as I could myself.</p> +<p>"In a bear pen? George, he says we are in a bear pen! Take us +out, dear chief, before the bear family arrive home from their +ball. I don't know whether you are a chief or not, but most Indians +are. My nurse was a chief's daughter. Where are you? I can't see +anything but chunks of blackness."</p> +<p>I took her horse by the bridle and led him, and so got both the +riders outside. They had no tinder, and neither had I; and all of +us groped for the way by which they had come to the bear pen. The +young man spurred his horse in every direction, and turned back +unable to get through.</p> +<p>Though we could not see one another I knew that both the +adventurers were young, and that they expected to be called to +severe account for the lawless act they were committing. The girl, +talking English, or French, or Mohawk almost in one breath, took +the blame upon herself and made light of the boy's +self-reproaches.</p> +<p>She laughed and said—"My father thinks I am with Miss +Chantry, and Miss Chantry thinks I am with my father. He will blame +her for letting me ride with George Croghan to meet him, and lose +the way and so get into the bear pen. And she will blame my father, +and your dearest Annabel will let the Count de Chaumont and Miss +Chantry fight it out. It is not an affair for youth to meddle with, +George."</p> +<p>Having her for interpreter the boy and I consulted. I might have +led him back to our hunting camp, but it was a hard road for a +woman and an impossible one for horses. There was no inhabited +house nearer than De Chaumont's own. He decided they must return to +the road by which they had come into the bear pen, and gladly +accepted my offer to go with him; dismounting and leading Annabel +de Chaumont's horse while I led his. We passed over rotten logs and +through black tangles, the girl bending to her saddle bow, +unwearied and full of laughter. It was plain that he could not find +any outlet, and falling behind with the cumbered horse he let me +guide the party.</p> +<p>I do not know by what instinct I felt my way, conscious of +slipping between the wild citizens of that vast town of trees; but +we finally reached a clearing and saw across the open space a +lighted cabin. Its sashless windows and defective chinks were +gilded with the yellow light that comes from a glowing hearth.</p> +<p>"I know this place!" exclaimed Annabel. "It is where the +Saint-Michels used to live before they went to my father's +settlement at Le Rayville. Look at the house! Nobody lives there. +It must be full of witches."</p> +<p>Violin music testified that the witches were merry. We halted, +and the horses neighed and were answered by others of their +kind.</p> +<p>"George Croghan's grandmother was struck by a witch ball. And +here her grandson stands, too tired to run. But perhaps there +aren't any witches in the house. I don't believe wicked things +would be allowed to enter it. The Saint-Michels were so pious, and +ugly, and resigned to the poverty of refugees. Their society was so +good for me, my mother, when she was alive, made me venerate them +until I hated them. Holy Sophie died and went to heaven. I shall +never see her again. She was, indeed, excellent. This can't be a +nest of witches. George, why don't you go and knock on the +door?"</p> +<p>It was not necessary, for the door opened and a man appeared, +holding his violin by the neck. He stepped out to look around the +cabin at some horses fastened there, and saw and hailed us.</p> +<p>I was not sorry to be allowed to enter, for I was tired to +exhaustion, and sat down on the floor away from the fire. The man +looked at me suspiciously, though he was ruddy and good natured. +But he bent quite over before De Chaumont's daughter, and made a +flourish with his hand in receiving young Croghan. There were in +the cabin with him two women and two little girls; and a Canadian +servant like a fat brown bear came from the rear of the house to +look at us and then went back to the horses.</p> +<p>All the women began to speak, but Annabel de Chaumont could talk +faster than the four others combined, so they knew our plight +before we learned that they were the Grignon and Tank families, who +were going into the west to find settlement and had made the house +their camp for one night. The Dutch maid, dark and round-eyed, and +the flaxen little Grignon, had respect for their elders and held +their tongues while Madame Tank and Madame Grignon spoke, but +Annabel de Chaumont was like a grove of sparrows. The world seemed +swarming with young maids. The travelers were mere children, while +the count's daughter was startling as an angel. Her clothing fitted +her body like an exquisite sheath. I do not know what it was, but +it made her look as slim as a dragon fly. Her white and rose pink +face had a high arched nose, and was proud and saucy. She wore her +hair beaten out like mist, with rich curly shreds hanging in front +of her ears to her shoulders. She shook her head to set her hat +straight, and turned her eyes in rapid smiling sweeps. I knew as +well then as I ever did afterwards that she was bound to befool +every man that came near her.</p> +<p>There were only two benches in the cabin, but it was floored and +better made than our hunting lodges. The temporary inmates and +their guests sat down in a long row before the fire. I was glad to +make a pillow of a saddle near the wall, and watch their backs, as +an outsider. Mademoiselle de Chaumont absorbed all eyes and all +attention. She told about a ball, to which she had ridden with her +governess and servants a three days' journey, and from which all +the dancers were riding back a three days' journey to join in +another ball at her father's house. With the hospitality which made +Le Ray de Chaumont's manor the palace of the wilderness as it +existed then, she invited the hosts who sheltered her for the +night, to come to the ball and stay all summer. And they lamented +that they could not accept the invitation, being obliged to hurry +on to Albany, where a larger party would give them escort on a long +westward journey.</p> +<p>The head of the house took up his bow, as if musing on the ball, +and Annabel de Chaumont wriggled her feet faster and faster. +Tireless as thistledown that rolls here and there at the will of +the wind, up she sprang and began to dance. The children watched +her spellbound. None of us had ever seen the many figures through +which she passed, or such wonderful dancing. The chimney was built +of logs and clay, forming terraces. As if it was no longer possible +for her to stay on the ground she darted from the bench-end to the +lowest log, and stepped on up as fearlessly as a thing of air, +until her head touched the roof. Monsieur Grignon played like mad, +and the others clapped their hands. While she poised so I sat up to +watch her, and she noticed me for the first time by firelight.</p> +<p>"Look at that boy—he has been hurt—the blood is +running down his cheek!" she cried. "I thought he was an +Indian—and he is white!"</p> +<p>She came down as lightly as she had gone up, and caused me to be +haled against my will to the middle of a bench. I wanted the women +to leave me alone, and told them my head had been broken two days +before, and was nearly well. The mothers, too keen to wash and +bandage to let me escape, opened a saddle pack and tore good +linen.</p> +<p>George Croghan stood by the chimney, slim and tall and handsome. +His head and face were long, his hair was of a sunny color, and his +mouth corners were shrewd and good natured. I liked him the moment +I saw him. Younger in years than I, he was older in wit and manly +carriage. While he looked on it was hard to have Madame Tank seize +my head in her hands and examine my eyebrow. She next took my +wrists, and not satisfied, stripped up the right sleeve and exposed +a crescent-shaped scar, one of the rare vaccination marks of those +days. I did not know what it was. Her animated dark eyes drew the +brows together so that a pucker came between them. I looked at +Croghan, and wanted to exclaim—"Help yourself! Anybody may +handle me!"</p> +<p>"Ursule Grignon!" she said sharply, and Madame Grignon +answered,</p> +<p>"Eh, what, Katarina?"</p> +<p>"This is the boy."</p> +<p>"But what boy?"</p> +<p>"The boy I saw on the ship."</p> +<p>"The one who was sent to America—"</p> +<p>Madame Tank put up her hand, and the other stopped.</p> +<p>"But that was a child," Madame Grignon then objected.</p> +<p>"Nine years ago. He would be about eighteen now."</p> +<p>"How old are you?" they both put to me.</p> +<p>Remembering what my father had told Doctor Chantry, I was +obliged to own that I was about eighteen. Annabel de Chaumont sat +on the lowest log of the chimney with her feet on a bench, and her +chin in her hand, interested to the point of silence. Something in +her eyes made it very galling to be overhauled and have my +blemishes enumerated before her and Croghan. What had uplifted me +to Madame de Ferrier's recognition now mocked, and I found it hard +to submit. It would not go well with the next stranger who declared +he knew me by my scars.</p> +<p>"What do they call you in this country?" inquired Madame +Tank.</p> +<p>I said my name was Lazarre Williams.</p> +<p>"It is not!" she said in an undertone, shaking her head.</p> +<p>I made bold to ask with some warmth what my name was then, and +she whispered—"Poor child!"</p> +<p>It seemed that I was to be pitied in any case. In dim +self-knowledge I saw that the core of my resentment was her +treating me with commiseration. Madame de Ferrier had not treated +me so.</p> +<p>"You live among the Indians?" Madame Tank resumed.</p> +<p>The fact was evident.</p> +<p>"Have they been kind to you?"</p> +<p>I said they had.</p> +<p>Madame Tank's young daughter edged near her and inquired in a +whisper,</p> +<p>"Who is he, mother?"</p> +<p>"Hush!" answered Madame Tank.</p> +<p>The head of the party laid down his violin and bow, and +explained to us:</p> +<p>"Madame Tank was maid of honor to the queen of Holland, before +reverses overtook her. She knows court secrets."</p> +<p>"But she might at least tell us," coaxed Annabel, "if this +Mohawk is a Dutchman."</p> +<p>Madame Tank said nothing.</p> +<p>"What could happen in the court of Holland? The Dutch are slow +coaches. I saw the Van Rensselaers once, near Albany, riding in a +wagon with straw under their feet, on common chairs, the old +Patroon himself driving. This boy is some off-scouring."</p> +<p>"He outranks you, mademoiselle," retorted Madame Tank.</p> +<p>"That's what I wanted to find out," said Annabel.</p> +<p>I kept half an eye on Croghan to see what he thought of all this +woman talk. For you cannot help being more dominated by the opinion +of your contemporaries than by that of the fore-running or +following generation. He held his countenance in excellent command, +and did not meddle even by a word. You could be sure, however, that +he was no credulous person who accepted everything that was said to +him.</p> +<p>Madame Tank looked into the reddened fireplace, and began to +speak, but hesitated. The whole thing was weird, like a dream +resulting from the cut on my head: the strange white faces; the +camp stuff and saddlebags unpacked from horses; the light on the +coarse floor; the children listening as to a ghost story; +Mademoiselle de Chaumont presiding over it all. The cabin had an +arched roof and no loft. The top was full of shadows.</p> +<p>"If you are the boy I take you to be," Madame Tank finally said, +sinking her voice, "you may find you have enemies."</p> +<p>"If I am the boy you take me to be, madame, who am I?"</p> +<p>She shook her head.</p> +<p>"I wish I had not spoken at all. To tell you anything more would +only plunge you into trouble. You are better off to be as you are, +than to know the truth and suffer from it. Besides, I may be +mistaken. And I am certainly too helpless myself to be of any use +to you. This much I will say: when you are older, if things occur +that make it necessary for you to know what I know, send a letter +to me, and I will write it down."</p> +<p>With delicacy Monsieur Grignon began to play a whisper of a tune +on his violin. I did not know what she meant by a letter, though I +understood her. Madame Tank spoke the language as well as anybody. +I thought then, as idiom after idiom rushed back on my memory, that +it was an universal language, with the exception of Iroquois and +English.</p> +<p>"We are going to a place called Green Bay, in the Northwest +Territory. Remember the name: Green Bay. It is in the Wisconsin +country."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IVa" id="IVa"></a>IV</h2> +<p>Dawn found me lying wide awake with my head on a saddle. I +slipped out into the dewy half light.</p> +<p>That was the first time I ever thought about the mountains. They +seemed to be newly created, standing up with streamers of mist torn +and floating across their breasts. The winding cliff-bound lake was +like a gorge of smoke. I felt as if I had reared upon my hind feet, +lifting my face from the ground to discover there was a God. Some +of the prayers our priest had industriously beaten into my head, +began to repeat themselves. In a twinkling I was a child, lonely in +the universe, separated from my dim old life, instinct with growth, +yet ignorant of my own needs.</p> +<p>What Madame de Ferrier and Madame Tank had said influenced me +less than the intense life of my roused activities.</p> +<p>It was mid forenoon by the sun when I reached our lodges, and +sat down fagged outside my father's door, to think longer before I +entered. Hunger was the principal sensation, though we had eaten in +the cabin the night before, and the Indian life inures a man to +fasting when he cannot come by food. I heard Skenedonk talking to +my father and mother in our cabin. The village was empty; children +and women, hunters and fishermen having scattered to woods and +waters.</p> +<p>"He ought to learn books," said Skenedonk. "Money is sent you +every year to be spent upon him: yet you spend nothing upon +him."</p> +<p>"What has he needed?" said my father.</p> +<p>"He needs much now. He needs American clothes. He wept at the +sight of a book. God has removed the touch since he plunged in the +water."</p> +<p>"You would make a fool of him," said my father. "He was gone +from the lodge this morning. You taught him an evil path when you +carried him off."</p> +<p>"It is a natural path for him: he will go to his own. I stayed +and talked with De Chaumont, and I bring you an offer. De Chaumont +will take Lazarre into his house, and have him taught all that a +white boy should know. You will pay the cost. If you don't, De +Chaumont will look into this annuity of which you give no +account."</p> +<p>"I have never been asked to give account. Could Lazarre learn +anything? The priest has sat over him. He had food and clothing +like my own."</p> +<p>"That is true. But he is changed. Marianne will let him go."</p> +<p>"The strange boy may go," said my mother. "But none of my own +children shall leave us to be educated."</p> +<p>I got up and went into the cabin. All three knew I had heard, +and they waited in silence while I approached my mother and put my +hands on her shoulders. There was no tenderness between us, but she +had fostered me. The small dark eyes in her copper face, and her +shapeless body, were associated with winters and summers stretching +to a vanishing point.</p> +<p>"Mother," I said, "is it true that I am not your son?"</p> +<p>She made no answer.</p> +<p>"Is it true that the chief is not my father?"</p> +<p>She made no answer.</p> +<p>"Who sends money to be spent on me every year?"</p> +<p>Still she made no answer.</p> +<p>"If I am not your son, whose son am I?"</p> +<p>In the silence I turned to Skenedonk.</p> +<p>"Isn't my name Lazarre Williams, Skenedonk?"</p> +<p>"You are called Lazarre Williams."</p> +<p>"A woman told me last night that it was not my name. Everyone +denies me. No one owns me and tells whose child I am. Wasn't I born +at St. Regis?"</p> +<p>"If you were, there is no record of your birth on the register. +The chief's other children have their births recorded."</p> +<p>I turned to my father. The desolation of being cut off and left +with nothing but the guesses of strangers overcame me. I sobbed so +the hoarse choke echoed in the cabin. Skenedonk opened his arms, +and my father and mother let me lean on the Oneida's shoulder.</p> +<p>I have thought since that they resented with stoical pain his +taking their white son from them. They both stood severely +reserved, passively loosening the filial bond.</p> +<p>All the business of life was suspended, as when there is death +in the lodge. Skenedonk and I sat down together on a bunk.</p> +<p>"Lazarre," my father spoke, "do you want to be educated?"</p> +<p>The things we pine for in this world are often thrust upon us in +a way to choke us. I had tramped miles, storming for the privileges +that had made George Croghan what he was. Fate instantly picked me +up from unendurable conditions to set me down where I could grow, +and I squirmed with recoil from the shock.</p> +<p>I felt crowded over the edge of a cliff and about to drop into a +valley of rainbows.</p> +<p>"Do you want to live in De Chaumont's house and learn his +ways?"</p> +<p>My father and mother had been silent when I questioned them. It +was my turn to be silent.</p> +<p>"Or would you rather stay as you are?"</p> +<p>"No, father," I answered, "I want to go."</p> +<p>The camp had never been dearer. I walked among the Indian +children when the evening fires were lighted, and the children +looked at me curiously as at an alien. Already my people had cut me +off from them.</p> +<p>"What I learn I will come back and teach you," I told the young +men and women of my own age. They laughed.</p> +<p>"You are a fool, Lazarre. There is a good home for you at St. +Regis. If you fall sick in De Chaumont's house who will care?"</p> +<p>"Skenedonk is my friend," I answered.</p> +<p>"Skenedonk would not stay where he is tying you. When the lake +freezes you will be mad for snowshoes and a sight of the St. +Lawrence."</p> +<p>"Perhaps so. But we are not made alike. Do not forget me."</p> +<p>They gave me belts and garters, and I distributed among them all +my Indian property. Then, as if to work a charm which should keep +me from breaking through the circle, they joined hands and danced +around me. I went to every cabin, half ashamed of my desertion, yet +unspeakably craving a blessing. The old people variously commented +on the measure, their wise eyes seeing the change in one who had +been a child rather than a young man among them.</p> +<p>If the wrench from the village was hard, the induction into the +manor was harder. Skenedonk took me in his boat, skirting the long +strip of mountainous shore which separated us from De Chaumont.</p> +<p>He told me De Chaumont would permit my father to pay no more +than my exact reckoning.</p> +<p>"Do you know who sends the money?" I inquired.</p> +<p>The Oneida did not know. It came through an agent in New +York.</p> +<p>"You are ten years older than I am. You must remember very well +when I was born."</p> +<p>"How can that be?" answered Skenedonk. "Nobody in the tribe +knows when you were born."</p> +<p>"Are children not like the young of other creatures? Where did I +come from?"</p> +<p>"You came to the tribe with a man, and Chief Williams adopted +you."</p> +<p>"Did you see the man?"</p> +<p>"No. I was on the other side of the ocean, in France."</p> +<p>"Who saw him?"</p> +<p>"None of our people. But it is very well known. If you had +noticed anything you would have heard the story long ago."</p> +<p>What Skenedonk said was true. I asked him, bewildered—"Why +did I never notice anything?"</p> +<p>The Oneida tapped his bald head.</p> +<p>"When I saw you first you were not the big fellow with speaking +eyes that you are to-day. You would sit from sunrise to sunset, +looking straight ahead of you and never moving except when food was +put in your hand. As you grew older the children dragged you among +them to play. You learned to fish, and hunt, and swim; and knew us, +and began to talk our language. Now at last you are fully roused, +and are going to learn the knowledge there is in books."</p> +<p>I asked Skenedonk how he himself had liked books, and he shook +his head, smiling. They were good for white men, very good. An +Indian had little use for them. He could read and write and cast +accounts. When he made his great journey to the far country, what +interested him most was the behavior of the people.</p> +<p>We did not go into the subject of his travels at that time, for +I began to wonder who was going to teach me books, and heard with +surprise that it was Doctor Chantry.</p> +<p>"But I struck him with the little knife that springs out of a +box."</p> +<p>Skenedonk assured me that Doctor Chantry thought nothing of it, +and there was no wound but a scratch. He looked on me as his pupil. +He knew all kinds of books.</p> +<p>Evidently Doctor Chantry liked me from the moment I showed +fight. His Anglo-Saxon blood was stirred. He received me from +Skenedonk, who shook my hand and wished me well, before paddling +away.</p> +<p>De Chaumont's house was full as a hive around the three sides of +its flowered court. A ball was in preparation, and all the guests +had arrived. Avoiding these gentry we mounted stairs toward the +roof, and came into a burst of splendor. As far as the eye could +see through square east and west windows, unbroken forests +stretched to the end of the world, or Lake George wound, sown thick +with islands, ranging in size from mere rocks supporting a tree, to +wooded acres.</p> +<p>The room which weaned me from aboriginal life was at the top of +the central building. Doctor Chantry shuffled over the clean oak +floor and introduced me to my appointments. There were curtains +like frost work, which could be pushed back from the square panes. +At one end of the huge apartment was my huge bed, formidable with +hangings. Near it stood a table for the toilet. He opened a closet +door in the wall and showed a spiral staircase going down to a +tunnel which led to the lake. For when De Chaumont first came into +the wilderness and built the central house without its wings, he +thought it well to have a secret way out, as his chateau in the old +country had.</p> +<p>"The tunnel is damp," said Doctor Chantry. "I never venture into +it, though all the corner rooms below give upon this stairway, and +mine is just under yours."</p> +<p>It was like returning me the lake to use in my own accustomed +way. For the remainder of my furniture I had a study table, a +cupboard for clothes, some arm-chairs, a case of books, and a +massive fireplace with chimney seats at the end of the room +opposite the bed.</p> +<p>I asked Doctor Chantry, "Was all this made ready for me before I +was sure of coming here?"</p> +<p>"When the count decides that a thing will be done it is usually +done," said my schoolmaster. "And Madame de Ferrier was very active +in forwarding the preparations."</p> +<p>The joy of youth in the unknown was before me. My old camp life +receded behind me.</p> +<p>Madame de Ferrier's missal-book lay on the table, and when I +stopped before it tongue-tied, Doctor Chantry said I was to keep +it.</p> +<p>"She gives it to you. It was treasured in her family on account +of personal attachment to the giver. She is not a Catholic. She was +brought up as good a Protestant as any English gentlewoman."</p> +<p>"I told her it was my mother's. It seemed to be my mother's. But +I don't know—I can't remember."</p> +<p>My master looked at the missal, and said it was a fine specimen +of illumination. His manner toward me was so changed that I found +it hard to refer to the lancet. This, however, very naturally +followed his examination of my head. He said I had healthy blood, +and the wound was closing by the first intention. The pink cone at +the tip of his nose worked in a whimsical grin as he heard my +apology.</p> +<p>"It is not often you will make the medicine man take his own +remedy, my lad."</p> +<p>We thus began our relation with the best feeling. It has since +appeared that I was a blessing to Doctor Chantry. My education gave +him something to do. For although he called himself physician to +Count de Chaumont, he had no real occupation in the house, and +dabbled with poetry, dozing among books. De Chaumont was one of +those large men who gather in the weak. His older servants had come +to America with his father, and were as attached as kindred. A +natural parasite like Doctor Chantry took to De Chaumont as means +of support; and it was pleasing to both of them.</p> +<p>My master asked me when I wanted to begin my studies, and I +said, "Now." We sat down at the table, and I learned the English +alphabet, some phrases of English talk, some spelling, and traced +my first characters in a copy-book. With consuming desire to know, +I did not want to leave off at dusk. In that high room day +lingered. The doctor was fretful for his supper before we rose from +our task.</p> +<p>Servants were hurrying up and down stairs. The whole house had +an air of festivity. Doctor Chantry asked me to wait in a lower +corridor while he made some change in his dress.</p> +<p>I sat down on a broad window sill, and when I had waited a few +minutes, Mademoiselle de Chaumont darted around a corner, bare +armed and bare necked. She collapsed to the floor at sight of me, +and then began to dance away in the opposite direction with stiff +leaps, as a lamb does in spring-time.</p> +<p>I saw she was in pain or trouble, needing a servant, and made +haste to reach her; when she hid her face on both arms against the +wall.</p> +<p>"Go off!" she hissed. "—S-s-s! Go off! I haven't anything +on!—Don't go off! Open my door for me quick!—before +anybody else comes into the hall!"</p> +<p>"Which door is it?" I asked. She showed me. It had a spring +catch, and she had stepped into the hall to see if the catch was +set.</p> +<p>"The catch was set!" gasped Mademoiselle de Chaumont. "Break the +door—get it open—anyway—Quick!"</p> +<p>By good fortune I had strength enough in my shoulder to set the +door wide off its spring, and she flew to the middle of the room +slamming it in my face.</p> +<p>Fitness and unfitness required nicer discrimination than the +crude boy from the woods possessed. When I saw her in the ball-room +she had very little more on than when I saw her in the hall, and +that little clung tight around her figure. Yet she looked quite +unconcerned.</p> +<p>After we had eaten supper Doctor Chantry and I sat with his +sister where we could see the dancing, on a landing of the +stairway. De Chaumont's generous house was divided across the +middle by a wide hall that made an excellent ball-room. The sides +were paneled, like the walls of the room in which I first came to +my senses. Candles in sconces were reflected by the polished, dark +floor. A platform for his fiddlers had been built at one end. +Festoons of green were carried from a cluster of lights in the +center of the ceiling, to the corners, making a bower or canopy +under which the dancers moved.</p> +<p>It is strange to think that not one stone remains upon another +and scarcely a trace is left of this manor. When De Chaumont +determined to remove to his seat at Le Rayville, in what was then +called Castorland, he had his first hold pulled down.</p> +<p>Miss Chantry was a blunt woman. Her consideration for me rested +on my being her brother's pupil. She spoke more readily than he +did. From our cove we looked over the railing at an active +world.</p> +<p>"Madame Eagle is a picture," remarked Miss Chantry. +"—— Eagle! What a name for civilized people to give a +christened child! But these French are as likely as not to call +their boys Anne or Marie, and it wouldn't surprise me if they +called their girls Cat or Dog. Eagle or Crow, she is the handsomest +woman on the floor."</p> +<p>"Except Mademoiselle Annabel," the doctor ventured to amend.</p> +<p>"That Annabel de Chaumont," his sister vigorously declared, "has +neither conscience nor gratitude. But none of the French have. They +will take your best and throw you away with a laugh."</p> +<p>My master and I watched the brilliant figures swimming in the +glow of wax candles. Face after face could be singled out as +beautiful, and the scant dresses revealed taper forms. Madame de +Ferrier's garments may have been white or blue or yellow; I +remember only her satin arms and neck, the rosy color of her face, +and the powder on her hair making it white as down. Where this +assembly was collected from I did not know, but it acted on the +spirits and went like volatile essence to the brain.</p> +<p>"Pheugh!" exclaimed Miss Chantry, "how the French smell!"</p> +<p>I asked her why, if she detested them so, she lived in a French +family, and she replied that Count de Chaumont was an exception, +being almost English in his tastes. He had lived out of France +since his father came over with La Fayette to help the rebellious +Americans.</p> +<p>I did not know who the rebellious Americans were, but inferred +that they were people of whom Miss Chantry thought almost as little +as she did of the French.</p> +<p>Croghan looked quite a boy among so many experienced gallants, +but well appointed in his dress and stepping through the figures +featly. He was, Miss Chantry said, a student of William and Mary +College.</p> +<p>"This company of gentry will be widely scattered when it +disperses home," she told us. "There is at least one man from +over-seas."</p> +<p>I thought of the Grignon and Tank families, who were probably on +the road to Albany. Miss Chantry bespoke her brother's +attention.</p> +<p>"There he is."</p> +<p>"Who?" the doctor inquired.</p> +<p>"His highness," she incisively responded, "Prince Jerome +Bonaparte."</p> +<p>I remembered my father had said that Bonaparte was a great +soldier in a far off country, and directly asked Miss Chantry if +the great soldier was in the ball-room.</p> +<p>She breathed a snort and turned upon my master. "Pray, are you +teaching this lad to call that impostor the great soldier?"</p> +<p>Doctor Chantry denied the charge and cast a weak-eyed look of +surprise at me.</p> +<p>I said my father told me Bonaparte was a great soldier, and +begged to know if he had been deceived.</p> +<p>"Oh!" Miss Chantry responded in a tone which slighted Thomas +Williams. "Well! I will tell you facts. Napoleon Bonaparte is one +of the worst and most dangerous men that ever lived. He sets the +world by the ears, and carries war into every country of Europe. +That is his youngest brother yonder—that superfine gallant, +in the long-tailed white silk coat down to his heels, and white +small-clothes, with diamond buckles in his shoes, and grand lace +stock and ruffles. Jerome Bonaparte spent last winter in Baltimore; +and they say he is traveling in the north now to forget a charming +American that Napoleon will not let him marry. He has got his name +in the newspapers of the day, and so has the young lady. The French +consul warned her officially. For Jerome Bonaparte may be made a +little king, with other relations of your great soldier."</p> +<p>The young man who might be made a little king was not as large +as I was myself, and had a delicate and womanish cut of +countenance. I said he was not fit for a king, and Miss Chantry +retorted that neither was Napoleon Bonaparte fit for an +emperor.</p> +<p>"What is an emperor?" I inquired.</p> +<p>"A chief over kings," Doctor Chantry put in. "Bonaparte is a +conqueror and can set kings over the countries he has +conquered."</p> +<p>I said that was the proper thing to do. Miss Chantry glared at +me. She had weak hair like her brother, but her eyes were a +piercing blue, and the angles of her jaws were sharply marked.</p> +<p>Meditating on things outside of my experience I desired to know +what the white silk man had done.</p> +<p>"Nothing."</p> +<p>"Then why should the emperor give him a kingdom?"</p> +<p>"Because he is the emperor's brother."</p> +<p>"But he ought to do something himself," I insisted. "It is not +enough to accept a chief's place. He cannot hold it if he is not +fit."</p> +<p>"So the poor Bourbons found. But they were not upstarts at any +rate. I hope I shall live to see them restored."</p> +<p>Here was another opportunity to inform myself. I asked Miss +Chantry who the Bourbons were.</p> +<p>"They are the rightful kings of France."</p> +<p>"Why do they let Bonaparte and his brothers take their +place?"</p> +<p>Doctor Chantry turned from the promenaders below and, with slow +and careful speech, gave me my first lesson in history.</p> +<p>"There was a great civil war in France called the Revolution, +when part of the people ran mad to kill the other part. They cut +off the heads of the king and queen, and shut up the two royal +children in prison. The dauphin died."</p> +<p>"What is a dauphin?"</p> +<p>"The heir to the throne of France was called the dauphin."</p> +<p>"Was he the king's son?"</p> +<p>"The king's eldest son."</p> +<p>"If he had brothers were they dauphins too?"</p> +<p>"No. He alone was the dauphin. The last dauphin of France had no +living brothers. He had only a sister."</p> +<p>"You said the dauphin died."</p> +<p>"In a prison called the Temple, in Paris."</p> +<p>"Was the Temple a prison?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>Madame de Ferrier had said her father and some other person did +not believe the dauphin died in the Temple.</p> +<p>"Suppose he was alive?" I hazarded.</p> +<p>"Suppose who was alive?" said Miss Chantry.</p> +<p>"The dauphin."</p> +<p>"He isn't."</p> +<p>"Did all the people believe he was dead?"</p> +<p>"They didn't care whether he was dead or not. They went on +killing one another until this man Bonaparte put himself at the +head of the army and got the upper hand of them. The French are all +fire and tow, and the man who can stamp on them is their idol."</p> +<p>"You said you hoped you would live to see the Bourbons restored. +Dead people cannot be restored."</p> +<p>"Oh, the Bourbons are not all dead. The king of France had +brothers. The elder one of these would be king now if the Bourbons +came back to the throne."</p> +<p>"But he would not be king if the dauphin lived?"</p> +<p>"No," said Miss Chantry, leaning back indifferently.</p> +<p>My head felt confused, throbbing with the dull ache of healing. +I supported it, resting my elbow on the railing.</p> +<p>The music, under cover of which we had talked, made one of its +pauses. Annabel de Chaumont looked up at us, allowing the gentleman +in the long-tailed silk coat to lead her toward the stairs.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Va" id="Va"></a>V</h2> +<p>Miss Chantry exclaimed, and her face stiffened with an +expression which I have since learned to know as the fear of +dignitaries; experienced even by people who profess to despise the +dignitaries. Mademoiselle de Chaumont shook frizzes around her +face, and lifted the scant dress from her satin shod feet as she +mounted the stairs. Without approaching us she sat down on the top +step of the landing with young Bonaparte, and beckoned to me.</p> +<p>I went at her bidding and stood by the rail.</p> +<p>"Prince Jerome Bonaparte wants to see you. I have told him about +the bear pen, and Madame Tank, and the mysterious marks on you, and +what she said about your rank."</p> +<p>I must have frowned, for the young gentleman made a laughing +sign to me that he did not take Annabel seriously. He had an +amiable face, and accepted me as one of the oddities of the +country.</p> +<p>"What fun," said Annabel, "to introduce a prince of the empire +to a prince of the woods!"</p> +<p>"What do you think of your brother?" I inquired.</p> +<p>He looked astonished and raised his eyebrows.</p> +<p>"I suppose you mean the emperor?"</p> +<p>I told him I did.</p> +<p>"If you want my candid opinion," his eyes twinkled, and he +linked his hands around his white satin knees, "I think my brother +rules his family with a rod of iron."</p> +<p>"What will you do," I continued, "when your family are turned +out?"</p> +<p>"My faith!" said Annabel, "this in a house favorable to the +Empire!"</p> +<p>"A very natural question," said Jerome. "I have often asked +myself the same thing."</p> +<p>"The king of France," I argued, "and all the Bourbons were +turned out. Why shouldn't the Bonapartes be?"</p> +<p>"Why shouldn't they, indeed!" responded Jerome. "My mother +insists they will be. But I wouldn't be the man who undertakes to +turn out the emperor."</p> +<p>"What is he like?"</p> +<p>"Impossible to describe him."</p> +<p>"Is he no larger than you?"</p> +<p>Annabel gurgled aloud.</p> +<p>"He is not as large."</p> +<p>"Yet he is a great soldier?"</p> +<p>"A great soldier. And he is adored by the French."</p> +<p>"The French," I quoted, "are all fire and tow."</p> +<p>"Thank you!" said Annabel, pulling out her light frizzes.</p> +<p>"You seem interested in the political situation," remarked +Prince Jerome.</p> +<p>I did not know what he meant by the political situation, but +told him I had just heard about the Bonapartes.</p> +<p>"Where have you lived?" he laughed.</p> +<p>I told him it didn't matter where people lived; it all depended +on whether they understood or not.</p> +<p>"What a sage!—I think I'm one of the people who will never +be able to understand," said Jerome.</p> +<p>I said he did not look as if he had been idiotic, and both he +and Mademoiselle de Chaumont laughed.</p> +<p>"Monsieur"—</p> +<p>"Lazarre Williams," supplemented Annabel.</p> +<p>"Monsieur Lazarre Williams, whatever your lot in life, you will +have one advantage over me; you will be an American citizen."</p> +<p>"Haven't I that doleful advantage myself?" mourned Annabel. "A +Baltimore convent, an English governess—a father that may +never go back to France!"</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle, all advantages of nationality, of person, of +mind, of heart, are yours!"</p> +<p>So tipping the interview with a compliment he rose up, and +Annabel rose also, making him a deep courtesy, and giving him her +hand to be led back to the floor. He kissed her white forefinger, +and bowed to me.</p> +<p>"You have suggested some interesting thoughts, monsieur prince +of the woods. Perhaps you may yet take your turn on the throne of +France. What would you do in that case?"</p> +<p>"I would make the people behave themselves if I had to grind +them to powder."</p> +<p>"Now there spoke old Louis XIV!" laughed young Jerome Bonaparte. +We both bowed, and he passed down with Annabel into the hall.</p> +<p>I did not know what made Madame de Ferrier watch me from her +distant place with widened eyes.</p> +<p>Miss Chantry spoke shrilly to her brother behind me.</p> +<p>"You will never be able to do anything with a lad who thrusts +himself forward like that! He has no sense of +fitness!—standing there and facing down the brother of a +crowned head!—bad as the head is. Of course Mademoiselle +Annabel set him on; she loves to make people ridiculous!"</p> +<p>I walked downstairs after Prince Jerome, threaded a way among +gazing dancers, and left the hall, stung in my pride.</p> +<p>We do strangely expand and contract in vital force and reach of +vision. I wanted to put the lake—the world +itself—between me and that glittering company. The edge of a +ball-room and the society of men in silks and satins, and of +bewitching women, were not intended for me.</p> +<p>Homesickness like physical pain came over me for my old haunts. +They were newly recognized as beloved. I had raged against them +when comparing myself to Croghan. But now I thought of the evening +camp fire, and hunting-stories, of the very dogs that licked my +hand; of St. Regis, and my loft bed, of snowshoes, and the blue +northern river, longing for them as the young Mohawks said I should +long. Tom betwixt two natures, the white man's and the Indian's, I +flung a boat out into the water and started to go home faster than +I had come away. The slowness of a boat's progress, pushed by the +silly motion of oars, which have not the nice discrimination of a +paddle, impressed me as I put the miles behind.</p> +<p>When the camp light shone through trees it must have been close +to midnight, and my people had finished their celebration of the +corn dance. An odor of sweet roasted ears dragged out of hot ashes +reached the poor outsider. Even the dogs were too busy to nose me +out. I slunk as close as I dared and drew myself up a tree, lying +stretched with arms and legs around a limb.</p> +<p>They would have admitted me to the feast, but as a guest. I had +no longer a place of my own, either here or there. It was like +coming back after death, to realize that you were unmissed. The +camp was full of happiness and laughter. Young men chased the young +maids, who ran squealing with merriment. My father, Thomas +Williams, and my mother, Marianne, sat among the elders tranquil +and satisfied. They were ignorant Indians; but I had no other +parents. Skenedonk could be seen, laughing at the young +Mohawks.</p> +<p>If there was an oval faced mother in my past, who had read to me +from the missal, I wanted her. If, as Madame Tank said, I outranked +De Chaumont's daughter, I wanted my rank. It was necessary for me +to have something of my own: to have love from somebody!</p> +<p>Collapsed and dejected, I crept down the tree and back to the +life that was now forced upon me whether I wished to continue it or +not. Belonging nowhere, I remembered my refuge in the new world of +books.</p> +<p>Lying stretched in the boat with oars shipped, drifting and +turning on the crooked lake, I took exact stock of my position in +the world, and marked out my future.</p> +<p>These things were known:</p> +<p>I was not an Indian.</p> +<p>I had been adopted into the family of Chief Williams.</p> +<p>Money was sent through an agent in New York for my support and +education.</p> +<p>There were scars on my wrists, ankles, arm and eyebrow.</p> +<p>These scars identified me in Madame de Ferrier's mind and Madame +Tank's mind as a person from the other side of the world.</p> +<p>I had formerly been deadened in mind.</p> +<p>I was now keenly alive.</p> +<p>These things were not known:</p> +<p>Who I was.</p> +<p>Who sent money for my support and education.</p> +<p>How I became scarred.</p> +<p>What man had placed me among the Indians.</p> +<p>For the future I bound myself with three laws:</p> +<p>To leave alone the puzzle of my past.</p> +<p>To study with all my might and strength.</p> +<p>When I was grown and educated, to come back to my adopted +people, the Iroquois, draw them to some place where they could +thrive, and by training and education make them an empire, and +myself their leader.</p> +<p>The pale-skin's loathing of the red race had not then entered my +imagination. I said in conclusion:</p> +<p>"Indians have taken care of me; they shall be my brothers."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIa" id="VIa"></a>VI</h2> +<p>The zigzag track of the boat represented a rift widening between +me and my past. I sat up and took the oars, feeling older and +stronger.</p> +<p>It was primitive man, riding between the highlands, uncumbered, +free to grasp what was before him.</p> +<p>De Chaumont did not believe in and was indifferent to the waif +whom his position of great seigneur obliged him to protect. What +did I care? I had been hidden among the Indians by kindred or +guardians humane enough not to leave me destitute. They should not +trouble my thoughts, and neither—I told myself like an +Indian—should the imaginings of women.</p> +<p>A boy minds no labor in following his caprices. The long starlit +pull I reckoned as nothing; and slipped to my room when daylight +was beginning to surprise the dancers.</p> +<p>It was so easy to avoid people in the spaciousness of De +Chaumont's manor that I did not again see the young Bonaparte nor +any of the guests except Croghan. They slept all the following day, +and the third day separated. Croghan found my room before leaving +with his party, and we talked as well as we could, and shook hands +at parting.</p> +<p>The impressions of that first year stay in my mind as I have +heard the impressions of childhood remain. It was perhaps a kind of +brief childhood, swift in its changes, and running parallel with +the development of youth.</p> +<p>My measure being sent to New York by De Chaumont, I had a +complete new outfit in clothes; coat, waistcoat, and small-clothes, +neckwear, ruffles, and shirts, buckle shoes, stockings of mild yarn +for cold weather, and thread stockings. Like most of the things for +which we yearn, when I got them I did not like them as well as the +Indian garments they obliged me to shed.</p> +<p>Skenedonk came to see me nearly every day, and sat still as long +as he could while I toiled at books. I did not tell him how nearly +I had disgraced us both by running secretly away to camp. So I was +able to go back and pay visits with dignity and be taken seriously, +instead of encountering the ridicule that falls upon retreat.</p> +<p>My father was neither pleased nor displeased. He paid my +accounts exactly, before the camp broke up for the winter, making +Skenedonk his agent. My mother Marianne offered me food as she +would have offered it to Count de Chaumont; and I ate it, sitting +on a mat as a guest. Our children, particularly the elder ones, +looked me over with gravity, and refrained from saying anything +about my clothes.</p> +<p>Our Iroquois went north before snow flew, and the cabins stood +empty, leaves drifting through fire-holes in the bark thatch.</p> +<p>There have been students greedy of knowledge. I seemed hollow +with the fasting of a lifetime. My master at first tried to bind me +to times; he had never encountered so boundless an appetite. As +soon as I woke in the morning I reached for a book, and as days +became darker, for tinder to light a candle. I studied incessantly, +dashing out at intervals to lake or woods, and returning after wild +activity, with increased zest to the printed world. My mind +appeared to resume a faculty it had suspended, and to resume with +incredible power. Magnetized by books, I cared for nothing else. +That first winter I gained hold on English and Latin, on French +reading, mathematics, geography, and history. My master was an +Oxford man, and when roused from dawdling, a scholar. He grew +foolishly proud and fond of what he called my prodigious +advance.</p> +<p>De Chaumont's library was a luscious field, and Doctor Chantry +was permitted to turn me loose in it, so that the books were almost +like my own. I carried them around hid in my breast; my coat-skirts +were weighted with books. There were Plutarch's Lives in the old +French of Amyot, over which I labored; a French translation of +Homer; Corneille's tragedies; Rochefoucauld; Montaigne's essays, in +ten volumes; Thomson's poems, and Chesterfield's letters, in +English; the life of Petrarch; three volumes of Montesquieu's +works; and a Bible; which I found greatly to my taste. It was a +wide and catholic taste.</p> +<p>De Chaumont spent nearly all that autumn and winter in +Castorland, where he was building his new manor and founding his +settlement called Le Rayville. As soon as I became a member of his +household his patriarchal kindness was extended to me, though he +regarded me simply as an ambitious half-breed.</p> +<p>The strong place which he had built for his first holding in the +wilderness thus grew into a cloistered school for me. It has +vanished from the spot where it stood, but I shall forever see it +between lake and forest.</p> +<p>Annabel de Chaumont openly hated the isolation of the place, and +was happy only when she could fill it with guests. But Madame de +Ferrier evidently loved it, remaining there with Paul and +Ernestine. Sometimes I did not see her for days together. But +Mademoiselle de Chaumont, before her departure to her Baltimore +convent for the winter, amused herself with my education. She +brought me an old book of etiquette in which young gentlemen were +admonished not to lick their fingers or crack bones with their +teeth at table. Nobody else being at hand she befooled with Doctor +Chantry and me, and I saw for the first time, with surprise, an old +man's infatuation with a poppet.</p> +<p>It was this foolishness of her brother's which Miss Chantry +could not forgive De Chaumont's daughter. She was incessant in her +condemnation, yet unmistakably fond in her English way of the +creature she condemned. Annabel loved to drag my poor master in +flowery chains before his relative. She would make wreaths of +crimson leaves for his bald head, and exhibit him grinning like a +weak-eyed Bacchus. Once he sat doting beside her at twilight on a +bench of the wide gallery while his sister, near by, kept guard +over their talk. I passed them, coming back from my tramp, with a +glowing branch in my hand. For having set my teeth in the scarlet +tart udder of a sumach, all frosted with delicate fretwork, I could +not resist bringing away some of its color.</p> +<p>"Did you get that for me?" called Annabel. I mounted the steps +to give it to her, and she said, "Thank you, Lazarre Williams. +Every day you learn some pretty new trick. Doctor Chantry has not +brought me anything from the woods in a long while."</p> +<p>Doctor Chantry stirred his gouty feet and looked hopelessly out +at the landscape.</p> +<p>"Sit here by your dearest Annabel," said Mademoiselle de +Chaumont.</p> +<p>Her governess breathed the usual sigh of disgust.</p> +<p>I sat by my dearest Annabel, anxious to light my candle and open +my books. She shook the frizzes around her cheeks and buried her +hands under the scarlet branch in her lap.</p> +<p>"Do you know, Lazarre Williams, I have to leave you?"</p> +<p>I said I was sorry to hear it.</p> +<p>"Yes, I have to go back to my convent, and drag poor Miss +Chantry with me, though she is a heretic and bates the forms of our +religion. But she has to submit, and so do I, because my father +will have nobody but an English governess."</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle," spoke Miss Chantry, "I would suggest that you +sit on a chair by yourself."</p> +<p>"What, on one of those little crowded chairs?" said Annabel.</p> +<p>She reached out her sly hand for mine and drew it under cover of +the sumach branch.</p> +<p>"I have been thinking about your rank a great deal, Lazarre +Williams, and wondering what it is."</p> +<p>"If you thought more about your own it would be better," said +Miss Chantry.</p> +<p>"We are Americans here," said Annabel. "All are equal, and some +are free. I am only equal. Must your dearest Annabel obey you about +the chair, Miss Chantry?"</p> +<p>"I said I would suggest that you sit on a chair by +yourself."</p> +<p>"I will, dear. You know I always follow your suggestions."</p> +<p>I felt the hand that held mine tighten its grip in a despairing +squeeze. Annabel suddenly raised the branch high above her head +with both arms, and displayed Doctor Chantry's hand and mine +clasped tenderly in her lap. She laughed until even Miss Chantry +was infected, and the doctor tittered and wiped his eyes.</p> +<p>"Watch your brother, Miss Chantry—don't watch me! You +thought he was squeezing my hand—and he thought so too! +Lazarre Williams is just out of the woods and doesn't know any +better. But Doctor Chantry—he is older than my father!"</p> +<p>"We wished to oblige you, mademoiselle," I said. But the poor +English gentleman tittered on in helpless admiration. He told me +privately—"I never saw another girl like her. So full of +spirits, and so frank!"</p> +<p>Doctor Chantry did not wear his disfiguring horn spectacles when +Annabel was near. He wrote a great deal of poetry while the blow of +parting from her was hanging over him, and read it to me of +mornings, deprecating my voiceless contempt. I would hear him +quarreling with a servant in the hall; for the slightest variation +in his comfort engendered rages in him that were laughable. Then he +entered, red-nosed, red-eyed, and bloodlessly shivering, with a +piece of paper covered by innumerable small characters.</p> +<p>"Good morning, my lad," he would say.</p> +<p>"Good morning, Doctor Chantry," I answered.</p> +<p>"Here are a few little stanzas which I have just set down. If +you have no objection I will read them."</p> +<p>I must have listened like a trapped bear, sitting up and longing +to get at him, for he usually finished humbly, folding his paper +and putting it away in his breast. There was reason to believe that +he spent valuable hours copying all these verses for Annabel de +Chaumont. But there is no evidence that she carried them with her +when she and her governess departed in a great coach all gilt and +padding. Servants and a wagon load of baggage and supplies +accompanied De Chaumont's daughter on the long journey to her +Baltimore convent.</p> +<p>Shaking in every nerve and pale as a sheet, my poor master +watched her out of sight. He said he should not see his sister +again until spring; and added that he was a fool, but when a +creature of light came across his path he could not choose but +worship. His affections had been blighted by a disappointment in +youth, but he had thought he might at least bask in passing +sunshine, though fated to unhappiness. I was ashamed to look at +him, or to give any sign of overhearing his weakness, and exulted +mightily in my youth, despising the enchantments of a woman. Madame +de Ferrier watched the departure from another side of the gallery, +and did not witness my poor master's breakdown. She came and talked +to him, and took more notice of him than I had ever seen her take +before.</p> +<p>In a day or two he was quite himself, plodding at the lessons, +suddenly furious at the servants, and giving me fretful histories +of his wrongs when brandy and water were not put by his bedside at +night, or a warming-pan was not passed between his sheets.</p> +<p>About this time I began to know without being taught and without +expressing it in words, that there is a natural law of environment +which makes us grow like the company we keep. During the first six +months of my stay in De Chaumont's house Doctor Chantry was my sole +companion. I looked anxiously into the glass on my dressing-table, +dreading to see a reflection of his pettiness. I saw a face with +large features, eager in expression. The eyes were hazel, and +bluish around the iris rims, the nose aquiline, the chin full, the +head high, and round templed. The hair was sunny and wavy, not dark +and tight fitting like that of my Indian father and mother. There +would be always a scar across my eyebrow. I noticed that the lobe +of my ear was not deeply divided from my head, but fashioned close +to it in triangular snugness, though I could not have said so. +Regular life and abundant food, and the drive of purpose, were +developing all my parts. I took childish pleasure in watching my +Indian boyhood go, and vital force mounting every hour.</p> +<p>Time passed without marking until January. The New England +Thanksgiving we had not then heard of; and Christmas was a holy day +of the church. On a January afternoon Madame de Ferrier sent +Ernestine to say that she wished to see Doctor Chantry and me.</p> +<p>My master was asleep by the fire in an armchair. I looked at his +disabled feet, and told Ernestine I would go with her alone. She +led me to a wing of the house.</p> +<p>Even an Indian boy could see through Annabel de Chaumont. But +who might fathom Madame de Ferrier? Every time I saw her, and that +was seldom, some change made her another Madame de Ferrier, as if +she were a thousand women in one. I saw her first a white clad +spirit, who stood by my head when I awoke; next, a lady who rose up +and bowed to me; then a beauty among dancers; afterwards, a little +girl running across the turf, or a kind woman speaking to my +master. Often she was a distant figure, coming and going with Paul +and Ernestine in De Chaumont's woods. If we encountered, she always +said, "Good day, monsieur," and I answered "Good day, madame."</p> +<p>I had my meals alone with Doctor Chantry, and never questioned +this custom, from the day I entered the house. De Chaumont's chief, +who was over the other servants, and had come with him from his +chateau near Blois, waited upon me, while Doctor Chantry was served +by another man named Jean. My master fretted at Jean. The older +servant paid no attention to that.</p> +<p>Madame de Ferrier and I had lived six months under the same roof +as strangers. Consciousness plowed such a direct furrow in front of +me that I saw little on either side of it. She was a name, that I +found written in the front of the missal, and copied over and over +down foolscap paper in my practice of script:</p> +<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Eagle Madeleine Marie de +Ferrier."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Eagle Madeleine Marie de +Ferrier."</span></p> +<p>She stood in her sitting room, which looked upon the lake, and +before a word passed between us I saw she was unlike any of her +former selves. Her features were sharpened and whitened. She looked +beyond me with gray colored eyes, and held her lips apart.</p> +<p>"I have news. The Indian brought me this letter from +Albany."</p> +<p>I could not help glancing curiously at the sheet in her hand, +spotted on the back with broken red wafers. It was the first letter +I had ever seen. Doctor Chantry told me he received but one during +the winter from his sister, and paid two Spanish reals in postage +for it, besides a fee and some food and whisky to the Indian who +made the journey to deliver such parcels. It was a trying and an +important experience to receive a letter. I was surprised that +Madame Tank had recommended my sending one into the Wisconsin +country.</p> +<p>"Count de Chaumont is gone; and I must have advice."</p> +<p>"Madame," I said, "Doctor Chantry was asleep, but I will wake +him and bring him here."</p> +<p>"No. I will tell you. Monsieur, my Cousin Philippe is dead."</p> +<p>It might have shocked me more if I had known she had a Cousin +Philippe. I said stupidly:</p> +<p>"Is he?"</p> +<p>"Cousin Philippe was my husband, you understand."</p> +<p>"Madame, are you married?"</p> +<p>"Of course!" she exclaimed. And I confessed to myself that in no +other way could Paul be accounted for.</p> +<p>"But you are here alone?"</p> +<p>Two large tears ran down her face.</p> +<p>"You should understand the De Ferriers are poor, monsieur, +unless something can be saved from our estates that the Bonapartes +have given away. Cousin Philippe went to see if we could recover +any part of them. Count de Chaumont thought it a favorable time. +But he was too old for such a journey; and the disappointments at +the end of it."</p> +<p>"Old! Was he old, madame?"</p> +<p>"Almost as old as my father."</p> +<p>"But you are very young."</p> +<p>"I was only thirteen when my father on his deathbed married me +to Cousin Philippe. We were the last of our family. Now Cousin +Philippe is dead and Paul and I are orphans!"</p> +<p>She felt her loss as Paul might have felt his. He was gurgling +at Ernestine's knee in the next room.</p> +<p>"I want advice," she said; and I stood ready to give it, as a +man always is; the more positively because I knew nothing of the +world.</p> +<p>"Cousin Philippe said I must go to France, for Paul's sake, and +appeal myself to the empress, who has great influence over the +emperor. His command was to go at once."</p> +<p>"Madame, you cannot go in midwinter."</p> +<p>"Must I go at all?" she cried out passionately. "Why don't you +tell me a De Ferrier shall not crawl the earth before a Bonaparte! +You—of all men! We are poor and exiles because we were +royalists—are royalists—we always shall be royalists! I +would rather make a wood-chopper of Paul than a serf to this +Napoleon!"</p> +<p>She checked herself, and motioned to a chair.</p> +<p>"Sit down, monsieur. Pardon me that I have kept you +standing."</p> +<p>I placed the chair for her, but she declined it, and we +continued to face each other.</p> +<p>"Madame," I said, "you seem to blame me for something. What have +I done?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, monsieur."</p> +<p>"I will now ask your advice. What do you want me to do that I +have not done?"</p> +<p>"Monsieur, you are doing exactly what I want you to do."</p> +<p>"Then you are not displeased with me?"</p> +<p>"I am more pleased with you every time I see you. Your advice is +good. I cannot go in midwinter."</p> +<p>"Are you sure your cousin wanted you to make this journey?"</p> +<p>"The notary says so in this letter. Philippe died in the +farm-house of one of our peasants, and the new masters could not +refuse him burial in the church where De Ferriers have lain for +hundreds of years. He was more fortunate than my father."</p> +<p>This interview with Madame de Ferrier in which I cut so poor a +figure, singularly influenced me. It made me restless, as if +something had entered my blood. In January the real spring begins, +for then sap starts, and the lichens seem to quicken. I felt I was +young, and rose up against lessons all day long and part of the +night. I rushed in haste to the woods or the frozen lake, and +wanted to do mighty deeds without knowing what to undertake. More +than anything else I wanted friends of my own age. To see Doctor +Chantry dozing and hear him grumbling, no longer remained +endurable; for he reminded me that my glad days were due and I was +not receiving them. Worse than that, instead of proving grateful +for all his services, I became intolerant of his opinion.</p> +<p>"De Chaumont will marry her," he said when he heard of Madame de +Ferrier's widowhood. "She will never be obliged to sue to the +Bonapartes. The count is as fond of her as he is of his +daughter."</p> +<p>"Must a woman marry a succession of fathers?"—I wanted to +know.</p> +<p>My master pointed out that the count was a very well favored and +youthful looking man. His marriage to Madame de Ferrier became even +more distasteful. She and her poppet were complete by themselves. +Wedding her to any one was casting indignity upon her.</p> +<p>Annabel de Chaumont was a countess and Madame de Ferrier was a +marquise. These names, I understood, meant that they were ladies to +be served and protected. De Chaumont's daughter was served and +protected, and as far as he was allowed to do so, he served and +protected the daughter of his fellow countryman.</p> +<p>"But the pride of emigrés," Doctor Chantry said, "was an +old story in the De Chaumont household. There were some +Saint-Michels who lived in a cabin, strictly on their own means, +refusing the count's help, yet they had followed him to Le Rayville +in Castorland. Madame de Ferrier lived where her husband had placed +her, in a wing of De Chaumont's house, refusing to be waited on by +anybody but Ernestine, paying what her keeping cost; when she was a +welcome guest."</p> +<p>My master hobbled to see her. And I began to think about her day +and night, as I had thought about my books; an isolated little girl +in her early teens, mother and widow, facing a future like a dead +wall, with daily narrowing fortunes. The seclusion in which she +lived made her sacred like a religious person. I did not know what +love was, and I never intended to dote, like my poor master. Before +the end of January, however, such a change worked in me that I was +as fierce for the vital world as I had been for the world of +books.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIIa" id="VIIa"></a>VII</h2> +<p>A trick of the eyes, a sweet turning of the mouth corners, the +very color of the hair—some irresistible physical trait, may +compel a preference in us that we cannot control; especially when +we first notice these traits in a woman. My crying need grew to be +the presence of Madame de Ferrier. It was youth calling to youth in +that gorgeous winter desert.</p> +<p>Her windows were hoar-frost furred without and curtained within. +Though I knew where they were I got nothing by tramping past and +glancing up. I used to saunter through the corridor that led to her +rooms, startled yet pleased if Ernestine came out on an errand. +Then I would close my book and nod, and she would courtesy.</p> +<p>"Oh, by the way," I would turn to remark, "I was passing, and +thought I would knock and ask how Madame de Ferrier is to-day. But +you can tell me."</p> +<p>When assured of Madame de Ferrier's health I would continue:</p> +<p>"And Paul—how is Paul?"</p> +<p>Paul carried himself marvelously. He was learning to walk. +Ernestine believed the lie about knocking, and I felt bolder every +time I told it.</p> +<p>The Indian part of me thought of going hunting and laying +slaughtered game at their door. But it was a doubtful way of +pleasing, and the bears hibernated, and the deer were perhaps a +day's journey in the white wastes.</p> +<p>I used to sing in the clear sharp air when I took to the frozen +lake and saw those heights around me. I look back upon that winter, +across what befell me afterwards, as a time of perfect peace; +before virgin snows melted, when the world was a white expanse of +innocence.</p> +<p>Our weather-besieged manor was the center of it. Vaguely I knew +there was life on the other side of great seas, and that New York, +Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore and New Orleans were cities in +which men moved and had their being. My country, the United States, +had bought from Napoleon Bonaparte a large western tract called +Louisiana, which belonged to France. A new state named Ohio was the +last added to the roll of commonwealths. Newspapers, which the +Indian runner once or twice brought us from Albany, chronicled the +doings of Aaron Burr, Vice-President of the United States, who had +recently drawn much condemnation on himself by a brutal duel.</p> +<p>"Aaron Burr was here once," said my master.</p> +<p>"What is he like?" I inquired.</p> +<p>"A lady-killer."</p> +<p>"But he is next in dignity to the President."</p> +<p>Doctor Chantry sniffed.</p> +<p>"What is even the President of a federation like this, certain +to fall to pieces some fine day!"</p> +<p>I felt offended; for my instinct was to weld people together and +hold them so welded.</p> +<p>"If I were a president or a king," I told him, "and men +conspired to break the state, instead of parleying I would hang +them up like dogs."</p> +<p>"Would you?"</p> +<p>Despising the country in which he found himself, my master took +no trouble to learn its politics. But since history had rubbed +against us in the person of Jerome Bonaparte, I wanted to know what +the world was doing.</p> +<p>"Colonel Burr had a pleasant gentleman with him at the manor," +Doctor Chantry added. "His name was Harmon Blennerhassett; a man of +good English stock, though having a wild Irish strain, which is +deplorable."</p> +<p>The best days of that swift winter were Sundays, when my master +left off snapping, and stood up reverently in our dining-room to +read his church service. Madame de Ferrier and Paul and Ernestine +came from their apartment to join in the Protestant ritual; and I +sat beside them so constantly that the Catholic priest who arrived +at Easter to dress up the souls of the household, found me in a +state of heresy.</p> +<p>I have always thought a woman needs a dark capping of hair, +whatever her complexion, to emphasize her beauty. For light locks +seem to fray out to nothing, and waste to air instead of fitly +binding a lovely countenance. Madame de Ferrier's hair was of +exactly the right color. Her eyebrows were distinct dark lines, and +the lashes were so dense that you noticed the curling rim they made +around her gray eyes. Whether the gift of looking to your core is +beauty or not, I can only say she had it. And I could not be sworn +what her features were; such life and expression played over and +changed them every moment.</p> +<p>As to her figure, it was just in its roundness and suppleness, +and had a lightness of carriage that I have never seen equaled. +There was charm in looking at without approaching her that might +have satisfied me indefinitely, if De Chaumont had not come +home.</p> +<p>Ernestine herself made the first breach in that sacred reserve. +The old woman met me in the hall, courtesied, and passed as usual. +I turned behind the broad ribbons which hung down her back from cap +to heels, and said:</p> +<p>"Oh, by the way, Ernestine, how is Madame de Ferrier? I was +going to knock—"</p> +<p>And Ernestine courtesied again, and opened the door, standing +aside for me to enter.</p> +<p>Madame de Ferrier sat on a bearskin before the hearth with Paul, +who climbed over her and gave her juicy kisses. There was a deep +wood fire, upheld by very tall andirons having cups in their tops, +which afterwards I learned were called posset cups. She was +laughing so that her white teeth showed, and she made me welcome +like a playmate; remaining on the rug, and bidding Ernestine set a +chair for me near the fire.</p> +<p>"It is very kind of you to spare me some time, monsieur," said +Madame de Ferrier. She admonished Paul—"Don't choke your +little mother."</p> +<p>I told her boldly that nothing but the dread of disturbing her +kept me from knocking every day. We had always walked into the +lodges without knocking, and I dwelt on this as one of my new +accomplishments.</p> +<p>"I am not studying night and day," she answered. "Sophie +Saint-Michel and her mother were my teachers, and they are gone +now, one to heaven and the other to Castorland."</p> +<p>Remembering what Annabel de Chaumont said about holy Sophie I +inquired if she had been religious.</p> +<p>"The Saint-Michels were better than religious; both mother and +daughter were eternally patient with the poor count, whose troubles +unsettled his reason. They had no dear old Ernestine, and were +reduced to the hardest labor. I was a little child when we came to +America, yet even then the spirit of the Saint-Michels seemed to me +divine."</p> +<p>"I wish I could remember when I was a little child."</p> +<p>"Can you not recall anything?"</p> +<p>"I have a dim knowledge of objects."</p> +<p>"What objects?"</p> +<p>"St. Regis church, and my taking first communion; and the +hunting, the woods and water, boats, snowshoes, the kind of food I +liked; Skenedonk and all my friends—but I scarcely knew them +as persons until I awoke."</p> +<p>"What is your first distinct recollection?"</p> +<p>"Your face."</p> +<p>"Mine?"</p> +<p>"Yes, yours, madame. I saw it above me when you came into the +room at night."</p> +<p>She looked past me and said:</p> +<p>"You have fortunately missed some of the most terrible events +that ever happened in the world, monsieur. My mother and father, my +two brothers, Cousin Philippe and I, were in prison together. My +mother and brothers were taken, and we were left."</p> +<p>I understood that she spoke of the Terror, about which I was +eager to know every then unwritten detail. Doctor Chantry had told +me many things. It fascinated me far more than ancient history, +which my master was inclined to press upon me.</p> +<p>"How can you go back to France, madame?"</p> +<p>"That's what I ask myself every day. That life was like a +strange nightmare. Yet there was our chateau, Mont-Louis, two or +three days' journey east from Paris. The park was so beautiful. I +think of it, and of Paul."</p> +<p>"And what about this country, madame? Is there nothing beautiful +here?"</p> +<p>"The fact has been impressed on me, monsieur, that it does not +belong to me. I am an emigré. In city or country my father +and Cousin Philippe kept me with them. I have seen nothing of young +people, except at balls. We had no intimate friends. We were always +going back. I am still waiting to go back, monsieur—and +refusing to go if I must."</p> +<p>It was plain that her life had been as restricted as mine, +though the bonds were different. She was herded with old people, +made a wife and mother while yet a child, nursed in shadow instead +of in the hot sunshine which produced Annabel de Chaumont.</p> +<p>After that we met each other as comrades meet, and both of us +changed like the face of nature, when the snow went and warm winds +came.</p> +<p>This looking at her without really approaching was going on +innocently when one day Count de Chaumont rode up to the manor, his +horse and his attendant servants and horses covered with mud, +filling the place with a rush of life.</p> +<p>He always carried himself as if he felt extremely welcome in +this world. And though a man ought to be welcome in his own house, +especially when he has made it a comfortable refuge for outsiders, +I met him with the secret resentment we bear an interloper.</p> +<p>He looked me over from head to foot with more interest than he +had ever before shown.</p> +<p>"We are getting on, we are getting on! Is it Doctor Chantry, or +the little madame, or the winter housing? Our white blood is very +much in evidence. When Chief Williams comes back to the summer +hunting he will not know his boy."</p> +<p>"The savage is inside yet, monsieur," I told him. "Scratch me +and see."</p> +<p>"Not I," he laughed.</p> +<p>"It is late for thanks, but I will now thank you for taking me +into your house."</p> +<p>"He has learned gratitude for little favors! That is Madame de +Ferrier's work."</p> +<p>"I hope I may be able to do something that will square our +accounts."</p> +<p>"That's Doctor Chantry's work. He is full of benevolent +intentions—and never empties himself. When you have learned +all your master knows, what are you going to do with it?"</p> +<p>"I am going to teach our Indians."</p> +<p>"Good. You have a full day's work before you. Founding an estate +in the wilderness is nothing compared to that. You have more +courage than De Chaumont."</p> +<p>Whether the spring or the return of De Chaumont drove me out, I +could no longer stay indoors, but rowed all day long on the lake or +trod the quickening woods. Before old Pierre could get audience +with his house accounts, De Chaumont was in Madame de Ferrier's +rooms, inspecting the wafer blotched letter. He did not appear as +depressed as he should have been by the death of his old +friend.</p> +<p>"These French have no hearts," I told Doctor Chantry.</p> +<p>He took off his horn spectacles and wiped his eyes, +responding:</p> +<p>"But they find the way to ours!"</p> +<p>Slipping between islands in water paths that wound as a meadow +stream winds through land, I tried to lose myself from the uneasy +pain which followed me everywhere.</p> +<p>There may be people who look over the scheme of their lives with +entire complacence. Mine has been the outcome of such strange +misfortunes as to furnish evidence that there is another fate than +the fate we make ourselves. In that early day I felt the unseen +lines tighten around me. I was nothing but a young student of +unknown family, able to read and write, to talk a little English, +with some knowledge of history, geography, mathematics, and Latin. +Strength and scope came by atoms. I did not know then as I know now +that I am a slow grower, even when making gigantic effort. An oak +does not accumulate rings with more deliberation than I change and +build myself.</p> +<p>My master told me a few days later that the count decreed Madame +de Ferrier must go back to France. He intended to go with her and +push her claim; and his daughter and his daughter's governess would +bear them company. Doctor Chantry and I contemplated each other, +glaring in mutual solemnity. His eyes were red and watery, and the +nose sharpened its cone.</p> +<p>"When are they going?" I inquired.</p> +<p>"As soon as arrangements for comfortable sailing can be made. I +wish I were going back to England. I shall have to save twenty-five +years before I can go, but the fund is started."</p> +<p>If I saved a hundred and twenty-five years I could not go +anywhere; for I had nothing to save. The worthlessness of +civilization rushed over me. When I was an Indian the boundless +world was mine. I could build a shelter, and take food and clothes +by my strength and skill. My boat or my strong legs carried me to +all boundaries.</p> +<p>I did not know what ailed me, but chased by these thoughts to +the lake, I determined not to go back again to De Chaumont's house. +I was sick, and my mother woods opened her arms. As if to show me +what I had thrown away to haunt the cages of men, one of those +strange sights which is sometimes seen in that region appeared upon +the mountain. No one can tell who lights the torch. A thread of +fire ran up like an opening seam, broadened, and threw out pink +ravelings. The flame wavered, paled by daylight, but shielding +itself with strong smoke, and leaped from ledge to ledge. I saw +mighty pines, standing one moment green, and the next, columns of +fire. So the mass diverged, or ran together until a mountain of +fire stood against the sky, and stretched its reflection, a glowing +furnace, across the water.</p> +<p>Flecks of ash sifted on me in the boat. I felt myself a part of +it, as I felt myself a part of the many sunsets which had burned +out on that lake. Before night I penetrated to the heart of an +island so densely overgrown, even in spring when trees had no +curtains, that you were lost as in a thousand mile forest. I camped +there in a dry ravine, with hemlock boughs under and over me, and +next day rolled broken logs, and cut poles and evergreens with my +knife, to make a lodge.</p> +<p>It was boyish, unmannerly conduct; but the world had broken, to +chaos around me; and I set up the rough refuge with skill. Some +books, my fish line and knife, were always in the boat with me, as +well as a box of tinder. I could go to the shore, get a breakfast +out of the water, and cook it myself. Yet all that day I kept my +fast, having no appetite.</p> +<p>Perhaps in the bottom of my heart I expected somebody to be sent +after me, bearing large inducements to return. We never can believe +we are not valuable to our fellows. Pierre or Jean, or some other +servants in the house, might perforce nose me out. I resolved to +hide if such an envoy approached and to have speech with nobody. We +are more or less ashamed of our secret wounds, and I was not going +to have Pierre or Jean report that I sat sulking in the woods on an +island.</p> +<p>It was very probable that De Chaumont's household gave itself no +trouble about my disappearance. I sat on my hemlock floor until the +gray of twilight and studied Latin, keeping my mind on the text; +save when a squirrel ventured out and glided bushy trained and +sinuous before me, or the marble birches with ebony limbs, drew me +to gloat on them. The white birch is a woman and a goddess. I have +associated her forever with that afternoon. Her poor cousin the +poplar, often so like her as to deceive you until ashen bough and +rounded leaf instruct the eye, always grows near her like a +protecting servant. The poor cousin rustles and fusses. But my calm +lady stands in perfect beauty, among pines straight as candles, +never tremulous, never trivial. All alabaster and ebony, she glows +from a distance; as, thinking of her, I saw another figure glow +through the loop-holes of the woods.</p> +<p>It was Madame de Ferrier.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIIIa" id="VIIIa"></a>VIII</h2> +<p>A leap of the heart and dizziness shot through me and blurred my +sight. The reality of Madame de Ferrier's coming to seek me +surpassed all imaginings.</p> +<p>She walked with quick accustomed step, parting the second growth +in her way, having tracked me from the boat. Seeing my lodge in the +ravine she paused, her face changing as the lake changes; and +caught her breath. I stood exultant and ashamed down to the +ground.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, what are you doing here?" Madame de Ferrier cried +out.</p> +<p>"Living, madame," I responded.</p> +<p>"Living? Do you mean you have returned to your old habits?"</p> +<p>"I have returned to the woods, madame."</p> +<p>"You do not intend to stay here?"</p> +<p>"Perhaps."</p> +<p>"You must not do it!"</p> +<p>"What must I do?"</p> +<p>"Come back to the house. You have given us much anxiety."</p> +<p>I liked the word "us" until I remembered it included Count de +Chaumont.</p> +<p>"Why did you come out here and hide yourself?"</p> +<p>My conduct appeared contemptible. I looked mutely at her.</p> +<p>"What offended you?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, madame."</p> +<p>"Did you want Doctor Chantry to lame himself hobbling around in +search of you, and the count to send people out in every +direction?"</p> +<p>"No, madame."</p> +<p>"What explanation will you make to the count?"</p> +<p>"None, madame." I raised my head. "I may go out in the woods +without asking leave of Count de Chaumont."</p> +<p>"He says you have forsaken your books and gone back to be an +Indian."</p> +<p>I showed her the Latin book in my hand. She glanced slightly at +it, and continued to make her gray eyes pass through my marrow.</p> +<p>Shifting like a culprit, I inquired:</p> +<p>"How did you know I was here?"</p> +<p>"Oh, it was not hard to find you after I saw the boat. This +island is not large."</p> +<p>"But who rowed you across the lake, madame?"</p> +<p>"I came by myself, and nobody except Ernestine knows it. I can +row a boat. I slipped through the tunnel, and ventured."</p> +<p>"Madame, I am a great fool. I am not worth your venturing."</p> +<p>"You are worth any danger I might encounter. But you should at +least go back for me."</p> +<p>"I will do anything for you, madame. But why should I go +back?—you will not long be there."</p> +<p>"What does that matter? The important thing is that you should +not lapse again into the Indian."</p> +<p>"Is any life but the life of an Indian open to me, madame?"</p> +<p>She struck her hands together with a scream.</p> +<p>"Louis! Sire!"</p> +<p>Startled, I dropped the book and it sprawled at her feet like +the open missal. She had returned so unexpectedly to the spirit of +our first meeting.</p> +<p>"O, if you knew what you are! During my whole life your name has +been cherished by my family. We believed you would sometime come to +your own. Believe in yourself!"</p> +<p>I seemed almost to remember and perceive what I was—as you +see in mirage one inverted boat poised on another, and are not +quite sure, and the strange thing is gone.</p> +<p>Perhaps I was less sure of the past because I was so sure of the +present. A wisp of brown mist settling among the trees spread cloud +behind her. What I wanted was this woman, to hide in the woods for +my own. I could feed and clothe her, deck her with necklaces of +garnets from the rocks, and wreaths of the delicate sand-wort +flower. She said she would rather make Paul a woodchopper than a +suppliant, taking the constitutional oath. I could make him a +hunter and a fisherman. Game, bass, trout, pickerel, grew for us in +abundance. I saw this vision with a single eye; it looked so +possible! All the crude imaginings of youth colored the spring +woods with vivid beauty. My face betrayed me, and she spoke to me +coldly.</p> +<p>"Is that your house, monsieur?"</p> +<p>I said it was.</p> +<p>"And you slept there last night?"</p> +<p>"I can build a much better one."</p> +<p>"What did you have for dinner?"</p> +<p>"Nothing."</p> +<p>"What did you have for breakfast?"</p> +<p>"Nothing."</p> +<p>Evidently the life I proposed to myself to offer her would not +suit my lady!</p> +<p>She took a lacquered box from the cover of her wrappings, and +moved down the slope a few steps.</p> +<p>"Come here to your mother and get your supper."</p> +<p>I felt tears rush to my eyes. She sat down, spread a square of +clean fringed linen upon the ground, and laid out crusty rounds of +buttered bread that were fragrant in the springing fragrance of the +woods, firm slices of cold meat, and a cunning pastry which +instantly maddened me. I was ashamed to be such a wolf.</p> +<p>We sat with our forest table between us and ate together.</p> +<p>"I am hungry myself," she said.</p> +<p>A glorified veil descended on the world. If evening had paused +while that meal was in progress it would not have surprised me. +There are half hours that dilate to the importance of centuries. +But when she had encouraged me to eat everything to the last crumb, +she shook the fringed napkin, gathered up the lacquered box, and +said she must be gone.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I have overstepped the bounds of behavior in coming +after you. The case was too urgent for consideration of myself. I +must hurry back, for the count's people would not understand my +secret errand through the tunnel. Will you show yourself at the +house as soon as possible?"</p> +<p>I told her humbly that I would.</p> +<p>"But let me put you in the boat, madame."</p> +<p>She shook her head. "You may follow, after I am out of sight. If +you fail to follow"—she turned in the act of departing and +looked me through.</p> +<p>I told her I would not fail.</p> +<p>When Madame de Ferrier disappeared beyond the bushes I sat down +and waited with my head between my hands, still seeing upon closed +eyelids her figure, the scant frock drawn around it, her cap of +dark hair under a hood, her face moving from change to change. And +whether I sat a year or a minute, clouds had descended when I +looked, as they often did in that lake gorge. So I waited no +longer, but followed her.</p> +<p>The fog was brown, and capped the evening like a solid dome, +pressing down to the earth, and twisting smoke fashion around my +feet. It threw sinuous arms in front of me as a thing endowed with +life and capable of molding itself; and when I reached my boat and +pushed off on the water, a vast mass received and enveloped me.</p> +<p>More penetrating than its clamminess was the thought that Madame +de Ferrier was out in it alone.</p> +<p>I tried one of the long calls we sometimes used in hunting. She +might hear, and understand that I was near to help her. But it was +shouting against many walls. No effort pierced the muffling +substance which rolled thickly against the lungs. Remembering it +was possible to override smaller craft, I pulled with caution, and +so bumped lightly against the boat that by lucky chance hovered in +my track.</p> +<p>"Is it you, madame?" I asked.</p> +<p>She hesitated.</p> +<p>"Is it you, monsieur?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"I think I am lost. There is no shore. The fog closed around me +so soon. I was waiting for it to lift a little."</p> +<p>"It may not lift until morning, madame. Let me tie your boat to +mine."</p> +<p>"Do you know the way?"</p> +<p>"There is no way. We shall have to feel for the shore. But Lake +George is narrow, and I know it well."</p> +<p>"I want to keep near you."</p> +<p>"Come into my boat, and let me tie the other one astern."</p> +<p>She hesitated again, but decided, "That would be best."</p> +<p>I drew the frail shells together—they seemed very frail +above such depths—and helped her cross the edges. We were +probably the only people on Lake George. Tinder lighted in one boat +would scarcely have shown us the other, though in the sky an oval +moon began to make itself seen amidst rags of fog. The dense +eclipse around us and the changing light overhead were very +weird.</p> +<p>Madame de Ferrier's hands chilled mine, and she shook in her +thin cape and hood. Our garments were saturated. I felt moisture +trickling down my hair and dropping on my shoulders.</p> +<p>She was full of vital courage, resisting the deadly chill. This +was not a summer fog, lightly to be traversed. It went dank through +the bones. When I had helped her to a bench, remembering there was +nothing dry to wrap around her, I slipped off my coat and forcibly +added its thickness to her shoulders.</p> +<p>"Do you think I will let you do that, monsieur?"</p> +<p>My teeth chattered and shocked together so it was impossible to +keep from laughing, as I told her I always preferred to be coatless +when I rowed a boat.</p> +<p>We could see each other by the high light that sometimes gilded +the face, and sometimes was tarnished almost to eclipse. Madame de +Ferrier crept forward, and before I knew her intention, cast my +garment again around me. I helped the boat shift its balance so she +would have to grasp at me for support; the chilled round shape of +her arm in my hand sent waves of fire through me. With brazen +cunning, moreover, that surprised myself, instead of pleading, I +dictated.</p> +<p>"Sit beside me on the rower's bench, madame, and the coat will +stretch around both of us."</p> +<p>Like a child she obeyed. We were indeed reduced to saving the +warmth of our bodies. I shipped my oars and took one for a paddle, +bidding Madame de Ferrier to hold the covering in place while I +felt for the shore. She did so, her arm crossing my breast, her +soft body touching mine. She was cold and still as the cloud in +which we moved; but I was a god, riding triumphantly high above the +world, satisfied to float through celestial regions forever, +bearing in my breast an unquenchable coal of fire.</p> +<p>The moon played tricks, for now she was astern, and now straight +ahead, in that confusing wilderness of vapor.</p> +<p>"Madame," I said to my companion, "why have you been persuaded +to go back to France?"</p> +<p>She drew a deep breath.</p> +<p>"I have not been persuaded. I have been forced by circumstances. +Paul's future is everything."</p> +<p>"You said you would rather make him a woodchopper than a +suppliant to the Bonapartes."</p> +<p>"I would. But his rights are to be considered first. He has some +small chance of regaining his inheritance through the influence of +Count de Chaumont now. Hereafter there may be no chance. You know +the fortunes and lands of all emigrés were forfeited to the +state. Ours have finally reached the hands of one of Napoleon's +officers. I do not know what will be done. I only know that Paul +must never have cause to reproach me."</p> +<p>I was obliged to do my duty in my place as she was doing her +duty in hers; but I wished the boat would sink, and so end all +journeys to France. It touched shore, on the contrary, and I +grasped a rock which jutted toward us. It might be the point of an +island, it might be the eastern land, as I was inclined to believe, +for the moon was over our right shoulders.</p> +<p>Probing along with the oar I found a cove and a shallow bottom, +and there I beached our craft with a great shove.</p> +<p>"How good the earth feels underfoot!" said Madame de Ferrier. We +were both stiff. I drew the boats where they could not be floated +away, and we turned our faces to the unknown. I took her +unresisting arm to guide her, and she depended upon me.</p> +<p>This day I look back at those young figures groping through +cloud as at disembodied and blessed spirits. The man's intensest +tenderness, restrained by his virginhood and his awe of the supple +delicate shape at his side, was put forth only in her service. They +walked against bushes. He broke a stick, and with it probed every +yard of the ascent which they were obliged to make. Helping his +companion from bush to log, from seam to seam of the riven slope, +from ledge to ledge, he brought her to a level of high forest where +the fog was thinner, and branches interlaced across their +faces.</p> +<p>The climb made Madame de Ferrier draw her breath quickly. She +laughed when we ended it. Though I knew the shores as well as a +hunter, it was impossible to recognize any landmark. The trees, the +moss, and forest sponge under our feet, the very rocks, were +changed by that weird medium. And when the fog opened and we walked +as through an endless tunnel of gray revolving stone, it was into a +world that never existed before and would never exist again.</p> +<p>There was no path. Creeping under and climbing over obstacles, +sometimes enclosed by the whiteness of steam, sometimes walking +briskly across lighted spaces, we reached a gorge smoking as the +lake smoked in the chill of early mornings. Vapor played all its +freaks on that brink. The edge had been sharply defined. But the +fog shut around us like a curtain, and we dared not stir.</p> +<p>Below, a medallion shaped rift widened out, and showed us a +scene as I have since beheld such things appear upon the stage. +Within the round changing frame of wispy vapor two men sat by a +fire of logs and branches. We could smell wood smoke, and hear the +branches crackle, convincing us the vision was real. Behind them +stood a cabin almost as rude as my shelter on the island.</p> +<p>One man was a grand fellow, not at all of the common order, +though he was more plainly clothed than De Chaumont. His face was +so familiar that I almost grasped recognition—but missed it. +The whole cast was full and aquiline, and the lobe of his ear, as I +noticed when light fell on his profile, sat close to his head like +mine.</p> +<p>The other man worked his feet upon the treadle of a small wheel, +which revolved like a circular table in front of him, and on this +he deftly touched something which appeared to be an earthenware +vessel. His thin fingers moved with spider swiftness, and shaped it +with a kind of magic. He was a mad looking person, with an air of +being tremendously driven by inner force. He wore mustaches the +like of which I had never seen, carried back over his ears; and +these hairy devices seemed to split his countenance in two +crosswise.</p> +<p>Some broken pottery lay on the ground, and a few vessels, +colored and lustrous so they shone in the firelight, stood on a +stump near him.</p> +<p>The hollow was not a deep one, but if the men had been talking, +their voices did not reach us until the curtain parted.</p> +<p>"You are a great fool or a great rascal, or both, Bellenger," +the superior man said.</p> +<p>"Most people are, your highness," responded the one at the +wheel. He kept it going, as if his earthenware was of more +importance than the talk.</p> +<p>"You are living a miserable life, roving about."</p> +<p>"Many other Frenchmen are no better off than I am, my +prince."</p> +<p>"True enough. I've roved about myself."</p> +<p>"Did you turn schoolmaster in Switzerland, prince?"</p> +<p>"I did. My family are in Switzerland now."</p> +<p>"Some of the nobles were pillaged by their peasants as well as +by the government. But your house should not have lost +everything."</p> +<p>"You are mistaken about our losses. The Orleans Bourbons have +little or no revenue left. Monsieur and Artois were the Bourbons +able to maintain a court about them in exile. So you have to turn +potter, to help support the idiot and yourself?"</p> +<p>"Is your highness interested in art?"</p> +<p>"What have I to do with art?"</p> +<p>"But your highness can understand how an idea will haunt a man. +It is true I live a wretched life, but I amuse myself trying to +produce a perfect vase. I have broken thousands. If a shape answers +my expectations, that very shape is certain to crack in the burning +or run in the glaze."</p> +<p>"Then you don't make things to sell?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes. I make noggins and crockery to sell in the towns. +There is a kind of clay in these hills that suits me."</p> +<p>"The wonderful vase," said the other yawning, "might perhaps +interest me more if some facts were not pressing for discussion. I +am a man of benevolent disposition, Bellenger."</p> +<p>"Your royal highness—"</p> +<p>"Stop! I have been a revolutionist, like my poor father, whose +memory you were about to touch—and I forbid it. But I am a +man whose will it is to do good. It is impossible I should search +you out in America to harm my royal cousin. Now I want to know the +truth about him."</p> +<p>Madame de Ferrier had forgotten her breath. We both stood +fastened on that scene in another world, guiltless of +eavesdropping.</p> +<p>The potter shifted his eyes from side to side, seeming to follow +the burr of his vessel upon the wheel.</p> +<p>"I find you with a creature I cannot recognize as my royal +cousin. If this is he, sunk far lower than when he left France in +your charge, why are two-thirds of his pension sent out from New +York to another person, while you receive for his maintenance only +one-third?"</p> +<p>The potter bounded from his wheel, letting the vessel spin off +to destruction, and danced, stretching his long mustaches abroad in +both hands as the ancients must have rent their clothes. He cried +that he had been cheated, stripped, starved.</p> +<p>"I thought they were straitened in Monsieur's court," he raged, +"and they have been maintaining a false dauphin!"</p> +<p>"As I said, Bellenger," remarked his superior, "you are either a +fool or the greatest rascal I ever saw."</p> +<p>He looked at Bellenger attentively.</p> +<p>"Yet why should you want to mix clues—and be rewarded with +evident misery? And how could you lose him out of your hand and +remain unconscious of it? He was sent to the ends of the earth for +safety—poor shattered child!—and if he is safe +elsewhere, why should you be pensioned to maintain another child? +They say that a Bourbon never learns anything; but I protest that a +Bourbon knows well what he does know. I feel sure my uncle intends +no harm to the disabled heir. Who is guilty of this double dealing? +I confess I don't understand it."</p> +<p>Now whether by our long and silent stare we drew his regard, or +chance cast his eye upward, the potter that instant saw us standing +in the cloud above him. He dropped by his motionless wheel, all +turned to clay himself. The eyeballs stuck from his face. He opened +his mouth and screeched as if he had been started and could not +leave off—</p> +<p>"The king!—the king!—the king!—the king!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IXa" id="IXa"></a>IX</h2> +<p>The fool's outcry startled me less than Madame de Ferrier. She +fell against me and sank downward, so that I was obliged to hold +her up in my arms. I had never seen a woman swoon. I thought she +was dying, and shouted to them below to come and help me.</p> +<p>The potter sat sprawling on the ground, and did not bestir +himself to do anything. As soon as my hands and mind were free I +took him by the scruff of the neck and kicked him behind with a +good will. My rage at him for disregarding her state was the savage +rage of an Iroquois. The other man laughed until the woods rang. +Madame de Ferrier sat up in what seemed to me a miraculous manner. +We bathed her temples with brandy, and put her on a cushion of +leaves raked up and dried to make a seat by the fire. The other +man, who helped me carry her into the ravine, stood with his hat +off, as was her due. She thanked him and thanked me, half shrouding +her face with her hood, abashed at finding herself lost among +strangers in the night; which was my fault. I told him I had been a +bad guide for a lady who had missed her way; and he said we were +fortunate to reach a camp instead of stumbling into some +danger.</p> +<p>He was much older than I, at least fourteen years, I learned +afterwards, but it was like meeting Skenedonk again, or some friend +from whom I had only been parted.</p> +<p>The heartening warmth of the fire made steam go up from our +clothes; and seeing Madame de Ferrier alive once more, and the +potter the other side of his wheel taking stock of his hurt, I felt +happy.</p> +<p>We could hear in the cabin behind us a whining like that uttered +by a fretful babe.</p> +<p>My rage at the potter ending in good nature, I moved to make +some amends for my haste; but he backed off.</p> +<p>"You startled us," said the other man, "standing up in the +clouds like ghosts. And your resemblance to one who has been dead +many years is very striking, monsieur."</p> +<p>I said I was sorry if I had kicked the potter without warrant, +but it seemed to me a base act to hesitate when help was asked for +a woman.</p> +<p>"Yet I know little of what is right among men, monsieur," I +owned. "I have been learning with a master in Count de Chaumont's +manor house less than a year. Before that my life was spent in the +woods with the Indians, and they found me so dull that I was +considered witless until my mind awoke."</p> +<p>"You are a fine fellow," the man said, laying his hands on my +shoulders. "My heart goes out to you. You may call me Louis +Philippe. And what may I call you?"</p> +<p>"Lazarre."</p> +<p>He had a smiling good face, square, but well curved and firm. +Now that I saw him fronting me I could trace his clear eyebrows, +high forehead, and the laughter lines down his cheeks. He was long +between the eyes and mouth, and he had a full and resolute +chin.</p> +<p>"You are not fat, Lazarre," said Philippe, "your forehead is +wide rather than receding, and you have not a double chin. +Otherwise you are the image of one—Who are you?"</p> +<p>"I don't know."</p> +<p>"Don't know who you are?"</p> +<p>"No. We heard all that you and the potter were saying down here, +and I wondered how many boys there are in America that are provided +for through an agent in New York, without knowing their parents. +Now that is my case."</p> +<p>"Do you say you have lived among the Indians?"</p> +<p>"Yes: among the Iroquois."</p> +<p>"Who placed you there?"</p> +<p>"No one could tell me except my Indian father; and he would not +tell."</p> +<p>"Do you remember nothing of your childhood?"</p> +<p>"Nothing."</p> +<p>"Did you ever see Bellenger before?"</p> +<p>"I never saw him before to-night."</p> +<p>"But I saw him," said Madame de Ferrier, "in London, when I was +about seven years old. It made a stronger impression on me than +anything else that ever happened in my life, except"—she +stopped.</p> +<p>"Except the taking off of my mother and brothers to the +guillotine."</p> +<p>The man who told me to call him Louis Philippe turned toward +her, with attention as careful as his avoidance when she wished to +be unobserved. She rose, and came around the fire, making a deep +courtesy.</p> +<p>"My family may not be unknown to his royal highness the Duke of +Orleans. We are De Ferriers of Mont-Louis; emigrés now, like +many others."</p> +<p>"Madame, I knew your family well. They were loyal to their +king."</p> +<p>"My father died here in America. Before we sailed we saw this +man in London."</p> +<p>"And with him—"</p> +<p>"A boy."</p> +<p>"Do you remember the boy well?"</p> +<p>"I remember him perfectly."</p> +<p>The wailing in the cabin became louder and turned to insistent +animal howls. Instead of a babe the imprisoned creature was +evidently a dog. I wondered that the potter did not let him out to +warm his hide at the fire.</p> +<p>"Did you ever see the boy again?"</p> +<p>"I did not see him again until he was brought to Count de +Chaumont's house last summer."</p> +<p>"Why to De Chaumont? Le Ray de Chaumont is not one of us. He is +of the new nobility. His chateau near Blois was bought by his +grandfather, and he takes his name from the estate. I have heard he +is in favor with Bonaparte."</p> +<p>"Even we of the old nobility, prince, may be reduced to seek +favor of Bonaparte."</p> +<p>"Heaven forbid, madame. I say nothing against him; though I +could say much."</p> +<p>"Say nothing against Count de Chaumont. Count de Chaumont +befriends all emigrés."</p> +<p>"I have nothing to say against Count de Chaumont. He is not of +our party; he is of the new. Fools! If we princes had stood by each +other as the friends of the Empire stand by their emperor, we could +have killed the Terror."</p> +<p>The animal in the cabin by this time was making such doleful +cries I said to the potter.</p> +<p>"Let him out. It is dreadful to be shut in by walls."</p> +<p>The potter, stooping half over and rolling stiffly from foot to +foot in his walk, filled me with compunction at having been brutal +to so pitiful a creature, and I hurried to open the door for him. +The animal clawed vigorously inside, and the instant I pushed back +the ill-fitted slabs, it strained through and rushed on all fours +to the fire. Madame de Ferrier fled backward, for what I liberated +could hardly be seen without dread.</p> +<p>It was a human being. Its features were a boy's, and the tousled +hair had a natural wave. While it crouched for warmth I felt the +shock of seeing a creature about my own age grinning back at me, +fishy eyed and black mouthed.</p> +<p>"There!" Bellenger said, straightening up in his place like a +bear rising from all fours. "That is the boy your De Ferriers saw +in London."</p> +<p>I remembered the boy Madame Tank had told about. Whether myself +or this less fortunate creature was the boy, my heart went very +pitiful toward him. Madame de Ferrier stooped and examined, him; he +made a juicy noise of delight with his mouth.</p> +<p>"This is not the boy you had in London, monsieur," she said to +Bellenger.</p> +<p>The potter waved his hands and shrugged.</p> +<p>"You believe, madame, that Lazarre is the boy you saw in +London?" said Louis Philippe.</p> +<p>"I am certain of it."</p> +<p>"What proofs have you?"</p> +<p>"The evidence of my eyes."</p> +<p>"Tell that to Monsieur!" exclaimed the potter.</p> +<p>"Who is Monsieur?" I asked.</p> +<p>"The eldest brother of the king of France is called Monsieur. +The Count de Provence will be called Monsieur until he succeeds +Louis XVII and is crowned Louis XVIII—if that time ever +comes. He cannot be called Louis XVII"—the man who told me to +call him Louis Philippe took my arm, and I found myself walking +back and forth with him as in a dream while he carefully formed +sentence after sentence. "Because the dauphin who died in the +Temple prison was Louis XVII. But there are a few who say he did +not die: that a dying child was substituted for him: that he was +smuggled out and carried to America, Bellenger was the agent +employed. The dauphin's sister is married to her cousin, the nephew +of Monsieur. She herself believes these things; and it is certain a +sum of money is sent out to America every year for his maintenance. +He was reduced to imbecility when removed from the Temple. It is +not known whether he will ever be fit to reign if the kingdom +returns to him. No communication has been held with him. He was +nine years old when removed from the Temple: he would now be in his +nineteenth year. When I last saw him he was a smiling little prince +with waving hair and hazel eyes, holding to his mother's +hand"—</p> +<p>"Stop!"</p> +<p>The frenzy of half recollection came on me, and that which I had +put away from my mind and sworn to let alone, seized and convulsed +me. Dreams, and sensations, and instincts massed and fell upon me +in an avalanche of conviction.</p> +<p>I was that uncrowned outcast, the king of France!</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BOOK_II" id="BOOK_II"></a>BOOK II</h2> +<h3>WANDERING</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Ib" id="Ib"></a>I</h2> +<p>A primrose dawn of spring touched the mountains as Madame de +Ferrier and I stepped into the tunnel's mouth. The wind that goes +like a besom before sunrise, swept off the fog to corners of the +sky, except a few spirals which still unwound from the lake. The +underground path to De Chaumont's manor descended by terraces of +steps and entered blackness.</p> +<p>A rank odor of earth filled it; and I never passed that way +without hearkening for the insect-like song of the rattlesnake. The +ground was slippery, and thick darkness seemed to press the soul +out of the body. Yet I liked it; for when we reached the staircase +of rock that entered the house, she would vanish.</p> +<p>And so it was.</p> +<p>She did say—"Good-night—and good-morning."</p> +<p>And I answered, "Good-morning and good-night."</p> +<p>We were both physically exhausted. My head swarmed as with +sparkles, and a thousand emotions tore me, for I was at the age +when we risk all on chances. I sat alone on the steps, unmindful of +that penetrating chill of stone which increases rather than +decreases, the longer you sit upon it, and thought of all that had +been said by my new friend at the camp-fire, while the moon went +lower and lower, the potter turned his wheel, and the idiot +slept.</p> +<p>The mixed and oblique motives of human nature—the boy's +will—worked like gigantic passions.</p> +<p>She had said very little to me in the boat, and I had said very +little to her; not realizing that the camp talk, in which she took +no part, separated us in a new way.</p> +<p>Sitting alone on the steps I held this imaginary conversation +with her.</p> +<p>"I am going to France!"</p> +<p>"You, monsieur?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I!"</p> +<p>"How are you going?"</p> +<p>"I don't know; but I am going!"</p> +<p>"The Duke of Orleans did not mention such a thing."</p> +<p>"Bother the Duke of Orleans!"</p> +<p>"When are you going?"</p> +<p>"Now!"</p> +<p>"But it may not be best to go at this time."</p> +<p>"It is always best to go where you are!"</p> +<p>"Monsieur, do not throw away your future on an unconsidered +move."</p> +<p>"Madame, I will throw away my eternity!"</p> +<p>Then I went back through the tunnel to the beach, stripped, and +took a plunge to clear my head and warm my blood, rubbing off with +my shirt.</p> +<p>On reaching my room the first thing I did was to make a bundle +of everything I considered necessary and desirable. There was no +reason for doing this before lying down; but with an easier mind I +closed my eyes; and opened them to find sunset shining through the +windows, and Doctor Chantry keeping guard in an arm-chair at my +side.</p> +<p>"Nature has taken her revenge on you, my lad," said he. "And now +I am going to take mine."</p> +<p>"I have slept all day!"</p> +<p>"Renegades who roam the woods all night must expect to sleep all +day."</p> +<p>"How do you know I have been in the woods all night?"</p> +<p>"I heard you slipping up the tunnel stairs without any shoes on +at daylight. I have not been able to sleep two nights on account of +you."</p> +<p>"Then why don't you go to bed yourself, my dear master?"</p> +<p>"Because I am not going to let you give me the slip another +time. I am responsible for you: and you will have me on your back +when you go prowling abroad again."</p> +<p>"Again?" I questioned innocently.</p> +<p>"Yes, again, young sir! I have been through your luggage, and +find that you have packed changes of clothing and things necessary +and unnecessary to a journey,—even books."</p> +<p>"I hope you put them neatly together"—</p> +<p>"Nothing of the kind. I scattered them."</p> +<p>"Do you want me to go bare into the world?" I laughed.</p> +<p>"Lazarre," said my master, "you were a good lad, studious and +zealous beyond anything I ever saw."</p> +<p>"And now I am bad and lazy."</p> +<p>"You have dropped your books and taken to wild ways."</p> +<p>"There is one thing, dear master, I haven't done: I haven't +written poetry."</p> +<p>He blinked and smiled, and felt in his breast pocket, but +thought better of it, and forebore to draw the paper out. There was +no escaping his tenacious grip. He sat by and exercised me in Latin +declensions while I dressed. We had our supper together. I saw no +member of the household except the men, Pierre and Jean. Doctor +Chantry ordered a mattress put in my room and returned there with +me.</p> +<p>We talked long on the approaching departure of the count and +Madame de Ferrier. He told me the latest details of preparation, +and tremulously explained how he must feel the loss of his +sister.</p> +<p>"I have nothing left but you, Lazarre."</p> +<p>"My dear master," I said, patting one of his shriveled hands +between mine, "I am going to be open with you."</p> +<p>I sat on the side of my bed facing his arm-chair, and the +dressing-glass reflected his bald head and my young head drawn near +together.</p> +<p>"Did you ever feel as if you were a prince?"</p> +<p>Doctor Chantry wagged a pathetic negative.</p> +<p>"Haven't you ever been ready to dare anything and everything, +because something in you said—I must!"</p> +<p>Again Doctor Chantry wagged a negative.</p> +<p>"Now I have to break bounds—I have to leave the manor and +try my fortune! I can't wait for times and seasons—to be +certain of this—to be certain of that!—I am going to +leave the house to-night—and I am going to France!"</p> +<p>"My God!" cried Doctor Chantry, springing up. "He is going to +France!—Rouse the servants!—Call De Chaumont!" He +struck his gouty foot against the chair and sat down nursing it in +both hands. I restrained him and added my sympathy to his +groans.</p> +<p>"Have you as much as a Spanish real of your own, my lad?" he +catechised me, when the foot was easy.</p> +<p>I acknowledged that I had not.</p> +<p>"It costs dear to travel about the world. It is not like coming +down the trail from St. Regis to Lake George. How are you to travel +without money?"</p> +<p>I laughed at the very uncertainty, and answered that money would +be found.</p> +<p>"Found! It isn't found, I tell you! It is inherited by the idle, +or gathered by the unscrupulous, or sweated and toiled for! It +costs days and years, and comes in drops. You might as well expect +to find a kingdom, lad!"</p> +<p>"Maybe I shall find a kingdom, master!"</p> +<p>"Oh, what a thing it is to be young!" sighed Doctor Chantry.</p> +<p>I felt it myself, and hugged my youth.</p> +<p>"Do you know how to reach the sea-port?" he continued.</p> +<p>I said anybody could follow the Hudson to New York.</p> +<p>"You're bitten, my poor lad! It's plain what ails you. You might +as well try to swim the Atlantic. De Chaumont intends her for +himself. And in the unjust distribution of this world, your rival +has the power and you have the feelings. Stay where you are. You'll +never forget it, but it will hurt less as years go by."</p> +<p>"Master," I said to him, "good sense is on your side. But if I +knew I should perish, I would have to go!"</p> +<p>And I added from fullness of conviction—</p> +<p>"I would rather undertake to do something, and perish, than live +a thousand years as I am."</p> +<p>Doctor Chantry struck the chair arm with his clenched fist.</p> +<p>"My lad, so would I—so would I!—I wish I had been +dowered with your spirit!—I'm going with you!"</p> +<p>As soon as he had made this embarrassing resolution my master +blew his nose and set his British jaws firmly together. I felt my +own jaw drop.</p> +<p>"Have you as much as a Spanish real of your own?" I quoted.</p> +<p>"That I have, young sir, and some American notes, such as they +are, and good English pounds, beside."</p> +<p>"And do you know how to reach the seaport?"</p> +<p>"Since I came that way I can return that way. You have youth, my +lad, but I have brains and experience."</p> +<p>"It's plain what ails you, Doctor Chantry. And you might as well +try to swim the Atlantic."</p> +<p>My poor master dropped his head on his breast, and I was ashamed +of baiting him and began to argue tenderly. I told him he could not +bear hardships; he was used to the soft life in De Chaumont's +house; while my flesh had been made iron in the wilderness. I +intended to take a boat from those hidden at our summer camp, to +reach the head of Lake George. But from that point to the Hudson +river—where the town of Luzerne now stands—it was +necessary to follow a trail. I could carry the light canoe over the +trail, but he could not even walk it.</p> +<p>The more I reasoned with him the more obstinate he became. There +was a wonderful spring called Saratoga, which he had visited with +De Chaumont a few years before as they came into the wilderness; he +was convinced that the water would set him on foot for the rest of +the journey.</p> +<p>"It is twenty-nine miles above Albany. We could soon reach it," +he urged.</p> +<p>"I have heard of it," I answered. "Skenedonk has been there. But +he says you leave the river and go into the woods."</p> +<p>"I know the way," he testily insisted. "And there used to be +near the river a man who kept horses and carried visitors to the +spring."</p> +<p>The spirit of reckless adventure, breaking through years of +extreme prudence, outran youth.</p> +<p>"What will you do in France?" I put to him. He knew no more than +I what I should do.</p> +<p>And there was Count de Chaumont to be considered. How would he +regard such a leave-taking?</p> +<p>Doctor Chantry was as insensible to De Chaumont as I myself. +Still he agreed to write a note to his protector while I prepared +my quill to write one to Madame de Ferrier. With the spirit of the +true parasite he laid all the blame on me, and said he was +constrained by duty to follow and watch over me since it was +impossible to curb a nature like mine. And he left a loop-hole open +for a future return to De Chaumont's easy service, when the +hardships which he willingly faced brought him his reward.</p> +<p>This paper he brazenly showed me while I was struggling to beg +Madame de Ferrier's pardon, and to let her know that I aimed at +something definite whether I ever reached port or not.</p> +<p>I reflected with satisfaction that he would probably turn back +at Saratoga. We descended together to his room and brought away the +things he needed. In bulk they were twice as large as the load I +had made for myself. He also wrote out strict orders to Pierre to +seal up his room until his return. The inability of an old man to +tear himself from his accustomed environment cheered my heart.</p> +<p>We then went back to bed, and like the two bad boys we were, +slept prepared for flight.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IIb" id="IIb"></a>II</h2> +<p>"This is fine!" said Doctor Chantry, when we descended from the +rough stage which had brought us across a corduroy trail, and found +ourselves at the entrance of a spacious wooden tavern. "When I +passed Saratoga before there were only three log houses, and the +inn had two rooms below and one above. It was lighted by pine +torches stuck in the chinks of the wall—and see how candles +shine through these windows!"</p> +<p>The tavern stood in a cleared place with miles of forest around +it, and a marsh stretching near by. Dusk could not prevent our +seeing a few log habitations, one of them decorated with a +merchant's sign. We entered among swarming crowds, a little world +dropped into the backwoods. This was more surprising because we had +just left behind us a sense of wild things gathering to their night +haunts, and low savage cries, and visions of moose and deer through +far-off arches.</p> +<p>A man who appeared to be the host met us, his sprightly interest +in our welfare being tempered by the consciousness of having many +guests; and told us the house was full, but he would do what he +could for us.</p> +<p>"Why is the house full?" fretted Doctor Chantry. "What right +have you, my dear sir, to crowd your house and so insure our +discomfort?"</p> +<p>"None at all, sir," answered the host good naturedly. "If you +think you can do better, try for lodgings at the +store-keeper's."</p> +<p>"The store-keeper's!" Doctor Chantry's hysterical cry turned +some attention to us. "I shall do nothing of the kind. I demand the +best you have, sir."</p> +<p>"The best I can give you," amended our host. "You see we are +very full of politicians from Washington. They crowd to the +spring."</p> +<p>My master turned his nose like the inflamed horn of a unicorn +against the politicians from Washington, and trotted to the +fireplace where blazing knots cheered a great tap-room set with +many tables and benches.</p> +<p>And there rested Skenedonk in silent gravity, toasting his +moccasins. The Iroquois had long made Saratoga a gathering place, +but I thought of this Oneida as abiding in St. Regis village; for +our people did not come to the summer hunting in May.</p> +<p>Forgetting that I was a runaway I met him heartily, and the fawn +eyes in his bald head beamed their accustomed luster upon me. I +asked him where my father and mother and the rest of the tribe +were, and he said they had not left St. Regis.</p> +<p>"And why are you so early?" I inquired.</p> +<p>He had been at Montreal, and had undertaken to guide a Frenchman +as far as Saratoga. It is not easy to surprise an Indian. But I +wondered that Skenedonk accepted my presence without a question, +quite as if he had himself made the appointment.</p> +<p>However, the sights to be seen put him out of my head. Besides +the tap-room crowded with men there was a parlor in which women of +fashion walked about, contrasting with the place. They had all been +to a spring to drink water; for only one spring was greatly used +then; and they talked about the medicinal effects. Some men left +the stronger waters, which could be had at a glittering +portcullised bar opposite the fireplace in the tap-room, to chat +with these short-waisted beauties. I saw one stately creature in a +white silk ball costume, his stockings splashed to the knees with +mud from the corduroy road.</p> +<p>But the person who distinguished himself from everybody else by +some nameless attraction, was a man perhaps forty years old, who +sat in a high-backed settle at a table near the fire. He was erect +and thin as a lath, long faced, square browed and pale. His sandy +hair stood up like the bristles of a brush. Carefully dressed, with +a sword at his side—as many of the other men had—he +filled my idea of a soldier; and I was not surprised to hear his +friends sitting opposite call him General Jackson.</p> +<p>An inkstand, a quill and some paper were placed before him, but +he pushed them aside with his glass of toddy to lift one long +fore-finger and emphasize his talk. He had a resonant, impressive +voice, with a manner gentle and persuasive, like a woman's: and he +was speaking of Aaron Burr, the man whose duel had made such a +noise in the newspapers.</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/opposite_p138.jpg"><img src= +"images/opposite_p138.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>He pushed them aside with his glass of toddy to lift one long +fore-finger and emphasize his talk.</b> +<br /></div> +<p>"I disagree with you, Mr. Campbell. You are prejudiced against +Mr. Burr on account of his late unfortunate affair. Even in that +case I maintain every man has a right to honor and satisfaction. +But he loves the Spanish on our southwestern borders no better than +I do,—and you know how I love the Spanish!"</p> +<p>The other man laughed, lounging against the table.</p> +<p>"You can't believe anything ill of Aaron Burr, General."</p> +<p>I might have given attention to what they were saying, since +here were men from Washington, the very fountain of government, if +Doctor Chantry had not made me uneasy. He chose the table at which +they were sitting and placed himself in the seat nearest the fire, +with the utmost nicety about his own comfort. He wiped his horn +spectacles, and produced his own ink and quill and memorandum from +a breast pocket. I had begged the doctor to keep strict account +between us, that I might pay back from my pension whatever he spent +on me, and with fine spider-like characters he was proceeding to +debit me with the stage fare, when another quill barred his +entrance to his ink-horn.</p> +<p>He took off his spectacles and glared pink-eyed at the genial +gentleman with sandy upright hair.</p> +<p>"Sir!" he cried, "that is my ink!"</p> +<p>General Jackson, absorbed in talk, did not notice Doctor +Chantry, who half arose and shouted directly at his ear,</p> +<p>"Sir, that is my ink!"</p> +<p>He knocked the interloping quill in the direction of its +owner.</p> +<p>The genial sandy gentleman changed countenance in a way to +astonish beholders.</p> +<p>"Have I disputed it, sir?"</p> +<p>"No, sir, but you have dipped into it without asking leave."</p> +<p>"By God, sir, what is a fip'ny-bit's worth of ink?"</p> +<p>"But it's mine, sir!"</p> +<p>"I see, sir; you're a Yankee, sir!"</p> +<p>"I'm not, sir; I'm English—the finest race in the +world!"</p> +<p>General Jackson looked him up and down as they rose fronting +each other, and filled the air with dazzling words.</p> +<p>"I should judge so, sir, by the specimen I see before me!"</p> +<p>Doctor Chantry was like a fighting-cock, and it was plainly his +age which kept the other from striking him. He was beginning our +journey well, but I felt bound to intercept whatever fell upon him, +and stood between them. The other men at the table rose with +General Jackson.</p> +<p>"Gentlemen," I pleaded with the best words I could command in +the language, "do not forget your dignity, and disturb the peace of +this house for a bottle of ink!"</p> +<p>The quarrel was ridiculous, and the Southerners laughed. General +Jackson himself again changed countenance, and gave me, I do not +know why, a smile that must have been reflected from the face of a +woman he adored. But my poor master showed the bull-dog; and taking +him by the arm and the collar I toddled him away from that table to +a dark entry, where I held him without any admonition save a +sustained grip. He became like a child, weeping and trembling, and +declaring that everybody was in league against him. Argument is +wasted on people having such infirmity of temper. When he was well +cooled I put him in an arm-chair by a fire in the ladies' parlor, +and he was soon very meek and tractable, watching the creatures he +so admired.</p> +<p>"You must go to bed as soon as you have your supper," I said to +him. "The journey to Saratoga has been a hard one for you. But +Skenedonk is here fortunately, and he can take you home again."</p> +<p>My master looked at me with the shrewishness of an elephant. I +had not at that time seen an elephant. When I did see one, however, +the shifting of its eyes brought back the memory of Doctor Chantry +when I had him at bay by the fire.</p> +<p>"You are not going to get away from me," he responded. "If you +are tired of it, so am I. Otherwise, we proceed."</p> +<p>"If you pick quarrels with soldiers and duelists at every step, +what are we to do?"</p> +<p>"I picked no quarrel. It is my luck. Everyone is against me!" He +hung his head in such a dejected manner that I felt ashamed of +bringing his temperament to account: and told him I was certain no +harm would come of it.</p> +<p>"I am not genial," Doctor Chantry owned; "I wish I were. Now you +are genial, Lazarre. People take to you. You attract them. But +whatever I am, you are obliged to have my company: you cannot get +along without me. You have no experience, and no money. I have +experience,—and a few pounds:—not enough to retire into +the country upon, in England; but enough to buy a little food for +the present."</p> +<p>I thought I could get along better without the experience and +even the few pounds, than with him as an encumbrance; though I +could not bring myself to the cruelty of telling him so. For there +is in me a fatal softness which no man can have and overbear others +in this world. It constrains me to make the other man's cause my +own, though he be at war with my own interests.</p> +<p>Therefore I was at the mercy of Skenedonk, also. The Indian +appeared in the doorway and watched me. I knew he thought there was +to be trouble with the gentleman from Washington, and I went to him +to ease his mind.</p> +<p>Skenedonk had nothing to say, however, and made me a sign to +follow him. As we passed through the tap-room, General Jackson gave +me another pleasant look. He had resumed his conversation and his +own ink-bottle as if he had never been interrupted.</p> +<p>The Indian led me upstairs to one of the chambers, and opened +the door.</p> +<p>In the room was Louis Philippe, and when we were shut alone +together, he embraced me and kissed me as I did not know men +embraced and kissed.</p> +<p>"Do you know Skenedonk?" I exclaimed.</p> +<p>"If you mean the Indian who brought you at my order, he was my +guide from Montreal."</p> +<p>"But he was not with you at the potter's camp."</p> +<p>"Yes, he was in the hut, wrapped in his blanket, and after you +drove the door in he heard all that was said. Lazarre"—Louis +Philippe took my face in his hands—"make a clean breast of +it."</p> +<p>We sat down, and I told him without being questioned what I was +going to do. He gravely considered.</p> +<p>"I saw you enter the house, and had a suspicion of your +undertaking. It is the worst venture you could possibly make at +this time. We will begin with my family. Any belief in you into +which I may have been betrayed is no guaranty of Monsieur's belief. +You understand," said Louis Philippe, "that Monsieur stands next to +the throne if there is no dauphin, or an idiot dauphin?"</p> +<p>I said I understood.</p> +<p>"Monsieur is not a bad man. But Bellenger, who took charge of +the dauphin, has in some manner and for some reason, provided +himself with a substitute, and he utterly denies you. Further: +supposing that you are the heir of France, restored to your family +and proclaimed—of what use is it to present yourself before +the French people now? They are besotted with this Napoleon. The +Empire seems to them a far greater thing than any legitimate +monarchy. Of what use, do I say? It would be a positive danger for +you to appear in France at this time! Napoleon has proscribed every +Bourbon. Any prince caught alive in France will be put to death. Do +you know what he did last year to the Duke d'Enghien? He sent into +Germany for the duke, who had never harmed him, never conspired +against him—had done nothing, in fact, except live an +innocent life away from the seat of Napoleon's power. The duke was +brought to Paris under guard and put in the dungeons of Vincennes. +He demanded to see Bonaparte. Bonaparte would not see him. He was +tried by night, his grave being already dug in the castle ditch. +That lovely young fellow—he was scarcely above +thirty—was taken out to the ditch and shot like a dog!"</p> +<p>I stood up with my hands clenched.</p> +<p>"Sit down," said Louis Philippe. "There is no room in the world +at this time for anybody but that jealous monster."</p> +<p>"He shall not tie me here," I said.</p> +<p>"You intend to go?"</p> +<p>"I intend to go."</p> +<p>"This Bonaparte," said Louis Philippe, "has his troubles. His +brother Jerome has married an American in Baltimore. A fine +explosion that will make when it reaches his ears. Where are you +going to land, Lazarre?"</p> +<p>I said that must depend on the ship I took.</p> +<p>"And what are you going to do when you land?"</p> +<p>I said I would think that out later.</p> +<p>Then the spirit being upon me, I burst bounds and told him +impetuously that I was going to learn what the world held for me. +Without means, without friends, or power or prospects, or certainty +of any good results—impudent—reckless—utterly +rash—"I am going," I cried, "because I must go!"</p> +<p>"There is something about you which inspires love, my boy," said +Louis Philippe; and I heard him with astonishment. "Perhaps it +comes from the mother; she was a witcher of all mankind."</p> +<p>"I cannot understand why any one should love so ignorant a +creature, but God grant there be others that love me, too; for I +have lived a life stinted of all affection. And, indeed, I did not +know I wanted it until last year. When we talked late the other +night, and you told me the history of all my family, the cruelest +part of my lot seemed the separation from those that belonged to +me. Separation from what is our own ought not to be imposed upon us +even by God Himself!"</p> +<p>"What!" said Louis Philippe, "is he following a woman!"</p> +<p>My face burned, and probably went white, for I felt the blood go +back on my heart. He took my hand and stroked it.</p> +<p>"Don't chain yourself behind that chariot. Wait a little while +for your good star to rise. I wish I had money. I wish I could be +of use to you in France. I wish I stood nearer to Monsieur, for +your sake. Every one must love this bold pure face. It bears some +resemblance to Madame Royal. The sister of the dauphin is a good +girl, not many years your senior. Much dominated by her uncles, but +a royal duchess. It is the fashion now to laugh at chivalry. You +are the most foolish example of it I ever saw! It is like seeing a +knight without horse, armor, or purse, set out to win an equipment +before he pursues his quest! Yet I love you for it, my boy!"</p> +<p>"It would be well for me if I had more friends like you."</p> +<p>"Why, I can be of no use! I cannot go back to France at this +time, and if I could, what is my influence there? I must wander +around in foreign parts, a private gentleman eking out my living by +some kind of industry. What are you going to do with the fretful +old fellow you have with you?"</p> +<p>I groaned and laughed.</p> +<p>"Carry him on my back. There is no getting rid of him. He is +following me to France. He is my lesson-master."</p> +<p>"How will you support him?"</p> +<p>"He is supporting me at present. But I would rather take my +chances alone."</p> +<p>"You have another follower," said Louis Philippe. "Your Indian +has been in France, and after hearing our talk at the camp, he +foresaw you might be moved to this folly, and told me he intended +to guide you there, or wherever you go!"</p> +<p>"And Skenedonk, too!"</p> +<p>I shook with laughter. It was so like Skenedonk to draw his +conclusions and determine on the next step.</p> +<p>"What shall I do with them?"</p> +<p>"The old master can be your secretary, and as for the Indian, +you can take him for your servant."</p> +<p>"A secretary and a servant, for an outcast without a penny to +his pouch!"</p> +<p>"You see the powers that order us are beginning well with you. +Starting with a secretary and a servant, you may end with a full +household and a court! I ought to add my poor item of tribute, and +this I can do. There is a ship-master taking cargo this month in +New York bay, who is a devoted royalist; a Breton sailor. For a +letter from me he will carry you and your suite to the other side +of the world; but you will have to land in his port."</p> +<p>"And what will the charges be?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, except gratitude, if I put the case as strongly to him +as I intend to do. God knows I may be casting a foul lot for you. +His ship is staunch, rigged like the Italian salt ships. But it is +dirty work crossing the sea; and there is always danger of falling +into the hands of pirates. Are you determined?"</p> +<p>I looked him in the eyes, and said I was; thanking him for all +his goodness to one who had so little expectation of requiting him. +The sweet heartiness of an older man so far beyond myself in +princely attainments and world knowledge, who could stoop to such a +raw savage, took me by storm.</p> +<p>I asked him if he had any idea who the idiot was that we had +seen in Bellenger's camp. He shook his head, replying that idiots +were plentiful, and the people who had them were sometimes glad to +get rid of them.</p> +<p>"The dauphin clue has been very cleverly managed +by—Bellenger, let us say," Louis Philippe remarked. "If you +had not appeared, I should not now believe there is a dauphin."</p> +<p>I wanted to tell him all the thoughts tossing in my mind; but +silence is sometimes better than open speech. Facing adventure, I +remembered that I had never known the want of food for any length +of time during my conscious life. And I had a suspicion the soft +life at De Chaumont's had unstrung me for what was before me. But +it lasted scarce a year, and I was built for hardship.</p> +<p>He turned to his table to write the ship-master's letter. +Behold, there lay a book I knew so well that I +exclaimed——</p> +<p>"Where did you get my missal?"</p> +<p>"Your missal, Lazarre? This is mine."</p> +<p>I turned the leaves, and looked at the back. It was a +continuation of the prayers of the church. There were blank leaves +for the inscribing of prayers, and one was written out in a good +bold hand.</p> +<p>"His Majesty Louis XVI composed and wrote that prayer himself," +said Louis Philippe. "The comfort-loving priests had a fashion of +dividing the missal into three or four parts, that a volume might +not be so heavy to carry about in their pockets. This is the second +volume. It was picked up in the Tuileries after that palace was +sacked."</p> +<p>I told him mine must be the preceding volume, because I did not +know there was any continuation. The prayers of the church had not +been my study.</p> +<p>"Where did you get yours, Lazarre?"</p> +<p>"Madame de Ferrier gave it to me. When I saw it I remembered, as +if my head were split open to show the picture, that my mother had +read from that very book to me. I cannot explain it, but so it +was."</p> +<p>"I am not surprised she believes, against Bellenger's evidence, +that you are Louis of France."</p> +<p>"I will bring my book and show it to you."</p> +<p>We compared the volumes after supper, and one was the mate of +the other.</p> +<p>The inn dining-room had one long table stretched down its entire +length, heaped with wild meats and honey and pastries and fish in +abundance. General Jackson sat at one end, and at the other sat the +landlord, explaining to all his guests what each dish was, and +urging good appetite. I sat by Louis Philippe, whose quality was +known only to myself, with Doctor Chantry on the other side +fretting for the attendance to which Jean had used him.</p> +<p>My master was so tired that I put him early to bed; and then sat +talking nearly all night with the gracious gentleman to whom I felt +bound by gratitude and by blood.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IIIb" id="IIIb"></a>III</h2> +<p>Dieppe, high and glaring white above the water, will always +symbolize to me the gate of France. The nobility of that view +remained in my thoughts when half the distance to Paris was +traversed.</p> +<p>I could shut my eyes and see it as I lay on the straw in a +post-house stable. A square hole in the front of the grenier gave +upon the landscape. Even respectable houses in that part of the +country were then built with few or no windows; but delicious +masses of grayness they were, roofed with thick and overhanging +thatch.</p> +<p>"The stables of France are nothing but covered dunghills," +Doctor Chantry grumbled; so when I crept with the Indian to +lodgings over the cattle, one of the beds in the house was hired +for the gouty master. Even at inns there were two or three beds in +a room where they set us to dine.</p> +<p>"An English inn-keeper would throw their furniture into the +fire!" he cried in a language fortunately not understood.</p> +<p>"But we have two good rooms on the ground floor, and another for +Skenedonk," I sometimes remonstrated with him, "at three shillings +and sixpence a day, in your money."</p> +<p>"You would not see any man, let his rank be what it may," Doctor +Chantry retorted, "dining in his bedroom, in England. And look at +these walls!—papered with two or three kinds of paper, the +bare spots hung with tapestry moth-eaten and filled with spiders! +And what have we for table?—a board laid on cross-bars! And +the oaken chairs are rush-bottomed, and so straight the backs are a +persecution! The door hinges creak in these inns, the wind blows +through—"</p> +<p>So his complaints went on, for there never was a man who got so +much out of small miseries. Skenedonk and I must have failed to see +all in our travels that he put before us. For we were full of +enjoyment and wonder: at the country people, wooden shod, the +women's caps and long cloaks; at the quiet fair roads which +multiplied themselves until we often paused enchanted in a fairy +world of sameness; at market-towns, where fountains in the squares +were often older than America, the country out of which we +arrived.</p> +<p>Skenedonk heard without shifting a muscle all Doctor Chantry's +grievances; and I told him we ought to cherish them, for they were +views of life we could not take ourselves. Few people are made so +delicately that they lose color and rail at the sight of raw tripe +brought in by a proud hostess to show her resources for dinner; or +at a chicken coming upon the table with its head tucked beneath its +wing.</p> +<p>"We are fed with poulet, poulet, nothing but poulet," said +Doctor Chantry, "until the poulets themselves are ashamed to look +us in the face!"</p> +<p>We fared well, indeed, and the wine was good, and my master said +he must sustain himself on it though it proved his death. He could +not march as Skenedonk and I regularly marched. We hired a cart to +lift him and our knapsacks from village to village, with a driver +who knew the road to Paris. When the distances were long we +sometimes mounted beside him. I noticed that the soil of this +country had not the chalk look of other lands which I afterwards +saw to the east and north; but Napoleon was already making good the +ancient thoroughfares.</p> +<p>When my master was on shipboard he enjoyed the sea even less +than the free air of these broad stretches; for while he could cast +an eye about and approve of something under the sky—perhaps a +church steeple, or the color of a thatch which filled me with +joy—he could not approve of anything aboard a ship. Indeed, +it was pity to have no delight in cleaving the water, and in the +far-off spouting of whales, to say nothing of a living world that +rides in undulations. For my part, I loved even the creaking of a +ship, and the uncertainty of ever coming to port, and the anxiety +lest a black flag should show above every sail we passed. The slow +progress of man from point to point in his experience, while it +sometimes enrages, on the whole interests me; and the monotony of a +voyage has a sweetness like the monotony of daily bread. I looked +out of the grenier window upon the high road, and upon the June sun +in the act of setting; for we had supped and gone early to rest +after a hard day. Post horses were stamping underneath, all ready +for some noble count who intended to make another stage of his +journey before nightfall.</p> +<p>Small obtrusive cares, such as the desire that my shoes should +last well into Paris, mingled with joy in the smell of the earth at +sunset, and the looking forward to seeing Madame de Ferrier again. +I wrapped myself every night in the conviction that I should see +her, and more freely than I had ever seen her in America.</p> +<p>There was a noise of horses galloping, and the expected noble +count arrived; being no other than De Chaumont with his post +coaches. He stepped out of the first, and Ernestine stepped out of +the second, carrying Paul. She took him to his mother. The door +flew open, and the woman I adored received her child and walked +back and forth with him. Annabel leaned out while the horses were +changed. I saw Miss Chantry, and my heart misgave me, remembering +her brother's prolonged lament at separation from her.</p> +<p>He was, I trusted, already shut into one of those public beds +which are like cupboards; for the day had begun for us at three of +the morning. But if he chose to show himself, and fall upon De +Chaumont for luxurious conveyance to Paris, I was determined that +Skenedonk and I should not appear. I wronged my poor master, who +told me afterwards he watched through a crack of the cupboard bed +with his heart in his mouth.</p> +<p>The pause was a very short one, for horses are soon changed. +Madame de Ferrier threw a searching eye over the landscape. It was +a mercy she did not see the hole in the grenier, through which I +devoured her, daring for the first time to call her +secretly—Eagle—the name that De Chaumont used with +common freedom! Now how strange is this—that one woman should +be to a man the sum of things! And what was her charm I could not +tell, for I began to understand there were many beautiful women in +the world, of all favors, and shapely perhaps as the one of my +love. Only her I found drawing the soul out of my body; and none of +the others did more than please the eye like pictures.</p> +<p>The carriages were gone with the sun, and it was no wonder all +fell gray over the world.</p> +<p>De Chaumont had sailed behind us, and he would be in Paris long +before us.</p> +<p>I had first felt some uneasiness, and dread of being arrested on +our journey; though our Breton captain—who was a man of gold +that I would travel far to see this day, if I could, even beneath +the Atlantic, where he and his ship now float—obtained for us +at Dieppe, on his own pledge, a kind of substitute for passports. +We were a marked party, by reason of the doctor's lameness and +Skenedonk's appearance. The Oneida, during his former sojourn in +France, had been encouraged to preserve the novelty of his Indian +dress. As I had nothing to give him in its place it did not become +me to find fault. And he would have been more conspicuous with a +cocked hat on his bare red scalp, and knee breeches instead of +buckskins. Peasants ran out to look at him, and in return we looked +at them with a good will.</p> +<p>We reached the very barriers of Paris, however, without falling +into trouble. And in the streets were so many men of so many +nations that Skenedonk's attire seemed no more bizarre than the +turbans of the east or the white burnous of the Arab.</p> +<p>It was here that Skenedonk took his rôle as guide, and +stalked through narrow crooked streets, which by comparison made +New York, my first experience of a city, appear a plain and open +village.</p> +<p>I do not pretend to know anything about Paris. Some spots in the +mystic labyrinth stand out to memory, such as that open space where +the guillotine had done its work, the site of the Bastille, and a +long street leading from the place of the Bastille, parallel with +the river; and this I have good reason to remember. It is called +Rue St. Antoine. I learned well, also, a certain prison, and a part +of the ancient city called Faubourg St. Germain. One who can strike +obscure trails in the wilderness of nature, may blunt his fine +instincts on the wilderness of man.</p> +<p>This did not befall the Indian. He took a bee line upon his old +tracks, and when the place was sighted we threaded what seemed to +be a rivulet between cliffs, for a moist depressed street-center +kept us straddling something like a gutter, while with outstretched +hands we could brace the opposite walls.</p> +<p>We entered a small court where a gruff man, called a concierge, +having a dirty kerchief around his head, received us doubtfully. He +was not the concierge of Skenedonk's day. We showed him coin; and +Doctor Chantry sat down in his chair and looked at him with such +contempt that his respect increased.</p> +<p>The house was clean, and all the stairs we climbed to the roof +were well scoured. From the mansard there was a beautiful view of +Paris, with forest growth drawing close to the heart of the city. +For on that side of the world men dare not murder trees, but are +obliged to respect and cherish them.</p> +<p>My poor master stretched himself on a bed by the stooping wall, +and in disgust of life and great pain of feet, begged us to order a +pan of charcoal and let him die the true Parisian death when that +is not met on the scaffold. Skenedonk said to me in Iroquois that +Doctor Chantry was a sick old woman who ought to be hidden some +place to die, and it was his opinion that the blessing of the +church would absolve us. We could then make use of the pouch of +coin to carry on my plans.</p> +<p>My plans were more ridiculous than Skenedonk's. His at least +took sober shape, while mine were still the wild emotions of a +young man's mind. Many an hour I had spent on the ship, watching +the foam speed past her side, trying to foresee my course like hers +in a trackless world. But it seemed I must wait alertly for what +destiny was making mine.</p> +<p>We paid for our lodgings, three commodious rooms, though in the +mansard; my secretary dragging himself to sit erect with groans and +record the increasing debt of myself and my servant.</p> +<p>"Come, Skenedonk," I then said. "Let us go down to the earth and +buy something that Doctor Chantry can eat."</p> +<p>That benevolent Indian was quite as ready to go to market as to +abate human nuisances. And Doctor Chantry said he could almost see +English beef and ale across the channel; but translated into French +they would, of course, be nothing but poulet and sour wine. I +pillowed his feet with a bag of down which he had kicked off his +bed, and Skenedonk and I lingered along the paving as we had many a +time lingered through the woods. There were book stalls a few feet +square where a man seemed smothered in his own volumes; and victual +shops where you could almost feed yourself for two or three sous; +and people sitting outdoors drinking wine, as if at a general +festival. I thought Paris had comfort and prosperity—with +hereditary kings overthrown and an upstart in their place. Yet the +streets were dirty, with a smell of ancientness that sickened +me.</p> +<p>We got a loaf of bread as long as a staff, a pat of butter in a +leaf, and a bottle of wine. My servant, though unused to squaw +labor, took on himself the porterage of our goods, and I pushed +from street to street, keenly pleased with the novelty, which held +somewhere in its volatile ether the person of Madame de +Ferrier.</p> +<p>Skenedonk blazed our track with his observant eye, and we told +ourselves we were searching for Doctor Chantry's beef. Being the +unburdened hunter I undertook to scan cross places, and so came +unexpectedly upon the Rue St. Antoine, as a man told me it was +called, and a great hurrahing that filled the mouths of a crowd +blocking the thoroughfare.</p> +<p>"Long live the emperor!" they shouted.</p> +<p>The man who told me the name of the street, a baker all in +white, with his tray upon his head, objected contemptuously.</p> +<p>"The emperor is not in Paris: he is in Boulogne."</p> +<p>"You never know where he is—he is +here—there—everywhere!" declared another workman, in a +long dark garment like a hunting-shirt on the outside of his small +clothes.</p> +<p>"Long live the emperor!—long live the emperor!"</p> +<p>I pushed forward as two or three heavy coaches checked their +headlong speed, and officers parted the crowd.</p> +<p>"There he is!" admitted the baker behind me. Something struck me +in the side, and there was Bellenger the potter, a man I thought +beyond the seas in America. His head as I saw it that moment put +the emperor's head out of my mind. He had a knife, and though he +had used the handle, I foolishly caught it and took it from him. +With all his strength he then pushed me so that I staggered against +the wheel of a coach.</p> +<p>"Assassin!" he screamed; and then Paris fell around my ears.</p> +<p>If anybody had seen his act nobody refrained from joining in the +cry.</p> +<p>"Assassin! Assassin! To the lamp post with him!"</p> +<p>I stood stupefied and astonished as an owl blinking in the +sunshine, and two guards held my collar. The coaches lashed away, +carrying the man of destiny—as I have since been told he +called himself—as rapidly as possible, leaving the victim of +destiny to be bayed at by that many-headed dog, the mongrel +populace of Paris.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IVb" id="IVb"></a>IV</h2> +<p>The idiot boy somewhere upon the hills of Lake George, always in +a world of fog which could not be discovered again, had often come +to my mind during my journeys, like a self that I had shed and left +behind. But Bellenger was a cipher. I forgot him even at the +campfire. Now here was this poor crazy potter on my track with +vindictive intelligence, the day I set foot in Paris. Time was not +granted even to set the lodging in order. He must have crossed the +ocean with as good speed as Doctor Chantry and Skenedonk and I. He +may have spied upon us from the port, through the barriers, and +even to our mansard. At any rate he had found me in a crowd, and +made use of me to my downfall: and I could have knocked my stupid +head on the curb as I was haled away.</p> +<p>One glimpse of Skenedonk I caught while we marched along Rue St. +Antoine, the gendarmes protecting me from the crowd. He thought I +was going to the scaffold, where many a strapping fellow had gone +in the Paris of his youth, and fought to reach me, laying about him +with his loaf of bread. Skenedonk would certainly trail me, and +find a way to be of use, unless he broke into trouble as readily as +I had done.</p> +<p>My guards crossed the river in the neighborhood of palaces, and +came by many windings to a huge pile rearing its back near a garden +place, and there I was turned over to jailers and darkness. The +entrance was unwholesome. A man at a table opened a tome which +might have contained all the names in Paris. He dipped his quill +and wrote by candlelight.</p> +<p>"Political offender or common criminal?" he inquired.</p> +<p>"Political offender," the officer answered.</p> +<p>"What is he charged with?"</p> +<p>"Trying to assassinate the emperor in his post-chaise."</p> +<p>"La, la, la!" the recorder grunted. "Another attempt! And +gunpowder put in the street to blow the emperor up only last week. +Good luck attends him:—only a few windows broken and some +common people killed. Taken in the act, was this fellow?"</p> +<p>"With the knife in his hand."</p> +<p>"What name?" the recorder inquired.</p> +<p>I had thought on the answer, and told him merely that my name +was Williams.</p> +<p>"Eh, bien, Monsieur Veeleeum. Take him to the east side among +the political offenders," said the master-jailer to an assistant or +turnkey.</p> +<p>"But it's full," responded the turnkey.</p> +<p>"Shove him in some place."</p> +<p>They searched me, and the turnkey lighted another candle. The +meagerness of my output was beneath remark. When he had led me up a +flight of stone steps he paused and inquired,</p> +<p>"Have you any money?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"So much the worse for you."</p> +<p>"What is the name of this prison?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Ste. Pélagie," he answered. "If you have no money, and +expect to eat here, you better give me some trinket to sell for +you."</p> +<p>"I have no trinkets to give you."</p> +<p>He laughed.</p> +<p>"Your shirt or breeches will do."</p> +<p>"Are men shut up here to starve?"</p> +<p>The jailer shrugged.</p> +<p>"The bread is very bad, and the beans too hard to eat. We do not +furnish the rations; it is not our fault. The rule here is nothing +buys nothing. But sleep in your breeches while you can. You will +soon be ready enough to eat them."</p> +<p>I was ready enough to eat them then, but forbore to let him know +it. The whole place was damp and foul. We passed along a corridor +less than four feet wide, and he unlocked a cell from which a +revolting odor came. There was no light except what strained +through a loophole under the ceiling. He turned the key upon me, +and I held my nose. Oh, for a deep draught of the wilderness!</p> +<p>There seemed to be an iron bed at one side, with a heap of rags +on top. I resolved to stand up all night before trusting myself to +that couch. The cell was soon explored. Two strides in each +direction measured it. The stone walls were marked or cut with +names I could dimly see.</p> +<p>I braced my back against the door and watched the loophole where +a gray hint of daylight told that the sun must be still shining. +This faded to a blotch in the thick stone, and became +obliterated.</p> +<p>Tired by the day's march, and with a taste of clean outdoor air +still in my lungs, I chose one of the two corners not occupied by +the ill odored bed, sat down, and fell asleep, dropping my cares. A +grating of the lock disturbed me. The jailer pushed a jug of water +into the room, and replaced his bolts.</p> +<p>Afterwards I do not remember anything except that the stone was +not warm, and my stomach craved, until a groan in my ear stabbed +sleep. I sat up awake in every nerve. There was nobody in the cell +with me. Perhaps the groan had come from a neighboring +prisoner.</p> +<p>Then a faint stir of covering could be heard upon the bed.</p> +<p>I rose and pressed as far as I could into my corner. No beast of +the wilderness ever had such terror for me as the unknown thing +that had been my cell-mate half a night without my knowledge.</p> +<p>Was a vampire—a demon—a witch—a ghost locked +in there with me?</p> +<p>It moaned again, so faintly, that compassion instantly got the +better of superstition.</p> +<p>"Who is there?" I demanded; as if the knowledge of a name would +cure terror of the suffering thing naming itself.</p> +<p>I got no answer, and taking my resolution in hand, moved toward +the bed, determined to know what housed with me. The jug of water +stood in the way, and I lifted it with instinctive answer to the +groan.</p> +<p>The creature heard the splash, and I knew by its mutter what it +wanted. Groping darkly, to poise the jug for an unseen mouth, I +realized that something helpless to the verge of extinction lay on +the bed, and I would have to find the mouth myself or risk drowning +it. I held the water on the bed-rail with my right hand, groped +with the other, and found a clammy, death-cold forehead, a nose and +cavernous cheeks, an open and fever roughened mouth. I poured water +on my handkerchief and bathed the face. That would have been my +first desire in extreme moments. The poor wretch gave a reviving +moan, so I felt emboldened to steady the jug and let drop by drop +gurgle down its throat.</p> +<p>Forgetting the horror of the bed I sat there, repeating at +intervals this poor ministration until the porthole again dawned, +and blackness became the twilight of day.</p> +<p>My cell-mate could not see me. I doubt if he ever knew that a +hand gave him water. His eyes were meaningless, and he was so gaunt +that his body scarcely made a ridge on the bed.</p> +<p>Some beans and mouldy bread were put in for my rations. The +turnkey asked me how I intended to wash myself without basin or +ewer or towels, and inquired further if he could be of service in +disposing of my shirt or breeches.</p> +<p>"What ails this man?"</p> +<p>He shrugged, and said the prisoner had been wasting with +fever.</p> +<p>"You get fever in Ste. Pélagie," he added, "especially +when you eat the prison food. This man ought to be sent to the +infirmary, but the infirmary is overflowing now."</p> +<p>"Who is he?"</p> +<p>"A journalist, or poet, or some miserable canaille of that sort. +He will soon be out of your way." Our guard craned over to look at +him. "<i>Oui</i>—da! He is a dying man! A priest must be sent +to him soon. I remember he demanded one several days ago."</p> +<p>But that day and another dragged through before the priest +appeared. I sent out my waistcoat, and got a wretched meal, and a +few spoonfuls of wine that I used to moisten the dying man's lips. +His life may or may not have been prolonged; but out of collapse he +opened his mouth repeatedly and took the drops. He was more my +blessing than I was his.</p> +<p>For I had an experience which has ever since given me to know +the souls of prisoners.</p> +<p>The first day, in spite of the cell's foulness, I laughed +secretly at jailers and felt at peace, holding the world at bay. I +did not then know that Ste. Pélagie was the tomb of the +accused, where more than one prisoner dragged out years without +learning why he was put there. I was not brought to any trial or +examination.</p> +<p>But gradually an uneasiness which cannot be imagined by one who +has not felt it, grew upon me. I wanted light. The absence of it +was torture! Light—to vivify the stifling air, which died as +this man was dying—as I should die—in blinding +mirk!</p> +<p>Moisture broke out all over my body, and cold dew stood on my +forehead. How could human lungs breathe the midnight of blackening +walls? The place was hot with the hell of confinement. I said over +and over—"O God, Thou art Light!—in Thee is no darkness +at all!"</p> +<p>This anguish seemed a repetition of something I had endured once +before. The body and spirit remembered, though the mind had no +register. I clawed at the walls. If I slept, it was to wake +gasping, fighting upward with both hands.</p> +<p>The most singular phase was that I reproached myself for not +soaking up more sun in the past. Oh, how much light was going to +waste over wide fields and sparkling seas! The green woods, the +green grass—they had their fill of sun, while we two +perished!</p> +<p>I remembered creeping out of glare under the shadow of rocks, +and wondered how I could have done it! If I ever came to the sun +again I would stretch myself and roll from side to side, to let it +burn me well! How blessed was the tan we got in summer from +steeping in light!</p> +<p>Looking at my cell-mate I could have rent the walls.</p> +<p>"We are robbed," I told his deaf ears. "The light, poured freely +all over the city, the light that belongs to you and me as much as +to anybody, would save you! I wish I could pick you up and carry +you out where the sun would shine through your bones! But let us be +glad, you and I, that there is a woman who is not buried like a +whitening sprout under this weight of stone! She is free, to walk +around and take the light in her gray eyes and the wind in her +brown hair. I swear to God if I ever come out of this I will never +pass so much as a little plant prostrate in darkness, without +helping it to the light."</p> +<p>It was night by the loophole when our turnkey threw the door +open. I heard the priest and his sacristan joking in the corridor +before they entered carrying their sacred parcels. The priest was a +doddering old fellow, almost deaf, for the turnkey shouted at his +ear, and dim of sight, for he stooped close to look at the dying +man, who was beyond confession.</p> +<p>"Bring us something for a temporary altar," he commanded the +turnkey, who stood candle in hand.</p> +<p>The turnkey gave his light to the sacristan, and taking care to +lock us in, hurried to obey.</p> +<p>I measured the lank, ill-strung assistant, more an overgrown boy +than a man of brawn, but expanded around his upper part by the +fullness of a short white surplice. He had a face cheerful to +silliness.</p> +<p>The turnkey brought a board supported by crosspieces; and +withdrew, taking his own candle, as soon as the church's tapers +were lighted.</p> +<p>The sacristan placed the temporary altar beside the foot of the +bed, arrayed it, and recited the Confiteor.</p> +<p>Then the priest mumbled the Misereatur and Indulgentiam.</p> +<p>I had seen extreme unction administered as I had seen many +another office of the church in my dim days, with scarcely any +attention. Now the words were terribly living. I knew every one +before it rolled off the celebrant's lips. Yet under that vivid +surface knowledge I carried on as vivid a sequence of thought.</p> +<p>The priest elevated the ciborium, repeating,</p> +<p>"Ecce Agnus Dei."</p> +<p>Then three times—"Domine, non sum dignus."</p> +<p>I heard and saw with exquisite keenness, yet I was thinking,</p> +<p>"If I do not get out of here he will have to say those words +over me."</p> +<p>He put the host in the parted mouth of the dying, and +spoke—</p> +<p>"Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in +vetam aeternam."</p> +<p>I thought how easy it would be to strip the loose surplice over +the sacristan's head. There was a swift clip of the arm around your +opponent's neck which I had learned in wrestling, that cut the +breath off and dropped him as limp as a cloth. It was an Indian +trick. I said to myself it would be impossible to use that trick on +the sacristan if he left the cell behind the deaf old priest. I did +not want to hurt him. Still, he would have a better chance to live +after I had squeezed his neck, than I should have if I did not +squeeze it.</p> +<p>The priest took out of a silver case a vessel of oil, and a +branch. He sprinkled holy water with the branch, upon the bed, the +walls, the sacristan and me, repeating,</p> +<p>"Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super +nivem dealbabor."</p> +<p>While I bent my head to the drops, I knew it was impossible to +choke down the sacristan, strip off his surplice, invest myself +with it and get out of the cell before priest or turnkey looked +back. The sacrilege of such an attack would take all the strength +out of me.</p> +<p>The priest said the Exaudi nos, exhorted the insensible figure, +then recited the Credo and the Litany, the sacristan +responding.</p> +<p>Silence followed.</p> +<p>I knew the end was approaching. My hands were as cold as the +nerveless one which would soon receive the candle. I told myself I +should be a fool to attempt it. There was not one chance in a +hundred. I should not squeeze hard enough. The man would yell. If I +were swift as lightning and silent as force, they would take me in +the act. It was impossible. But people who cannot do impossible +things have to perish.</p> +<p>The priest dipped his thumb in oil, and with it crossed the +eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and hands of him who was leaving the use +of these five senses and instruments of evil.</p> +<p>Then he placed a lighted candle in the stiffened fingers, and +ended with—</p> +<p>"Accipe lampadem ardentem custodi unctionem tuam."</p> +<p>I said to myself—"I cannot do it! Nobody could! It is +impossible!"</p> +<p>The sacristan now began to strip the altar and pack all the +sacred implements into their cases: preparing his load in the +center of the room.</p> +<p>The man was dead.</p> +<p>The sacristan's last office was to fix the two lighted altar +candles on the head and foot railing of the bed. They showed the +corpse in its appalling stillness, and stood like two angels, with +the pit between them.</p> +<p>The sacristan rapped upon the door to let the turnkey know it +was time to unlock.</p> +<p>I drew the thick air to my lung depths. The man who would +breathe no more was not as rigid as I stood. But there was no use +in attempting such a thing!</p> +<p>The turnkey opened a gap of doorway through which he could see +the candles and the bed. He opened no wider than the breadth of the +priest, who stepped out as the sacristan bent for the +portables.</p> +<p>There was lightning in my arm as it took the sacristan around +the neck and let him limp upon the stones. The tail of the priest's +cassock was scarcely through the door.</p> +<p>"Eh bien! sacristan," called the turnkey. "Make haste with your +load. I have this death to report. He is not so pretty that you +must stand gazing at him all night!"</p> +<p>I had the surplice over the sacristan's head and over mine, and +backed out with my load, facing the room.</p> +<p>If my jailer had thrust his candle at me, if the priest had +turned to speak, if the man in the cell had got his breath before +the bolt was turned, if my white surplice had not appeared the +principal part of me in that black place—.</p> +<p>It was impossible!—but I had done it.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Vb" id="Vb"></a>V</h2> +<p>The turnkey's candle made a star-point in the corridor. He +walked ahead of the priest and I walked behind. We descended to the +entrance where the man with the big book sat taking stock of +another wretch between officers. I saw as I shaded my face with the +load, that his inattentive eye dwelt on my surplice, which would +have passed me anywhere in France.</p> +<p>"Good-night, monsieur the curé," said the turnkey, +letting us through the outer door.</p> +<p>"Good-night, good-night," the priest responded.</p> +<p>"And to you, sacristan."</p> +<p>"Good-night," I muttered, and he came a step after me. The +candle was yet in his hand, showing him my bulk, and perhaps the +small clothes he had longed to vend. I expected hue and cry, but +walked on after the priest, and heard the heavy doors jar, and +breathed again.</p> +<p>Hearkening behind and in front, on the right and the left, I +followed him in the direction of what I have since learned to call +the Jardin des Plantes. It is near Ste. Pélagie.</p> +<p>The priest, wearied by his long office, spoke only once about +the darkness; for it was a cloudy night; and did not attend to my +muttered response. I do not know what sympathy the excellent old +man might have shown to an escaped prisoner who had choked his +sacristan, and I had no mind to test it. He turned a corner, and +with the wall angle between us, I eased down the sacred furniture, +drew off the surplice and laid that upon it, and took to my heels +up the left hand street; for the guard had brought me across the +river to Ste. Pélagie.</p> +<p>I had no hat, and the cut of my coat showed that I had lost a +waistcoat. Avoiding the little circles of yellowness made by lamp +posts, I reached without mishap of falling into the hands of any +patrol, a bridge crossing to an island point, and from the other +side of the point to the opposite shore. At intervals along the +parapet dim lights were placed.</p> +<p>Compared to Lake George, which wound like a river, and the +mighty St. Lawrence as I remembered it, the Seine was a narrow +stream. Some boats made constellations on the surface. The mass of +island splitting it into two branches was almost the heart of +Paris. There were other foot passengers on the bridge, and a gay +carriage rolled by. I did not see any gendarmes, and only one foot +passenger troubled me.</p> +<p>I was on the bridge above the left arm of the river when an ear +trained in the woods caught his footstep, pausing as mine paused, +and hurrying as mine hurried. If the sacristan had been found in +Ste. Pélagie a pursuer would not track me so delicately, and +neither would Skenedonk hold back on the trail. I stopped in the +shade when we two were alone on the second span, and wheeled, +certain of catching my man under the flare of a cresset. I caught +him, and knew that it was Bellenger following me.</p> +<p>My mind was made up in an instant. I walked back to settle +matters with him, though slaughter was far from my thoughts. I had +done him no harm; but he was my enemy, and should be forced to let +me alone.</p> +<p>The fellow who had appeared so feeble at his cabin that I opened +the door for him, and so poor-spirited that his intellect claimed +pity, stood up as firm as a bear at my approach, and met my eyes +with perfect understanding.</p> +<p>Not another thing do I remember. The facts are simply these: I +faced Bellenger; no blows passed; my mind flashed blank with the +partial return of that old eclipse which has fallen upon me after +strong excitement, in more than one critical moment. The hiatus +seems brief when I awake though it may have lasted hours. I know +the eclipse has been upon me, like the wing-shadow of eternity; but +I have scarcely let go of time.</p> +<p>I could not prove that Bellenger dragged me to the parapet and +threw me into the river. If I had known it I should have laughed at +his doing so, for I could swim like a fish, through or under water, +and sit on the lake bottom holding my breath until Skenedonk had +been known to dive for me.</p> +<p>When next I sensed anything at all it was a feeling of cold.</p> +<p>I thought I was lying in one of the shallow runlets that come +into Lake George, and the pebbles were an uneasy bed, chilling my +shoulders. I was too stiff to move, or even turn my head to lift +out of water the ear on which it rested. But I could unclose my +eyelids, and this is what I saw:—a man naked to his waist, +half reclining against a leaning slab of marble, down which a layer +of water constantly moved. His legs were clothed, and his other +garments lay across them. His face had sagged in my direction. +There was a deep slash across his forehead, and he showed his teeth +and his glassy eyes at the joke.</p> +<p>Beyond this silent figure was a woman as silent. The ridge of +his body could not hide the long hair spread upon her breast. I +considered the company and the moisture into which I had fallen +with unspeakable amazement. We were in a low and wide stone chamber +with a groined ceiling, supported by stone pillars. A row of lamps +was arranged above us, so that no trait or feature might escape a +beholder.</p> +<p>That we were put there for show entered my mind slowly and +brought indignation. To be so helpless and so exposed was an +outrage against which I struggled in nightmare impotence; for I was +bare to my hips also, and I knew not what other marks I carried +beside those which had scarred me all my conscious life.</p> +<p>Now in the distance, and echoing, feet descended stairs.</p> +<p>I knew that people were coming to look at us, and I could not +move a muscle in resentment.</p> +<p>I heard their voices, fringed with echoes, before either speaker +came within my vision.</p> +<p>"This is the mortuary chapel of the Hôtel Dieu?"</p> +<p>"Yes, monsieur the marquis, this is the mortuary chapel."</p> +<p>"Um! Cheerful place!"</p> +<p>"Much more cheerful than the bottom of the river, monsieur the +marquis."</p> +<p>"No doubt. Never empty, eh?"</p> +<p>"I have been a servant of the Hôtel Dieu fourteen years, +monsieur the marquis, and have not yet seen all the marble slabs +vacant."</p> +<p>"You receive the bodies of the drowned?"</p> +<p>"And place them where they may be seen and claimed."</p> +<p>"How long do you keep them?"</p> +<p>"That depends. Sometimes their friends seek them at once. We +have kept a body three months in the winter season, though he +turned very green."</p> +<p>"Are all in your present collection gathering verdure?"</p> +<p>"No, monsieur. We have a very fresh one, just brought in; a big +stalwart fellow, with the look of the country about him."</p> +<p>"Small clothes?"</p> +<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> +<p>"Buckle shoes?"</p> +<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> +<p>"Hair light and long?"</p> +<p>"The very man, monsieur the marquis."</p> +<p>"I suppose I shall have to look at him. If he had to make +himself unpleasant he should have stayed at the chateau where his +mother could identify him. He is one of my peasants, come to Paris +to see life! I must hold my nose and do it."</p> +<p>"It is not necessary to hold the nose, monsieur."</p> +<p>"After fourteen years, perhaps not."</p> +<p>I heard the snap of a snuff-box lid as the marquis fortified +himself.</p> +<p>My agony for the woman who was to be looked at turned so sharp +that I uttered a click in my throat. But they passed her, and +merely glanced at my next neighbor.</p> +<p>The old marquis encountered my fixed stare. Visibly it shocked +through him. He was all gray, and curled and powdered, instead of +being clipped close and smooth in the style of the Empire; an +exquisite, thin-featured man, high of nose and eyebrows, not large, +but completely turned out as ample man and bright spirit. The +slightest fragrance of scent was in his presence, and a shade of +snuff on his upper lip appeared fine supercilious hairs.</p> +<p>I did not look at the servant of the Hôtel Dieu. The old +noble and I held each other with unflinching gaze.</p> +<p>"Do you recognize him, monsieur?"</p> +<p>"I do," the old noble deliberately answered. "I should know this +face anywhere. Have him taken to my carriage directly."</p> +<p>"Your carriage, monsieur! He can be sent—"</p> +<p>"I said take him to my carriage."</p> +<p>"It shall be done. His eyes have opened since he came in. But +they sometimes look as if they would speak! Their faces change +constantly. This other man who is grinning to-night may be quite +serious to-morrow."</p> +<p>"And by the end of the month sorry enough, eh?"</p> +<p>The servant of the Hôtel Dieu tittered amiably, and I knew +he was going for help to lift me off the slab, when he uttered a +cry of surprise. The old marquis wheeled sharply, and said:</p> +<p>"Eh, bien! Is this another of them, promenading himself?"</p> +<p>I felt the Oneida coming before his silent moccasins strode near +me. He did not wait an instant, but dragged me from the wet and +death cold marble to the stone floor, where he knelt upon one knee +and supported me. O Skenedonk! how delicious was the warmth of your +healthy body—how comforting the grip of your hunter arms! Yet +there are people who say an Indian is like a snake! I could have +given thanks before the altar at the side of the crypt, which my +fixed eyes encountered as he held me. The marble dripped into its +gutter as if complaining of my escape.</p> +<p>"Oh, my dear friend!" cried the servant.</p> +<p>Skenedonk answered nothing at all.</p> +<p>"Who is this gentleman," the marquis inquired, "that seems to +have the skin of a red German sausage drawn tight over his +head?"</p> +<p>"This is an American Indian, monsieur the marquis."</p> +<p>"An Indian?"</p> +<p>"Yes, monsieur; but he understands French."</p> +<p>"Thank you for the hint. It may save me from having a German +sausage drawn tight over my head. I have heard that American +Indians practice giving their friends that appearance. How do you +know he understands French?"</p> +<p>"I think it is the man who used to come to the Hôtel Dieu +years ago, when I was new in its service. He was instructed in +religion by churchmen in Paris, and learned the language. Oh, my +dear monsieur—I think it is Iroquois that he is +called—I am aware the Americans have different manners, but +here we do not go into the mortuary chapel of the Hôtel Dieu +and disarrange the bodies without permission!"</p> +<p>Skenedonk's eyes probably had less of the fawn in them than +usual. I felt the guttural sound under his breast.</p> +<p>"I have found him, and now I will take him."</p> +<p>"But that is the marquis' servant!"</p> +<p>"The marquis is his servant!"</p> +<p>"Oh, my dear monsieur the Indian! You speak of a noble of +France, the Marquis du Plessy! Be satisfied," pleaded the servitor +of the Hôtel Dieu, "with this other body, whom no one is +likely to claim! I may be permitted to offer you that, if you are +determined—though it may cost me my place!—and after +fourteen years' service! It you would appease him, monsieur the +marquis—though I do not know whether they ever take +money."</p> +<p>"I will appease him," said the old noble. "Go about your errand +and be quick."</p> +<p>The servant fled up the stairs.</p> +<p>"This man is not dead, my friend," said the Marquis du +Plessy.</p> +<p>Skenedonk knew it.</p> +<p>"But he will not live long in this cursed crypt," the noble +added. "You will get into my carriage with him, we will take him +and put him in hot sheets, and see what we can do for him."</p> +<p>I could feel Skenedonk's antagonism giving way in the relaxing +of his muscles.</p> +<p>But maintaining his position the Oneida asserted:</p> +<p>"He is not yours!"</p> +<p>"He belongs to France."</p> +<p>"France belongs to him!" the Indian reversed.</p> +<p>"Eh, eh! Who is this young man?"</p> +<p>"The king."</p> +<p>"We have no king now, my friend. But assuming there is a man who +should be king, how do you know this is the one?"</p> +<p>If Skenedonk made answer in words it was lost to me. The spirit +sank to submergence in the body, I remember combating motion like a +drugged person.</p> +<p>Torpor and prostration followed the recurring eclipse as that +followed excitement and shock. I was not ill; and gathered +knowledge of the environment, which was different from anything I +had before experienced. De Chaumont's manor was a wilderness +fortress compared to this private hotel of an ancient family in the +heart of Paris.</p> +<p>I lay in a bed curtained with damask, and looked through open +glass doors at a garden. Graveled walks, bosky trees and masses of +flowers, plats of grass where arbored seats were placed, stretched +their vista to a wall clothed in ivy, which proved to be the end of +a chapel. For high over the curtain of thick green shone a rose +window. The afternoon sun laid bare its fine staining, but only in +the darkness when the church was illuminated and organ music rolled +from it, did the soul of that window appear struck through with +light.</p> +<p>Strange servants and Doctor Chantry by glimpses, and the old +noble and the Oneida almost constantly, were about me. Doctor +Chantry looked complacently through the curtains and wished me +good-morning. I smiled to see that he was lodged as he desired, and +that his clothes had been renewed in fine cloth, with lawn to his +neck and silk stockings for his shrunk calves. My master was an +elderly beau; and I gave myself no care that he had spent his +money—the money of the expedition—on foppery.</p> +<p>Skenedonk also had new toggery in scarfs and trinkets which I +did not recognize, and his fine buckskins were cleaned. The lackeys +appeared subservient to him, and his native dignity was never more +impressive than in that great house. I watched my host and my +servant holding interviews, which Skenedonk may have considered +councils, on the benches in the garden, and from which my +secretary, the sick old woman, seemed excluded. But the small +interest of seeing birds arrive on branches, and depart again, +sufficed me; until an hour when life rose strongly.</p> +<p>I sat up in bed, and finding myself alone, took advantage of an +adjoining room where a marble bath was set in the floor. Returning +freshened from the plunge, with my sheet drawn around me, I found +one of those skilled and gentle valets who seem less men than +he-maids.</p> +<p>"I am to dress monsieur when monsieur is ready," said this +person.</p> +<p>"I am ready now," I answered, and he led me into a suite of +rooms and showed me an array which took my breath: dove-colored +satin knee breeches, and a long embroidered coat of like color, a +vest sprigged with rosebuds, cravat and lace ruffles, long silk +stockings and shoes to match in extravagance, a shirt of fine lawn, +and a hat for a nobleman.</p> +<p>"Tell your master," I said to the lackey, "that he intends me +great kindness, but I prefer my own clothes."</p> +<p>"These are monsieur's own clothes, made to his order and +measure."</p> +<p>"But I gave no order, and I was not measured."</p> +<p>The man raised his shoulders and elbows with gentlest +dissent.</p> +<p>"These are only a few articles of monsieur's outfit. Here is the +key. If monsieur selects another costume he will find each one +complete."</p> +<p>By magic as it seemed, there was a wardrobe full of fineries +provided for my use. The man displayed them; in close trousers and +coats with short fronts, or knee breeches and long tails; costumes, +he said, for the street, for driving, riding, traveling, for +evening, and for morning; and one white satin court dress. At the +marquis' order he had laid out one for a ball. Of my old clothes +not a piece was to be seen.</p> +<p>The miracle was that what he put upon me fitted me. I became +transformed like my servant and my secretary, and stood astonished +at the result.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIb" id="VIb"></a>VI</h2> +<p>"Enter the prince of a fairy tale," said the Marquis du Plessy +when the lackey ushered me into the garden.</p> +<p>It was a nest of amber at that time of sunset, and he waited for +me at a table laid for supper, under a flat canopy of trees which +had their tops trained and woven into a mat.</p> +<p>I took his hand to kiss, but he rose up and magnificently placed +me in a chair opposite himself.</p> +<p>"Your benefits are heavy, monsieur," I said. "How shall I +acknowledge them?"</p> +<p>"You owe me nothing at all," he answered; "as you will see when +I have told you a true story. It would sound like a lie if anything +were incredible in these fabulous times."</p> +<p>"But you do not know anything about me."</p> +<p>"I am well instructed in your history, by that charming +attendant in fringed leather breeches, who has been acquainted with +you much longer than you have been acquainted with yourself."</p> +<p>"Yet I am not sure of deserving the marquis' interest."</p> +<p>"Has the marquis admitted that he feels any interest in you? +Though this I will own: few experiences have affected me like your +living eyes staring out of the face of my dead king!"</p> +<p>We met each other again with a steady gaze like that in the +mortuary chapel.</p> +<p>"Do you believe I am ——?"</p> +<p>"Do I believe you are ——? Who said there was such a +person in existence?"</p> +<p>"Louis Philippe."</p> +<p>"The Duke of Orleans? Eh, bien! What does he know of the royal +family? He is of the cadette branch."</p> +<p>"But he told me the princess, the dauphin's sister, believes +that the dauphin was taken alive from the Temple and sent to +America."</p> +<p>"My dear Lazarre, I do not say the Duke of Orleans would +lie—far be it from me—though these are times in which +we courageously attack our betters. But he would not object to +seeing the present pretender ousted. Why, since his father voted +for the death of Louis XVI, he and his are almost outlawed by the +older branch! Madame Royal, the Duchess of Angoulême, cannot +endure him. I do not think she would speak to him!"</p> +<p>"He is my friend," I said stoutly.</p> +<p>"Remember you are another pretender, and he has espoused your +cause. I think him decent myself—though there used to be some +pretty stories told about him and the fair sentimentalist who +educated him—Madame de Genlis. But I am an old man; I forget +gossip."</p> +<p>My host gave lively and delicate attention to his food as it was +brought, and permitted nothing to be overheard by his lackeys.</p> +<p>The evening was warm, and fresh with the breath of June; and the +garden, by a contrivance of lamps around its walls, turned into a +dream world after sunset faded.</p> +<p>It was as impossible to come to close terms with this noble of +the old régime as with a butterfly. He alighted on a +subject; he waved his wings, and rose. I felt a clumsy giant while +he fluttered around my head, smiling, mocking, thrusting his pathos +to the quick.</p> +<p>"My dear boy, I do not say that I believe in you; I do not +observe etiquette with you. But I am going to tell you a little +story about the Tuileries. You have never seen the palace of the +Tuileries?"</p> +<p>I said I had not.</p> +<p>"It has been restored for the use of these Bonapartes. When I +say these Bonapartes, Lazarre, I am not speaking against the +Empire. The Empire gave me back my estates. I was not one of the +stringent emigrés. My estates are mine, whoever rules in +France. You may consider me a betwixt-and-betweener. Do so. My dear +boy, I am. My heart is with my dead king. My carcass is very +comfortable, both in Paris and on my ancestral lands. Napoleon +likes me as an ornament to his bourgeois court. I keep my opinion +of him to myself. Do you like garlic, my boy?"</p> +<p>I told him I was not addicted to the use of it.</p> +<p>"Garlic is divine. God gave it to man. A hint of it in the +appropriate dish makes life endurable. I carry a piece in a gold +box at the bottom of my vest pocket, that I may occasionally take +it out and experience a sense of gratitude for divine +benefits."</p> +<p>He took out his pet lump, rubbed it on the outside of his wine +bottle, poured out a glassful and drank it, smiling adorably at me +in ecstasy!</p> +<p>"We were speaking of the Tuileries. You should have seen the +place when it was sacked after the flight of the royal family. No, +you should not have seen it! I am glad you were gone. Mirrors were +shattered, and lusters, vases, china, gold candlesticks, rolled +about and were trampled on the floor. The paintings were stabbed +with pikes; tables, screens, gilt stools, chairs crushed, and +carpets cut to pieces; garments of all kinds strewn and torn; all +that was not carried off by pillagers being thus destroyed. It was +yet a horrible sight days after the mob had done their work, and +slaughtered bodies of guards had been carried away, and +commissioners with their clerks and assistants began to restore +order."</p> +<p>"Did you see the Tuileries at that time, monsieur?"</p> +<p>"I did. I put on the clothes of one of my peasants, slumped in +Jacquot's wooden shoes, and kept my mouth open as well as I could +for the dust. The fantastic was yet in my blood. Exile takes that +out of everybody except your royal uncle of Provence. But I knew in +my heart what I would help do with that mob, if our turn ever came +again!"</p> +<p>His dark eyes rested on the red wine as on a pool of blood.</p> +<p>"Sick of the ruin, I leaned out to look in the garden, from a +window in the queen's own apartment. I stepped on a shelf, which +appeared fixed under the window; but it moved, and I found that it +could be pushed on grooves into the wall. There was a cavity made +to hold it. It had concealed two armchairs placed opposite each +other, so cunningly that their paneled sides yet looked a part of +the thick wall. I sat down in one of them, and though the cushion +was stiff, I felt something hard under it."</p> +<p>Monsieur du Plessy glanced around in every direction to satisfy +himself that no ears lurked within hearing.</p> +<p>"Eh, bien! Under the cushion I found the queen's jewel-case! +Diamonds—bags of gold coin—a half circlet of +gems!—since the great necklace was lost such an array had not +seen the light in France. The value must be far above a million +francs."</p> +<p>The marquis fixed his eyes on me and said:</p> +<p>"What should I have done with it, Lazarre?"</p> +<p>"It belonged to the royal family," I answered.</p> +<p>"But everything which belonged to the royal family had been +confiscated to the state. I had just seen the belongings of the +royal family trampled as by cattle. First one tyrant and then +another rose up to tell us what we should do, to batten himself off +the wretched commonwealth, and then go to the guillotine before his +successor. As a good citizen I should have turned these jewels and +stones and coins over to the state. But I was acting the part of +Jacquot, and as an honest peasant I whipped them under my blouse +and carried them away. In my straits of exile I never decreased +them. And you may take inventory of your property and claim it when +we rise from the table."</p> +<p>My heart came up in my throat. I reached across and caught his +hands.</p> +<p>"You believe in me—you believe in me!"</p> +<p>"Do I observe any etiquette with you, Lazarre? This is the +second time I have brought the fact to your notice. I particularly +wish you to note that I do not observe any etiquette with you."</p> +<p>"What does a boy who has been brought up among Indians know +about etiquette! But you accept me, or you could not put the +property you have loyally and at such risk saved for my family, +into my hands."</p> +<p>"I don't accept even your uncle of Provence. The king of Spain +and I prefer to call him by that modest title. Since you died or +were removed from the Temple, he has taken the name of Louis XVIII, +and maintained a court at the expense of the czar of Russia and the +king of Spain. He is a fine Latinist; quotes Latin verse; and keeps +the mass bells everlastingly ringing; the Russians laugh at his +royal masses! But in my opinion the sacred gentleman is either +moral slush or a very deep quicksand. It astonishes me," said the +Marquis du Plessy, "to find how many people I do disapprove of! I +really require very little of the people I am obliged to meet."</p> +<p>He smoothed my hands which were yet holding his, and +exploded:</p> +<p>"The Count of Provence is an old turtle! Not exactly a reptile, +for there is food in him. But of a devilish flat head and cruel +snap of the jaws!"</p> +<p>"How can that be," I argued, "when his niece loves him so? And +even I, in the American woods, with mind eclipsed, was not +forgotten. He sent me of the money that he was obliged to receive +in charity!"</p> +<p>"It is easy to dole out charity money; you are squeezing other +people's purses, not your own. What I most object to in the Count +of Provence, is that assumption of kingly airs, providing the story +is true which leaked secretly among the emigrés. The story +which I heard was that the dauphin had not died, but was an idiot +in America. An idiot cannot reign. But the throne of France is not +clamoring so loud for a Bourbon at present that the idiot's +substitute must be proclaimed and hold a beggar's court. There are +mad loyalists who swear by this eighteenth Louis. I am not one of +them. In fact, Lazarre, I was rather out of tune with your +house!"</p> +<p>"Not you!" I said.</p> +<p>"I do not fit in these times. I ought to have gone with my king +and my friends under the knife. Often I am ashamed of myself for +slipping away. That I should live to see disgusting fools in the +streets of Paris, after the Terror was over!—young men +affecting the Greek and Roman manner—greeting one another by +wagging of the head! They wore gray coats with black collars, gray +or green cravats, carried cudgels, and decreed that all men should +have the hair plaited, powdered, and fastened up with a comb, like +themselves! The wearer of a queue was likely to be knocked on the +head. These creatures used to congregate at the old Feydeau +theater, or meet around the entrance of the Louvre, to talk +classical jargon, and wag!"</p> +<p>The Marquis du Plessy drew himself together with a strong +shudder. I had the desire to stand between him and the shocks of an +alien world. Yet there was about him a tenacious masculine +strength, an adroitness of self-protection which needed no +champion.</p> +<p>"Did the Indian tell you about a man named Bellenger?" I +inquired.</p> +<p>"Bellenger is part of the old story about the dauphin's removal. +I heard of him first at Coblenz. And I understand now that he is +following you with another dauphin, and objecting to you in various +delicate ways. Napoleon Bonaparte is master of France, and in the +way to be master of Europe, because he has a nice sense of the +values of men, and the best head for detail that was ever formed in +human shape. There is something almost supernatural in his grasp of +affairs. He lets nothing escape him. The only mistake he ever made +was butchering the young Duke d'Enghien—the courage and +clearness of the man wavered that one instant; and by the way, he +borrowed my name for the duke's incognito during the journey under +arrest! England, Russia, Austria and Sweden are combining against +Napoleon. He will beat them. For while other men sleep, or amuse +themselves, or let circumstance drive them, he is planning success +and providing for all possible contingencies. Take a leaf out of +the general's book, my boy. No enemy is contemptible. If you want +to force the hand of fortune—scheme!—scheme!—all +the time!—out-scheme the other fellow!"</p> +<p>The marquis rose from the table.</p> +<p>"I am longer winded," he said, "than a man named De Chaumont, +who has been importuning Bonaparte, in season and out of season, to +reinstate an American emigré, a Madame de Ferrier."</p> +<p>"Will Bonaparte restore her lands?" I asked, feeling my voice +like a rope in my throat.</p> +<p>"Do you know her family?"</p> +<p>"I knew Madame de Ferrier in America."</p> +<p>"Their estate lies next to mine. And what is the little De +Ferrier like since she is grown?"</p> +<p>"A beautiful woman."</p> +<p>"Ah—ah! Bonaparte's plan will then be easy of execution. +You may see her this evening here in the Faubourg St. Germain. I +believe she is to appear at Madame de Permon's, where Bonaparte may +look in."</p> +<p>My host bolted the doors of his private cabinet, and took from +the secret part of a wall cupboard the queen's jewel-case. We +opened it between us. The first thing I noticed was a gold +snuffbox, set with portraits of the king, the queen, and their two +children.</p> +<p>How I knew them I cannot tell. Their pictured faces had never +been put before my conscious eyes until that moment. Other +portraits might have been there. I had no doubt, no hesitation.</p> +<p>I was on my knees before the face I had seen in spasms of +remembrance—with oval cheeks, and fair hair rolled +high—and open neck—my royal mother!</p> +<p>Next I looked at the king, heavier of feature, honest and +straight gazing, his chin held upward; at the little sister, a +smaller miniature of the queen; at the softly molded curves of the +child that was myself!</p> +<p>The marquis turned his back.</p> +<p>Before I could speak I rose and put my arms around him. He +wheeled, took my hand, stood at a little distance, and kissed +it.</p> +<p>We said not one word about the portraits, but sat down with the +jewel-case again between us.</p> +<p>"These stones and coins are also my sister's, monsieur the +marquis?"</p> +<p>He lifted his eyebrows.</p> +<p>"I had ample opportunity, my dear boy, to turn them into the +exchequer of the Count of Provence. Before his quarrel with the +late czar of Russia he maintained a dozen gentlemen-in-waiting, and +perhaps as many ladies, to say nothing of priests, servants, +attendants of attendants, and guards. This treasure might last him +two years. If the king of Spain and his majesty of Russia got wind +of it, and shut off their pensions, it would not last so long. I am +too thrifty a Frenchman to dissipate the hoards of the state in +foreign parts! Yet, if you question my taste—I will not say +my honesty, Lazarre—"</p> +<p>"I question nothing, monsieur! I ask advice."</p> +<p>"Eh, bien! Then do not be quite as punctilious as the gentleman +who got turned out of the debtor side of Ste. Pélagie into +an alley. 'This will not do,' says he. So around he posts to the +entrance, and asks for admittance again!"</p> +<p>"Catch me knocking at Ste. Pélagie for admittance +again!"</p> +<p>"Then my advice is to pay your tailor, if he has done his work +acceptably."</p> +<p>"He has done it marvelously, especially in the fitting."</p> +<p>"A Parisian workman finds it no miracle to fit a man from his +old clothes. I took the liberty of sending your orders. Having +heard my little story, you understand that you owe me nothing but +your society; and a careful inventory of this trust."</p> +<p>We were a long time examining the contents of the case. There +were six bags of coin, all gold louis; many unset gems; rings for +the hand; and clusters of various sorts which I knew not how to +name, that blazed with a kind of white fire very dazzling. The +half-way crown was crusted thick with colored stones the like of +which I could not have imagined in my dreams. Their names, the +marquis told me, were sapphires, emeralds, rubies; and large clear +diamonds, like beads of rain. When everything was carefully +returned to place, he asked:</p> +<p>"Shall I still act as your banker?"</p> +<p>I begged him to hide the jewel box again, and he concealed it in +the wall.</p> +<p>"We go to the Rue Ste. Croix, Lazarre, which is an impossible +place for your friend Bellenger at this time. Do you dance a +gavotte?"</p> +<p>I told him I could dance the Indian corn dance, and he advised +me to reserve this accomplishment.</p> +<p>"Bonaparte's police are keen on any scent, especially the scent +of a prince. His practical mind would reject the Temple story, if +he ever heard it; and there are enough live Bourbons for him to +watch."</p> +<p>"But there is the Count de Chaumont," I suggested.</p> +<p>"He is not a man that would put faith in the Temple story, +either, and I understand he is kindly disposed towards you."</p> +<p>"I lived in his house nearly a year."</p> +<p>"He is not a bad fellow for the new sort. I feel certain of him. +He is coaxing my friendship because of ancient amity between the +houses of Du Plessy and De Ferrier."</p> +<p>"Did you say, monsieur, that Bonaparte intends to restore Madame +de Ferrier's lands?"</p> +<p>"They have been given to one of his rising officers."</p> +<p>"Then he will not restore them?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, with interest! His plan is to give her the officer for +a husband."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIIb" id="VIIb"></a>VII</h2> +<p>Even in those days of falling upon adventure and taking hold of +life with the arrogance of young manhood, I knew the value of +money, though it has always been my fault to give it little +consideration. Experience taught me that poverty goes afoot and +sleeps with strange bed-fellows. But I never minded going afoot or +sharing the straw with cattle. However, my secretary more than once +took a high hand with me because he bore the bag; and I did mind +debt chasing my heels like a rising tide.</p> +<p>Our Iroquois had their cottages in St. Regis and their hunting +cabins on Lake George. They went to church when not drunk and +quarrelsome, paid the priest his dues, labored easily, and cared +nothing for hoarding. But every step of my new life called for +coin.</p> +<p>As I look back on that hour the dominating thought rises +clearly.</p> +<p>To see men admitting that you are what you believe yourself to +be, is one of the triumphs of existence. The jewel-case stamped +identification upon me. I felt like one who had communicated with +the past and received a benediction. There was special provision in +the way it came to me; for man loves to believe that God watches +over and mothers him.</p> +<p>Forgetting—if I had ever heard—how the ancients +dreaded the powers above when they had been too fortunate, I went +with the marquis in high spirits to the Rue Ste. Croix. There were +pots of incense sending little wavers of smoke through the rooms, +and the people might have peopled a dream. The men were indeed all +smooth and trim; but the women had given rein to their fancies.</p> +<p>Our hostess was a fair and gracious woman, of Greek ancestry, as +Bonaparte himself was, and her daughter had been married to his +favorite general, the marquis told me.</p> +<p>I notice only the unusual in clothing; the scantiness of ladies' +apparel that clung like the skin, and lay upon the oak floor in +ridges, among which a man must shove his way, was unusual to +me.</p> +<p>I saw, in space kept cleared around her chair, one beauty with +nothing but sandals on her feet, though these were white as milk, +silky skinned like a hand, and ringed with jewels around the +toes.</p> +<p>Bonaparte's youngest sister stood receiving court. She was +attired like a Bacchante, with bands of fur in her hair, topped by +bunches of gold grapes. Her robe and tunic of muslin fine as air, +woven in India, had bands of gold, clasped with cameos, under the +bosom and on the arms. Each woman seemed to have planned outdoing +the others in conceits which marked her own fairness.</p> +<p>I looked anxiously down the spacious room without seeing Madame +de Ferrier. The simplicity, which made for beauty of houses in +France, struck me, in the white and gold paneling, and the chimney, +which lifted its mass of design to the ceiling. I must have been +staring at this and thinking of Madame de Ferrier when my name was +called in a lilting and excited fashion:</p> +<p>"Lazarre!"</p> +<p>There was Mademoiselle de Chaumont in the midst of gallants, and +better prepared to dance a gavotte than any other charmer in the +room. For her gauze dress, fastened on the shoulders so that it +fell not quite off her bosom, reached only to the middle of the +calf. This may have been for the protection of rosebuds with which +ribbons drawn lengthwise through the skirt, were fringed; but it +also showed her child-like feet and ankles, and made her appear +tiptoe like a fairy, and more remarkable than any other figure +except the barefooted dame. She held a crook massed with ribbons +and rosebuds in her hand, rallying the men to her standard by the +lively chatter which they like better than wisdom.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle Annabel gave me her hand to kiss, and made room for +the Marquis du Plessy and me in her circle. I felt abashed by the +looks these courtiers gave me, but the marquis put them readily in +the background, and delighted in the poppet, taking her quite to +himself.</p> +<p>"We hear such wonderful stories about you, Lazarre! Besides, +Doctor Chantry came to see us and told us all he knew. Remember, +Lazarre belonged to us before you discovered him, monsieur the +Marquis du Plessy! He and I are Americans!"</p> +<p>Some women near us commented, as seemed to be the fashion in +that society, with a frankness which Indians would have +restrained.</p> +<p>"See that girl! The emperor may now imagine what his brother +Jerome has done! Her father has brought her over from America to +marry her, and it will need all his money to accomplish that!"</p> +<p>Annabel shook the rain of misty hair at the sides of her rose +pink face, and laughed a joyful retort.</p> +<p>"No wonder poor Prince Jerome had to go to America for a wife! +Did you ever see such hairy faced frights as these Parisians of the +Empire! Lazarre fell ill looking at them. He pretends he doesn't +see women, monsieur, and goes about with his coat skirts loaded +with books. I used to be almost as much afraid of him as I am of +you!"</p> +<p>"Ah, mademoiselle, I dread to enter paradise."</p> +<p>"Why, monsieur?"</p> +<p>"The angels are afraid of me!"</p> +<p>"Not when you smile."</p> +<p>"Teach me that adorable smile of yours!"</p> +<p>"Oh, how improving you will be to Lazarre, monsieur! He never +paid me a compliment in his life. He never said anything but the +truth."</p> +<p>"The lucky dog! What pretty things he had to say!"</p> +<p>Annabel laughed and shook her mist in great enjoyment. I liked +to watch her, yet I wondered where Madame de Ferrier was, and could +not bring myself to inquire.</p> +<p>"These horrible incense pots choke me," said Annabel.</p> +<p>"I like them," said the marquis.</p> +<p>"Do you? So do I," she instantly agreed with him.</p> +<p>"Though we get enough incense in church."</p> +<p>"I should think so! Do you like mass?"</p> +<p>"I was brought up on my knees. But I never acquired the real +devotee's back."</p> +<p>"Sit on your heels," imparted Annabel in strict confidence. "Try +it."</p> +<p>"I will. Ah, mademoiselle, any one who could bring such comfort +into religion might make even wedlock endurable!"</p> +<p>Madame de Ferrier appeared between the curtains of a deep +window. She was talking with Count de Chaumont and an officer in +uniform. Her face pulsed a rosiness like that quiver in winter +skies which we call northern lights. The clothes she wore, being +always subdued by her head and shoulders, were not noticeable like +other women's clothes. But I knew as soon as her eyes rested on me +that she found me changed.</p> +<p>De Chaumont came a step to meet me, and I felt miraculously +equal to him, with some power which was not in me before.</p> +<p>"You scoundrel, you have fallen into luck!" he said +heartily.</p> +<p>"One of our proverbs is, 'A blind pig will find an acorn once in +a while.'"</p> +<p>"There isn't a better acorn in the woods, or one harder to shake +down. How did you do it?"</p> +<p>I gave him a wise smile and held my tongue; knowing well that if +I had remained in Ste. Pélagie and the fact ever came to De +Chaumont's ears, like other human beings he would have reprehended +my plunging into the world.</p> +<p>"We are getting on tremendously, Lazarre! When your inheritance +falls in, come back with me to Castorland. We will found a +wilderness empire!"</p> +<p>I did not inquire what he meant by my inheritance falling in. +The marquis pressed behind me, and when I had spoken to Madame de +Ferrier I knew it was his right to take the hand of the woman who +had been his little neighbor.</p> +<p>"You don't remember me, madame?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, I do, Monsieur du Plessy; and your wall fruit, +too!"</p> +<p>"The rogue! Permit me to tell you those pears are hastening to +be ready for you once more."</p> +<p>"And Bichette, monsieur—is dear old Bichette alive?"</p> +<p>"She is alive, and draws the chair as well as ever. I hear you +have a little son. He may love the old pony and chair as you used +to love them."</p> +<p>"Seeing you, monsieur, is like coming again to my home!"</p> +<p>"I trust you may come soon."</p> +<p>They spoke of fruit and cattle. Neither dared mention the name +of any human companion associated with the past.</p> +<p>I took opportunity to ask Count de Chaumont if her lands were +recovered. A baffled look troubled his face.</p> +<p>"The emperor will see her to-night," he answered. "It is +impossible to say what can be done until the emperor sees her."</p> +<p>"Is there any truth in the story that he will marry her to the +officer who holds her estate?"</p> +<p>The count frowned.</p> +<p>"No—no! That's impossible."</p> +<p>"Will the officer sell his rights if Madame de Ferrier's are not +acknowledged?"</p> +<p>"I have thought of that. And I want to consult the marquis."</p> +<p>When he had a chance to draw the marquis aside, I could speak to +Madame de Ferrier without being overheard; though my time might be +short. She stood between the curtains, and the man in uniform had +left his place to me.</p> +<p>"Well, I am here," I said.</p> +<p>"And I am glad," she answered.</p> +<p>"I am here because I love you."</p> +<p>She held a fold of the curtain in her hand and looked down at +it; then up at me.</p> +<p>"You must not say that again."</p> +<p>"Why?"</p> +<p>"You know why."</p> +<p>"I do not."</p> +<p>"Remember who you are."</p> +<p>"I am your lover."</p> +<p>She looked quickly around the buzzing drawing-room, and leaned +cautiously nearer.</p> +<p>"You are my sovereign."</p> +<p>"I believe that, Eagle. But it does not follow that I shall ever +reign."</p> +<p>"Are you safe here? Napoleon Bonaparte has spies."</p> +<p>"But he has regard also for old aristocrats like the Marquis du +Plessy."</p> +<p>"Yet remember what he did to the Duke d'Enghien. A Bourbon +prince is not allowed in France."</p> +<p>"How many people consider me a Bourbon prince? I told you why I +am here. Fortune has wonderfully helped me since I came to France. +Lazarre, the dauphin from the Indian camps, brazenly asks you to +marry him, Eagle!"</p> +<p>Her face blanched white, but she laughed.</p> +<p>"No De Ferrier ever took a base advantage of royal favor. Don't +you think this is a strange conversation in a drawing-room of the +Empire? I hated myself for being here—until you came in."</p> +<p>"Eagle, have you forgotten our supper on the island?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sire." She scarcely breathed the word.</p> +<p>"My unanointed title is Lazarre. And I suppose you have +forgotten the fog and the mountain, too?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Lazarre!"</p> +<p>"Yes, Lazarre."</p> +<p>"You love me! You shall love me!"</p> +<p>"As a De Ferrier should; no farther!"</p> +<p>Her lifted chin expressed a strength I could not combat. The +slight, dark-haired girl, younger than myself, mastered and drew me +as if my spirit was a stream, and she the ocean into which it must +flow. Darkness like that of Ste. Pélagie dropped over the +brilliant room. I was nothing after all but a palpitating boy, +venturing because he must venture. Light seemed to strike through +her blood, however, endowing her with a splendid pallor.</p> +<p>"I am going," I determined that moment, "to Mittau."</p> +<p>The adorable curve of her eyelids, unlike any other eyelids I +ever saw, was lost to me, for her eyes flew wide open.</p> +<p>"To ——"</p> +<p>She looked around and hesitated to pronounce the name of the +Count of Provence.</p> +<p>"Yes. I am going to find some one who belongs to me."</p> +<p>"You have the marquis for a friend."</p> +<p>"And I have also Skenedonk, and our tribe, for my friends. But +there is no one who understands that a man must have some +love."</p> +<p>"Consult Marquis du Plessy about going to Mittau. It may not be +wise. And war is threatened on the frontier."</p> +<p>"I will consult him, of course. But I am going."</p> +<p>"Lazarre, there were ladies on the ship who cursed and swore, +and men who were drunk the greater part of the voyage. I was +brought up in the old-fashioned way by the Saint-Michels, so I know +nothing of present customs. But it seems to me our times are rude +and wicked. And you, just awake to the world, have yet the +innocence of that little boy who sank into the strange and long +stupor. If you changed I think I could not bear it!"</p> +<p>"I will not change."</p> +<p>A stir which must have been widening through the house as a +ripple widens on a lake, struck us, and turned our faces with all +others to a man who stood in front of the chimney. He was not large +in person, but as an individual his presence was massive—was +penetrating. I could have topped him by head and shoulders; yet +without mastery. He took snuff as he slightly bowed in every +direction, shut the lid with a snap, and fidgeted as if impatient +to be gone. He had a mouth of wonderful beauty and expression, and +his eyes were more alive than the eyes of any other man in the +assembly. I felt his gigantic force as his head dipped forward and +he glanced about under his brows.</p> +<p>"There is the emperor," De Chaumont told Eagle; and I thought he +made indecent haste to return and hale her away before +Napoleon.</p> +<p>The greatest soldier in Europe passed from one person to another +with the air of doing his duty and getting rid of it. Presently he +raised his voice, speaking to Madame de Ferrier so that, all in the +room might hear.</p> +<p>"Madame, I am pleased to see that you wear leno. I do not like +those English muslins, sold at the price of their weight in gold, +and which do not look half as well as beautiful white leno. Wear +leno, cambric, or silk, ladies, and then my manufactures will +flourish."</p> +<p>I wondered if he would remember the face of the man pushed +against his wheel and called an assassin, when the Marquis du +Plessy named me to him as the citizen Lazarre.</p> +<p>"You are a lucky man, Citizen Lazarre, to gain the marquis for +your friend. I have been trying a number of years to make him +mine."</p> +<p>"All Frenchmen are the friends of Napoleon," the marquis said to +me.</p> +<p>I spoke directly to the sovereign, thereby violating etiquette, +my friend told me afterwards, laughing; and Bonaparte was a +stickler for precedent.</p> +<p>"But all Frenchmen," I could not help reminding the man in +power, "are not faithful friends."</p> +<p>He gave me a sharp look as he passed on, and repeated what I +afterward learned was one of his favorite maxims:</p> +<p>"A faithful friend is the true image."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIIIb" id="VIIIb"></a>VIII</h2> +<p>"Must you go to Mittau?" the Marquis du Plessy said when I told +him what I intended to do. "It is a long, expensive post journey; +and part of the way you may not be able to post. Riga, on the gulf +beyond Mittau, is a fine old town of pointed gables and high stone +houses. But when I was in Mittau I found it a mere winter camp of +Russian nobles. The houses are low, one-story structures. There is +but one castle, and in that his Royal Highness the Count of +Provence holds mimic court."</p> +<p>We were riding to Versailles, and our horses almost touched +sides as my friend put his hand on my shoulder.</p> +<p>"Don't go, Lazarre. You will not be welcome there."</p> +<p>"I must go, whether I am welcome or not."</p> +<p>"But I may not last until you come back."</p> +<p>"You will last two months. Can't I post to Mittau and back in +two months?"</p> +<p>"God knows."</p> +<p>I looked at him drooping forward in the saddle, and said:</p> +<p>"If you need me I will stay, and think no more about seeing +those of my own blood."</p> +<p>"I do need you; but you shall not stay. You shall go to Mittau +in my own post-carriage. It will bring you back sooner."</p> +<p>But his post-carriage I could not accept. The venture to Mittau, +its wear and tear and waste, were my own; and I promised to return +with all speed. I could have undertaken the road afoot, driven by +the necessity I felt.</p> +<p>"The Duchess of Angoulême is a good girl," said the +marquis, following the line of my thoughts. "She has devoted +herself to her uncle and her husband. When the late czar withdrew +his pension, and turned the whole mimic court out of Mittau, she +went with her uncle, and even waded the snow with him when they +fell into straits. Diamonds given to her by her grandmother, the +Empress Maria Theresa, she sold for his support. But the new czar +reinstated them; and though they live less pretentiously at Mittau +in these days, they still have their priest and almoner, the Duke +of Guiche, and other courtiers hanging upon them. My boy, can you +make a court bow and walk backwards? You must practice before going +into Russia."</p> +<p>"Wouldn't it be better," I said, "for those who know how, to +practice the accomplishment before me?"</p> +<p>"Imagine the Count of Provence stepping down from playing +royalty to do that!" my friend laughed.</p> +<p>"I don't know why he shouldn't, since he knows I am alive. He +has sent money every year for my support."</p> +<p>"An established custom, Lazarre, gains strength every day it is +continued. You see how hard it is to overturn an existing system, +because men have to undo the work they have been doing perhaps for +a thousand years. Time gives enormous stability. Monsieur the Count +of Provence has been practicing royalty since word went out that +his nephew had died in the Temple. It will be no easy matter to +convince him you are fit to play king in his stead."</p> +<p>This did not disturb me, however. I thought more of my sister. +And I thought of vast stretches across the center of Europe. The +Indian stirred in me, as it always did stir, when the woman I +wanted was withdrawn from me.</p> +<p>I could not tell my friend, or any man, about Madame de Ferrier. +This story of my life is not to be printed until I am gone from the +world. Otherwise the things set down so freely would remain buried +in myself.</p> +<p>Some beggars started from hovels, running like dogs, holding +diseased and crooked-eyed children up for alms, and pleading for +God's sake that we would have pity on them. When they disappeared +with their coin I asked the marquis if there had always been +wretchedness in France.</p> +<p>"There is always wretchedness everywhere," he answered. +"Napoleon can turn the world upside down, but he cannot cure the +disease of hereditary poverty. I never rode to Versailles without +encountering these people."</p> +<p>When we entered the Place d'Armes fronting the palace, +desolation worse than that of the beggars faced us. That vast noble +pile, untenanted and sacked, symbolized the vanished monarchy of +France. Doors stood wide. The court was strewn with litter and +filth; and grass started rank betwixt the stones where the proudest +courtiers in the world had trod. I tried to enter the queen's +rooms, but sat on the steps leading to them, holding my head in my +hands. It was as impossible as it had been to enter the Temple.</p> +<p>The fountains which once made a concert of mist around their +lake basin, satisfying like music, the marquis said, were dried, +and the figures broken. Millions had been spent upon this domain of +kings, and nothing but the summer's natural verdure was left to +unmown stretches. The foot shrank from sending echoes through empty +palace apartments, and from treading the weedy margins of canal and +lake.</p> +<p>"I should not have brought you here, Lazarre," said my +friend.</p> +<p>"I had to come, monsieur."</p> +<p>We walked through meadow and park to the little palaces called +Grand and Petit Trianon, where the intimate life of the last royal +family had been lived. I looked well at their outer guise, but +could not explore them.</p> +<p>The groom held our horses in the street that leads up to the +Place d'Armes, and as we sauntered back, I kicked old leaves which +had fallen autumn after autumn and banked the path.</p> +<p>It rushed over me again!</p> +<p>I felt my arms go above my head as they did when I sank into the +depths of recollection.</p> +<p>"Lazarre! Are you in a fit?" The Marquis du Plessy seized +me.</p> +<p>"I remember! I remember! I was kicking the leaves—I was +walking with my father and +mother—somewhere—somewhere—and something +threatened us!"</p> +<p>"It was in the garden of the Tuileries," said the Marquis du +Plessy sternly. "The mob threatened you, and you were going before +the National Assembly! I walked behind. I was there to help defend +the king."</p> +<p>We stood still until the paroxysmal rending in my head ceased. +Then I sat on the grassy roadside trying to smile at the marquis, +and shrugging an apology for my weakness. The beauty of the arched +trees disappeared, and when next I recognized the world we were +moving slowly toward Paris in a heavy carriage, and I was smitten +with the conviction that my friend had not eaten the dinner he +ordered in the town of Versailles.</p> +<p>I felt ashamed of the weakness which came like an eclipse, and +withdrew leaving me in my strength. It ceased to visit me within +that year, and has never troubled me at all in later days. Yet, +inconsistently, I look back as to the glamour of youth; and though +it worked me hurt and shame, I half regret that it is gone.</p> +<p>The more I saw of the Marquis du Plessy the more my slow +tenacious heart took hold on him. We went about everywhere +together. I think it was his hope to wed me to his company and to +Paris, and shove the Mittau venture into an indefinite future; yet +he spared no pains in obtaining for me my passports to +Courland.</p> +<p>At this time, with cautious, half reluctant hand, he raised the +veil from a phase of life which astonished and revolted me. I loved +a woman. The painted semblances of women who inhabited a world of +sensation had no effect upon me.</p> +<p>"You are wonderfully fresh, Lazarre," the marquis said. "If you +were not so big and male I would call you mademoiselle! Did they +never sin in the American backwoods?"</p> +<p>Then he took me in his arms like a mother, and kissed me, +saying, "Dear son and sire, I am worse than your +great-grandfather!"</p> +<p>Yet my zest for the gaiety of the old city grew as much as he +desired. The golden dome of the Invalides became my bubble of +Paris, floating under a sunny sky.</p> +<p>Whenever I went to the hotel which De Chaumont had hired near +the Tuileries, Madame de Ferrier received me kindly; having always +with her Mademoiselle de Chaumont or Miss Chantry, so that we never +had a word in private. I thought she might have shown a little +feeling in her rebuff, and pondered on her point of view regarding +my secret rank. De Chaumont, on the other hand, was beneath her in +everything but wealth. How might she regard stooping to him?</p> +<p>Miss Chantry was divided between enforced deference and a Saxon +necessity to tell me I would not last. I saw she considered me one +of the upstarts of the Empire, singularly favored above her +brother, but under my finery the same French savage she had known +in America.</p> +<p>Eagle brought Paul to me, and he toddled across the floor, +looked at me wisely, and then climbed my knee.</p> +<p>Doctor Chantry had been living in Paris a life above his dreams +of luxury. When occasionally I met my secretary he was about to +drive out; or he was returning from De Chaumont's hotel. And there +I caught my poor master reciting poems to Annabel, who laughed and +yawned, and made faces behind her fan. I am afraid he drew on the +marquis' oldest wines, finding indulgence in the house; and he sent +extravagant bills to me for gloves and lawn cravats. It was +fortunate that De Chaumont took him during my absence. He moved his +belongings with positive rapture. The marquis and I both thought it +prudent not to publish my journey.</p> +<p>Doctor Chantry went simpering, and abasing himself before the +French noble with the complete subservience of a Saxon when a Saxon +does become subservient.</p> +<p>"The fool is laughable," said the Marquis du Plessy. "Get rid of +him, Lazarre. He is fit for nothing but hanging upon some one who +will feed him."</p> +<p>"He is my master," I answered. "I am a fool myself."</p> +<p>"You will come back from Mittau convinced of that, my boy. The +wise course is to join yourself to events, and let them draw your +chariot. My dislikers say I have temporized with fate. It is true I +am not so righteous as to smell to heaven. But two or three facts +have been deeply impressed on me. There is nothing more aggressive +than the virtue of an ugly, untempted woman; or the determination +of a young man to set every wrong thing in the world right. He +cannot wait, and take mellow interest in what goes on around him, +but must leap into the ring. You could live here with me +indefinitely, while the nation has Bonaparte, like the measles. +When the disease has run its course—we may be able to bring +evidence which will make it unnecessary for the Count of Provence +to hasten here that France may have a king."</p> +<p>"I want to see my sister, monsieur."</p> +<p>"And lose her and your own cause forever."</p> +<p>But he helped me to hire a strong traveling chaise, and stock it +with such comforts as it would bear. He also turned my property +over to me, recommending that I should not take it into Russia. +Half the jewels, at least, I considered the property of the +princess in Mittau; but his precaution influenced me to leave three +bags of coin in Doctor Chantry's care; for Doctor Chantry was the +soul of thrift with his own; and to send Skenedonk with the +jewel-case to the marquis' bank. The cautious Oneida took counsel +of himself and hid it in the chaise. He told me when we were three +days out.</p> +<p>It is as true that you are driven to do some things as that you +can never entirely free yourself from any life you have lived. That +sunny existence in the Faubourg St. Germain, the morning and +evening talks with a man who bound me to him as no other man has +since bound me, were too dear to leave even briefly without +wrenching pain. I dreamed nightly of robbers and disaster, of being +ignominiously thrust out of Mittau, of seeing a woman whose face +was a blur and who moved backward from me when I called her my +sister; of troops marching across and trampling me into the earth +as straw. I groaned in spirit. Yet to Mittau I was spurred by the +kind of force that seems to press from unseen distances, and is as +fatal as temperament.</p> +<p>When I paid my last visit at De Chaumont's hotel, and said I was +going into the country, Eagle looked concerned, as a De Ferrier +should; but she did not turn her head to follow my departure. The +game of man and woman was in its most blindfold state between +us.</p> +<p>There was one, however, who watched me out of sight. The marquis +was more agitated than I liked to see him. He took snuff with a +constant click of the lid.</p> +<p>The hills of Champagne, green with vines, and white as with an +underlay of chalk, rose behind us. We crossed the frontier, and +German hills took their places, with a castle topping each. I was +at the time of life when interest stretches eagerly toward every +object; and though this journey cannot be set down in a story as +long as mine, the novelty—even the risks, mischances and +wearinesses of continual post travel, come back like an +invigorating breath of salt water.</p> +<p>The usual route carried us eastward to Cracow, the old capital +of Poland, scattered in ruined grandeur within its brick walls. +Beyond it I remember a stronghold of the Middle Ages called the +fortress of Landskron.</p> +<p>The peasants of this country, men in shirts and drawers of +coarse linen, and women with braided hair hanging down under linen +veils, stopped their carts as soon as a post-carriage rushed into +sight, and bent almost to the earth. At post-houses the servants +abased themselves to take me by the heel. In no other country was +the spirit of man so broken. Poles of high birth are called the +Frenchmen of the north, and we saw fair men and women in sumptuous +polonaises and long robes who appeared luxurious in their traveling +carriages. But stillness and solitude brooded on the land. From +Cracow to Warsaw wide reaches of forest darkened the level. Any +open circle was belted around the horizon with woods, pines, firs, +beech, birch, and small oaks. Few cattle fed on the pastures, and +stunted crops of grain ripened in the melancholy light.</p> +<p>From Cracow to Warsaw is a distance of one hundred and thirty +leagues, if the postilion lied not, yet on that road we met but two +carriages and not more than a dozen carts. Scattering wooden +villages, each a line of hovels, appeared at long intervals.</p> +<p>Post-houses were kept by Jews, who fed us in the rooms where +their families lived. Milk and eggs they had none to offer us; and +their beds were piles of straw on the ground, seldom clean, never +untenanted by fleas.</p> +<p>Beggars ran beside us on the wretched roads as neglected as +themselves. Where our horses did not labor through sand, the marshy +ground was paved with sticks and boughs, or the surface was built +up with trunks of trees laid crosswise.</p> +<p>In spacious, ill-paved Warsaw, through which the great Vistula +flows, we rested two days. I knelt with confused thoughts, trying +to pray in the Gothic cathedral. We walked past it into the old +town, of high houses and narrow streets, like a part of Paris.</p> +<p>In Lithuania the roads were paths winding through forests full +of stumps and roots. The carriage hardly squeezed along, and eight +little horses attached to it in the Polish way had much ado to draw +us. The postilions were young boys in coarse linen, hardy as +cattle, who rode bare-back league upon league.</p> +<p>Old bridges cracked and sagged when we crossed them. And here +the forests rose scorched and black in spots, because the peasants, +bound to pay their lords turpentine, fired pines and caught the +heated ooze.</p> +<p>Within the proper boundary of Russia our way was no better. +There we saw queer projections of boards around trees to keep bears +from climbing after the hunters.</p> +<p>The Lithuanian peasants had few wants. Their carts were put +together without nails. Their bridles and traces were made of bark. +They had no tools but hatchets. A sheepskin coat and round felt cap +kept a man warm in cold weather. His shoes were made of bark, and +his home of logs with penthouse roof.</p> +<p>In houses where travelers slept the candles were laths of deal, +about five feet long, stuck into crevices of the wall or hung over +tables. Our hosts carried them about, dropping unheeded sparks upon +the straw beds.</p> +<p>In Grodno, a town of falling houses and ruined palaces, we +rested again before turning directly north.</p> +<p>There my heart began to sink. We had spent four weeks on a +comfortless road, working always toward the goal. It was nearly +won. A speech of my friend the marquis struck itself out sharply in +the northern light.</p> +<p>"You are not the only Pretender, my dear boy. Don't go to Mittau +expecting to be hailed as a novelty. At least two peasants have +started up claiming to be the prince who did not die in the Temple, +and have been cast down again, complaining of the treatment of +their dear sister! The Count d'Artois says he would rather saw wood +for a living than be king after the English fashion. I would rather +be the worthless old fellow I am than be king after the Mittau +fashion; especially when his Majesty, Louis XVIII, sees you +coming!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IXb" id="IXb"></a>IX</h2> +<p>Purposely we entered Mittau about sunset, which was nearer ten +o'clock than nine in that northern land; coming through wheat lands +to where a network of streams forms the river Aa. In this broad lap +of the province of Courland sat Mittau. Yelgava it was called by +the people among whom we last posted, and they pronounced the word +as if naming something as great as Paris.</p> +<p>It was already July, St. John's day being two weeks gone; yet +the echoes of its markets and feastings lingered. The word +"Johanni" smote even an ear deaf to the language. It was like a +dissolving fair.</p> +<p>"You are too late for Johanni," said the German who kept the +house for travelers, speaking the kind of French we heard in +Poland. "Perhap it is just as well for you. This Johanni has nearly +ruined me!"</p> +<p>Yet he showed a disposition to hire my singular servant from me +at a good wage, walking around and around Skenedonk, who bore the +scrutiny like a pine tree.</p> +<p>The Oneida enjoyed his travels. It was easy for him to conform +to the thoughts and habits of Europe. We had not talked about the +venture into Russia. He simply followed me where I went without +asking questions, proving himself faithful friend and liberal +minded gentleman.</p> +<p>We supped privately, and I dressed with care. Horses were put in +for our last short post of a few streets. We had suffered such +wretched quarters on the way that the German guest-house spread +itself commodiously. Yet its walls were the flimsiest slabs. I +heard some animal scratching and whining in the next chamber. On +the post-road, however, we had not always a wall betwixt ourselves +and the dogs.</p> +<p>The palace in Mittau stood conspicuous upon an island in the +river. As we approached, it looked not unlike a copy of Versailles. +The pile was by no means brilliant with lights, as the court of a +king might glitter, finding reflection upon the stream. We drove +with a clatter upon the paving, and a sentinel challenged us.</p> +<p>I had thought of how I should obtain access to this secluded +royal family, and Skenedonk was ready with the queen's jewel-case +in his hands. Not on any account was he to let it go out of them +until I took it and applied the key; but gaining audience with +Madame d'Angoulême, he was to tell her that the bearer of +that casket had traveled far to see her, and waited outside.</p> +<p>Under guard the Oneida had the great doors shut behind him. The +wisdom of my plan looked less conspicuous as time went by. The +palace loomed silent, without any cheer of courtiers. The horses +shook their straps, and the postilion hung lazily by one leg, his +figure distinct against the low horizon still lighted by +after-glow. Some Mittau noises came across the Aa, the rumble of +wheels, and a barking of dogs.</p> +<p>When apprehension began to pinch my heart of losing my servant +and my whole fortune in the abode of honest royal people, and I +felt myself but a poor outcast come to seek a princess for my +sister, a guard stood by the carriage, touching his cap, and asked +me to follow him.</p> +<p>We ascended the broad steps. He gave the password to a sentinel +there, and held wide one leaf of the door. He took a candle; and +otherwise dark corridors and ante-chambers, somber with heavy +Russian furnishings, rugs hung against the walls, barbaric brazen +vessels and curious vases, passed like a half-seen vision.</p> +<p>Then the guard delivered me to a gentleman in a blue coat, with +a red collar, who belonged to the period of the Marquis du Plessy +without being adorned by his whiteness and lace. The gentleman +staring at me, strangely polite and full of suspicion, conducted me +into a well-lighted room where Skenedonk waited by the farther +door, holding the jewel-case as tenaciously as he would a +scalp.</p> +<p>I entered the farther door. It closed behind me.</p> +<p>A girl stood in the center of this inner room, looking at me. I +remember none of its fittings, except that there was abundant +light, showing her clear blue eyes and fair hair, the transparency +of her skin, and her high expression. She was all in black, except +a floating muslin cape or fichu, making a beholder despise the +finery of the Empire.</p> +<p>We must have examined each other even sternly, though I felt a +sudden giving way and heaving in my breast. She was so high, so +sincere! If I had been unfit to meet the eyes of that princess I +must have shriveled before her.</p> +<p>From side to side her figure swayed, and another young girl, the +only attendant in the room, stretched out both arms to catch +her.</p> +<p>We put her on a couch, and she sat gasping, supported by the +lady in waiting. Then the tears ran down her face, and I kissed the +transparent hands, my own flesh and blood, I believed that hour as +I believe to this.</p> +<p>"O Louis—Louis!"</p> +<p>The wonder of her knowledge and acceptance of me, without a +claim being put forward, was around me like a cloud.</p> +<p>"You were so like my father as you stood there—I could see +him again as he parted from us! What miracle has restored you? How +did you find your way here? You are surely Louis?"</p> +<p>I sat down beside her, keeping one hand between mine.</p> +<p>"Madame, I believe as you believe, that I am Louis Charles, the +dauphin of France. And I have come to you first, as my own flesh +and blood, who must have more knowledge and recollection of things +past than I myself can have. I have not long been waked out of the +tranced life I formerly lived."</p> +<p>"I have wept more tears for the little brother—broken in +intellect and exiled farther than we—than for my father and +mother. They were at peace. But you, poor child, what hope was +there for you? Was the person who had you in his charge kind to +you? He must have been. You have grown to be such a man as I would +have you!"</p> +<p>"Everybody has been kind to me, my sister."</p> +<p>"Could they look in that face and be unkind? All the thousand +questions I have to ask must be deferred until the king sees you. I +cannot wait for him to see you! Mademoiselle de Choisy, send a +message at once to the king!"</p> +<p>The lady in waiting withdrew to the door, and the royal duchess +quivered with eager anticipation.</p> +<p>"We have had pretended dauphins, to add insult to exile. You may +not take the king unaware as you took me! He will have proofs as +plain as his Latin verse. But you will find his Majesty all that a +father could be to us, Louis! I think there never was a man so +unselfish!—except, indeed, my husband, whom you cannot see +until he returns."</p> +<p>Again I kissed my sister's hand. We gazed at each other, our +different breeding still making strangeness between us, across +which I yearned; and she examined me.</p> +<p>Many a time since I have reproached myself for not improving +those moments with the most candid and right-minded princess in +Europe, by forestalling my enemies. I should have told her of my +weakness instead of sunning my strength in the love of her. I +should have made her see my actual position, and the natural +antagonism of the king, who would not so readily see a strong +personal resemblance when that was not emphasized by some mental +stress, as she and three very different men had seen it.</p> +<p>Instead of making cause with her, however, I said over and +over—"Marie-Therese! Marie-Therese!"—like a homesick +boy come again to some familiar presence. "You are the only one of +my family I have seen since waking; except Louis Philippe."</p> +<p>"Don't speak of that man, Louis! I detest the house of Orleans +as a Christian should detest only sin! His father doomed ours to +death!"</p> +<p>"But he is not to blame for what his father did."</p> +<p>"What do you mean by waking?"</p> +<p>"Coming to my senses."</p> +<p>"All that we shall hear about when the king sees you."</p> +<p>"I knew your picture on the snuffbox."</p> +<p>"What snuffbox?"</p> +<p>"The one in the queen's jewel-case."</p> +<p>"Where did you find that jewel-case?"</p> +<p>"Do you remember the Marquis du Plessy?"</p> +<p>"Yes. A lukewarm loyalist, if loyalist at all in these +times."</p> +<p>"My best friend."</p> +<p>"I will say for him that he was not among the first +emigrés. If the first emigrés had stayed at home and +helped their king, they might have prevented the Terror."</p> +<p>"The Marquis du Plessy stayed after the Tuileries was sacked. He +found the queen's jewel-case, and saved it from confiscation to the +state."</p> +<p>"Where did he find it? Did you recognize the faces?"</p> +<p>"Oh, instantly!"</p> +<p>The door opened, deferring any story, for that noble usher who +had brought me to the presence of Marie-Therese stood there, ready +to conduct us to the king.</p> +<p>My sister rose and I led her by the hand, she going confidently +to return the dauphin to his family, and the dauphin going like a +fool. Seeing Skenedonk standing by the door, I must stop and fit +the key to the lock of the queen's casket, and throw the lid back +to show her proofs given me by one who believed in me in spite of +himself. The snuffbox and two bags of coin were gone, I saw with +consternation, but the princess recognized so many things that she +missed nothing, controlling herself as her touch moved from trinket +to trinket that her mother had worn.</p> +<p>"Bring this before the king," she said. And we took it with us, +the noble in blue coat and red collar carrying it.</p> +<p>"His Majesty," Marie-Therese told me as we passed along a +corridor, "tries to preserve the etiquette of a court in our exile. +But we are paupers, Louis. And mocking our poverty, Bonaparte makes +overtures to him to sell the right of the Bourbons to the throne of +France!"</p> +<p>She had not yet adjusted her mind to the fact that Louis XVIII +was no longer the one to be treated with by Bonaparte or any other +potentate, and the pretender leading her smiled like the boy of +twenty that he was.</p> +<p>"Napoleon can have no peace while a Bourbon in the line of +succession lives."</p> +<p>"Oh, remember the Duke d'Enghien!" she whispered.</p> +<p>Then the door of a lofty but narrow cabinet, lighted with many +candles, was opened, and I saw at the farther end a portly +gentleman seated in an arm-chair.</p> +<p>A few gentlemen and two ladies in waiting, besides Mademoiselle +de Choisy, attended.</p> +<p>Louis XVIII rose from his seat as my sister made a deep +obeisance to him, and took her hand and kissed it. At once, moved +by some singular maternal impulse, perhaps, for she was half a +dozen years my senior, as a mother would whimsically decorate her +child, Marie-Therese took the half circlet of gems from the casket, +reached up, and set it on my head.</p> +<p>For an instant I was crowned in Mittau, with my mother's +tiara.</p> +<p>I saw the king's features turn to granite, and a dark red stain +show on his jaws like coloring on stone. The most benevolent men, +and by all his traits he was one of the most benevolent, have their +pitiless moments. He must have been prepared to combat a pretender +before I entered the room. But outraged majesty would now take its +full vengeance on me for the unconsidered act of the child he +loved.</p> +<p>"First two peasants, Hervagault and Bruneau, neither of whom had +the audacity to steal into the confidence of the tenderest princess +in Europe with the tokens she must recognize, or to penetrate into +the presence," spoke the king: "and now an escaped convict from +Ste. Pélagie, a dandy from the Empire!"</p> +<p>I was only twenty, and he stung me.</p> +<p>"Your royal highness," I said, speaking as I believed within my +rights, "my sister tries to put a good front on my intrusion into +Mittau."</p> +<p>I took the coronet from my head and gave it again to the hand +which had crowned me. Marie-Therese let it fall, and it rocked near +the feet of the king.</p> +<p>"Your sister, monsieur! What right have you to call Madame +d'Angoulême your sister!"</p> +<p>"The same right, monsieur, that you have to call her your +niece."</p> +<p>The features of the princess became pinched and sharpened under +the softness of her fair hair.</p> +<p>"Sire, if this is not my brother, who is he?"</p> +<p>Louis XVIII may have been tender to her every other moment of +his life, but he was hard then, and looked beyond her toward the +door, making a sign with his hand.</p> +<p>That strange sympathy which works in me for my opponent, put his +outraged dignity before me rather than my own wrong. Deeper, more +sickening than death, the first faintness of self-distrust came +over me. What if my half-memories were unfounded hallucinations? +What if my friend Louis Philippe had made a tool of me, to annoy +this older Bourbon branch that detested him? What if Bellenger's +recognition, and the Marquis du Plessy's, and Marie-Therese's, went +for nothing? What if some other, and not this angry man, had sent +the money to America—</p> +<p>The door opened again. We turned our heads, and I grew hot at +the cruelty which put that idiot before my sister's eyes. He ran on +all fours, his gaunt wrists exposed, until Bellenger, advancing +behind, took him by the arm and made him stand erect. It was this +poor creature I had heard scratching on the other side of the inn +wall.</p> +<p>How long Bellenger had been beforehand with me in Mittau I could +not guess. But when I saw the scoundrel who had laid me in Ste. +Pélagie, and doubtless dropped me in the Seine, ready to do +me more mischief, smug and smooth shaven, and fine in the +red-collared blue coat which seemed to be the prescribed uniform of +that court, all my confidence returned. I was Louis of France. I +could laugh at anything he had to say.</p> +<p>Behind him entered a priest, who advanced up the room, and made +obeisance to the king, as Bellenger did.</p> +<p>Madame d'Angoulême looked once at the idiot, and hid her +eyes: the king protecting her. I said to myself,</p> +<p>"It will soon be against my breast, not yours, that she hides +her face, my excellent uncle of Provence!"</p> +<p>Yet he was as sincere a man as ever said to witnesses,</p> +<p>"We shall now hear the truth."</p> +<p>The few courtiers, enduring with hardiness a sight which they +perhaps had seen before though Madame d'Angoulême had not, +made a rustle among themselves as if echoing,</p> +<p>"Yes, now we shall hear the truth!"</p> +<p>The king again kissed my sister's hand, and placed her in a seat +beside his arm-chair, which he resumed.</p> +<p>"Monsieur the Abbé Edgeworth," he said, "having stood on +the scaffold with our martyred sovereign, as priest and comforter, +is eminently the one to conduct an examination like this, which +touches matters of conscience. We leave it in his hands."</p> +<p>Abbé Edgeworth, fine and sweet of presence, stood by the +king, facing Bellenger and the idiot. That poor creature, +astonished by his environment, gazed at the high room corners, or +smiled experimentally at the courtiers, stretching his cracked lips +over darkened fangs.</p> +<p>"You are admitted here, Bellenger," said the priest, "to answer +his Majesty's questions in the presence of witnesses."</p> +<p>"I thank his Majesty," said Bellenger.</p> +<p>The abbé began as if the idiot attracted his notice for +the first time.</p> +<p>"Who is the unfortunate child you hold with your right +hand?"</p> +<p>"The dauphin of France, monsieur the abbé," spoke out +Bellenger, his left hand on his hip.</p> +<p>"What! Take care what you say! How do you know that the dauphin +of France is yet among the living?"</p> +<p>Bellenger's countenance changed, and he took his hand off his +hip and let it hang down.</p> +<p>"I received the prince, monsieur, from those who took him out of +the Temple prison."</p> +<p>"And you never exchanged him for another person, or allowed him +to be separated from you?"</p> +<p>Bellenger swore with ghastly lips—"Never, on my hopes of +salvation, monsieur the abbé!"</p> +<p>"Admitting that somebody gave you this child to keep—by +the way, how old is he?"</p> +<p>"About twenty years, monsieur."</p> +<p>"What right had you to assume he was the dauphin?"</p> +<p>"I had received a yearly pension, monsieur, from his Majesty +himself, for the maintenance of the prince."</p> +<p>"You received the yearly pension through my hand, acting as his +Majesty's almoner, His Majesty was ever too bountiful to the +unfortunate. He has many dependents. Where have you lived with your +charge?"</p> +<p>"We lived in America, sometimes in the woods; and sometimes in +towns."</p> +<p>"Has he ever shown hopeful signs of recovering his reason?"</p> +<p>"Never, monsieur the abbé."</p> +<p>Having touched thus lightly on the case of the idiot, +Abbé Edgeworth turned to me.</p> +<p>The king's face retained its granite hardness. But Bellenger's +passed from shade to shade of baffled confidence; recovering only +when the priest said,</p> +<p>"Now look at this young man. Have you ever seen him before?"</p> +<p>"Yes, monsieur, I have; both in the American woods, and in +Paris."</p> +<p>"What was he doing in the American woods?"</p> +<p>"Living on the bounty of one Count de Chaumont, a friend of +Bonaparte's."</p> +<p>"Who is he?"</p> +<p>"A French half-breed, brought up among the Indians."</p> +<p>"What name does he bear?"</p> +<p>"He is called Lazarre."</p> +<p>"But why is a French half-breed named Lazarre attempting to +force himself on the exiled court here in Mittau?"</p> +<p>"People have told him that he resembles the Bourbons, +monsieur."</p> +<p>"Was he encouraged in this idea by the friend of Bonaparte whom +you mentioned?"</p> +<p>"I think not, monsieur the abbé. But I heard a Frenchman +tell him he was like the martyred king, and since that hour he has +presumed to consider himself the dauphin."</p> +<p>"Who was this Frenchman?"</p> +<p>"The Duke of Orleans, Louis Philippe de Bourbon, monsieur the +abbé."</p> +<p>There was an expressive movement among the courtiers.</p> +<p>"Was Louis Philippe instrumental in sending him to France?"</p> +<p>"He was. He procured shipping for the pretender."</p> +<p>"When the pretender reached Paris, what did he do?"</p> +<p>"He attempted robbery, and was taken in the act and thrown into +Ste. Pélagie. I saw him arrested."</p> +<p>"What were you doing in Paris?"</p> +<p>"I was following and watching this dangerous pretender, monsieur +the abbé."</p> +<p>"Did you leave America when he did?"</p> +<p>"The evening before, monsieur. And we outsailed him."</p> +<p>"Did you leave Paris when he did?"</p> +<p>"Three days later, monsieur. But we passed him while he +rested."</p> +<p>"Why do you call such an insignificant person a dangerous +pretender?"</p> +<p>"He is not insignificant, monsieur: as you will say, when you +hear what he did in Paris."</p> +<p>"He was thrown into the prison of Ste. Pélagie, you told +me."</p> +<p>"But he escaped, by choking a sacristan so that the poor man +will long bear the marks on his throat. And the first thing I knew +he was high in favor with the Marquis du Plessy, and Bonaparte +spoke to him; and the police laughed at complaints lodged against +him."</p> +<p>"Who lodged complaints against him?"</p> +<p>"I did, monsieur."</p> +<p>"But he was too powerful for you to touch?"</p> +<p>"He was well protected, monsieur the abbé. He flaunted. +While the poor prince and myself suffered inconvenience and fared +hard—"</p> +<p>"The poor prince, you say?"</p> +<p>"We never had a fitting allowance, monsieur," Bellenger declared +aggressively. "Yet with little or no means I tried to bring this +pretender to justice and defend his Majesty's throne."</p> +<p>"Pensioners are not often so outspoken in their +dissatisfaction," remarked the priest.</p> +<p>I laughed as I thought of the shifts to which Bellenger must +have been put. Abbé Edgeworth with merciless dryness +inquired,</p> +<p>"How were you able to post to Mittau?"</p> +<p>"I borrowed money of a friend in Paris, monsieur, trusting that +his Majesty will requite me for my services."</p> +<p>"But why was it necessary for you to post to Mittau, where this +pretender would certainly meet exposure?"</p> +<p>"Because I discovered that he carried with him a casket of the +martyred queen's jewels, stolen from the Marquis du Plessy."</p> +<p>"How did the Marquis du Plessy obtain possession of the queen's +jewels?"</p> +<p>"That I do not know."</p> +<p>"But the jewels are the lawful property of Madame +d'Angoulême. He must have known they would be seized."</p> +<p>"I thought it necessary to bring my evidence against him, +monsieur."</p> +<p>"There was little danger of his imposing himself upon the court. +Yet you are rather to be commended than censured, Bellenger. Did +this pretender know you were in Paris?"</p> +<p>"He saw me there."</p> +<p>"Many times?"</p> +<p>"At least twice, monsieur the abbé."</p> +<p>"Did he avoid you?"</p> +<p>"I avoided him. I took pains to keep him from knowing how I +watched him."</p> +<p>"You say he flaunted. When he left Paris for Mittau was the fact +generally reported?"</p> +<p>"No, monsieur."</p> +<p>"You learned it yourself?"</p> +<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> +<p>"But he must have known you would pursue him."</p> +<p>"He left with great secrecy, monsieur the abbé." It was +given out that he was merely going to the country."</p> +<p>"What made you suspect he was coming to Mittau?"</p> +<p>"He hired a strong post-chaise and made many preparations."</p> +<p>"But didn't his friend the Marquis du Plessy discover the +robbery? Why didn't he follow and take the thief?"</p> +<p>"Dead men don't follow, monsieur the abbé. The Marquis du +Plessy had a duel on his hands, and was killed the day after this +Lazarre left Paris."</p> +<p>Of all Bellenger's absurd fabrications this story was the most +ridiculous. I laughed again. Madame d'Angoulême took her +hands from her face and our eyes met one instant, but the idiot +whined like a dog. She shuddered, and covered her sight.</p> +<p>The priest turned from Bellenger to me with a fair-minded +expression, and inquired,</p> +<p>"What have you to say?"</p> +<p>I had a great deal to say, though the only hearer I expected to +convince was my sister. If she believed in me I did not care +whether the others believed or not. I was going to begin with Lake +George, the mountain, and the fog, and Bellenger's fear of me, and +his rage when Louis Philippe told him the larger portion of the +money sent from Europe was given to me.</p> +<p>Facing Marie-Therese, therefore, instead of the Abbé +Edgeworth, I spoke her name. She looked up once more. And instead +of being in Mittau, I was suddenly on a balcony at Versailles!</p> +<p>The night landscape, chill and dim, stretched beyond a multitude +of roaring mouths, coarse lips, flaming eyes, illuminated by +torches, the heads ornamented with a three-colored thing stuck into +the caps. My hand stretched out for support, and met the tight clip +of my mother's fingers. I knew that she was towering between +Marie-Therese and me a fearless palpitating statue. The devilish +roaring mob shot above itself a forced, admiring, piercing +cry—"Long live the queen!" Then all became the humming of +bees—the vibration of a string—nothing!</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Xb" id="Xb"></a>X</h2> +<p>Blackness surrounded the post-carriage in which I woke, and it +seemed to stand in a tunnel that was afire at one end. Two huge +trees, branches and all, were burning on a big hearth, stones +glowing under them; and figures with long beards, in black robes, +passed betwixt me and the fire, stirring a cauldron. If ever +witches' brewing was seen, it looked like that.</p> +<p>The last eclipse of mind had come upon me without any rending +and tearing in the head, and facts returned clearly and directly. I +saw the black robed figures were Jews cooking supper at a large +fireplace, and we had driven upon the brick floor of a post-house +which had a door nearly the size of a gable. At that end spread a +ghostly film of open land, forest and sky. I lay stretched upon +cushions as well as the vehicle would permit, and was aware by a +shadow which came between me and the Jews that Skenedonk stood at +the step.</p> +<p>"What are you about?" I spoke with a rush of chagrin, sitting +up. "Are we on the road to Paris?"</p> +<p>"Yes," he answered.</p> +<p>"You have made a mistake, Skenedonk!"</p> +<p>"No mistake," he maintained. "Wait until I bring you some +supper. After supper we can talk."</p> +<p>"Bring the supper at once then, for I am going to talk now."</p> +<p>"Are you quite awake?"</p> +<p>"Quite awake. How long did it last this time?"</p> +<p>"Two days."</p> +<p>"We are not two days' journey out of Mittau?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Well, when you have horses put in to-morrow morning, turn them +back to Mittau."</p> +<p>Skenedonk went to the gigantic hearth, and one of the Jews +ladled him out a bowlful of the cauldron stew, which he brought to +me.</p> +<p>The stuff was not offensive and I was hungry. He brought another +bowlful for himself, and we ate as we had often done in the woods. +The fire shone on his bald pate and gave out the liquid lights of +his fawn eyes.</p> +<p>"I have made a fool of myself in Mittau, Skenedonk."</p> +<p>"Why do you want to go back?"</p> +<p>"Because I am not going to be thrown out of the palace without a +hearing."</p> +<p>"What is the use?" said Skenedonk. "The old fat chief will not +let you stay. He doesn't want to hear you talk. He wants to be king +himself."</p> +<p>"Did you see me sprawling on the floor like the idiot?"</p> +<p>"Not like the idiot. Your face was down."</p> +<p>"Did you see the duchess?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"What did she do?"</p> +<p>"Nothing. She leaned on the women and they took her away."</p> +<p>"Tell me all you saw."</p> +<p>"When you went in to hold council, I watched, and saw a priest +and Bellenger and the boy that God had touched, all go in after +you. So I knew the council would be bad for you, Lazarre, and I +stood by the door with my knife in my hand. When the talk had gone +on awhile I heard something like the dropping of a buck on the +ground, and sprang in, and the men drew their swords and the women +screamed. The priest pointed at you and said, 'God has smitten the +pretender!' Then they all went out of the room except the priest, +and we opened your collar. I told him you had fallen like that +before, and the stroke passed off in sleep. He said your carriage +waited, and if I valued your safety I would put you in it and take +you out of Russia. He called servants to help me carry you. I +thought about your jewels; but some drums began to beat, and I +thought about your life!"</p> +<p>"But, Skenedonk, didn't my sister—the lady I led by the +hand, you remember—speak to me again, or look at me, or try +to revive me?"</p> +<p>"No. She went away with the women carrying her."</p> +<p>"She believed in me—at first! Before I said a word she +knew me! She wouldn't leave me merely because her uncle and a +priest thought me an impostor! She is the tenderest creature on +earth, Skenedonk—she is more like a saint than a woman!"</p> +<p>"Some saints on the altar are blind and deaf," observed the +Oneida. "I think she was sick."</p> +<p>"I have nearly killed her! And I have been tumbled out of Mittau +as a pretender!"</p> +<p>"You are here. Get some men to fight, and we will go back."</p> +<p>"What a stroke—to lose my senses at the moment I needed +them most!"</p> +<p>"You kept your scalp."</p> +<p>"And not much else. No! If you refuse to follow me, and wait +here at this post-house, I am going back to Mittau!"</p> +<p>"I go where you go," said Skenedonk. "But best go to sleep +now."</p> +<p>This I was not able to do until long tossing on the thorns of +chagrin wore me out. I was ashamed like a prodigal, baffled, and +hurt to the bruising of my soul. A young man's chastened confidence +in himself is hard to bear, but the loss of what was given as a +heritage at birth is an injustice not to be endured.</p> +<p>The throne of France was never my goal, to be reached through +blood and revolution. Perhaps the democratic notions in my father's +breast have found wider scope in mine. I wanted to influence men, +and felt even at that time that I could do it; but being king was +less to my mind than being acknowledged dauphin, and brother, and +named with my real name.</p> +<p>I took my fists in my hands and swore to force recognition, if I +battered a lifetime on Mittau.</p> +<p>At daylight our post-horses were put to the chaise and I gave +the postilion orders myself. The little fellow bowed himself nearly +double, and said that troops were moving behind us to join the +allied forces against Napoleon.</p> +<p>At once the prospect of being snared among armies and cut off +from all return to Paris, appalled me as a greater present calamity +than being cast out of Mittau. Mittau could wait for another +expedition.</p> +<p>"Very well," I said. "Take the road to France."</p> +<p>We met August rains. We were bogged. A bridge broke under us. We +dodged Austrian troops. It seemed even then a fated thing that a +Frenchman should retreat ignominiously from Russia.</p> +<p>There is a devilish antagonism of inanimate and senseless +things, begun by discord in ourselves, which works unreasonable +torture. Our return was an abominable journal which I will not +recount, and going with it was a mortifying facility for drawing +opposing forces.</p> +<p>However, I knew my friend the marquis expected me to return +defeated. He gave me my opportunity as a child is indulged with a +dangerous plaything, to teach it caution.</p> +<p>He would be in his chateau of Plessy, cutting off two days' +posting to Paris. And after the first sharp pangs of chagrin and +shame at losing the fortune he had placed in my hands, I looked +forward with impatience to our meeting.</p> +<p>"We have nothing, Skenedonk!" I exclaimed the first time there +was occasion for money on the road. "How have you been able to +post? The money and the jewel-case are gone."</p> +<p>"We have two bags of money and the snuffbox," said the Oneida. +"I hid them in the post-carriage."</p> +<p>"But I had the key of the jewel-case."</p> +<p>"You are a good sleeper," responded Skenedonk.</p> +<p>I blessed him heartily for his forethought, and he said if he +had known I was a fool he would not have told me we carried the +jewel-case into Russia.</p> +<p>I dared not let myself think of Madame de Ferrier. The plan of +buying back her estates, which I had nurtured in the bottom of my +heart, was now more remote than America.</p> +<p>One bag of coin was spent in Paris, but three remained there +with Doctor Chantry. We had money, though the more valuable +treasure stayed in Mittau.</p> +<p>In the sloping hills and green vines of Champagne we were no +longer harassed dodging troops, and slept the last night of our +posting at Epernay. Taking the road early next morning, I began to +watch for Plessy too soon, without forecasting that I was not to +set foot within its walls.</p> +<p>We came within the marquis' boundaries upon a little goose girl, +knitting beside her flock. Her bright hair was bound with a woolen +cap. Delicious grass, and the shadow of an oak, under which she +stood, were not to be resisted, so I sent the carriage on. She +looked open-mouthed after Skenedonk, and bobbed her dutiful, +frightened courtesy at me.</p> +<p>The marquis' peasants were by no means under the influence of +the Empire, as I knew from observing the lad whom he had sought +among the drowned in the mortuary chapel of the Hôtel Dieu, +and who was afterwards found in a remote wine shop seeing sights. +The goose girl dared not speak to me unless I required it of her, +and the unusual notice was an honor she would have avoided.</p> +<p>"What do you do here?" I inquired.</p> +<p>Her little heart palpitated in the answer—"Oh, guard the +geese."</p> +<p>"Do they give you trouble?"</p> +<p>"Not much, except that wicked gander." She pointed out with her +knitting-needle a sleek white fellow, who flirted his tail and +turned an eye, quavering as if he said—"La, la, la!"</p> +<p>"What does he do?"</p> +<p>"He would be at the vines and the corn, monsieur."</p> +<p>"Bad gander!"</p> +<p>"I switch him," she informed me, like a magistrate.</p> +<p>"But that would only make him run."</p> +<p>"Also I have a string in my pocket, and I tie him by the leg to +a tree."</p> +<p>"Serves him right. Is the Marquis du Plessy at the chateau?"</p> +<p>Her face grew shaded, as a cloud chases sunlight before it +across a meadow. "Do you mean the new marquis, the old marquis' +cousin, monsieur? He went away directly after the burial."</p> +<p>"What burial?"'</p> +<p>"The old marquis' burial. That was before St. John's day."</p> +<p>"Be careful what you say, my child!"</p> +<p>"Didn't you know he was dead, <i>monsieur?</i>"</p> +<p>"I have been on a journey. Was his death sudden?"</p> +<p>"He was killed in a duel in Paris."</p> +<p>I sat down on the grass with my head in my hands. Bellenger had +told the truth.</p> +<p>One scant month the Marquis du Plessy fostered me like a son. To +this hour my slow heart aches for the companionship of the +lightest, most delicate spirit I ever encountered in man.</p> +<p>Once I lifted my head and insisted,</p> +<p>"It can't be true!"</p> +<p>"Monsieur," the goose girl asserted solemnly, "it is true. The +blessed St. Alpin, my patron, forget me if I tell you a lie."</p> +<p>Around the shadowed spot where I sat I heard trees whispering on +the hills, and a cart rumbling along the hardened dust of the +road.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," spoke the goose girl out of her good heart, "if you +want to go to his chapel I will show you the path."</p> +<p>She tied a string around the leg of the wicked gander and +attached him to the tree, shaking a wand at him in warning. He +nipped her sleeve, and hissed, and hopped, his wives remonstrating +softly; but his guardian left him bound and carried her knitting +down a valley to a stream, across the bridge, and near an opening +in the bushes at the foot of a hill.</p> +<p>"Go all to the right, monsieur," she said, "and you will come to +the chapel where the Du Plessys are buried."</p> +<p>I gave her the largest coin in my pocket, and she flew back as +well as the spirit of childhood could fly in wooden shoes. All the +geese, formed in a line, waddled to meet her, perhaps bearing a +memorial of wrongs from their husband.</p> +<p>The climb was steep, rounding a darkened ferny shoulder of lush +forest, yet promising more and more a top of sunlight. At the +summit was a carriage road which ascended by some easier plane. +Keeping all to the right as the goose girl directed, I found a +chapel like a shrine.</p> +<p>It was locked. Through the latticed door I could see an altar, +whereunder the last Du Plessy who had come to rest there, doubtless +lay with his kin.</p> +<p>I sat down on one of the benches under the trees. The ache +within me went deep. But all that sunny hillcrest seemed brightened +by the marquis. It was cheerful as his smile. "Let us have a glass +of wine and enjoy the sun," he said in the breeze flowing around +his chapel. "And do you hear that little citizen of the tree +trunks, Lazarre?"</p> +<p>The perfume of the woods rose invisibly to a cloudless sky. My +last tryst with my friend was an hour in paradise's +antechamber.</p> +<p>The light quick stepping of horses and their rattling harness +brought Madame de Ferrier's carriage quickly around the curve +fronting the chapel. Her presence was the one touch which the place +lacked, and I forgot grief, shame, impatience at being found out in +my trouble, and stood at her step with my hat in my hand.</p> +<p>She said—"O Lazarre!"—and Paul beat on Ernestine's +knee, echoing—"O Zar!" and my comfort was absolute as release +from pain, because she had come to visit her old friend the +marquis.</p> +<p>I helped her down and stood with her at the latticed door.</p> +<p>"How bright it is here!" said Eagle.</p> +<p>"It is very bright. I came up the hill from a dark place."</p> +<p>"Did the news of his death meet you on the post-road?"</p> +<p>"It met me at the foot of this hill. The goose girl told +me."</p> +<p>"Oh, you have been hurt!" she said, looking at me. "Your face is +all seamed. Don't tell me about Mittau to-day. Paul and I are +taking possession of the estates!"</p> +<p>"Napoleon has given them back to you!"</p> +<p>"Yes, he has! I begged the De Chaumonts to let me come alone! By +hard posting we reached Mont-Louis last night. You are the only +person in France to whom I would give that vacant seat in the +carriage to-day."</p> +<p>I cared no longer for my own loss, as I am afraid has been too +much my way all through life; or whether I was a prince or not. +Like paradise after death, as so many of our best days come, this +perfect day was given me by the marquis himself. Eagle's summer +dress touched me. Paul and Ernestine sat facing us, and Paul ate +cherries from a little basket, and had his fingers wiped, beating +the cushion with his heels in excess of impatience to begin +again.</p> +<p>We paused at a turn of the height before descending, where +fields could be seen stretching to the horizon, woods fair and +clean as parks, without the wildness of the American forest, and +vineyards of bushy vines that bore the small black grapes. Eagle +showed me the far boundaries of Paul's estates. Then we drove where +holly spread its prickly foliage near the ground, where springs +from cliffs trickled across delicious lanes.</p> +<p>Hoary stone farmhouses, built four-square like a fortress, each +having a stately archway, saluted us as we passed by. The patron +and his wife came out, and laborers, pulling their caps, dropped +down from high-yoked horses.</p> +<p>But when the long single street of stone cottages which formed +the village opened its arms, I could see her breast swelling and +her gray eyes sweeping all with comprehensive rush.</p> +<p>An elderly man, shaking some salad in a wire basket, dropped it +at his feet, and bowed and bowed, sweeping his cap to the ground. +Some women who were washing around a roofed pool left their +paddles, and ran, wiping suds from their arms; and houses +discharged their inmates, babies in children's arms, wives, old +men, the simplicity of their lives and the openness of their labor +manifest. They surrounded the carriage. Eagle stood Paul upon his +feet that they might worship him, and his mouth corners curled +upward, his blue-eyed fearless look traveled from face to face, +while her gloved hand was kissed, and God was praised that she had +come back.</p> +<p>"O Jean!" she cried, "is your mother alive?" and "Marguerite! +have you a son so tall?"</p> +<p>An old creature bent double, walked out on four feet, two of +them being sticks, lifted her voice, and blessed Eagle and the +child a quarter of an hour. Paul's mother listened reverently, and +sent him in Ernestine's arms for the warped human being to look +upon at close range with her failing sight. He stared at her +unafraid, and experimentally put his finger on her knotted cheek; +at which all the women broke into chorus as I have heard blackbirds +rejoice.</p> +<p>"I have not seen them for so long!" Madame de Ferrier said, +wiping her eyes. "We have all forgotten our behavior!"</p> +<p>An inverted pine tree hung over the inn door, and dinner was +laid for us in its best room, where host and hostess served the +marquise and the young marquis almost on their knees.</p> +<p>When we passed out at the other end of the village, Eagle showed +me a square-towered church.</p> +<p>"The De Ferriers are buried there—excepting my father. I +shall put a tablet in the wall for Cousin Philippe. Few Protestants +in France had their rights and privileges protected as ours were by +the throne. I mention this fact, sire, that you may lay it up in +your mind! We have been good subjects, well worth our salt in time +of war."</p> +<p>Best of all was coming to the chateau when the sun was about an +hour high. The stone pillars of the gateway let us upon a terraced +lawn, where a fountain played, keeping bent plumes of water in the +air. The lofty chateau of white stone had a broad front, with +wings. Eagle bade me note the two dove-cotes or pigeon towers, +distinctly separate structures, one flanking each wing, and +demonstrating the antiquity of the house. For only nobles in +medieval days were accorded the privilege of keeping doves.</p> +<p>Should there be such another evening for me when I come to +paradise, if God in His mercy brings me there, I shall be grateful, +but hardly with such fresh-hearted joy. Night descends with special +benediction on remote ancient homes like Mont-Louis. We walked +until sunset in the park, by lake, and bridged stream, and hollied +path; Ernestine carrying Paul or letting him pat behind, driving +her by her long cap ribbons while he explored his mother's +playground. But when the birds began to nest, and dewfall could be +felt, he was taken to his supper and his bed, giving his mother a +generous kiss, and me a smile of his upcurled mouth corners. His +forehead was white and broad, and his blue eyes were set well +apart.</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/opposite_p252.jpg"><img src= +"images/opposite_p252.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>We walked until sunset in the park, by lake, and bridged stream, +and hollied path.</b> +<br /></div> +<p>I can yet see the child looking over Ernestine's shoulder. She +carried him up stairs of oak worn hollow like stone, a mighty +hand-wrought balustrade rising with them from hall to roof.</p> +<p>We had our supper in a paneled room where the lights were +reflected as on mirrors of polished oak, and the man who served us +had served Madame de Ferrier's father and grandfather. The gentle +old provincial went about his duty as a religious rite.</p> +<p>There was a pleached walk like that in the marquis' Paris +garden, of branches flattened and plaited to form an arbor +supported by tree columns; which led to a summer-house of stone +smothered in ivy. We walked back and forth under this thick roof of +verdure. Eagle's cap of brown hair was roughened over her radiant +face, and the open throat of her gown showed pulses beating in her +neck. Her lifted chin almost touched my arm as I told her all the +Mittau story, at her request.</p> +<p>"Poor Madame d'Angoulême! The cautious priest and the king +should not have taken you from me like that! She knew you as I knew +you; and a woman's knowing is better than a man's proofs. She will +have times of doubting their policy. She will remember the +expression of your mouth, your shrugs, and gestures—the +little traits of the child Louis, that reappear in the man."</p> +<p>"I wish I had never gone to Mittau to give her a moment's +distress."</p> +<p>"Is she very beautiful?"</p> +<p>"She is like a lily made flesh. She has her strong dislikes, and +one of them is Louis Philippe—"</p> +<p>"Naturally," said Eagle.</p> +<p>"But she seemed sacred to me. Perhaps a woman brings that +hallowedness out of martyrdom."</p> +<p>"God be with the royal lady! And you, sire!"</p> +<p>"And you!—may you be always with me, Eagle!"</p> +<p>"This journey to Mittau changes nothing. You were wilful. You +would go to the island in Lake George: you would go to Mittau."</p> +<p>"Both times you sent me."</p> +<p>"Both times I brought you home! Let us not be sorrowful +to-night."</p> +<p>"Sorrowful! I am so happy it seems impossible that I come from +Mittau, and this day the Marquis du Plessy died to me! I wish the +sun had been tied to the trees, as the goose girl tied her +gander."</p> +<p>"But I want another day," said Eagle. "I want all the days that +are my due at home."</p> +<p>We ascended the steps of the stone pavilion, and sat down in an +arch like a balcony over the sunken garden. Pears and apricots, +their branches flattened against the wall, showed ruddy garnered +sunlight through the dusk. The tangled enclosure sloped down to the +stream, from which a fairy wisp of mist wavered over flower bed and +tree. Dew and herbs and the fragrance of late roses sent up a +divine breath, invisibly submerging us, like a tide rising out of +the night.</p> +<p>Madame de Ferrier's individual traits were surprised in this +nearness, as they never had been when I saw her at a distance in +alien surroundings. A swift ripple, involuntary and glad, coursed +down her body; she shuddered for joy half a minute or so.</p> +<p>Two feet away, I worshiped her smiling eyes and their curved +ivory lids, her rounded head with its abundant cap of hair, her +chin, her shoulders, her bust, the hands in her lap, the very sweep +of her scant gown about her feet.</p> +<p>The flash of extreme happiness passing, she said gravely,</p> +<p>"But that was a strange thing—that you should fall +unconscious!"</p> +<p>"Not so strange," I said; and told her how many times before the +eclipse—under the edge of which my boyhood was +passed—had completely shadowed me. At the account of Ste. +Pélagie she leaned toward me, her hands clenched on her +breast. When we came to the Hôtel Dieu she leaned back pallid +against the stone.</p> +<p>"Dear Marquis du Plessy!" she whispered, as his name entered the +story.</p> +<p>When it was ended she drew some deep breaths in the silence.</p> +<p>"Sire, you must be very careful. That Bellenger is an evil +man."</p> +<p>"But a weak one."</p> +<p>"There may be a strength of court policy behind him."</p> +<p>"The policy of the court at Mittau is evidently a policy of +denial."</p> +<p>"Your sister believed in you."</p> +<p>"Yes, she believed in me."</p> +<p>"I don't understand," said Madame de Ferrier, leaning forward on +her arms, "why Bellenger had you in London, and another boy on the +mountain."</p> +<p>"Perhaps we shall never understand it."</p> +<p>"I don't understand why he makes it his business to follow +you."</p> +<p>"Let us not trouble ourselves about Bellenger."</p> +<p>"But are you safe in France since the Marquis du Plessy's +death?"</p> +<p>"I am safe to-night, at least."</p> +<p>"Yes, far safer than you would be in Paris."</p> +<p>"And Skenedonk is my guard."</p> +<p>"I have sent a messenger to Plessy for him," Madame de Ferrier +said. "He will be here in the morning."</p> +<p>I thanked her for remembering him in the excitement of her home +coming. We heard a far sweet call through a cleft of the hills, and +Eagle turned her head.</p> +<p>"That must be the shepherd of Les Rochers. He has missed a lamb. +Les Rochers is the most distant of our farms, but its night noises +can be heard through an opening in the forest. Paul will soon be +listening for all these sounds! We must drive to Les Rochers +to-morrow. It was there that Cousin Philippe died."</p> +<p>I could not say how opportunely Cousin Philippe had died. The +violation of her childhood by such a marriage rose up that instant +a wordless tragedy.</p> +<p>"Sire, we are not observing etiquette in Mont-Louis as they +observe it at Mittau. I have been talking very familiarly to my +king. I will keep silent. You speak."</p> +<p>"Madame, you have forbidden me to speak!"</p> +<p>She gave me a startled look, and said,</p> +<p>"Did you know Jerome Bonaparte has come back? He left his wife +in America. She cannot be received in France, because she has +committed the crime of marrying a prince. She is to be divorced for +political reasons."</p> +<p>"Jerome Bonaparte is a hound!" I spoke hotly.</p> +<p>"And his wife a venturesome woman—to marry even a +temporary prince."</p> +<p>"I like her sort, madame!"</p> +<p>"Do you, sire?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I like a woman who can love!"</p> +<p>"And ruin?"</p> +<p>"How could you ruin me?"</p> +<p>"The Saint-Michels brought me up," said Eagle. "They taught me +what is lawful and unlawful. I will never do an unlawful thing, to +the disgrace and shame of my house. A woman should build her house, +not tear it down."</p> +<p>"What is unlawful?"</p> +<p>"It is unlawful for me to encourage the suit of my +sovereign."</p> +<p>"Am I ever likely to be anything but what they call in Mittau a +pretender, Eagle?"</p> +<p>"That we do not know. You shall keep yourself free from +entanglements."</p> +<p>"I am free from them—God knows I am free enough!—the +lonesomest, most unfriended savage that ever set out to conquer his +own."</p> +<p>"You were born to greatness. Great things will come to you."</p> +<p>"If you loved me I could make them come!"</p> +<p>"Sire, it isn't healthy to sit in the night air. We must go out +of the dew."</p> +<p>"Oh, who would be healthy! Come to that, who would be such a +royal beggar as I am?"</p> +<p>"Remember," she said gravely, "that your claim was in a manner +recognized by one of the most cautious, one of the least ardent +royalists, in France."</p> +<p>The recognition she knew nothing about came to my lips, and I +told her the whole story of the jewels. The snuffbox was in my +pocket. Sophie Saint-Michel had often described it to her.</p> +<p>She sat and looked at me, contemplating the stupendous loss.</p> +<p>"The marquis advised me not to take them into Russia," I +acknowledged.</p> +<p>"There is no robbery so terrible as the robbery committed by +those who think they are doing right."</p> +<p>"I am one of the losing Bourbons."</p> +<p>"Can anything be hidden in that closet in the queen's +dressing-room wall?" mused Eagle. "I believe I could find it in the +dark, Sophie told me so often where the secret spring may be +touched. When the De Chaumonts took me to the Tuileries I wanted to +search for it. But all the state apartments are now on the second +floor, and Madame Bonaparte has her own rooms below. Evidently she +knows nothing of the secrets of the place. The queen kept her most +beautiful robes in that closet. It has no visible door. The wall +opens. And we have heard that a door was made through the back of +it to let upon a spiral staircase of stone, and through this the +royal family made their escape to Varennes, when they were arrested +and brought back."</p> +<p>We fell into silence at mention of the unsuccessful flight which +could have changed history; and she rose and +said—"Good-night, sire."</p> +<p>Next morning there was such a delicious world to live in that +breathing was a pleasure. Dew gauze spread far and wide over the +radiant domain. Sounds from cattle, and stables, and the voices of +servants drifted on the air. Doves wheeled around their towers, and +around the chateau standing like a white cliff.</p> +<p>I walked under the green canopy watching the sun mount and +waiting for Madame de Ferrier. When she did appear the old man who +had served her father followed with a tray. I could only +say—"Good-morning, madame," not daring to add—"I have +scarcely slept for thinking of you."</p> +<p>"We will have our coffee out here," she told me.</p> +<p>It was placed on the broad stone seat under the arch of the +pavilion where we sat the night before; bread, unsalted butter from +the farms, the coffee, the cream, the loaf sugar. Madame de Ferrier +herself opened a door in the end of the wall and plunged into the +dew of the garden. Her old servant exclaimed. She caught her hair +in briers and laughed, tucking it up from falling, and brought off +two great roses, each the head and the strength of a stem, to lay +beside our plates. The breath of roses to this hour sends through +my veins the joy of that.</p> +<p>Then the old servant gathered wall fruit for us, and she sent +some in his hand to Paul. Through a festooned arch of the pavilion +giving upon the terraces, we saw a bird dart down to the fountain, +tilt and drink, tilt and drink again, and flash away. Immediately +the multitudinous rejoicing of a skylark dropped from upper air. +When men would send thanks to the very gate of heaven their envoy +should be a skylark.</p> +<p>Eagle was like a little girl as she listened.</p> +<p>"This is the first day of September, sire."</p> +<p>"Is it? I thought it was the first day of creation."</p> +<p>"I mention the date that you may not forget it. Because I am +going to give you something to-day."</p> +<p>My heart leaped like a conqueror's.</p> +<p>Her skin was as fresh as the roses, looking marvelous to touch. +The shock of imminent discovery went through me. For how can a man +consider a woman forever as a picture? A picture she was, in the +short-waisted gown of the Empire, of that white stuff Napoleon +praised because it was manufactured in France. It showed the line +of her throat, being parted half way down the bosom by a ruff which +encircled her neck and stood high behind it. The transparent +sleeves clung to her arms, and the slight outline of her figure +looked long in its close casing.</p> +<p>The gown tail curled around her slippered foot damp from the +plunge in the garden. She gave it a little kick, and rippled again +suddenly throughout her length.</p> +<p>Then her face went grave, like a child's when it is surprised in +wickedness.</p> +<p>"But our fathers and mothers would have us forget their +suffering in the festival of coming home, wouldn't they, +Lazarre?"</p> +<p>"Surely, Eagle."</p> +<p>"Then why are you looking at me with reproach?"</p> +<p>"I'm not."</p> +<p>"Perhaps you don't like my dress?"</p> +<p>I told her it was the first time I had ever noticed anything she +wore, and I liked it.</p> +<p>"I used to wear my mother's clothes. Ernestine and I made them +over. But this is new; for the new day, and the new life here."</p> +<p>"And the day," I reminded her, "is the first of September."</p> +<p>She laughed, and opened her left hand, showing me two squat keys +so small that both had lain concealed under two of her finger +tips.</p> +<p>"I am going to give you a key, sire."</p> +<p>"Will it unlock a woman's mind?"</p> +<p>"It will open a padlocked book. Last night I found a little +blank-leaved book, with wooden covers. It was fastened by a +padlock, and these keys were tied to it. You may have one key: I +will keep the other."</p> +<p>"The key to a padlocked book with nothing in it."</p> +<p>Her eyes tantalized me.</p> +<p>"I am going to put something in it. Sophie Saint-Michel said I +had a gift for putting down my thoughts. If the gift appeared to +Sophie when I was a child, it must grow in me by use. Every day I +shall put some of my life into the book. And when I die I will +bequeath it to you!"</p> +<p>"Take back the key, madame. I have no desire to look into your +coffin."</p> +<p>She extended her hand.</p> +<p>"Then our good and kind friend Count de Chaumont shall have +it."</p> +<p>"He shall not!"</p> +<p>I held to her hand and kept my key.</p> +<p>She slipped away from me. The laughter of the child yet rose +through the dignity of the woman.</p> +<p>"When may I read this book, Eagle?"</p> +<p>"Never, of my free will, sire. How could I set down all I +thought about you, for instance, if the certainty was hanging over +me that you would read my candid opinions and punish me for +them!"</p> +<p>"Then of what use is the key?"</p> +<p>"You would rather have it than give it to another, wouldn't +you?"</p> +<p>"Decidedly."</p> +<p>"Well, you will have the key to my thoughts!"</p> +<p>"And if the book ever falls into my hands—"</p> +<p>"I will see that it doesn't!"</p> +<p>"I will say, years from now—"</p> +<p>"Twenty?"</p> +<p>"Twenty? O Eagle!"</p> +<p>"Ten."</p> +<p>"Months? That's too long!"</p> +<p>"No, ten years, sire."</p> +<p>"Not ten years, Eagle. Say eight."</p> +<p>"No, nine."</p> +<p>"Seven. If the book falls into my hands at the end of seven +years, may I open it?"</p> +<p>"I may safely promise you that," she laughed. "The book will +never fall into your hands."</p> +<p>I took from my pocket the gold snuffbox with the portraits on +the lid, and placed my key carefully therein. Eagle leaned forward +to look at them. She took the box in her hand, and gazed with long +reverence, drooping her head.</p> +<p>Young as I was, and unskilled in the ways of women, that key +worked magic comfort. She had given me a link to hold us together. +The inconsistent, contradictory being, old one instant with the +wisdom of the Saint-Michels, rippling full of unrestrained life the +next, denying me all hope, yet indefinitely tantalizing, was +adorable beyond words. I closed my eyes: the blinding sunshine +struck them through the ivied arch.</p> +<p>Turning my head as I opened them, I saw an old man come out on +the terrace.</p> +<p>He tried to search in every direction, his gray head and faded +eyes moving anxiously. Madame de Ferrier was still. I heard her lay +the snuffbox on the stone seat. I knew, though I could not let +myself watch her, that she stood up against the wall, a woman of +stone, her lips chiseled apart.</p> +<p>"Eagle—Eagle!" the old man cried from the terrace.</p> +<p>She whispered—"Yes, Cousin Philippe!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIb" id="XIb"></a>XI</h2> +<p>Swiftly as she passed between the tree columns, more swiftly her +youth and vitality died in that walk of a few yards.</p> +<p>We had been girl and boy together a brief half hour, heedless +and gay. When she reached the arbor end, our chapter of youth was +ended.</p> +<p>I saw her bloodless face as she stepped upon the terrace.</p> +<p>The man stretched his arms to her. As if the blight of her +spirit fell upon him, the light died out of his face and he dropped +his arms at his sides.</p> +<p>He was a courtly gentleman, cadaverous and shabby as he stood, +all the breeding of past generations appearing in him.</p> +<p>"Eagle?" he said. The tone of piteous apology went through me +like a sword.</p> +<p>She took his hands and herself drew them around her neck. He +kissed her on both cheeks.</p> +<p>"O Cousin Philippe!"</p> +<p>"I have frightened you, child! I meant to send a message +first—but I wanted to see you—I wanted to come +home!"</p> +<p>"Cousin Philippe, who wrote that letter?"</p> +<p>"The notary, child. I made him do it."</p> +<p>"It was cruel!" She gave way, and brokenly sobbed, leaning +helpless against him.</p> +<p>The old marquis smoothed her head, and puckered his forehead +under the sunlight, casting his eyes around like a culprit.</p> +<p>"It was desperate. But I could do nothing else! You see it has +succeeded. While I lay in hiding, the sight of the child, and your +youth, has softened Bonaparte. That was my intention, Eagle!"</p> +<p>"The peasants should have told me you were living!"</p> +<p>"They didn't know I came back. Many of them think I died in +America. The family at Les Rochers have been very faithful; and the +notary has held his tongue. We must reward them, Eagle. I have been +hidden very closely. I am tired of such long hiding!"</p> +<p>He looked toward the chateau and lifted his voice +sharply—</p> +<p>"Where's the baby? I haven't seen the baby!"</p> +<p>With gracious courtesy, restraining an impulse to plunge up the +steps, he gave her his arm; and she swayed against it as they +entered.</p> +<p>When I could see them no more, I rose, and put my snuffbox in my +breast. The key rattled in it.</p> +<p>A savage need of hiding when so wounded, worked first through +the disorder that let me see none of the amenities of leave-taking, +self-command, conduct.</p> +<p>I was beyond the gates, bare-headed, walking with long strides, +when an old mill caught my eye, and I turned towards it, as we turn +to trifles to relieve us from unendurable tension. The water +dripped over the wheel, and long green beard trailed from its chin +down the sluice. In this quieting company Skenedonk spied me as he +rattled past with the post-carriage; and considering my behavior at +other times, he was not enough surprised to waste any good words of +Oneida.</p> +<p>He stopped the carriage and I got in. He pointed ahead toward a +curtain of trees which screened the chateau.</p> +<p>"Paris," I answered.</p> +<p>"Paris," he repeated to the postilion, and we turned about. I +looked from hill to stream, from the fruited brambles of blackberry +to reaches of noble forest, realizing that I should never see those +lands again, or the neighboring crest where my friend the marquis +slept.</p> +<p>We posted the distance to Paris in two days.</p> +<p>What the country was like or what towns we passed I could not +this hour declare with any certainty. At first making effort and +groping numbly in my mind, but the second day grasping +determination, I formed my plans, and talked them over with +Skenedonk. We would sail for America on the first convenient ship; +waiting in Paris only long enough to prepare for the post journey +to a port. Charges must at once be settled with Doctor Chantry, who +would willingly stay in Paris while the De Chaumonts remained +there.</p> +<p>Beyond the voyage I did not look. The first faint tugging of my +foster country began to pull me as it has pulled many a broken +wretch out of the conditions of the older world.</p> +<p>Paris was horrible, with a lonesomeness no one could have +foreseen in its crowded streets. A taste of war was in the air. +Troops passed to review. Our post-carriage met the dashing coaches +of gay young men I knew, who stared at me without recognition. +Marquis du Plessy no longer made way for me and displayed me at his +side.</p> +<p>I drove to his hotel in the Faubourg St. Germain for my +possessions. It was closed: the distant relative who inherited +after him being an heir with no Parisian tastes. The care-taker, +however, that gentle old valet like a woman, who had dressed me in +my first Parisian finery, let us in, and waited upon us with food I +sent him out to buy. He gave me a letter from my friend, which he +had held to deliver on my return, in case any accident befell the +marquis. He was tremulous in his mourning, and all his ardent care +of me was service rendered to the dead.</p> +<p>I sat in the garden, with the letter spread upon the table where +we had dined. Its brevity was gay. The writer would have gone under +the knife with a jest. He did not burden me with any kind of +counsel. We had touched. We might touch again. It was as if a soul +sailed by, waving its hat.</p> +<p>"My Dear Boy:—</p> +<p>"I wanted you, but it was best you should not stay and behold the +depravity of your elders. It is about a woman.</p> +<p>"May you come to a better throne than the unsteady one of +France.</p> +<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Your friend and +servant,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">Etienne du Plessy.</span></p> +<p>"Garlic is the spice of life, my boy!"</p> +<p>I asked no questions about the affair in which he had been +engaged. If he had wanted me to know he would have told me.</p> +<p>The garden was more than I could endure. I lay down early and +slept late, as soon as I awoke in the morning beginning preparation +for leaving France. Yet two days passed, for we were obliged to +exchange our worn post-carriage for another after waiting for +repairs. The old valet packed my belongings; though I wondered what +I was going to do with them in America. The outfit of a young man +of fashion overdressed a refugee of diminished fortune.</p> +<p>For no sooner was I on the street than a sense of being +unmistakably watched grew upon me. I scarcely caught anybody in the +act. A succession of vanishing people passed me from one to +another. A working man in his blouse eyed me; and disappeared. In +the afternoon it was a soldier who turned up near my elbow, and in +the evening he was succeeded by an equally interested old woman. I +might not have remembered these people with distrust if Skenedonk +had not told me he was trailed by changing figures, and he thought +it was time to get behind trees.</p> +<p>Bellenger might have returned to Paris, and set Napoleon's spies +on the least befriended Bourbon of all; or the police upon a man +escaped from Ste. Pélagie after choking a sacristan.</p> +<p>The Indian and I were not skilled in disguises as our watchers +were. Our safety lay in getting out of Paris. Skenedonk undertook +to stow our belongings in the post-chaise at the last minute. I +went to De Chaumont's hotel to bring the money from Doctor Chantry +and to take leave without appearing to do so.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle de Chaumont seized me as I entered. Her carriage +stood in the court. Miss Chantry was waiting in it while Annabel's +maid fastened her glove.</p> +<p>"O Lazarre!" the poppet cried, her heartiness going through me +like wine. "Are you back? And how you are changed! They must have +abused you in Russia. We heard you went to Russia. But since dear +Marquis du Plessy died we never hear the truth about anything."</p> +<p>I acknowledged that I had been to Russia.</p> +<p>"Why did you go there? Tell your dearest Annabel. She won't +tell."</p> +<p>"To see a lady."</p> +<p>Annabel shook her fretwork of misty hair.</p> +<p>"That's treason to me. Is she beautiful?"</p> +<p>"Very."</p> +<p>"Kind?"</p> +<p>"Perfectly."</p> +<p>"Well, you're not. By the way, why are you looking so wan if she +is beautiful and kind?"</p> +<p>"I didn't say she was beautiful and kind for me, did I?"</p> +<p>"No, of course not. She has jilted you, the wretch. Your dearest +Annabel will console you, Lazarre!" She clasped my arm with both +hands. "Madame de Ferrier's husband is alive!"</p> +<p>"What consolation is there in that?"</p> +<p>"A great deal for me. She has her estates back, and he was only +hiding until she got them. I know the funniest thing!"</p> +<p>Annabel hooked her finger and led me to a small study or cabinet +at the end of the drawing-room.</p> +<p>A profusion of the most beautiful stuffs was arranged there for +display.</p> +<p>"Look!" the witch exclaimed, pinching my wrist in her rapture. +"India muslin embroidered in silver lama, Turkish velvet, ball +dresses for a bride, ribbons of all colors, white blond, Brussels +point, Cashmere shawls, veils in English point, reticules, gloves, +fans, essences, a bridal purse of gold links—and worse than +all,—except this string of perfect pearls—his portrait +on a medallion of ivory, painted by Isabey!"</p> +<p>"What is this collection?"</p> +<p>"A corbeille!"</p> +<p>"What's a corbeille?"</p> +<p>Annabel crossed her hands in desperation. "Oh, haven't you been +in Paris long enough to know what a corbeille is? It's the +collection of gifts a bridegroom makes for his bride. He puts his +taste, his sentiment, his"—she waved her fingers in the +air—"as well as his money, into it. A corbeille shows what a +man is. He must have been collecting it ever since he came to +France. I feel proud of him. I want to pat him on his dear old +back!"</p> +<p>Not having him there to pat she patted me.</p> +<p>"You are going to be married?"</p> +<p>"Who said I was going to be married?"</p> +<p>"Isn't this your corbeille?"</p> +<p>Annabel lifted herself to my ear.</p> +<p>"It was Madame de Ferrier's!"</p> +<p>"What!"</p> +<p>"I'm sure of it!"</p> +<p>"Who bought it?"</p> +<p>"Count de Chaumont, of course."</p> +<p>"Was Madame de Ferrier going to marry him?"</p> +<p>"Who wouldn't marry a man with such a corbeille?"</p> +<p>"Was she?"</p> +<p>"Don't grind your teeth at your dearest Annabel. She hadn't seen +it, but it must have decided her. I am sure he intended to marry +Madame de Ferrier, and he does most things he undertakes to do. +That inconsiderate wretch of a Marquis de Ferrier—to spoil +such a corbeille as this! But Lazarre!" She patted her gloved +hands. "Here's the consolation:—my father will be obliged to +turn his corbeille into my trousseau when I am married!"</p> +<p>"What's a trousseau?"</p> +<p>"Goose! It's a bride's wardrobe, I knew he had something in this +cabinet, but he never left the key in the door until to-day. He was +so completely upset when the De Ferriers came into Paris!"</p> +<p>"Are they in Paris?"</p> +<p>"Yes, at their own hotel. The old marquis has posted here to +thank the emperor! The emperor is away with the troops, so he is +determined at least to thank the empress at the assembly +to-night."</p> +<p>"Will Madame de Ferrier go to the Tuileries?"</p> +<p>"Assuredly. Fancy how furious my father must be!"</p> +<p>"May I enter?" said the humblest of voices outside the door.</p> +<p>We heard a shuffling step.</p> +<p>Annabel made a face and clenched her hands. The sprite was so +harmless I laughed at her mischief. She brought in Doctor Chantry +as she had brought me, to behold the corbeille; covering her +father's folly with transparent fabrications, which anybody but the +literal Briton must have seen through. He scarcely greeted me at +all, folding his hands, pale and crushed, the sharp tip of his nose +standing up more than ever like a porcelain candle-extinguisher, +while I was anxious to have him aside, to get my money and take my +leave.</p> +<p>"See this beautiful corbeille, Doctor Chantry! Doesn't it +surprise you Lazarre should have such taste? We are going this +morning to the mayor of the arrondissement. Nothing is so easy as +civil marriage under the Empire! Of course the religious sacrament +in the church of the Capuchins follows, and celebrating that five +minutes before midnight, will make all Paris talk! Go with us to +the mayor, Doctor Chantry!"</p> +<p>"No," he answered, "no!"</p> +<p>"My father joins us there. We have kept Miss Chantry waiting too +long. She will be tired of sitting in the carriage."</p> +<p>Chattering with every breath Annabel entrained us both to the +court, my poor master hobbling after her a victim, and staring at +me with hatred when I tried to get a word in undertone.</p> +<p>I put Annabel into the coach, and Miss Chantry made frigid room +for me.</p> +<p>"Hasten yourself, Lazarre," said Mademoiselle de Chaumont.</p> +<p>I looked back at the poor man who was being played with, and she +cried out laughing—</p> +<p>"Did you go to Russia a Parisian to come back a bear?"</p> +<p>I entered her coach, intending to take my leave as soon as I had +seen Count de Chaumont. Annabel chattered all the way about civil +marriage, and directed Miss Chantry to wait for us while we went in +to the mayor. I was perhaps too indifferent to the trick. The +usually sharp governess, undecided and piqued, sat still.</p> +<p>The count was not in the mayor's office. A civil marriage was +going forward, and a strange bridal party looked at us.</p> +<p>"Now, Lazarre," the strategist confided, "your dearest Annabel +is going to cover herself with Parisian disgrace. You don't know +how maddening it is to have every step dogged by a woman who never +was, never could have been—and manifestly never will +be—young! Wasn't that a divine flash about the corbeille and +the mayor? Miss Chantry will wait outside half a day. As I said, +she will be very tired of sitting in the carriage. This is what you +must do; smuggle me out another way; call another carriage, and +take me for a drive and wicked dinner. I don't care what the +consequences are, if you don't!"</p> +<p>I said I certainly didn't, and that I was ready to throw myself +in the Seine if that would amuse her; and she commended my +improvement in manners. We had a drive, with a sympathetic +coachman; and a wicked dinner in a suburb, which would have been +quite harmless on American ground. The child was as full of spirits +as she had been the night she mounted the cabin chimney. But I +realized that more of my gold pieces were slipping away, and I had +not seen Doctor Chantry.</p> +<p>"We were going to the mayor's," she maintained, when reproached. +"My father would have joined us if he had been there. He would +certainly have joined us if he had seen me alone with you. Nothing +is so easy as civil marriage under the Empire. Of course the +religious sacrament follows, when people want it, and if it is +celebrated in the church of the Capuchins—or any other +church—five minutes before midnight, it will make all Paris +talk! Every word I said was true!"</p> +<p>"But Doctor Chantry believed something entirely different."</p> +<p>"You can't do anything for the English," said Annabel. "Next +week he will say haw-haw."</p> +<p>Doctor Chantry could not be found when we returned to her +father's hotel. She gave me her fingers to kiss in good-bye, and +told me I was less doleful.</p> +<p>"We thought you were the Marquis du Plessy's son, Lazarre. I +always have believed that story the Holland woman told in the +cabin, about your rank being superior to mine. Don't be cut up +about Madame de Ferrier! You may have to go to Russia again for +her, but you'll get her!"</p> +<p>The witch shook the mist of hair at the sides of her pretty +aquiline face, blew a kiss at me, and ran up the staircase and out +of my life. After waiting long for Doctor Chantry I hurried to +Skenedonk and sent him with instructions to find my master and +conclude our affair before coming back.</p> +<p>The Indian silently entered the Du Plessy hotel after dusk, +crestfallen and suspicious. He brought nothing but a letter, left +in Doctor Chantry's room; and no other trace remained of Doctor +Chantry.</p> +<p>"What has he done with himself, Skenedonk?" I exclaimed.</p> +<p>The Oneida begged me to read that we might trail him.</p> +<p>It was a long and very tiresome letter written in my master's +spider tracks, containing long and tiresome enumerations of his +services. He presented a large bill for his guardianship on the +voyage and across France. He said I was not only a Rich Man through +his Influence, but I had proved myself an ungrateful one, and had +robbed him of his only Sentiment after a disappointed Existence. My +Impudence was equaled only by my astonishing Success, and he chose +not to contemplate me as the Husband of Beauty and Lofty Station, +whose Shoes he in his Modesty and Worth, felt unworthy to unlatch. +Therefore he withdrew that very day from Paris, and would embrace +the Opportunity of going into pensive Retirement and rural +Contemplation, in his native Kingdom; where his Sister would join +him when she could do so with Dignity and Propriety.</p> +<p>I glanced from line to line smiling, but the postscript brought +me to my feet.</p> +<p>"The Deposit which you left with me I shall carry with me, as no +more than my Due for lifting low Savagery to high Gentility, and +beg to subscribe my Thanks for at least this small Tribute of +Gratitude."</p> +<p>"Doctor Chantry is gone with the money!"</p> +<p>Skenedonk bounded up grasping the knife which he always carried +in a sheath hanging from his belt.</p> +<p>"Which way did the old woman go?"</p> +<p>"Stop," I said.</p> +<p>The Indian half crouched for counsel.</p> +<p>"I'll be a prince! Let him have it."</p> +<p>"Let him rob you?"</p> +<p>"We're quits, now. I've paid him for the lancet stab I gave +him."</p> +<p>"But you haven't a whole bagful of coin left."</p> +<p>"We brought nothing into France, and it seems certain we shall +take nothing but experience out of it. And I'm young, Skenedonk. He +isn't."</p> +<p>The Oneida grunted. He was angrier than I had ever seen him.</p> +<p>"We ought to have knocked the old woman on the head at +Saratoga," he responded.</p> +<p>Annabel's trick had swept away my little fortune. With +recklessness which repeated loss engenders I proposed we scatter +the remaining coin in the street, but Skenedonk prudently said we +would divide and conceal it in our clothes. I gave the kind valet a +handful to keep his heart warm; and our anxieties about our +valuables were much lightened.</p> +<p>Then we consulted about our imminent start, and I told my +servant it would be better to send the post-chaise across the +Seine. He agreed with me. And for me to come to it as if by +accident the moment we were ready to join each other on the road. +He agreed to that. All of our belongings would be put into it by +the valet and himself, and when we met we would make a circuit and +go by the way of St. Denis.</p> +<p>"We will meet," I told him, "at eleven o'clock in front of the +Tuileries."</p> +<p>Skenedonk looked at me without moving a muscle.</p> +<p>"I want to see the palace of the Tuileries before I leave +France."</p> +<p>He still gazed at me.</p> +<p>"At any risk, I am going to the Tuileries to-night!"</p> +<p>My Iroquois grunted. A glow spread all over his copper face and +head. If I had told him I was going to an enemy's central camp fire +to shake a club in the face of the biggest chief, he could not have +thought more of my daring or less of my common sense.</p> +<p>"You will never come out."</p> +<p>"If I don't, Skenedonk, go without me."</p> +<p>He passed small heroics unnoticed.</p> +<p>"Why do you do it?"</p> +<p>I couldn't tell him. Neither could I leave Paris without doing +it. I assured him many carriages would be there, near the entrance, +which was called, I believed, the pavilion of Flora; and by showing +boldness we might start from that spot as well as from any other. +He abetted the reckless devil in me, and the outcome was that I +crossed the Seine bridge by myself about ten o'clock; remembering +my escape from Ste. Pélagie; remembering I should never see +the gargoyles on Notre Dame any more, or the golden dome of the +Invalides, or hear the night hum of Paris, whether I succeeded or +not. For if I succeeded I should be away toward the coast by +morning; and if I did not succeed, I should be somewhere under +arrest.</p> +<p>I can see the boy in white court dress, with no hint of the +traveler about him, who stepped jauntily out of a carriage and +added himself to groups entering the Tuileries. The white court +dress was armor which he put on to serve him in the dangerous +attempt to look once more on a woman's face. He mounted with a +strut toward the guardians of the imperial court, not knowing how +he might be challenged; and fortune was with him.</p> +<p>"Lazarre!" exclaimed Count de Chaumont, hurrying behind to take +my elbow. "I want you to help me!"</p> +<p>Remembering with sudden remorse Annabel's escape and our wicked +dinner, I halted eager to do him service. He was perhaps used to +Annabel's escapes, for a very different annoyance puckered his +forehead as he drew me aside within the entrance.</p> +<p>"Have you heard the Marquis de Ferrier is alive?"</p> +<p>I told him I had heard it.</p> +<p>"Damned old fox! He lay in hiding until the estates were +recovered. Then out he creeps to enjoy them!"</p> +<p>I pressed the count's hand. We were one in disapproval.</p> +<p>"It's a shame!" said the count.</p> +<p>It was a shame, I said.</p> +<p>"And now he's posted into Paris to make a fool of himself."</p> +<p>"How?"</p> +<p>"Have you seen Madame de Ferrier?"</p> +<p>"No, I have not seen her."</p> +<p>"I believe we are in time to intercept him. You have a clever +head, boy. Use it. How shall we get this old fellow out of the +Tuileries without letting him speak to the emperor?"</p> +<p>"Easily, I should think, since Napoleon isn't here."</p> +<p>"Yes, he is. He dashed into Paris a little while ago, and may +leave to-night. But he is here."</p> +<p>"Why shouldn't the Marquis de Ferrier speak to Napoleon?"</p> +<p>"Because he is going to make an ass of himself before the court, +and what's worse, he'll make a laughing-stock of me."</p> +<p>"How can he do that?"</p> +<p>"He is determined to thank the emperor for restoring his +estates. He might thank the empress, and she wouldn't know what he +was talking about. But the emperor knows everything. I have used +all the arguments I dared to use against it, but he is a pig for +stubbornness. For my sake, for Madame de Ferrier's sake, Lazarre, +help me to get him harmlessly out of the Tuileries, without making +a public scandal about the restitution of the land!"</p> +<p>"What scandal can there be, monsieur? And why shouldn't he thank +Napoleon for giving him back his estates after the fortunes of +revolution and war?"</p> +<p>"Because the emperor didn't do it. I bought them!"</p> +<p>"You!"</p> +<p>"Yes, I bought them. Come to that, they are my property!"</p> +<p>"Madame de Ferrier doesn't know this?"</p> +<p>"Certainly not. I meant to settle them on her. Saints and +angels, boy, anybody could see what my intentions were!"</p> +<p>"Then she is as poor as she was in America?"</p> +<p>"Poorer. She has the Marquis de Ferrier!"</p> +<p>We two who loved her, youth and man, rich and powerful, or poor +and fugitive, felt the passionate need of protecting her.</p> +<p>"She wouldn't accept them if she knew it."</p> +<p>"Neither would the marquis," said De Chaumont. "The Marquis de +Ferrier might live on the estates his lifetime without any +interference. But if he will see the emperor, and I can't prevent +it any other way, I shall have to tell him!"</p> +<p>"Yes, you will have to tell him!"</p> +<p>I thought of Eagle in the village, and the old woman who blessed +her a quarter of an hour, and Paul standing on the seat to be +worshiped. How could I go to America and leave her? And what could +I do for her when a rich man like De Chaumont was powerless?</p> +<p>"Can't you see Napoleon," I suggested, "and ask him to give the +marquis a moment's private audience, and accept his thanks?"</p> +<p>"No!" groaned De Chaumont. "He wouldn't do it. I couldn't put +myself in such a position!"</p> +<p>"If Napoleon came in so hurriedly he may not show himself in the +state apartments to-night."</p> +<p>"But he is accessible, wherever he is. He doesn't deny himself +to the meanest soldier. Why should he refuse to see a noble of the +class he is always conciliating when he can?"</p> +<p>"Introduce me to the Marquis de Ferrier," I finally said, "and +let me see if I can talk against time while you get your emperor +out of his way."</p> +<p>I thought desperately of revealing to the old royalist what I +believed myself to be, what Eagle and he believed me to be, and +commanding him, as his rightful prince, to content himself with +less effusive and less public gratitude to an usurper. He would +live in the country, shrinking so naturally from the court that a +self-imposed appearance there need never be repeated.</p> +<p>I believe this would have succeeded. A half hour more of time +might have saved years of comfort to Eagle—for De Chaumont +was generous—and have changed the outcome of my own life. But +in scant fifteen minutes our fate was decided.</p> +<p>De Chaumont and I had moved with our heads together, from +corridor to antechamber, from antechamber to curtained salon of the +lower floor. The private apartments of the Bonaparte family were +thrown open, and in the mahogany furnished room, all hung with +yellow satin, I noticed a Swiss clock which pointed its minute +finger to a quarter before eleven. I made no hurry. My errand was +not accomplished. Skenedonk would wait for me, and even dare a +search if he became suspicious.</p> +<p>The count, knowing what Madame de Ferrier considered me, perhaps +knew my plan. He turned back at once assenting.</p> +<p>The Marquis and Marquise de Ferrier were that instant going up +the grand staircase, and would be announced. Eagle turned her face +above me, the long line of her throat uplifted, and went courageous +and smiling on her way. The marquis had adapted himself to the +court requirements of the Empire. Noble gentleman of another +period, he stalked a piteous masquerader where he had once been at +home.</p> +<p>Count de Chaumont grasped my arm and we hurried up the stairs +after them. The end of a great and deep room was visible, and I had +a glimpse, between heads and shoulders, of a woman standing in the +light of many lusters. She parted her lips to smile, closing them +quickly, but having shown little dark teeth. She was of exquisite +shape, her face and arms and bosom having a clean fair polish like +the delicate whiteness of a magnolia, as I have since seen that +flower in bloom. She wore a small diadem in her hair, and her +short-waisted robe trailed far back among her ladies. I knew +without being told that this was the empress of the French.</p> +<p>De Chaumont's hand was on my arm, but another hand touched my +shoulder. I looked behind me. This time it was not an old woman, or +a laborer in a blouse, or a soldier; but I knew my pursuer in his +white court dress. Officer of the law, writ in the lines of his +face, to my eyes appeared all over him.</p> +<p>"Monsieur Veeleeum!"</p> +<p>As soon as he said that I understood it was the refugee from +Ste. Pélagie that he wanted.</p> +<p>"Certainly," I answered. "Don't make a disturbance."</p> +<p>"You will take my arm and come with me, Monsieur Veeleeum."</p> +<p>"I will do nothing of the kind until my errand is finished," I +answered desperately.</p> +<p>De Chaumont looked sharply at the man, but his own salvation +required him to lay hold on the marquis. As he did so, Eagle's face +and my face encountered in a panel of mirror, two flashes of +pallor; and I took my last look.</p> +<p>"You will come with me now," said the gendarme at my ear.</p> +<p>She saw him, and understood his errand.</p> +<p>There was no chance. De Chaumont wheeled ready to introduce me +to the marquis. I was not permitted to speak to him. But Eagle took +my right arm and moved down the corridor with me.</p> +<p>Decently and at once the disguised gendarme fell behind where he +could watch every muscle without alarming Madame de Ferrier. She +appeared not to see him. I have no doubt he praised himself for his +delicacy and her unconsciousness of my arrest.</p> +<p>"You must not think you can run away from me," she said.</p> +<p>"I was coming back," I answered, making talk.</p> +<p>My captor's person heaved behind me, signifying that he silently +laughed. He kept within touch.</p> +<p>"Do you know the Tuileries well?" inquired Eagle.</p> +<p>"No. I have never been in the palace before."</p> +<p>"Nor I, in the state apartments."</p> +<p>We turned from the corridor into a suite in these upper rooms, +the gendarme humoring Madame de Ferrier, and making himself one in +the crowd around us. De Chaumont and the Marquis de Ferrier gave +chase. I saw them following, as well as they could.</p> +<p>"This used to be the queen's dressing-room," said Eagle. We +entered the last one in the suite.</p> +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> +<p>"Quite sure."</p> +<p>"This is the room you told me you would like to examine?"</p> +<p>"The very one. I don't believe the Empire has made any changes +in it. These painted figures look just as Sophie described +them."</p> +<p>Eagle traced lightly with her finger one of the shepherdesses +dancing on the panel; and crossed to the opposite side of the room. +People who passed the door found nothing to interest them, and +turned away, but the gendarme stayed beside us. Eagle glanced at +him as if resenting his intrusion, and asked me to bring her a +candle and hold it near a mark on the tracery. The gendarme +himself, apologetic but firm, stepped to the sconce and took the +candle. I do not know how the thing was done, or why the old spring +and long unused hinges did not stick, but his back was toward +us—she pushed me against the panel and it let me in.</p> +<p>And I held her and drew her after me, and the thing closed. The +wall had swallowed us.</p> +<p>We stood on firm footing as if suspended in eternity. No sound +from the swarming palace, not even possible noise made by the +gendarme, reached us. It was like being earless, until she spoke in +the hollow.</p> +<p>"Here's the door on the staircase, but it will not open!"</p> +<p>I groped over every inch of it with swift haste in the +blackness.</p> +<p>"Hurry—hurry!" she breathed. "He may touch the spring +himself—it moves instantly!"</p> +<p>"Does this open with a spring, too?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. Sophie didn't know!"</p> +<p>"Are you sure there is any door here?"</p> +<p>"She told me there was."</p> +<p>"This is like a door, but it will not move."</p> +<p>It sprang inward against us, a rush of air and a hollow murmur +as of wind along the river, following it.</p> +<p>"Go—be quick!" said Madame de Ferrier.</p> +<p>"But how will you get out?"</p> +<p>"I shall get out when you are gone."</p> +<p>"O, Eagle, forgive me!" (Yet I would have dragged her in with me +again!)</p> +<p>"I am in no danger. You are in danger. Goodbye, my liege."</p> +<p>Cautiously she pushed me through the door, begging me to feel +for every step. I stood upon the top one, and held to her as I had +held to her in passing through the other wall.</p> +<p>I thought of the heavy days before her and the blank before me. +I could not let go her wrists. We were fools to waste our youth. I +could work for her in America. My vitals were being torn from me. I +should go to the devil without her. I don't know what I said. But I +knew the brute love which had risen like a lion in me would never +conquer the woman who kissed me in the darkness and held me at +bay.</p> +<p>"O Louis—O Lazarre! Think of Paul and Cousin Philippe! You +shall be your best for your little mother! I will come to you +sometime!"</p> +<p>Then she held the door between us, and I went down around and +around the spiral of stone.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BOOK_III" id="BOOK_III"></a>BOOK III</h2> +<h3>ARRIVING</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Ic" id="Ic"></a>I</h2> +<p>Even when a year had passed I said of my escape from the +Tuileries: "It was a dream. How could it have happened?" For the +adventures of my wandering fell from me like a garment, leaving the +one changeless passion.</p> +<p>Skenedonk and I met on the ship a New England minister, who +looked upon and considered us from day to day. I used to sit in the +stern, the miles stretching me as a rack stretches flesh and +tendons. The minister regarded me as prostrated by the spider bite +of that wicked Paris; out of which he learned I had come, by +talking to my Oneida.</p> +<p>The Indian and I were a queer pair that interested him, and when +he discovered that I bore the name of Eleazar Williams his +friendship was sealed to us. Eunice Williams of Deerfield, the +grandmother of Thomas Williams, was a traditional brand never +snatched from the burning, in the minister's town of Longmeadow, +where nearly every inhabitant was descended from or espoused to a +Williams. Though he himself was born Storrs, his wife was born +Williams; and I could have lain at his feet and cried, so open was +the heart of this good man to a wanderer rebounding from a family +that disowned the pretender. He was my welcome back to America. The +breath of eastern pines, and the resinous sweetness of western +plains I had not yet seen, but which drew me so that I could +scarcely wait to land, came to me with that man. Before the voyage +ended I had told him my whole history as far as I knew it, except +the story of Madame de Ferrier; and the beginning of it was by no +means new to him. The New England Williamses kept a prayerful eye +on that branch descending through the Iroquois. This transplanted +Briton, returning from his one memorable visit to the England of +his forefathers, despised my Bourbon claims, and even the French +contraction of my name.</p> +<p>"What are you going to do now, Eleazar?" he inquired.</p> +<p>Hugging my old dream to myself, feeling my heart leap toward +that western empire which must fascinate a young man as long as +there remain any western lands to possess, I told him I intended to +educate our Iroquois as soon as I could prepare myself to do it, +and settle them where they could grow into a greater nation.</p> +<p>The man of God kindled in the face. He was a dark-eyed, +square-browed, serious man, with black hair falling below his white +band. His mouth had a sweet benign expression, even when he quizzed +me about my dauphinhood. A New England pastor was a flame that +burned for the enlightenment of the nations. From that hour it was +settled that I should be his pupil, and go with him to Longmeadow +to finish my education.</p> +<p>When we landed he helped me to sell my Babylonish clothes, +except the white court dress, to which I clung with tenacity +displeasing to him, and garb myself in more befitting raiment. By +Skenedonk's hand I sent some of the remaining gold coins to my +mother Marianne and the chief, when he rejoined the tribe and went +to pass the winter at St. Regis. And by no means did I forget to +tell him to bring me letters from De Chaumont's manor in the +spring, if any arrived there for me.</p> +<p>How near to heaven the New England village seemed, with Mount +Tom on the horizon glorious as Mount Zion, the mighty sweep of +meadow land, the Connecticut river flowing in great peace, the +broad street of elms like some gigantic cathedral nave, and in its +very midst a shrine—the meetinghouse, double-decked with +fan-topped windows.</p> +<p>Religion and education were the mainsprings of its life. Pastor +Storrs worked in his study nearly nine hours a day, and spent the +remaining hours in what he called visitation of his flock.</p> +<p>This being lifted out of Paris and plunged into Longmeadow was +the pouring of white hot metal into chill moulds. It cast me. With +a seething and a roar of loosened forces, the boy passed to the +man.</p> +<p>Nearly every night during all those years of changing, for even +faithfulness has its tides, I put the snuffbox under my pillow, and +Madame de Ferrier's key spoke to my ear. I would say to myself: +"The one I love gave me this key. Did I ever sit beside her on a +ledge of stone overlooking a sunken garden?—so near that I +might have touched her! Does she ever think of the dauphin Louis? +Where is she? Does she know that Lazarre has become Eleazar +Williams?"</p> +<p>The pastor's house was fronted with huge white fluted pillars of +wood, upholding a porch roof which shaded the second floor windows. +The doors in that house had a short-waisted effect with little +panels above and long panels below. I had a chamber so clean and +small that I called it in my mind the Monk's Cell, nearly filled +with the high posted bed, the austere table and chairs. The +whitewashed walls were bare of pictures, except a painted portrait +of Stephen Williams, pastor of Longmeadow from 1718 to 1783. Daily +his laughing eyes watched me as if he found my pretensions a great +joke. He had a long nose, and a high forehead. His black hair +crinkled, and a merry crease drew its half circle from one cheek +around under his chin to the other.</p> +<p>Longmeadow did not receive me without much question and debate. +There were Williamses in every direction; disguised, perhaps, for +that generation, under the names of Cooley, Stebbins, Colter, Ely, +Hole, and so on. A stately Sarah Williams, as Mrs. Storrs, sat at +the head of the pastor's table. Her disapproval was a force, though +it never manifested itself except in withdrawal. If Mrs. Storrs had +drawn back from me while I lived under her roof, I should have felt +an outcast indeed. The subtle refinement of those Longmeadow women +was like the hinted sweetness of arbutus flower. Breeding passed +from generation to generation. They had not mixed their blood with +the blood of any outsiders; and their forbears were English +yeomen.</p> +<p>I threw myself into books as I had done during my first months +at De Chaumont's, before I grew to think of Madame de Ferrier. One +of those seven years I spent at Dartmouth. But the greater part of +my knowledge I owe to Pastor Storrs. Greek and Hebrew he gave me to +add to the languages I was beginning to own; and he unlocked all +his accumulations of learning. It was a monk's life that I lived; +austere and without incident, but bracing as the air of the hills. +The whole system was monastic, though abomination alighted on that +word in Longmeadow. I took the discipline into my blood. It will go +down to those after me.</p> +<p>There a man had to walk with God whether he wanted to or +not.</p> +<p>Living was inexpensive, each item being gaged by careful +housekeeping. It was a sin to gorge the body, and godly +conversation was better than abundance. Yet the pastor's tea-table +arises with a halo around it. The rye and Indian bread, the +doughnuts fragrant as flowers, the sparing tea, the prim mats which +saved the cloth, the wire screen covering sponge cake—how +sacred they seem!</p> +<p>The autumn that I came to Longmeadow, Napoleon Bonaparte was +beaten on the sea by the English, but won the battle of Austerlitz, +defeating the Russian coalition and changing the map of Europe.</p> +<p>I felt sometimes a puppet while this man played his great part. +It was no comfort that others of my house were nothing to France. +Though I did not see Louis Philippe again, he wandered in America +two or three years, and went back to privacy.</p> +<p>During my early novitiate at Longmeadow, Aaron Burr's conspiracy +went to pieces, dragging down with it that pleasant gentleman, +Harmon Blennerhassett, startling men like Jackson, who had best +befriended him unawares. But this in nowise affected my own plans +of empire. The solidarity of a nation of Indians on a remote tract +could be no menace to the general government.</p> +<p>Skenedonk came and went, and I made journeys to my people with +him. But there was never any letter waiting at De Chaumont's for +me. After some years indeed, the count having returned to +Castorland, to occupy his new manor at Le Rayville, the mansion I +had known was torn down and the stone converted to other uses. +Skenedonk brought me word early that Mademoiselle de Chaumont had +been married to an officer of the Empire, and would remain in +France.</p> +<p>The door between my past and me was sealed. Madame de Ferrier +stood on the other side of it, and no news from her penetrated its +dense barrier. I tried to write letters to her. But nothing that I +could write was fit to send, and I knew not whether she was yet at +Mont-Louis. Forever she was holding the door against me.</p> +<p>Skenedonk, coming and going at his caprice, stayed a month in +every year at Longmeadow, where the townspeople, having had a +surfeit of aboriginal names, called him John. He raised no +objection, for that with half a dozen other Christian titles had +been bestowed on him in baptism; and he entered the godly list of +Williamses as John Williams.</p> +<p>The first summer I spent in Longmeadow there was an eclipse of +the sun about the middle of June. I remember lying on open land, my +book on its face beside me, and watching it through my eyelashes; +until the weird and awful twilight of a blotted sun in mid-heaven +sent birds and beasts to shelter as from wrath. When there was but +a hairy shining around the orbed blackness, and stars trembled out +and trembled back, as if they said: "We are here. The old order +will return," and the earth held its breath at threat of eternal +darkness, the one I loved seemed to approach in the long shadows. +It was a sign that out of the worst comes the best. But it was a +terror to the unprepared; and Pastor Storrs preached about it the +following Sunday.</p> +<p>The missionary spirit of Longmeadow stirred among the +Williamses, and many of them brought what they called their mites +to Pastor Storrs for my education. If I were made a king no revenue +could be half so sweet as that. The village was richer than many a +stonier New England place, but men were struggling then all over +the wide states and territories for material existence.</p> +<p>The pension no longer came from Europe. It ceased when I +returned from France. Its former payment was considered apocryphal +by Longmeadow, whose very maids—too white, with a pink spot +in each cheek—smiled with reserved amusement at a student who +thought it possible he could ever be a king. I spoke to nobody but +Pastor Storrs about my own convictions. But local newspapers, with +their omniscient grip on what is in the air, bandied the subject +back and forth.</p> +<p>We sometimes walked in the burying ground among dead Williamses, +while he argued down my claims, leaving them without a leg to stand +on. Reversing the usual ministerial formula, "If what has been said +is true, then it follows, first, secondly," and so on, he used to +say:</p> +<p>"Eleazar, you were brought up among the Indians, conscious only +of bodily existence, and unconscious of your origin; granted. Money +was sent—let us say from Europe—for your support; +granted. Several persons, among them one who testified strongly +against his will, told you that you resembled the Bourbons; +granted. You bear on your person marks like those which were +inflicted on the unfortunate dauphin of France; granted. You were +malignantly pursued while abroad; granted. But what does it all +prove? Nothing. It amounts simply to this: you know nothing about +your early years; some foreign person—perhaps an English +Williams—kindly interested himself in your upbringing; you +were probably scalded in the camps; you have some accidental traits +of the Bourbons; a man who heard you had a larger pension than the +idiot he was tending, disliked you. You can prove nothing +more."</p> +<p>I never attempted to prove anything more to Pastor Storrs. It +would have been most ungrateful to persuade him I was an alien. At +the same time he prophesied his hopes of me, and many a judicious +person blamed him for treating me as something out of the ordinary, +and cockering up pride.</p> +<p>A blunter Williams used to take me by the button on the +street.</p> +<p>"Eleazar Williams," he would say, "do you pretend to be the son +of the French king? I tell you what! I will not let the name of +Williams be disgraced by any relationship to any French monarch! +You must do one of two things: you must either renounce Williamsism +or renounce Bourbonism!"</p> +<p>Though there was liberty of conscience to criticise the pastor, +he was autocrat of Longmeadow. One who preceded Pastor Storrs had +it told about him that two of his deacons wanted him to appoint +Ruling Elders. He appointed them; and asked them what they thought +the duties were. They said he knew best.</p> +<p>"Well," said the pastor, "one of the Ruling Elders may come to +my house before meeting, saddle my horse, and hold the stirrup +while I get on. The other may wait at the church door and hold him +while I get off, and after meeting bring him to the steps. This is +all of my work that I can consent to let Ruling Elders do for +me."</p> +<p>The Longmeadow love of disputation was fostered by bouts which +Ruling Elders might have made it their business to preserve, if any +Ruling Elders were willing to accept their appointment. The pastor +once went to the next town to enjoy argument with a scientific +doctor. When he mounted his horse to ride home before nightfall the +two friends kept up their debate. The doctor stood by the horse, or +walked a few steps as the horse moved. Presently both men noticed a +fire in the east; and it was sunrise. They had argued all +night.</p> +<p>In Longmeadow a man could not help practicing argument. I also +practiced oratory. And all the time I practiced the Iroquois tongue +as well as English and French, and began the translation of books +into the language of the nation I hoped to build. That Indians made +unstable material for the white man to handle I would not believe. +Skenedonk was not unstable. His faithfulness was a rock.</p> +<p>For some reason, and I think it was the reach of Pastor Storrs, +men in other places began to seek me. The vital currents of life +indeed sped through us on the Hartford and Springfield stage road. +It happened that Skenedonk and I were making my annual journey to +St. Regis when the first steamboat accomplished its trip on the +Hudson river. About the time that the Wisconsin country was +included in Illinois Territory, I decided to write a letter to +Madame Tank at Green Bay, and insist on knowing my story as she +believed she knew it. Yet I hesitated; and finally did not do it. I +found afterwards that there was no post-office at Green Bay. A +carrier, sent by the officers of the fort and villagers, brought +mail from Chicago. He had two hundred miles of wilderness to +traverse, and his blankets and provisions as well as the mail to +carry; and he did this at the risk of his life among wild men and +beasts.</p> +<p>The form of religion was always a trivial matter to me. I never +ceased to love the sacrifice of the mass, which was an abomination +and an idolatrous practice to Pastor Storrs. The pageantry of the +Roman Church that first mothered and nurtured me touches me to this +day. I love the Protestant prayers of the English Church. And I +love the stern and knotty argument, the sermon with heads and +sequences, of the New England Congregationalist. For this +catholicity Catholics have upbraided me, churchmen rebuked me, and +dissenters denied that I had any religion at all.</p> +<p>When the Episcopal Bishop of New York showed me kindness, and +Pastor Storrs warned me against being proselyted, I could not tell +him the charm in the form of worship practiced by the woman I +loved. There was not a conscious minute when I forgot her. Yet +nobody in Longmeadow knew of her existence. In my most remorseful +days, comparing myself with Pastor Storrs, I was never sorry I had +clung to her and begged her not to let me go alone. For some of our +sins are so honestly the expression of nature that justification +breaks through them.</p> +<p>On the western border there was trouble with dissatisfied +Indians, and on the sea there was trouble with the British, so that +people began to talk of war long before it was declared, and to +blame President Madison for his over-caution in affairs. A battle +was fought at Tippecanoe in the Indiana Territory, which silenced +the Indians for a while. But every one knew that the English stood +behind them. Militia was mustered, the army recruited, and embargo +laid upon shipping in the ports, and all things were put forward in +April of that year, before war was declared in June.</p> +<p>I had influence with our tribes. The Government offered me a +well paid commission to act as its secret agent. Pastor Storrs and +the Williamses, who had been nurturing a missionary, were smitten +with grief to see him rise and leap into camps and fields, eager +for the open world, the wilderness smell; the council, where the +red man's mind, a trembling balance, could be turned by vivid +language; eager, in fact, to live where history was being made.</p> +<p>The pastor had clothed me in his mind with ministerial gown and +band, and the martial blood that quickened he counted an Iroquois +strain. Yet so inconsistent is human nature, so given to forms +which it calls creeds, that when I afterwards put on the surplice +and read prayers to my adopted people, he counted it as great a +defection as taking to saddle and spur. We cannot leave the +expression of our lives to those better qualified than we are, +however dear they may be. I had to pack my saddlebags and be gone, +loving Longmeadow none the less because I grieved it, knowing that +it would not approve of me more if I stayed and failed to do my +natural part.</p> +<p>The snuffbox and the missal which had belonged to my family in +France I always carried with me. And very little could be +transported on the road we took.</p> +<p>John Williams, who came to Longmeadow in deerskins, and paraded +his burnished red poll among the hatted Williamses, abetted me in +turning from the missionary field to the arena of war, and never +left me. It was Skenedonk who served the United States with brawn +and endurance, while I put such policy and color into my harangues +as I could command. We shared our meals, our camps, our beds of +leaves together. The life at Longmeadow had knit me to good use. I +could fast or feast, ride or march, take the buckskins, or the +soldier's uniform.</p> +<p>Of this service I shall write down only what goes to the making +of the story. The Government was pleased to commend it, and it may +be found written in other annals than mine.</p> +<p>Great latitude was permitted us in our orders. We spent a year +in the north. My skin darkened and toughened under exposure until I +said to Skenedonk, "I am turning an Indian;" and he, jealous of my +French blood, denied it.</p> +<p>In July we had to thread trails he knew by the lake toward +Sandusky. There was no horse path wide enough for us to ride +abreast. Brush swished along our legs, and green walls shut our +view on each side. The land dipped towards its basin. Buckeye and +gigantic chestnut trees, maple and oak, passed us from rank to rank +of endless forest. Skenedonk rode ahead, watching for every sign +and change, as a pilot now watches the shifting of the current. So +we had done all day, and so we were doing when fading light warned +us to camp.</p> +<p>A voice literally cried out of the wilderness, startling the +horses and ringing among the tree trunks:</p> +<p>"The spirit of the Lord is upon me, and He hath anointed me to +blow the trumpet in the wilderness, and sound an alarm in the +forest; for behold the tribes of the heathen are round about your +doors, and a devouring flame followeth after them!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IIc" id="IIc"></a>II</h2> +<p>"That's Johnny Appleseed," said Skenedonk, turning in his +saddle.</p> +<p>"What is Johnny Appleseed?"</p> +<p>"He is a man that God has touched," said Skenedonk, using the +aboriginal phrase that signified a man clouded in mind.</p> +<p>God had hidden him, too. I could see no one. The voice echo +still went off among the trees.</p> +<p>"Where is he?"</p> +<p>"Maybe one side, maybe the other."</p> +<p>"Does he never show himself?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes," Skenedonk said. "He goes to all the settlements. I +have often seen him when I was hunting on these grounds. He came to +our camp. He loves to sleep outdoors better than in a cabin."</p> +<p>"Why does he shout at us like a prophet?"</p> +<p>"To warn us that Indians are on the warpath."</p> +<p>"He might have thought we were on the warpath ourselves."</p> +<p>"Johnny Appleseed knows Shawanoes and Tecumseh's men."</p> +<p>The trees, lichened on their north sides, massed rank behind +rank without betraying any face in their glooms. The Ohio and +Indiana forests had a nameless quality. They might have been called +home-forests, such invitations issued from them to man seeking a +spot of his own. Nor can I make clear what this invitation was. It +produced thoughts different from those that men were conscious of +in the rugged northwest.</p> +<p>"I think myself," said Skenedonk, as we moved farther from the +invisible voice, "that he is under a vow. But nobody told me +that."</p> +<p>"Why do you think so?"</p> +<p>"He plants orchards in every fine open spot; or clears the land +for planting where he thinks the soil is right."</p> +<p>"Don't other men plant orchards?"</p> +<p>"No. They have not time, or seed. They plant bread. He does +nothing but plant orchards."</p> +<p>"He must have a great many."</p> +<p>"They are not for himself. The apples are for any one who may +pass by when they are ripe. He wants to give apples to everybody. +Animals often nibble the bark, or break down his young trees. It +takes long for them to grow. But he keeps on planting."</p> +<p>"If other men have no seeds to plant, how does he get them?"</p> +<p>"He makes journeys to the old settlements, where many orchards +have grown, and brings the seeds from ciderpresses. He carries them +from Pennsylvania on his back, in leather bags, a bag for each kind +of seed."</p> +<p>"Doesn't he ever sell them?"</p> +<p>"Not often. Johnny Appleseed cares nothing for money. I believe +he is under a vow of poverty. No one laughs at him. The tribes on +these grounds would not hurt a hair of his head, not only because +God has touched him, but because he plants apples. I have eaten his +apples myself."</p> +<p>"Johnny Appleseed!" I repeated, and Skenedonk hastened to tell +me:</p> +<p>"He has another name, but I forget it. He is called Johnny +Appleseed."</p> +<p>The slim and scarcely perceptible tunnel, among trees, piled +with fallen logs and newly sprung growths, let us into a wide +clearing as suddenly as a stream finds its lake. We could not see +even the usual cow tracks. A cabin shedding light from its hearth +surprised us in the midst of stumps.</p> +<p>The door stood wide. A woman walked back and forth over a +puncheon floor, tending supper. Dogs rushed to meet us, and the +playing of children could be heard. A man, gun in hand, stepped to +his door, a sentinel. He lowered its muzzle, and made us welcome, +and helped us put our horses under shelter with his own.</p> +<p>It was not often we had a woman's handiwork in corn bread and +game to feed ourselves upon, or a bed covered with homespun +sheets.</p> +<p>I slept as the children slept, until a voice rang in the +clearing:</p> +<p>"The spirit of the Lord is upon me, and He hath anointed me to +blow the trumpet in the wilderness, and sound an alarm in the +forest; for behold the tribes of the heathen are round about your +doors, and a devouring flame followeth after them!"</p> +<p>Every sleeper in the cabin sat upright or stirred. We said in +whispered chorus:</p> +<p>"Johnny Appleseed!"</p> +<p>A tapping, light and regular, on the window, followed. The man +was on the floor in a breath. I heard the mother groping among the +children, and whispering:</p> +<p>"Don't wake the baby!"</p> +<p>The fire had died upon the hearth, and they lighted no candle. +When Johnny Appleseed gave his warning cry in the clearing, and his +cautious tap on the window, and was instantly gone to other +clearings and other windows, it meant that the Indians were +near.</p> +<p>Skenedonk and I, used to the night alarm and boots and saddle in +a hurry, put ourselves in readiness to help the family. I groped +for clothing, and shoved small legs and arms into it. The little +creatures, obedient and silent, made no whimper at being roused out +of dreams, but keenly lent themselves to the march.</p> +<p>We brought the horses, and put the woman and children upon them. +The very dogs understood, and slunk around our legs without giving +mouth. The cabin door was shut after us without noise, closing in +what that family called home; a few pots and pans; patchwork +quilts; a spinning-wheel; some benches; perhaps a child's store of +acorn cups and broken yellow ware in a log corner. In a few hours +it might be smoking a heap of ashes; and the world offered no other +place so dear. What we suffer for is enriched by our suffering +until it becomes priceless.</p> +<p>So far on the frontier was this cabin that no community +block-house stood near enough to give its inmates shelter. They +were obliged to go with us to Fort Stephenson.</p> +<p>Skenedonk pioneered the all-night struggle on an obscure trail; +and he went astray sometimes, through blackness of woods that +roofed out the stars. We floundered in swales sponging full of dead +leaves, and drew back, scratching ourselves on low-hung +foliage.</p> +<p>By dawn the way became easier and the danger greater. Then we +paused and lifted our rifles if a twig broke near by, or a fox +barked, or wind rushed among leaves as a patter of moccasins might +come. Skenedonk and I, sure of the northern Indians, were making a +venture in the west. We knew nothing of Tecumseh's swift red +warriors, except that scarcely a year had passed since his allies +had tomahawked women and children of the garrison on the sand teach +at Chicago.</p> +<p>Without kindling any fire we stopped once that day to eat, and +by good luck and following the river, reached that Lower Sandusky +which was called Fort Stephenson, about nightfall.</p> +<p>The place was merely a high stockade with blockhouses at the +angles, and a gate opening toward the river. Within, besides the +garrison of a hundred and sixty men, were various refugees, driven +like our family to the fort. And there, coming heartily from the +commandant's quarters to receive me, was George Croghan, still a +boy in appearance, though intrusted with this dangerous post. His +long face had darkened like mine. We looked each other over with +the quick and critical scrutiny of men who have not met since +boyhood, and laughed as we grasped hands.</p> +<p>"You are as welcome to the inside of this bear-pen," said Major +Croghan, "as you made me to the outside of the one in the +wilderness."</p> +<p>"I hope you'll not give me such another tramp after shelter for +the night as I gave you," I said.</p> +<p>"The best in Fort Stephenson is yours. But your rest depends on +the enemy. A runner has just come in from the General warning me +Proctor and Tecumsch are turning their attention this way. I'm +ordered to evacuate, for the post is considered too weak to +hold."</p> +<p>"How soon do you march?"</p> +<p>"I don't march at all. I stay here. I'm going to disobey +orders."</p> +<p>"If you're going to disobey orders, you have good reason for +doing so."</p> +<p>"I have. It was too late to retreat. I'm going to fight. I hear, +Lazarre, you know how to handle Indians in the French way."</p> +<p>"My dear Croghan, you insinuate the American way may be +better."</p> +<p>"It is, on the western border. It may not be on the +northern."</p> +<p>"Then you would not have advised my attempting the Indians +here?"</p> +<p>"I shouldn't have discouraged it. When I got the secret order, I +said: 'Bring the French—bring the missionaries—bring +anything that will cut the comb of Tecumseh!'"</p> +<p>"The missionaries and the French like being classed +with—anything," I said.</p> +<p>"We're Americans here," Croghan laughed. "The dauphin may have +to fight in the ditch with the rest of us."</p> +<p>"The dauphin is an American too, and used to scars, as you know. +Can you give me any news from Green Bay in the Wisconsin +country?"</p> +<p>"I was ordered to Green Bay last year to see if anything could +be done with old Fort Edward Augustus."</p> +<p>"Does my Holland court-lady live there?"</p> +<p>"Not now," he answered soberly. "She's dead."</p> +<p>"That's bad," I said, thinking of lost opportunities.</p> +<p>"Is pretty Annabel de Chaumont ever coming back from +France?"</p> +<p>"Not now, she's married."</p> +<p>"That's worse," he sighed. "I was very silly about her when I +was a boy."</p> +<p>We had our supper in his quarters, and he busied himself until +late in the night with preparations for defense. The whole place +was full of cheer and plenty of game, and swarmed like a little +fair with moving figures. A camp-fire was built at dark in the +center of the parade ground, heaped logs sending their glow as far +as the dark pickets. Heads of families drew towards it while the +women were putting their children to bed; and soldiers off duty +lounged there, the front of the body in light, the back in +darkness.</p> +<p>Cool forest night air flowed over the stockade, swaying smoke +this way and that. As the fire was stirred, and smoke turned to +flame, it showed more and more distinctly what dimness had +screened.</p> +<p>A man rose up on the other side of it, clothed in a coffee sack, +in which holes were cut for his head and arms. His hat was a tin +kettle with the handle sticking out behind like a stiff queue.</p> +<p>Indifferent to his grotesqueness, he took it off and put it on +the ground beside him, standing ready to command attention.</p> +<p>He was a small, dark, wiry man, barefooted and barelegged, whose +black eyes sparkled, and whose scanty hair and beard hung down over +shoulders and breast. Some pokes of leather, much scratched, hung +bulging from the rope which girded his coffee sack. From one of +these he took a few unbound leaves, the fragment of a book, spread +them open, and began to read in a chanting, prophetic key, +something about the love of the Lord and the mysteries of angels. +His listeners kept their eyes on him, giving an indulgent ear to +spiritual messages that made less demand on them than the violent +earthly ones to which they were accustomed.</p> +<p>"It's Johnny Appleseed," a man at my side told me, as if the +name explained anything he might do.</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/opposite_p312.jpg"><img src= +"images/opposite_p312.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"It's Johnny Appleseed," a man at my side told me.</b> +<br /></div> +<p>When Johnny Appleseed finished reading the leaves he put them +back in his bag, and took his kettle to the well for water. He then +brought some meal from the cook-house and made mush in his hat.</p> +<p>The others, turning their minds from future mysteries, began to +talk about present danger, when he stood up from his labor to +inquire:</p> +<p>"Is there plenty in the fort for the children to eat?"</p> +<p>"Plenty, Johnny, plenty," several voices assured him.</p> +<p>"I can go without supper if the children haven't enough."</p> +<p>"Eat your supper, Johnny. Major Croghan will give you more if +you want it," said a soldier.</p> +<p>"And we'll give you jerked Britisher, if you'll wait for it," +said another.</p> +<p>"Johnny never eats meat," one of the refugees put in. "He thinks +it's sinful to kill critters. All the things in the woods likes +him. Once he got into a holler log to sleep, and some squirrels +warned him to move out, they settled there first; and he done it. I +don't allow he'd pick a flea off his own hide for fear he'd break +its legs so it couldn't hop around and make a living."</p> +<p>The wilderness prophet sat down quietly to his meal without +appearing to notice what was said about him; and when he had eaten, +carried his hat into the cook-house, where dogs could not get at +his remaining porridge.</p> +<p>"Now he'll save that for his breakfast," remarked another +refugee. "There's nothing he hates like waste."</p> +<p>"Talking about squirrels," exclaimed the man at my side, "I +believe he has a pasture for old, broke-down horses somewhere east +in the hills. All the bates he can find he swaps young trees for, +and they go off with him leading them, but he never comes into the +settlements on horseback."</p> +<p>"Does he always go barefoot?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Sometimes he makes bark sandals. If you give him a pair of +shoes he'll give them away to the first person that can wear them +and needs them. Hunters wrap dried leaves around their leggins to +keep the rattlesnakes out, but Johnny never protects himself at +all."</p> +<p>"No wonder," spoke a soldier. "Any snake'd be discouraged at +them shanks. A seven-year rattler'd break his fang on 'em."</p> +<p>Johnny came out of the cook-house with an iron poker, and heated +it in the coals. All the men around the fire waited, understanding +what he was about to do, but my own breath drew with a hiss through +my teeth as he laid the red hot iron first on one long cut and then +another in his travel-worn feet. Having cauterized himself +effectually, and returned the poker, he took his place in perfect +serenity, without any show of pain, prepared to accommodate himself +to the company.</p> +<p>Some boys, awake with the bigness of the occasion, sat down near +Johnny Appleseed, and gave him their frank attention. Each boy had +his hair cut straight around below the ears, where his mother had +measured it with an inverted bowl, and freshly trimmed him for life +in the fort, and perhaps for the discomfiture of savages, if he +came under the scalping knife. Open-mouthed or stern-jawed, +according to temperament, the young pioneers listened to stories +about Tecumseh, and surmises on the enemy's march, and the +likelihood of a night attack.</p> +<p>"Tippecanoe was fought at four o'clock in the morning," said a +soldier.</p> +<p>"I was there," spoke out Johnny Appleseed.</p> +<p>No other man could say as much. All looked at him as he stood on +his cauterized feet, stretching his arms, lean and sun-cured, +upward in the firelight.</p> +<p>"Angels were there. In rain and darkness I heard them speak and +say, 'He hath cast the lot for them, and His hand hath divided it +unto them by line; they shall possess it forever; from generation +to generation shall they dwell therein. The wilderness and the +solitary place shall be glad for them, and the desert shall rejoice +and blossom as the rose!'"</p> +<p>"Say, Johnny, what does an angel look like?" piped up one of the +boys, quite in fellowship.</p> +<p>Johnny Appleseed turned his rapt vision aside and answered:</p> +<p>"'White robes were given unto every one of them.' There had I +laid me down in peace to sleep, and the Lord made me to dwell in +safety. The camp-fires burned red in the sheltered place, and they +who were to possess the land watched by the campfires. I looked +down from my high place, from my shelter of leaves and my log that +the Lord gave me for a bed, and saw the red camp-fires blink in the +darkness.</p> +<p>"Then was I aware that the heathen crept betwixt me and the +camp, surrounding it as a cloud that lies upon the ground. The rain +fell upon us all, and there was not so much sound as the rustling +of grasshoppers in tall grass. I said they will surprise the camp +and slay the sleepers, not knowing that they who were to possess +the land watched every man with his weapon. But when I would have +sounded the trumpet of warning, I heard a rifle shot, and all the +Indians rose up screeching and rushed at the red fires.</p> +<p>"Then a sorcerer leaped upon my high place, rattling many deer +hoofs, and calling aloud that his brethren might hear his voice. +Light he promised them for themselves, and darkness for the camp, +and he sang his war song, shouting and rattling the deer hoofs. +Also the Indians rattled deer hoofs, and it was like a giant +breathing his last, being shot with many musket flashes.</p> +<p>"I saw steam through the darkness, for the fires were drenched +and trampled by the men of the camp, and no longer shone as candles +so that the Indians might see by them to shoot. The sorcerer danced +and shouted, the deer hoofs rattled, and on this side and that men +fought knee to knee and breast to breast. I saw through the wet +dawn, and they who had crept around the camp as a cloud arose as +grasshoppers and fled to the swamp.</p> +<p>"Then did the sorcerer sit upon his heels, and I beheld he had +but one eye, and he covered it from the light.</p> +<p>"But the men in the camp shouted with a mighty shouting. And +after their shouting I heard again the voices of angels saying: 'He +hath cast the lot for them, and His hand hath divided it unto them +by line; they shall possess it forever; from generation to +generation shall they dwell therein. The wilderness and the +solitary place shall be glad for them, and the desert shall rejoice +and blossom as the rose!'"</p> +<p>The speaker sat down, and one of the men remarked:</p> +<p>"So that's the way the battle of Tippecanoe looked to Johnny +Appleseed."</p> +<p>But the smallest boy thoughtfully inquired:</p> +<p>"Say, Johnny, haven't the Indians any angels?"</p> +<p>"You'll wish they was with the angels if they ever get you by +the hair," laughed one of the men.</p> +<p>Soldiers began moving their single cannon, a six-pounder, from +one blockhouse to another. All the men jumped up to help, as at the +raising of a home, and put themselves in the way so ardently that +they had to be ordered back.</p> +<p>When everybody but ourselves had left the starlit open place, +Johnny Appleseed lay down and stretched his heels to the blaze. A +soldier added another log, and kicked into the flame those fallen +away. Though it was the end of July, Lake Erie cooled the inland +forests.</p> +<p>Sentinels were posted in the blockhouses. Quiet settled on the +camp; and I sat turning many things in my mind besides the +impending battle. Napoleon Bonaparte had made a disastrous campaign +in Russia. If I were yet in France; if the Marquis du Plessy had +lived; if I had not gone to Mittau; if the self I might have been, +that always haunts us, stood ready to take advantage of the +turn—</p> +<p>Yet the thing which cannot be understood by men reared under old +governments had befallen me. I must have drawn the wilderness into +my blood. Its possibilities held me. If I had stayed in France at +twenty, I should have been a Frenchman. The following years made me +an American. The passion that binds you to a land is no more to be +explained than the fact that many women are beautiful, while only +one is vitally interesting.</p> +<p>The wilderness mystic was sitting up looking at me.</p> +<p>"I see two people in you," he said.</p> +<p>"Only two?"</p> +<p>"Two separate men."</p> +<p>"What are their names?"</p> +<p>"Their names I cannot see."</p> +<p>"Well, suppose we call them Louis and Lazarre."</p> +<p>His eyes sparkled.</p> +<p>"You are a white man," he pronounced. "By that I mean you are +not stained with many vile sins."</p> +<p>"I hadn't an equal chance with other men. I lost nine +years."</p> +<p>"Mebby," hazarded Johnny Appleseed cautiously, "you are the one +appointed to open and read what is sealed."</p> +<p>"If you mean to interpret what you read, I'm afraid I am not the +one. Where did you get those leaves?"</p> +<p>"From a book that I divided up to distribute among the +people."</p> +<p>"Doesn't that destroy the sense?"</p> +<p>"No. I carry the pages in their order from cabin to cabin."</p> +<p>He came around the fire with the lightness of an Indian, and +gave me his own fragment to examine. It proved to be from the +writings of one Emanuel Swedenborg.</p> +<p>With a smile which seemed to lessen the size of his face and +concentrate its expression to a shining point, Johnny Appleseed +slid his leather bags along the rope girdle, and searched them, one +after the other. I thought he wanted me to notice his apple seeds, +and inquired how many kinds he carried. So he showed them in +handfuls, brown and glistening, or gummed with the sweet blood of +cider. These produced pippins; these produced russets; these +produced luscious harvest apples, that fell in August bursting with +juicy ripeness. Then he showed me another bagful which were not +apple seeds at all, but neutral colored specks moving with fluid +swiftness as he poured them from palm to palm.</p> +<p>"Do you know what this is?"</p> +<p>I told him I didn't.</p> +<p>"It's dogfennel seed."</p> +<p>I laughed, and asked him what kind of apples it bore.</p> +<p>Johnny Appleseed smiled at me again.</p> +<p>"It's a flower. I'm spreading it over the whole of Ohio and +Indiana! It'll come up like the stars for abundance, and fill the +land with rankness, and fever and ague will flee away!"</p> +<p>"But how about the rankness?"</p> +<p>"Fever and ague will flee away," he repeated, continuing his +search through the bags.</p> +<p>He next brought out a parcel, wrapped up carefully in doeskin to +protect it from the appleseeds; and turned foolish in the face, as +bits of ribbon and calico fell out upon his knees.</p> +<p>"This isn't the one," he said, bundling it up and thrusting it +back again. "The little girls, they like to dress their +doll-babies, so I carry patches for the little girls. Here's what I +was looking for."</p> +<p>It was another doeskin parcel, bound lengthwise and crosswise by +thongs. These Johnny Appleseed reverently loosened, bringing forth +a small book with wooden covers fastened by a padlock.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IIIc" id="IIIc"></a>III</h2> +<p>"Where did you get this?" I heard myself asking, a strange voice +sounding far down the throat.</p> +<p>"From an Indian," the mystic told me quietly. "He said it was +bad medicine to him. He never had any luck in hunting after it fell +to his share, so he was glad to give it to me."</p> +<p>"Where did he get it?"</p> +<p>"His tribe took it from some prisoners they killed."</p> +<p>I was running blindly around in a circle to find relief from the +news he dealt me, when the absurdity of such news overtook me. I +stood and laughed.</p> +<p>"Who were the prisoners?"</p> +<p>"I don't know," answered Johnny Appleseed.</p> +<p>"How do you know the Indians killed them?"</p> +<p>"The one that gave me this book told me so."</p> +<p>"There are plenty of padlocked books in the world," I said +jauntily. "At least there must be more than one. How long ago did +it happen?"</p> +<p>"Not very long ago, I think; for the book was clean."</p> +<p>"Give it to me," I said, as if I cursed him.</p> +<p>"It's a sacred book," he answered, hesitating.</p> +<p>"Maybe it's sacred. Let me see."</p> +<p>"There may be holy mysteries in it, to be read only of him who +has the key."</p> +<p>"I have a key!"</p> +<p>I took it out of the snuffbox. Johnny Appleseed fixed his rapt +eyes on the little object in my fingers.</p> +<p>"Mebby you are the one appointed to open and read what is +sealed!"</p> +<p>"No, I'm not! How could my key fit a padlocked book that +belonged to prisoners killed by the Indians?"</p> +<p>He held it out to me and I took hold of the padlock. It was a +small steel padlock, and the hole looked dangerously the size of my +key.</p> +<p>"I can't do it!" I said.</p> +<p>"Let me try," said Johnny Appleseed.</p> +<p>"No! You might break my key in a strange padlock! Hold it still, +Johnny. Please don't shake it."</p> +<p>"I'm not shaking it," Johnny Appleseed answered tenderly.</p> +<p>"There's only one way of proving that my key doesn't fit," I +said, and thrust it in. The ward turned easily, and the padlock +came away in my hand. I dropped it and opened the book. Within the +lid a name was written which I had copied a thousand +times—"Eagle Madeleine Marie de Ferrier."</p> +<p>Still I did not believe it. Nature protects us in our uttermost +losses by a density through which conviction is slow to penetrate. +In some mysterious way the padlocked book had fallen into strange +hands, and had been carried to America.</p> +<p>"If Eagle were in America, I should know it. For De Chaumont +would know it, and Skenedonk would find it out."</p> +<p>I stooped for the padlock, hooked it in place, and locked the +book again.</p> +<p>"Is the message to you alone?" inquired Johnny Appleseed.</p> +<p>"Did you ever care for a woman?" I asked him.</p> +<p>Restless misery came into his eyes, and I noticed for the first +time that he was not an old man; he could not have been above +thirty-five. He made no answer; shifting from one bare foot to the +other, his body settling and losing its Indian lightness.</p> +<p>"A woman gave me the key to this book. Her name is written +inside the lid. I was to read it if it ever fell into my hands, +after a number of years. Somebody has stolen it, and carried it +among the Indians. But it's mine. Every shilling in my wallet, the +clothes off my back you're welcome to—"</p> +<p>"I don't want your money or your clothes."</p> +<p>"But let me give you something in exchange for it."</p> +<p>"What do I need? I always have as much as I want. This is a +serviceable coat, as good as any man need wish for; and the ravens +feed me. And if I needed anything, could I take it for carrying a +message? I carry good tidings of great joy among the people all the +time. This is yours. Put it in your pocket."</p> +<p>I hid the padlocked book in the breast of my coat, and seized +his wrist and his hand.</p> +<p>"Be of good courage, white double-man," said Johnny Appleseed. +"The Lord lift up the light of His countenance upon you, the Lord +make His face to shine upon you and give you peace!"</p> +<p>He returned to his side of the fire and stretched himself under +the stars, and I went to Croghan's quarters and lay down with my +clothes on in the bunk assigned to me.</p> +<p>The book which I would have rent open at twenty, I now carried +unsealed. The suspense of it was so sweet, and drew my thoughts +from the other suspense which could not be endured. It was not +likely that any person about Mont-Louis had stolen the book, and +wandered so far. Small as the volume was, the boards indented my +breast and made me increasingly conscious of its presence. I waked +in the night and held it.</p> +<p>Next morning Johnny Appleseed was gone from the fort, unafraid +of war, bent only on carrying the apple of civilization into the +wilderness. Nobody spoke about his absence, for shells began to +fall around us. The British and Indians were in sight; and General +Proctor sent a flag of truce demanding surrender.</p> +<p>Major Croghan's ensign approached the messenger with a flag in +reply.</p> +<p>The women gathered their children as chickens under shelter. All +in the fort were cheerful, and the men joked with the gush of humor +which danger starts in Americans. I saw then the ready laugh that +faced in its season what was called Indian summer, because the +Indian took then advantage of the last pleasant weather to make +raids. Such pioneers could speak lightly even of powwowing +time—the first pleasant February days, when savages held +councils before descending on the settlements.</p> +<p>Major Croghan and I watched the parley from one of the +blockhouses that bastioned the place. Before it ended a Shawanoe +sprang out of a ravine and snatched the ensign's sword. He gave it +back reluctantly, and the British flag bearer hurried the American +within the gates.</p> +<p>General Proctor regretted that so fine a young man as Major +Croghan should fall into the hands of savages, who were not to be +restrained.</p> +<p>"When this fort is taken," said Croghan on hearing the message, +"there will be nobody left in it to kill."</p> +<p>British gunboats drawn up on the Sandusky river, and a howitzer +on the shore, opened fire, and cannonaded all day with the poor +execution of long range artillery. The northwestern angle of the +fort was their target. Croghan foresaw that the enemy's intention +was to make a breach and enter there. When night came again, his +one six-pounder was moved with much labor from that angle into the +southwest blockhouse, as noiselessly as possible. He masked the +embrasure and had the piece loaded with a double charge of slugs +and grape shot and half a charge of powder. Perhaps the British +thought him unprovided with any heavy artillery.</p> +<p>They were busy themselves, bringing three of the ineffectual +six-pounders and the howitzer, under darkness, within two hundred +and fifty yards of the fort; giving a background of woods to their +battery. About dawn we saw what they had been doing. They +concentrated on the northwest angle; and still Croghan replied only +with muskets, waiting for them to storm.</p> +<p>So it went on all day, the gun-proof blockhouse enduring its +bombardment, and smoke thickening until it filled the stockade as +water fills a well, and settled like fog between us and the enemy. +An attack was made on the southern angle where the cannon was +masked.</p> +<p>"This is nothing but a feint," Croghan said to the younger +officers.</p> +<p>While that corner replied with musketry, he kept a sharp lookout +for the safety of the northwest blockhouse.</p> +<p>One soldier was brought down the ladder and carried through the +murky pall to the surgeon, who could do nothing for him. Another +turned from a loophole with blood upon him, laughing at his mishap. +For the grotesqueness and inconvenience of a wound are sometimes +more swiftly felt than its pain. He came back presently with his +shoulder bandaged and resumed his place at the loophole.</p> +<p>The exhilaration of that powder atmosphere and its heat made +soldiers throw off their coats, as if the expanding human body was +not to be confined in wrappings.</p> +<p>In such twilight of war the twilight of Nature overtook us. +Another feint was made to draw attention from a heavy force of +assailants creeping within twenty paces, under cover of smoke, to +surprise the northwest blockhouse.</p> +<p>Musketry was directed against them: they hesitated. The +commander led a charge, and himself sprang first into the ditch. We +saw the fine fellows leaping to carry the blockhouse, every man +determined to be first in making a breach. They filled the +ditch.</p> +<p>This was the instant for which Croghan had waited. He opened the +porthole and unmasked his exactly trained cannon. It enfiladed the +assailants, sweeping them at a distance of thirty feet; slugs and +grapeshot hissed, spreading fan rays of death! By the flash of the +re-loaded six-pounder, we saw the trench filled with dead and +wounded.</p> +<p>The besiegers turned.</p> +<p>Croghan's sweating gunners swabbed and loaded and fired, roaring +like lions.</p> +<p>The Indians, of whom there were nearly a thousand, were not in +the charge, and when retreat began they went in panic. We could +hear calls and yells, the clatter of arms, and a thumping of the +earth; the strain of men tugging cannon ropes; the swift withdrawal +of a routed force.</p> +<p>Two thousand more Indians approaching under Tecumseh, were +turned back by refugees.</p> +<p>Croghan remarked, as we listened to the uproar, "Fort Stephenson +can hardly be called untenable against heavy artillery."</p> +<p>Then arose cries in the ditch, which penetrated to women's ears. +Neither side was able to help the wounded there. But before the +rout was complete, Croghan had water let down in buckets to relieve +their thirst, and ordered a trench cut under the pickets of the +stockade. Through this the poor wretches who were able to crawl +came in and surrendered themselves and had their wounds +dressed.</p> +<p>By three o'clock in the morning not a British uniform glimmered +red through the dawn. The noise of retreat ended. Pistols and +muskets strewed the ground. Even a sailboat was abandoned on the +river, holding military stores and the clothing of officers.</p> +<p>"They thought General Harrison was coming," laughed Croghan, as +he sat down to an early breakfast, having relieved all the living +in the trench and detailed men to bury the dead. "We have lost one +man, and have another under the surgeon's hands. Now I'm ready to +appear before a court-martial for disobeying orders."</p> +<p>"You mean you're ready for your immortal page in history."</p> +<p>"Paragraph," said Croghan; "and the dislike of poor little boys +and girls who will stick their fists in their eyes when they have +to learn it at school."</p> +<p>Intense manhood ennobled his long, animated face. The President +afterwards made him a lieutenant-colonel, and women and his +superior officers praised him; but he was never more gallant than +when he said:</p> +<p>"My uncle, George Rogers Clark, would have undertaken to hold +this fort; and by heavens, we were bound to try it!"</p> +<p>The other young officers sat at mess with him, hilarious over +the outcome, picturing General Proctor's state of mind when he +learned the age of his conqueror.</p> +<p>None of them cared a rap that Daniel Webster was opposing the +war in the House of Representatives at Washington, and declaring +that on land it was a failure.</p> +<p>A subaltern came to the mess room door, touching his cap and +asking to speak with Major Croghan.</p> +<p>"The men working outside at the trenches saw a boy come up from +the ravine, sir, and fall every few steps, so they've brought him +in."</p> +<p>"Does he carry a dispatch?"</p> +<p>"No, sir. He isn't more than nine or ten years old. I think he +was a prisoner."</p> +<p>"Is he a white boy?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir, but he's dressed like an Indian."</p> +<p>"I think it unlikely the British would allow the Shawanoes to +burden their march with any prisoners."</p> +<p>"Somebody had him, and I'm afraid he's been shot either during +the action or in the retreat. He was hid in the ravine."</p> +<p>"Bring him here," said Croghan.</p> +<p>A boy with blue eyes set wide apart, hair clinging brightly and +moistly to his pallid forehead, and mouth corners turning up in a +courageous smile, entered and stood erect before the officer. He +was a well made little fellow. His tiny buckskin hunting shirt was +draped with a sash in the Indian fashion, showing the curve of his +naked hip. Down this a narrow line of blood was moving. Children of +refugees, full of pity, looked through the open door behind +him.</p> +<p>"Go to him, Shipp," said Croghan, as the boy staggered. But he +waved the ensign back.</p> +<p>"Who are you, my man?" asked the Major.</p> +<p>"I believe," he answered, "I am the Marquis de Ferrier."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IVc" id="IVc"></a>IV</h2> +<p>He pitched forward, and I was quicker than Ensign Shipp. I set +him on my knees, and the surgeon poured a little watered brandy +clown his throat.</p> +<p>"Paul!" I said to him.</p> +<p>"Stand back," ordered the surgeon, as women followed their +children, crowding the room.</p> +<p>"Do you know him, Lazarre?" asked Croghan.</p> +<p>"It's Madame de Ferrier's child."</p> +<p>"Not the baby I used to see at De Chaumont's? What's he doing at +Fort Stephenson?"</p> +<p>The women made up my bunk for Paul, and I laid him in it. Each +wanted to take him to her care. The surgeon sent them to the +cook-house to brew messes for him, and stripped the child, finding +a bullet wound in his side. Probing brought nothing out, and I did +not ask a single question. The child should live. There could be no +thought of anything else. While the surgeon dressed and bandaged +that small hole like a sucked-in mouth, I saw the boy sitting on +saddle-bags behind me, his arms clipping my waist, while we +threaded bowers of horse paths. I had not known how I wanted a boy +to sit behind me! No wonder pioneer men were so confident and full +of jokes: they had children behind them!</p> +<p>He was burning with fever. His eyes swam in it as he looked at +me. He could not eat when food was brought to him, but begged for +water, and the surgeon allowed him what the women considered +reckless quantities. Over stockades came the August rustle of the +forest. Morning bird voices succeeded to the cannon's +reverberations.</p> +<p>The surgeon turned everybody out but me, and looked in by times +from his hospital of British wounded. I wiped the boy's forehead +and gave him his medicine, fanning him all day long. He lay in +stupor, and the surgeon said he was going comfortably, and would +suffer little. Once in awhile he turned up the corners of his mouth +and smiled at me, as if the opiate gave him blessed sensations. I +asked the surgeon what I should do in the night if he came out of +it and wanted to talk.</p> +<p>"Let him talk," said the doctor briefly.</p> +<p>Unlike the night before, this was a night of silence. Everybody +slept, but the sentinels, and the men whose wounds kept them awake; +and I was both a sentinel, and a man whose wounds kept him +awake.</p> +<p>Paul's little hands were scratched; and there was a stone bruise +on the heel he pushed from cover of the blankets. His small body, +compact of so much manliness, was fine and sweet. Though he bore no +resemblance to his mother, it seemed to me that she lay there for +me to tend; and the change was no more an astounding miracle than +the change of baby to boy.</p> +<p>I had him all that night for my own, putting every other thought +out of mind and absorbing his presence. His forehead and his face +lost their burning heat with the coolness of dawn, which blew our +shaded candle, flowing from miles of fragrant oaks.</p> +<p>He awoke and looked all around the cabin. I tried to put his +opiate into his mouth; but something restrained me. I held his hand +to my cheek.</p> +<p>"I like you," he spoke out. "Don't you think my mother is +pretty?"</p> +<p>I said I thought his mother was the most beautiful woman in the +world. He curled up his mouth corners and gave me a blue-eyed +smile.</p> +<p>"My father is not pretty. But he is a gentleman of France."</p> +<p>"Where are they, Paul?"</p> +<p>He turned a look upon me without answering.</p> +<p>"Paul," I said brutally, "tell me where your father and mother +are."</p> +<p>He was so far gone that my voice recalled him. He simply knew me +as a voice and a presence that he liked.</p> +<p>"With poor old Ernestine," he answered.</p> +<p>"And where is poor old Ernestine?"</p> +<p>He began to shake as if struck with a chill. I drew the blanket +closer.</p> +<p>"Paul, you must tell me!"</p> +<p>He shook his head. His mouth worked, and his little breast went +into convulsions.</p> +<p>He shrieked and threw himself toward me. "My pretty little +mother!"</p> +<p>I held him still in a tight grip. "My darling—don't start +your wound!"</p> +<p>I could have beaten myself, but the surgeon afterwards told me +the child was dying when he came into the fort. About dawn, when +men's lives sink to their lowest ebb with night, his sank away, I +smoothed his head and kissed and quieted him. Once he looked into +space with blurred eyes, and curled up his mouth corners when I am +sure he no longer saw me.</p> +<p>Thus swiftly ended Paul's unaccountable appearance at the fort. +It was like the falling of a slain bird out of the sky at my feet. +The women were tender with his little body. They cried over him as +they washed him for burial. The children went outside the stockade +and brought green boughs and August wild flowers, bearing the early +autumn colors of gold and scarlet. With these they bedded the child +in his plank coffin, unafraid of his waxen sleep.</p> +<p>Before Croghan went to report to his General, he asked me where +we should bury the little fellow.</p> +<p>"In the fort, by the southern blockhouse," I answered. "Let Fort +Stephenson be his monument. It will stand here forever. The woods +around it will be trampled by prowling savages, and later on by +prowling white men. Within, nothing will obliterate the place. Give +a little fellow a bed here, who died between two countries, and +will never be a citizen of either."</p> +<p>"I don't want to make a graveyard of the fort," said Croghan. +But he looked at Paul, bent low over him, and allowed him to be +buried near the southwest angle.</p> +<p>There the child's bones rest to this day. The town of Fremont in +the commonwealth of Ohio has grown up around them. Young children +who climb the grassy bastion, may walk above his head, never +guessing that a little gentleman of France, who died like a soldier +of his wound, lies deeply cradled there.</p> +<p>Before throwing myself down in the dead heaviness which results +from continual loss of sleep, I questioned the wounded British +soldiers about Paul. None of them had seen him. Straggling bands of +Indians continually joined their force. Captives were always a +possibility in the savage camp. Paul might have been taken hundreds +of miles away.</p> +<p>But I had the padlocked book, which might tell the whole story. +With desperate haste that could hardly wait to open the lids, I +took it out, wondering at the patience which long self-restraint +had bred in me. I was very tired, and stretched my arms across the +pillow where Paul's head had lain, to rest one instant. But I must +have slept. My hand woke first, and feeling itself empty, grasped +at the book. It was gone, and so was the sun.</p> +<p>I got a light and searched, thrusting my arm between the bunk +and the log wall. It was not on the floor, or in my breast pocket, +or in my saddle-bags.</p> +<p>The robbery was unendurable. And I knew the Indian who had done +it. He was the quietest, most stubborn Oneida that ever followed an +adopted white man. Why he had taken the book I could not +understand. But I was entirely certain that he had taken it out of +my hand while I slept. He would not break the padlock and read it, +but like a judicious father he would take care of a possibly +unwholesome volume himself.</p> +<p>I went out and found the bald-headed and well-beloved wretch. He +was sitting with his knees to his chin by the evening log fire.</p> +<p>"Skenedonk," I said, "I want my book."</p> +<p>"Children and books make a woman of you," he responded. "You had +enough books at Longmeadow."</p> +<p>"I want it at once," I repeated.</p> +<p>"It's sorcery," he answered.</p> +<p>"It's a letter from Madame de Ferrier, and may tell where she +is."</p> +<p>His fawn eyes were startled, but he continued to hug his +knees.</p> +<p>"Skenedonk, I can't quarrel with you. You were my friend before +I could remember. When you know I am so bound to you, how can you +deal me a deadly hurt?"</p> +<p>"White woman sorcery is the worst sorcery. You thought I never +saw it. But I did see it. You went after her to Paris. You did not +think of being the king. So you had to come back with nothing. +That's what woman sorcery does. Now you have power with the tribes. +The President sees you are a big man! And she sends a book to you +to bewitch you! I knew she sent the book as soon as I saw it."</p> +<p>"Do you think she sent Paul?"</p> +<p>He made no answer.</p> +<p>"Madame de Ferrier does not know I have the book."</p> +<p>"You haven't it," said Skenedonk.</p> +<p>"But you have."</p> +<p>"If she wrote and sent a letter she expected it would be +received."</p> +<p>"When I said a letter I meant what is called a journal: the +writing down of what happens daily. Johnny Appleseed got the book +from an Indian. That is how it was sent to me."</p> +<p>"If you read it you will want to drop everything else and go to +find her."</p> +<p>This was the truth, for I was not under military law.</p> +<p>"Where is the book?"</p> +<p>"Down my back," said Skenedonk.</p> +<p>I felt the loose buckskin.</p> +<p>"It isn't there."</p> +<p>"In my front," said Skenedonk.</p> +<p>I ran my hand over his chest, finding nothing but bone and +brawn.</p> +<p>"There it is," he said, pointing to a curled wisp of board at +the edge of the fire. "I burnt it."</p> +<p>"Then you've finished me."</p> +<p>I turned and left him sitting like an image by the fire.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Vc" id="Vc"></a>V</h2> +<p>Before I left Fort Stephenson, I wrote a letter to Count de +Chaumont, telling him about Paul's death and asking for news of the +De Ferriers. The answer I begged him to send to Sandusky, which the +British now despaired of taking. But although Skenedonk made a long +journey for it twice during the half year, I got no answer.</p> +<p>The dangerous work of the next few months became like a long +debauch. Awake, we were dodging betwixt hostile tribes, or dealing +with those inclined to peace. Asleep, I was too exhausted to dream. +It was a struggle of the white force of civilization with the red +sense of justice. I wrestled with Algonquin dialects as I had +wrestled with Greek. Ottawas and Chippewas, long friendly to the +French, came more readily than other tribes to agreement with +Americans.</p> +<p>Wherever I went I pushed the quest that was uppermost in my +mind, but without finding any trace of Madame de Ferrier.</p> +<p>From the measure constantly taken betwixt other men of my time +and myself, this positive knowledge resulted.</p> +<p>In spite of the fact that many treated me as a prince, I found +myself an average man. I had no military genius. In argument, +persuasive, graceful—even eloquent—were the adjectives +applied to me; not sweeping and powerful. I should have made a +jog-trot king, no better than my uncle of Provence; no worse than +my uncle of Artois, who would rather saw wood than reign a +constitutional monarch, and whom the French people afterward turned +out to saw wood. My reign might have been neat; it would never have +been gaudily splendid. As an average man, I could well hold my own +in the world.</p> +<p>Perry on the lakes, General Jackson in the southwest, Harrison +in the west, and Lawrence on the ocean were pushing the war towards +its close; though as late as spring the national capital was burned +by the British, and a gentleman whom they gaily called "Old Jimmy +Madison," temporarily driven out. But the battle on the little +river Thames, in October, settled matters in the Northwest.</p> +<p>The next April, after Leipsic, Napoleon Bonaparte was banished +to the island of Elba; and Louis XVIII passed from his latest +refuge at Hartwell House in England, to London; where the Prince +Regent honored him and the whole capital cheered him; and thence to +Paris where he was proclaimed king of France. We heard of it in due +course, as ships brought news. I was serving with the American +forces.</p> +<p>The world is fluid to a boy. He can do and dare anything. But it +hardens around a man and becomes a wall through which he must cut. +I felt the wall close around me.</p> +<p>In September I was wounded at the battle of Plattsburg on Lake +Champlain. Three men, besides the General and the doctor, and my +Oneida, showed a differing interest in me, while I lay with a gap +under my left arm, in a hospital tent.</p> +<p>First came Count de Chaumont, his face plowed with lines; no +longer the trim gentleman, youthfully easy, and in his full +maturity, that he had been when I first saw him at close range.</p> +<p>He sat down on a camp seat by my cot, and I asked him before he +could speak—</p> +<p>"Where is Madame de Ferrier?"</p> +<p>"She's dead," he answered.</p> +<p>"I don't believe it."</p> +<p>"You're young. I'm going back to France for a while. France will +not be what it was under the Empire. I'm tired of most things, +however, and my holdings here make me independent of changes +there."</p> +<p>"What reason have you to think that she is dead?"</p> +<p>"Do you know the Indiana Territory well?"</p> +<p>"The northern part only."</p> +<p>"It happened in what was called the Pigeon Roost settlement at +the fork of the White River. The Kickapoos and Winnebagoes did it. +There were about two dozen people in the settlement."</p> +<p>"I asked how you know these things."</p> +<p>"I have some of the best Indian runners that ever trod +moccasins, and when I set them to scouting, they generally find +what I want;—so I know a great many things."</p> +<p>"But Paul—"</p> +<p>"It's an old custom to adopt children into the tribes. You know +your father, Chief Williams, is descended from a white girl who was +a prisoner. There were about two dozen people in the settlement, +men, women and children. The majority of the children were dashed +against trees. It has been consolation to me to think she did not +survive in the hands of savages."</p> +<p>The hidden causes which work out results never worked out a +result more improbable. I lay silent, and De Chaumont said,</p> +<p>"Do you remember the night you disappeared from the +Tuileries?"</p> +<p>"I remember it."</p> +<p>"You remember we determined not to let the Marquis de Ferrier +see Napoleon. When you went down the corridor with Eagle I thought +you were luring him. But she told us afterward you were threatened +with arrest, and she helped you out of the Tuileries by a private +stairway."</p> +<p>"Did it make any stir in the palace?"</p> +<p>"No. I saw one man hurrying past us. But nobody heard of the +arrest except Eagle."</p> +<p>"How did she get out?"</p> +<p>"Out of what?"</p> +<p>"The queen's closet."</p> +<p>"She was in the garden. She said she went down the private +stairway to avoid the gendarme. She must have done it cleverly, for +she came in on the arm of Junot and the matter was not noticed. +There stood my emergency facing me again. You had deserted. What +made you imagine you were threatened with arrest?"</p> +<p>"Because a gendarme in court dress laid his hand on my shoulder +and told me I was to come with him."</p> +<p>"Well, you may have drawn the secret police upon you. You had +been cutting a pretty figure. It was probably wise to drop between +walls and get out of France. Do you know why you were +arrested?"</p> +<p>"I think the groundless charge would have been an attack upon +Napoleon."</p> +<p>"You never attacked the emperor!"</p> +<p>"No. But I had every reason to believe such a charge would be +sworn against me if I ever came to trial."</p> +<p>"Perhaps that silly dauphin story leaked out in Paris. The +emperor does hate a Bourbon. But I thought you had tricked me. And +the old marquis never took his eyes off the main issue. He gave +Eagle his arm, and was ready to go in and thank the emperor."</p> +<p>"You had to tell him?"</p> +<p>"I had to tell him."</p> +<p>"What did he say?"</p> +<p>"Not a word. All the blood seemed to be drawn out of his veins, +and his face fell in. Then it burned red hot, and instead of good +friend and benefactor, I saw myself a convict. His big staring blue +eyes came out of a film like an owl's, and shot me through. I +believe he saw everything I ever did in my life, and my intentions +about Eagle most plainly of all. He bowed and wished me good-night, +and took her out of the Tuileries."</p> +<p>"But you saw him again?"</p> +<p>"He never let me see him again, or her either. I am certain he +forbade her to communicate with us. They did not go back to +Mont-Louis. They left their hotel in Paris. I wrote imploring him +to hold the estates. My messages were returned. I don't know how he +got money enough to emigrate. But emigrate they did; avoiding +Castorland, where the Saint-Michels, who brought her up, lived in +comfort, and might have comforted her, and where I could have made +her life easy. He probably dragged her through depths of poverty, +before they joined a company bound for the Indiana Territory, where +the Pigeon Roost settlement was planted. I have seen old +Saint-Michel work at clearing, and can imagine the Marquis de +Ferrier sweating weakly while he chopped trees. It is a +satisfaction to know they had Ernestine with them. De Ferrier might +have plowed with Eagle," said the count hotly. "He never hesitated +to make use of her."</p> +<p>While I had been living a monk's studious, well-provided life, +was she toiling in the fields? I groaned aloud.</p> +<p>De Chaumont dropped his head on his breast.</p> +<p>"It hurts me more than I care to let anybody but you know, +Lazarre. If I hadn't received that letter I should have avoided +you. I wish you had saved Paul. I would adopt him."</p> +<p>"I think not, my dear count."</p> +<p>"Nonsense, boy! I wouldn't let you have him."</p> +<p>"You have a child."</p> +<p>"Her husband has her. But let us not pitch and toss words. No +use quarreling over a dead boy. What right have you to Eagle's +child?"</p> +<p>"Not your right of faithful useful friendship. Only my own +right."</p> +<p>"What's that?"</p> +<p>"Nothing that she ever admitted."</p> +<p>"I was afraid of you," said De Chaumont, "when you flowered out +with old Du Plessy, like an heir lost in emigration and found +again. You were a startling fellow, dropping on the Faubourg; and +anything was possible under the Empire. You know I never believed +the dauphin nonsense, but a few who remembered, said you looked +like the king. You were the king to her; above mating with the best +of the old nobility. She wouldn't have married you."</p> +<p>"Did she ever give you reason to think she would marry you?"</p> +<p>"She never gave me reason to think she would marry anybody. But +what's the use of groaning? There's distraction abroad. I took the +trails to see you, when I heard you were with the troops on +Champlain. I shall be long in France. What can I do for you, my +boy?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, count. You have already done much."</p> +<p>"She had a foolish interest in you. The dauphin!—Too good +to sit at table with us, you raw savage!—Had to be waited on +by old Jean! And she would have had me serve you, myself!"</p> +<p>He laughed, and so did I. We held hands, clinging in +fellowship.</p> +<p>"I might not have refused your service; like Marquis de +Ferrier."</p> +<p>The count's face darkened.</p> +<p>"I'll not abuse him. He's dead."</p> +<p>"Are you sure he's dead this time, count?"</p> +<p>"A Kickapoo is carrying his scalp. Trust my runners. They have +traced him so much for me they know the hair on his stubborn head. +I must go where I can have amusement, Lazarre. This country is a +young man's country. I'm getting old. Adieu. You're one of the +young men."</p> +<p>Some changes of light and darkness passed over me, and the great +anguish of my wound increased until there was no rest. However, the +next man who visited me stood forth at the side of the stretcher as +Bellenger. I thought I dreamed him, being light-headed with fever. +He was unaccountably weazened, robbed of juices, and powdering to +dust on the surface. His mustache had grown again, and he carried +it over his ears in the ridiculous manner affected when I saw him +in the fog.</p> +<p>"Where's your potter's wheel?" I inquired.</p> +<p>"In the woods by Lake George, sire."</p> +<p>"Do you still find clay that suits you?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sire."</p> +<p>"Have you made that vase yet?"</p> +<p>"No, sire. I succeed in nothing."</p> +<p>"You succeed in tracking me."</p> +<p>He swam before my eyes, and I pointed to the surgeon's +camp-chair.</p> +<p>"Not in your presence, sire."</p> +<p>"Have you lost your real dauphin?" I inquired.</p> +<p>"I have the honor of standing before the real dauphin."</p> +<p>"So you swore at Mittau!"</p> +<p>"I perjured myself."</p> +<p>"Well, what are you doing now?"</p> +<p>"Sire, I am a man in failing health. Before the end I have come +to tell you the truth."</p> +<p>"Do you think you can do it?"</p> +<p>"Sire"—said Bellenger.</p> +<p>"Your king is Louis XVIII," I reminded him.</p> +<p>"He is not my king."</p> +<p>"Taken your pension away, has he?"</p> +<p>"I no longer receive anything from that court."</p> +<p>"And your dauphin?"</p> +<p>"He was left in Europe."</p> +<p>"Look here, Bellenger! Why did you treat me so? Dauphin or no +dauphin, what harm was I doing you?"</p> +<p>"I thought a strong party was behind you. And I knew there had +been double dealing with me. You represented some invisible power +tricking me. I was beside myself, and faced it out in Mittau. I +have been used shamefully, and thrown aside when I am failing. +Hiding out in the hills ruined my health."</p> +<p>"Let us get to facts, if you have facts. Do you know anything +about me, Bellenger?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sire."</p> +<p>"Who am I?"</p> +<p>"Louis XVII of France."</p> +<p>"What proof can you give me?"</p> +<p>"First, sire, permit a man who has been made a wretched tool, to +implore forgiveness of his rightful sovereign, and a little help to +reach a warmer climate before the rigors of a northern winter +begin."</p> +<p>"Bellenger, you are entrancing," I said. "Why did I ever take +you seriously? Ste. Pélagie was a grim joke, and tipping in +the river merely your playfulness. You had better take yourself off +now, and keep on walking until you come to a warmer climate."</p> +<p>He wrung his hands with a gesture that touched my natural +softness to my enemy.</p> +<p>"Talk, then. Talk, man. What have you to say?"</p> +<p>"This, first, sire. That was a splendid dash you made into +France!"</p> +<p>"And what a splendid dash I made out of it again, with a +gendarme at my coat tails, and you behind the gendarme!"</p> +<p>"But it was the wrong time. If you were there now;—the +French people are so changeable—"</p> +<p>"I shall never be there again. His Majesty the eighteenth Louis +is welcome. What the blood stirs in me to know is, have I a right +to the throne?"</p> +<p>"Sire, the truth as I know it, I will tell you. You were the boy +taken from the Temple prison."</p> +<p>"Who did it?"</p> +<p>"Agents of the royalist party whose names would mean nothing to +you if I gave them."</p> +<p>"I was placed in your hands?"</p> +<p>"You were placed in my hands to be taken to America."</p> +<p>"I was with you in London, where two royalists who knew me, +recognized me?"</p> +<p>"The two De Ferriers."</p> +<p>"Did a woman named Madame Tank see me?"</p> +<p>Bellenger was startled.</p> +<p>"You were noticed on the ship by a court-lady of Holland; a very +clever courtier. I had trouble in evading her. She suspected too +much, and asked too many questions; and would have you to play with +her baby on the deck, though at that time you noticed nothing."</p> +<p>"But where does the idiot come into my story?"</p> +<p>"Sire, you have been unfortunate, but I have been a victim. When +we landed in New York I went directly and made myself known to the +man who was to act as purveyor of your majesty's pension. He +astonished me by declaring that the dauphin was already there, and +had claimed the pension for that year. The country and the language +were unknown to me. The agent spoke French, it is true, but we +hardly understood each other. I supposed I had nothing to do but +present my credentials. Here was another idiot—I crave your +majesty's pardon—"</p> +<p>"Quite right—at the time, Bellenger."</p> +<p>—"drawing the annuity intended for the dauphin. I inquired +into his rights. The agent showed me papers like my own. I asked +who presented them. He knew no more of the man than he did of me. I +demanded to face the man. No such person could be found. I demanded +to see the idiot. He was shut in a room and fed by a hired keeper. +I sat down and thought much. Clearly it was not the agent's affair. +He followed instructions. Good! I would follow instructions also. +Months would have been required to ask and receive explanations +from the court of Monsieur. He had assumed the title of Louis +XVIII, for the good of the royalist cause, as if there were no +prince. I thought I saw what was expected of me."</p> +<p>"And what did you see, you unspeakable scoundrel?"</p> +<p>"I saw that there was a dauphin too many, hopelessly idiotic. +But if he was the one to be guarded, I would guard him."</p> +<p>"Who was that idiot?"</p> +<p>"Some unknown pauper. No doubt of that."</p> +<p>"And what did you do with me?"</p> +<p>"A chief of the Iroquois Indians can tell you that."</p> +<p>"This is a clumsy story, Bellenger. Try again."</p> +<p>"Sire—"</p> +<p>"If you knew so little of the country, how did you find an +Iroquois chief?"</p> +<p>"I met him in the woods when he was hunting. I offered to give +you to him, pretending you had the annuity from Europe. Sire, I do +not know why trickery was practiced on me, or who practiced it: why +such pains were taken to mix the clues which led to the dauphin. +But afterwards the same agent had orders to give you two-thirds and +me only one-third of the yearly sum. I thought the court was in +straits;—when both Russia and Spain supported it! I was +nothing but a court painter. But when you went to France, I blocked +your way with all the ingenuity I could bring."</p> +<p>"I would like to ask you, Bellenger, what a man is called who +attempts the life of his king?"</p> +<p>"Sire, the tricks of royalists pitted us against each +other."</p> +<p>"That's enough, Bellenger. I don't believe a word you say, +excepting that part of your story agreeing with Madame de +Ferrier's. Put your hand under my pillow and find my wallet. Now +help yourself, and never let me see you again."</p> +<p>He helped himself to everything except a few shillings, weeping +because his necessities were so great. But I told him I was used to +being robbed, and he had done me all the harm he could; so his turn +to pluck me naturally followed.</p> +<p>Then I softened, as I always do towards the claimant of the +other part, and added that we were on the same footing; I had been +a pensioner myself.</p> +<p>"Sire, I thank you," said Bellenger, having shaken the wallet +and poked his fingers into the lining where an unheard-of gold +piece could have lodged.</p> +<p>"It tickles my vanity to be called sire."</p> +<p>"You are a true prince," said Bellenger. "My life would be well +spent if I could see you restored to your own."</p> +<p>"So I infer, from the valuable days you have spent trying to +bring that result about."</p> +<p>"Your majesty is sure of finding support in France."</p> +<p>"The last king liked to tinker with clocks. Perhaps I like to +tinker with Indians."</p> +<p>"Sire, it is due to your birth—"</p> +<p>"Never mind my birth," I said. "I'm busy with my life."</p> +<p>He bowed himself out of my presence without turning. This +tribute to royalty should have touched me. He took a handsome +adieu, and did not afterward seek further reward for his service. I +heard in the course of years that he died in New Orleans, +confessing much regarding myself to people who cared nothing about +it, and thought him crazy. They doubtless had reason, so erratic +was the wanderer whom I had first consciously seen through Lake +George fog. His behavior was no more incredible than the behavior +of other Frenchmen who put a hand to the earlier years of their +prince's life.</p> +<p>The third to appear at my tent door was Chief Williams, himself. +The surgeon told him outside the tent that it was a dangerous +wound. He had little hope for me, and I had indifferent hope +myself, lying in torpor and finding it an effort to speak. But +after several days of effort I did speak.</p> +<p>The chief sat beside me, concerned and silent.</p> +<p>"Father," I said.</p> +<p>The chief harkened near to my lips.</p> +<p>"Tell me," I begged, after resting, "who brought me to you."</p> +<p>His dark sullen face became tender. "It was a Frenchman," he +answered. "I was hunting and met him on the lake with two boys. He +offered to give you to me. We had just lost a son."</p> +<p>When I had rested again, I asked:</p> +<p>"Do you know anything else about me?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>The subject was closed between us. And all subjects were closed +betwixt the world and me, for my face turned the other way. The +great void of which we know nothing, but which our faith teaches us +to bridge, opened for me.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIc" id="VIc"></a>VI</h2> +<p>But the chief's and Skenedonk's nursing and Indian remedies +brought me face earthward again, reviving the surgeon's hope.</p> +<p>When blood and life mounted, and my torn side sewed up its gap +in a healthy scar, adding another to my collection, autumn was upon +us. From the hunting lodges on Lake George, and the Williamses of +Longmeadow, I went to the scorched capital of Washington. In the +end the Government helped me with my Indian plan, though when +Skenedonk and I pushed out toward Illinois Territory we had only my +pay and a grant of land. Peace was not formally made until +December, but the war ended that summer.</p> +<p>Man's success in the world is proportioned to the number of +forces he can draw around himself to work with him. I have been +able to draw some forces; though in matters where most people +protect themselves, I have a quality of asinine patience which the +French would not have tolerated.</p> +<p>The Oneidas were ready to follow wherever I led them. And so +were many families of the Iroquois federation. But the Mohawk tribe +held back. However, I felt confident of material for an Indian +state when the foundation should be laid.</p> +<p>We started lightly equipped upon the horse paths. The long +journey by water and shore brought us in October to the head of +Green Bay. We had seen Lake Michigan, of a light transparent +blueness, with fire ripples chasing from the sunset. And we had +rested at noon in plum groves on the vast prairies, oases of +fertile deserts, where pink and white fruit drops, so ripe that the +sun preserves it in its juice. The freshness of the new world +continually flowed around us. We shot deer. Wolves sneaked upon our +trail. We slept with our heels to the campfire, and our heads on +our saddles. Sometimes we built a hunter's shed, open at front and +sloping to ground at back. To find out how the wind blew, we stuck +a finger in our mouths and held it up. The side which became cold +first was the side of the wind.</p> +<p>Physical life riots in the joy of its revival. I was so glad to +be alive after touching death that I could think of Madame de +Ferrier without pain, and say more confidently—"She is not +dead," because resurrection was working in myself.</p> +<p>Green Bay or La Baye, as the fur hunters called it, was a little +post almost like a New England village among its elms: one street +and a few outlying houses beside the Fox River. The open world had +been our tavern; or any sod or log hut cast up like a burrow of +human prairie dogs or moles. We did not expect to find a tavern in +Green Bay. Yet such a place was pointed out to us near the Fur +Company's block warehouse. It had no sign post, and the only +visible stable was a pen of logs. Though negro slaves were owned in +the Illinois Territory, we saw none when a red-headed man rushed +forth shouting:</p> +<p>"Sam, you lazy nigger, come here and take the gentleman's +horses! Where is that Sam? Light down, sir, with your Indian, and I +will lead your beasts to the hostler myself."</p> +<p>In the same way our host provided a supper and bed with armies +of invisible servants. Skenedonk climbed a ladder to the loft with +our saddlebags.</p> +<p>"Where is that chambermaid?" cried the tavern keeper.</p> +<p>"Yes, where is she?" said a man who lounged on a bench by the +entrance. "I've heard of her so often I would like to see her +myself."</p> +<p>The landlord, deaf to raillery, bustled about and spread our +table in his public room.</p> +<p>"Corn bread, hominy, side meat, ven'zin," he shouted in the +kitchen. "Stir yourself, you black rascal, and dish up the +gentleman's supper."</p> +<p>Skenedonk walked boldly to the kitchen door and saw our landlord +stewing and broiling, performing the offices of cook as he had +performed those of stableman. He kept on scolding and harrying the +people who should have been at his command:—"Step around +lively, Sam. Tell the gentleman the black bottle is in the +fireplace cupboard if he wants to sharpen his appetite. Where is +that little nigger that picks up chips? Bring me some more wood +from the wood-pile! I'll teach you to go to sleep behind the +door!"</p> +<p>Our host served us himself, running with sleeves turned back to +admonish an imaginary cook. His tap-room was the fireplace +cupboard, and it was visited while we ate our supper, by men in +elkskin trousers, and caps and hooded capotes of blue cloth. These +Canadians mixed their own drink, and made a cross-mark on the +inside of the cupboard door, using a system of bookkeeping +evidently agreed upon between themselves and the landlord. He +shouted for the lazy barkeeper, who answered nothing out of +nothingness.</p> +<p>Nightfall was very clear and fair in this Northwestern +territory. A man felt nearer to the sunset. The region took hold +upon me: particularly when one who was neither a warehouseman nor a +Canadian fur hunter, hurried in and took me by the hand.</p> +<p>"I am Pierre Grignon," he said.</p> +<p>Indeed, if he had held his fiddle, and tuned it upon an arm not +quite so stout, I should have known without being told that he was +the man who had played in the Saint-Michel cabin while Annabel de +Chaumont climbed the chimney.</p> +<p>We sat and talked until the light faded. The landlord brought a +candle, and yelled up the loft, where Skenedonk had already +stretched himself in his blanket, as he loved to do:</p> +<p>"Chambermaid, light up!"</p> +<p>"You drive your slaves too hard, landlord," said Pierre +Grignon.</p> +<p>"You'd think I hadn't any, Mr. Grignon; for they're never in the +way when they're wanted."</p> +<p>"One industrious man you certainly have."</p> +<p>"Yes, Sam is a good fellow; but I'll have to go out and wake him +up and make him rub the horses down."</p> +<p>"Never mind," said Pierre Grignon. "I'm going to take these +travelers home with me."</p> +<p>"Now I know how a tavern ought to be kept," said the landlord. +"But what's the use of my keeping one if Pierre Grignon carries off +all the guests?"</p> +<p>"He is my old friend," I told the landlord.</p> +<p>"He's old friend to everybody that comes to Green Bay. I'll +never get so much as a sign painted to hang in front of the Palace +Tavern."</p> +<p>I gave him twice his charges and he said:</p> +<p>"What a loss it was to enterprise in the Bay when Pierre Grignon +came here and built for the whole United States!"</p> +<p>The Grignon house, whether built for the whole United States or +not, was the largest in Green Bay. Its lawn sloped down to the Fox +River. It was a huge square of oak timbers, with a detached +kitchen, sheltered by giant elms. To this day it stands defying +time with its darkening frame like some massive rock, the fan +windows in the gables keeping guard north and south.</p> +<p>A hall divided the house through the center, and here Madame +Grignon welcomed me as if I were a long-expected guest, for this +was her custom; and as soon as she clearly remembered me, led me +into a drawing-room where a stately old lady sat making lace.</p> +<p>This was the grandmother of the house. Such a house would have +been incomplete without a grandmother at the hearth.</p> +<p>The furniture of this hall or family room had been brought from +Montreal; spindle chairs and a pier table of mahogany; a Turkey +carpet, laid smoothly on the polished floor to be spurned aside by +young dancers there; some impossible sea pictures, with patron +saints in the clouds over mariners; an immense stuffed sofa, with +an arm dividing it across the center;—the very place for +those head-to-head conversations with young men which the girls of +the house called "twosing." It was, in fact, the favorite "twosing" +spot of Green Bay.</p> +<p>Stools there were for children, and armchairs for old people +were not lacking. The small yellow spinning wheel of Madame Ursule, +as I found afterwards Madame Grignon was commonly called, stood +ready to revolve its golden disk wherever she sat.</p> +<p>The servants were Pawnee Indians, moving about their duties +almost with stealth.</p> +<p>The little Grignon daughter who had stood lost in wonder at the +dancing of Annabel de Chaumont, was now a turner of heads herself, +all flaxen white, and contrasting with the darkness of Katarina +Tank. Katarina was taken home to the Grignon's after her mother's +death. Both girls had been educated in Montreal.</p> +<p>The seigniorial state in which Pierre Grignon lived became at +once evident. I found it was the custom during Advent for all the +villagers to meet in his house and sing hymns. On Christmas day his +tables were loaded for everybody who came. If any one died, he was +brought to Pierre Grignon's for prayer, and after his burial, the +mourners went back to Pierre Grignon's for supper. Pierre Grignon +and his wife were god-father and god-mother to most of the children +born at La Baye. If a child was left without father and mother, +Pierre Grignon's house became its asylum until a home could be +found for it. The few American officers stationed at the old +stockade, nearly every evening met the beauties of Green Bay at +Pierre Grignon's, and if he did not fiddle for them he led Madame +in the dancing. The grandmother herself sometimes took her stick +and stepped through a measure to please the young people. Laughter +and the joy of life filled the house every waking hour of the +twenty-four. Funerals were never horrible there. Instead, they +seemed the mystic beginning of better things.</p> +<p>"Poor Madame Tank! She would have been so much more comfortable +in her death if she had relieved her mind," Madame Ursule said, the +first evening, as we sat in a pause of the dancing. "She used to +speak of you often, for seeing you made a great impression upon +her, and she never let us forget you. I am sure she knew more about +you than she ever told me. 'I have an important disclosure to +make,' she says. 'Come around me, I want all of you to hear it!' +Then she fell back and died without telling it."</p> +<p>A touch of mystery was not lacking to the house. Several times I +saw the tail of a gray gown disappear through an open door. Some +woman half entered and drew back.</p> +<p>"It's Madeleine Jordan," an inmate told me each time. "She +avoids strangers."</p> +<p>I asked if Madeleine Jordan was a relative.</p> +<p>"Oh, no," Madame Ursule replied; "but the family who brought her +here, went back to Canada, and of course they left her with +us."</p> +<p>Of course Madeleine Jordan, or anybody else who lacked a roof, +would be left with the Grignons; but in that house a hermit seemed +out of place, and I said so to Madame Ursule.</p> +<p>"Poor child!" she responded. "I think she likes the bustle and +noise. She is not a hermit. What difference can it make to her +whether people are around her or not?"</p> +<p>The subject of Madeleine Jordan was no doubt beyond a man's +handling. I had other matters to think about, and directly plunged +into them. First the Menominees and Winnebagoes must be assembled +in council. They held all the desirable land.</p> +<p>"We don't like your Indian scheme in Green Bay," said Pierre +Grignon. "But if the tribes here are willing to sell their lands, +other settlers can't prevent it."</p> +<p>He went with me to meet the savages on the opposite side of the +Fox near the stockade. There the talking and eating lasted two +days. At the end of that time I had a footing for our Iroquois in +the Wisconsin portion of the Illinois Territory; and the savages +who granted it danced a war dance in our honor. Every brave shook +over his head the scalps he had taken. I saw one cap of soft long +brown hair.</p> +<p>"Eh!" said Pierre Grignon, sitting beside me. "Their dirty +trophies make you ghastly! Do your eastern tribes never dance war +dances?"</p> +<p>After the land was secured its boundaries had to be set. Then my +own grant demanded attention; and last, I was anxious to put my +castle on it before snow flew. Many of those late autumn nights +Skenedonk and I spent camping. The outdoor life was a joy to me. +Our land lay up the Fox River and away from the bay. But more than +one stormy evening, when we came back to the bay for supplies, I +plunged into the rolling water and swam breasting the waves. It is +good to be hardy, and sane, and to take part in the visible world, +whether you are great and have your heart's desire or not.</p> +<p>When we had laid the foundation of the Indian settlement, I +built my house with the help of skilled men. It was a spacious one +of hewn logs, chinked with cat-and-clay plaster, showing its white +ribs on the hill above the Fox. In time I meant to cover the ribs +with perennial vines. There was a spring near the porches. The +woods banked me on the rear, and an elm spread its colossal +umbrella over the roof. Fertile fields stretched at my left, and on +my right a deep ravine lined with white birches, carried a stream +to the Fox.</p> +<p>From my stronghold to the river was a long descent. The +broadening and narrowing channel could be seen for miles. A bushy +island, beloved of wild ducks, parted the water, lying as Moses hid +in osiers, amidst tall growths of wild oats. Lily pads stretched +their pavements in the oats. Beyond were rolling banks, and beyond +those, wooded hills rising terrace over terrace to the dawn. Many a +sunrise was to come to me over those hills. Oaks and pines and +sumach gathered to my doorway.</p> +<p>In my mind I saw the garden we afterward created; with many +fruit trees, beds, and winding walks, trellised seats, squares of +flaming tulips, phlox, hollyhocks, roses. It should reach down into +the ravine, where humid ferns and rocks met plants that love +darkling ground. Yet it should not be too dark. I would lop boughs +rather than have a growing thing spindle as if rooted in Ste. +Pélagie!—and no man who loves trees can do that +without feeling the knife at his heart. What is long developing is +precious like the immortal part of us.</p> +<p>The stoicism that comes of endurance has something of death in +it. I prepared a home without thought of putting any wife therein. +I had grown used to being alone, with the exception of Skenedonk's +taciturn company. The house was for castle and resting place after +labor. I took satisfaction in the rude furniture we made for it. In +after years it became filled with rich gifts from the other side of +the world, and books that have gladdened my heart. Yet in its +virginhood, before pain or joy or achievement had entered there, +before spade struck the ground which was to send up food, my +holding on the earth's surface made me feel prince of a +principality.</p> +<p>The men hewed a slab settle, and stationed it before the hearth, +a thing of beauty in its rough and lichen-tinted barks, though you +may not believe it. My floors I would have smooth and neatly +joined, of hard woods which give forth a shining for wear and +polish. Stools I had, easily made, and one large round of a tree +for my table, like an Eastern tabouret.</p> +<p>Before the river closed and winter shut in, Skenedonk and I went +back to Green Bay. I did not know how to form my household, and had +it in mind to consult Madame Ursule. Pawnees could be had: and many +French landholders in the territory owned black slaves. Pierre +Grignon himself kept one little negro like a monkey among the +stately Indians.</p> +<p>Dealing with acres, and with people wild as flocks, would have +been worth while if nothing had resulted except our welcome back to +Pierre Grignon's open house. The grandmother hobbled on her stick +across the floor to give me her hand. Madame Ursule reproached me +with delaying, and Pierre said it was high time to seek winter +quarters. The girls recounted harvest reels and even weddings, with +dances following, which I had lost while away from the center of +festivity.</p> +<p>The little negro carried my saddlebags to the guest room. +Skenedonk was to sleep on the floor. Abundant preparations for the +evening meal were going forward in the kitchen. As I mounted the +stairway at Madame Ursule's direction, I heard a tinkle of china, +her very best, which adorned racks and dressers. It was being set +forth on the mahogany board.</p> +<p>The upper floor of Pierre Grignon's house was divided by a hall +similar to the one below. I ran upstairs and halted.</p> +<p>Standing with her back to the fading light which came through +one fan window at the hall end, was a woman's figure in a gray +dress. I gripped the rail.</p> +<p>My first thought was: "How shall I tell her about Paul?" My next +was: "What is the matter with her?"</p> +<p>She rippled from head to foot in the shiver of rapture peculiar +to her, and stretched her arms to me crying:</p> +<p>"Paul! Paul!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIIc" id="VIIc"></a>VII</h2> +<p>"Oh, Madame!" I said, bewildered, and sick as from a stab. It +was no comfort that the high lady who scarcely allowed me to kiss +her hand before we parted, clung around my neck. She trembled +against me.</p> +<p>"Have you come back to your mother, Paul?"</p> +<p>"Eagle!" I pleaded. "Don't you know me? You surely know +Lazarre!"</p> +<p>She kissed me, pulling my head down in her arms, the velvet +mouth like a baby's, and looked straight into my eyes.</p> +<p>"Madame, try to understand! I am Louis! If you forget Lazarre, +try to remember Louis!"</p> +<p>She heard with attention, and smiled. The pressure of my arms +spoke to her. A man's passion addressed itself to a little child. +All other barriers which had stood between us were nothing to this. +I held her, and she could never be mine. She was not ill in body; +the contours of her upturned face were round and softened with much +smiling. But mind-sickness robbed me of her in the moment of +finding her.</p> +<p>"She can't be insane!" I said aloud. "Oh, God, anything but +that! She was not a woman that could be so wrecked."</p> +<p>Like a fool I questioned, and tried to get some explanation.</p> +<p>Eagle smoothed my arm, nested her hand in my neck.</p> +<p>"My little boy! He has grown to be a man—while his mother +has grown down to be a child! Do you know what I am now, Paul?"</p> +<p>I choked a sob in my throat and told her I did not.</p> +<p>"I am your Cloud-Mother. I live in a cloud. Do you love me while +I am in the cloud?"</p> +<p>I told her I loved her with all my strength, in the cloud or out +of it.</p> +<p>"Will you take care of me as I used to take care of you?"</p> +<p>I swore to the Almighty that she should be my future care.</p> +<p>"I need you so! I have watched for you in the woods and on the +water, Paul! You have been long coming back to me."</p> +<p>I heard Madame Ursule mounting the stairs to see if my room was +in order.</p> +<p>Who could understand the relation in which Eagle and I now +stood, and the claim she made upon me? She clung to my arm when I +took it away. I led her by the hand. Even this sight caused Madame +Ursule a shock at the head of the stairs.</p> +<p>"M's'r Williams!"</p> +<p>My hostess paused and looked at us.</p> +<p>"Did she come to you of her own accord?"</p> +<p>"Yes, madame."</p> +<p>"I never knew her to notice a stranger before."</p> +<p>"Madame, do you know who this is?"</p> +<p>"Madeleine Jordan."</p> +<p>"It is the Marquise de Ferrier."</p> +<p>"The Marquise de Ferrier?"</p> +<p>"Yes, madame."</p> +<p>"Did you know her?"</p> +<p>"I have known her ever since I can remember."</p> +<p>"The Marquise de Ferrier! But, M's'r Williams, did she know +you?"</p> +<p>"She knows me," I asserted. "But not as myself. I am sure she +knows me! But she confuses me with the child she lost! I cannot +explain to you, madame, how positive I am that she recognizes me; +any more than I can explain why she will call me Paul. I think I +ought to tell you, so you will see the position in which I am +placed, that this lady is the lady I once hoped to marry."</p> +<p>"Saints have pity, M's'r Williams!"</p> +<p>"I want to ask you some questions."</p> +<p>"Bring her down to the fire. Come, dear child," said Madame +Ursule, coaxing Eagle. "Nobody is there. The bedrooms can never be +so warm as the log fire; and this is a bitter evening."</p> +<p>The family room was unlighted by candles, as often happened. For +such an illumination in the chimney must have quenched any paler +glare. We had a few moments of brief privacy from the swarming life +which constantly passed in and out.</p> +<p>I placed Eagle by the fire and she sat there obediently, while I +talked to Madame Ursule apart.</p> +<p>"Was her mind in this state when she came to you?"</p> +<p>"She was even a little wilder than she is now. The girls have +been a benefit to her."</p> +<p>"They were not afraid of her?"</p> +<p>"Who could be afraid of the dear child? She is a +lady—that's plain. Ah, M's'r Williams, what she must have +gone through!"</p> +<p>"Yet see how happy she looks!"</p> +<p>"She always seemed happy enough. She would come to this house. +So when the Jordans went to Canada, Pierre and I both said, 'Let +her stay.'"</p> +<p>"Who were the Jordans?"</p> +<p>"The only family that escaped with their lives from the massacre +when she lost her family. Madame Jordan told me the whole story. +They had friends among the Winnebagoes who protected them."</p> +<p>"Did they give her their name?"</p> +<p>"No, the people in La Baye did that. We knew she had another +name. But I think it very likely her title was not used in the +settlement where they lived. Titles are no help in pioneering."</p> +<p>"Did they call her Madeleine?"</p> +<p>"She calls herself Madeleine."</p> +<p>"How long has she been with your family?"</p> +<p>"Nearly a year."</p> +<p>"Did the Jordans tell you when this change came over her?"</p> +<p>"Yes. It was during the attack when her child was taken from +her. She saw other children killed. The Indians were afraid of her. +They respect demented people; not a bit of harm was done to her. +They let her alone, and the Jordans took care of her."</p> +<p>The daughter and adopted daughter of the house came in with a +rush of outdoor air, and seeing Eagle first, ran to kiss her on the +cheek one after the other.</p> +<p>"Madeleine has come down!" said Marie.</p> +<p>"I thought we should coax her in here sometime," said +Katarina.</p> +<p>Between them, standing slim and tall, their equal in height, she +was yet like a little sister. Though their faces were unlined, hers +held a divine youth.</p> +<p>To see her stricken with mind-sickness, and the two girls who +had done neither good nor evil, existing like plants in sunshine, +healthy and sound, seemed an iniquitous contrast.</p> +<p>If ever woman was made for living and dying in one ancestral +home, she was that woman. Yet she stood on the border of +civilization, without a foothold to call her own. If ever woman was +made for one knightly love which would set her in high places, she +was that woman. Yet here she stood, her very name lost, no man so +humble as to do her reverence.</p> +<p>"Paul has come," Eagle told Katarina and Marie. Holding their +hands, she walked between them toward me, and bade them notice my +height. "I am his Cloud-Mother," she said. "How droll it is that +parents grow down little, while their children grow up big!"</p> +<p>Madame Ursule shook her head pitifully. But the girls really saw +the droll side and laughed with my Cloud-Mother.</p> +<p>Separated from me by an impassable barrier, she touched me more +deeply than when I sued her most. The undulating ripple which was +her peculiar expression of joy was more than I could bear. I left +the room and was flinging myself from the house to walk in the +chill wind; but she caught me.</p> +<p>"I will be good!" pleaded my Cloud-Mother, her face in my +breast.</p> +<p>Her son who had grown up big, while she grew down little, went +back to the family room with her.</p> +<p>My Cloud-Mother sat beside me at table, and insisted on cutting +up my food for me. While I tried to eat, she asked Marie and +Katarina and Pierre Grignon and Madame Ursule to notice how well I +behaved. The tender hearted host wiped his eyes.</p> +<p>I understood why she had kept such hold upon me through years of +separateness. A nameless personal charm, which must be a gift of +the spirit, survived all wreck and change. It drew me, and must +draw me forever, whether she knew me again or not. One meets and +wakes you to vivid life in an immortal hour. Thousands could not do +it through eternity.</p> +<p>The river piled hillocks of water in a strong north wind, and no +officer crossed from the stockade. Neither did any neighbor leave +his own fire. It seldom happened that the Grignons were left with +inmates alone. Eagle sat by me and watched the blaze streaming up +the chimney.</p> +<p>If she was not a unit in the family group and had no part there, +they were most kind to her.</p> +<p>"Take care!" the grandmother cried with swift forethought when +Marie and Katarina marshaled in a hopping object from the kitchen. +"It might frighten Madeleine."</p> +<p>Pierre Grignon stopped in the middle of a bear hunt. Eagle was +not frightened. She clapped her hands.</p> +<p>"This is a pouched turkey!" Marie announced, leaning against the +wall, while Katarina chased the fowl. It was the little negro, his +arms and feet thrust into the legs of a pair of Pierre Grignon's +trousers, and the capacious open top fastened upon his back. +Doubled over, he waddled and hopped as well as he could. A feather +duster was stuck in for a tail, and his woolly head gave him the +uncanny look of a black harpy. To see him was to shed tears of +laughter. The pouched turkey enjoyed being a pouched turkey. He +strutted and gobbled, and ran at the girls; tried to pick up corn +from the floor with his thick lips, tumbling down and rolling over +in the effort; for a pouched turkey has no wings with which to +balance himself. So much hilarity in the family room drew the +Pawnee servants. I saw their small dark eyes in a mere line of open +door, gazing solemnly.</p> +<p>When the turkey was relieved from his pouching and sent to bed, +Pierre Grignon took his violin. The girls answered with jigs that +ended a reel, when couples left the general figure to jig it +off.</p> +<p>When Eagle had watched them awhile she started up, spread her +skirts in a sweeping courtesy, and began to dance a gavotte. The +fiddler changed his tune, and the girls rested and watched her. +Alternately swift and languid, with the changes of the movement, +she saluted backward to the floor, or spun on the tips of rapid +feet. I had seen her dance many times, but never with such abandon +of joy.</p> +<p>Our singular relationship was established in the house, where +hospitality made room and apology for all human weakness.</p> +<p>Nobody of that region, except the infirm, stayed indoors to +shiver by a fire. Eagle and the girls in their warm capotes +breasted with me the coldest winter days. She was as happy as they +were; her cheeks tingled as pink as theirs. Sometimes I thought her +eyes must answer me with her old self-command; their bright +grayness was so natural.</p> +<p>I believed if her delusions were humored, they would unwind from +her like the cloud which she felt them to be. The family had long +fallen into the habit of treating her as a child, playing some +imaginary character. She seemed less demented than walking in a +dream, her faculties asleep. It was somnambulism rather than +madness. She had not the expression of insane people, the shifty +eyes, the cunning and perverseness, the animal and torpid +presence.</p> +<p>If I called her Madame de Ferrier instead of my Cloud-Mother, a +strained and puzzled look replaced her usual satisfaction. I did +not often use the name, nor did I try to make her repeat my own. It +was my daily effort to fall in with her happiness, for if she saw +any anxiety she was quick to plead:</p> +<p>"Don't you like me any more, Paul? Are you tired of me, because +I am a Cloud-Mother?"</p> +<p>"No," I would answer. "Lazarre will never be tired of you."</p> +<p>"Do you think I am growing smaller? Will you love me if I shrink +to a baby?"</p> +<p>"I will love you."</p> +<p>"I used to love you when you were so tiny, Paul, before you knew +how to love me back. If I forget how"—she clutched the lapels +of my coat—"will you leave me then?"</p> +<p>"Eagle, say this: 'Lazarre cannot leave me.'"</p> +<p>"Lazarre cannot leave me."</p> +<p>I heard her repeating this at her sewing. She boasted to Marie +Grignon—"Lazarre cannot leave me!—Paul taught me +that."</p> +<p>My Cloud-Mother asked me to tell her the stories she used to +tell me. She had forgotten them.</p> +<p>"I am the child now," she would say. "Tell me the stories."</p> +<p>I repeated mythical tribe legends, gathered from Skenedonk on +our long rides, making them as eloquent as I could. She listened, +holding her breath, or sighing with contentment.</p> +<p>If any one in the household smiled when she led me about by the +hand, there was a tear behind the smile.</p> +<p>She kept herself in perfection, bestowing unceasing care upon +her dress, which was always gray.</p> +<p>"I have to wear gray; I am in a cloud," she had said to the +family.</p> +<p>"We have used fine gray stuff brought from Holland, and wools +that Mother Ursule got from Montreal," Katarina told me. "The +Pawnees dye with vegetable colors. But they cannot make the pale +gray she loves."</p> +<p>Eagle watched me with maternal care. If a hair dropped on my +collar she brushed it away, and smoothed and settled my cravat. The +touch of my Cloud-Mother, familiar and tender, like the touch of a +wife, charged through me with torture, because she was herself so +unconscious of it.</p> +<p>Before I had been in the house a week she made a little pair of +trousers a span long, and gave them to me. Marie and Katarina +turned their faces to laugh. My Cloud-Mother held the garment up +for their inspection, and was not at all sensitive to the giggles +it provoked.</p> +<p>"I made over an old pair of his father's," she said.</p> +<p>The discarded breeches used by the pouched turkey had been +devoted to her whim. Every stitch was neatly set. I praised her +beautiful needlework, and she said she would make me a coat.</p> +<p>Skenedonk was not often in the house. He took to the winter +hunting and snow-shoeing with vigor. Whenever he came indoors I +used to see him watching Madame de Ferrier with saturnine +wistfulness. She paid no attention to him. He would stand gazing at +her while she sewed; being privileged as an educated Indian and my +attendant, to enter the family room where the Pawnees came only to +serve. They had the ample kitchen and its log fire to themselves. I +wondered what was working in Skenedonk's mind, and if he repented +calling one so buffeted, a sorceress.</p> +<p>Kindly ridicule excited by the incongruous things she did, +passed over without touching her. She was enveloped in a cloud, a +thick case guarding overtaxed mind and body, and shutting them in +its pellucid chrysalis. The Almighty arms were resting her on a +mountain of vision. She had forgot how to weep. She was remembering +how to laugh.</p> +<p>The more I thought about it the less endurable it became to have +her dependent upon the Grignons. My business affairs with Pierre +Grignon made it possible to transfer her obligations to my account. +The hospitable man and his wife objected, but when they saw how I +took it to heart, gave me my way. I told them I wished her to be +regarded as my wife, for I should never have another; and while it +might remain impossible for her to marry me, on my part I was bound +to her.</p> +<p>"You are young, M's'r Williams," said Madame Ursule. "You have a +long life before you. A man wants comfort in his house. And if he +makes wealth, he needs a hand that knows how to distribute and how +to save. She could never go to your home as she is."</p> +<p>"I know it, madame."</p> +<p>"You will change your mind about a wife."</p> +<p>"Madame, I have not changed my mind since I first wanted her. It +is not a mind that changes."</p> +<p>"Well, that's unusual. Young men are often fickle. You never +made proposals for her?"</p> +<p>"I did, madame, after her husband died."</p> +<p>"But she was still a wife—the wife of an old man—in +the Pigeon Roost settlement."</p> +<p>"Her father married her to a cousin nearly as old as himself, +when she was a child. Her husband was reported dead while he was in +hiding. She herself thought, and so did her friends, that he was +dead."</p> +<p>"I see. Eh! these girls married to old men! Madame Jordan told +me Madeleine's husband was very fretful. He kept himself like silk, +and scarcely let the wind blow upon him for fear of injuring his +health. When other men were out toiling at the clearings, he sat in +his house to avoid getting chills and fever in the sun. It was well +for her that she had a faithful servant. Madeleine and the servant +kept the family with their garden and corn field. They never tasted +wild meat unless the other settlers brought them venison. Madame +Jordan said they always returned a present of herbs and vegetables +from their garden. It grew for them better than any other garden in +the settlement. Once the old man did go out with a hunting party, +and got lost. The men searched for him three days, and found him +curled up in a hollow tree, waiting to be brought in. They carried +him home on a litter and he popped his head into the door and said: +'Here I am, child! You can't kill me!'"</p> +<p>"What did Madame de Ferrier say?"</p> +<p>"Nothing. She made a child of him, as if he were her son. He was +in his second childhood, no doubt. And Madame Jordan said she +appeared to hold herself accountable for the losses and crosses +that made him so fretful. The children of the emigration were +brought up to hardship, and accepted everything as their elders +could not do."</p> +<p>"I thought the Marquis de Ferrier a courteous gentleman."</p> +<p>"Did you ever see him?"</p> +<p>"Twice only."</p> +<p>"He used to tell his wife he intended to live a hundred years. +And I suppose he would have done it, if he had not been tomahawked +and scalped. 'You'll never get De Chaumont,' he used to say to her. +'I'll see that he never gets you!' I remember the name very well, +because it was the name of that pretty creature who danced for us +in the cabin on Lake George."</p> +<p>"De Chaumont was her father," I said. "He would have married +Madame de Ferrier, and restored her estate, if she had accepted +him, and the marquis had not come back."</p> +<p>"Saints have pity!" said Madame Ursule. "And the poor old man +must make everybody and himself so uncomfortable!"</p> +<p>"But how could he help living?"</p> +<p>"True enough. God's times are not ours. But see what he has made +of her!"</p> +<p>I thought of my Cloud-Mother walking enclosed from the world +upon a height of changeless youth. She could not feel another +shock. She was past both ambition and poverty. If she had ever felt +the sweet anguish of love—Oh! she must have understood when +she kissed me and said: "I will come to you sometime!"—the +anguish—the hoping, waiting, expecting, receiving nothing, +all were gone by. Even mother cares no longer touched her. Paul was +grown. She could not be made anything that was base. Unseen forces +had worked with her and would work with her still.</p> +<p>"You told me," I said to Madame Ursule, "the Indians were afraid +of her when they burned the settlement. Was the change so +sudden?"</p> +<p>"Madame Jordan's story was like this: It happened in broad +daylight. Two men went into the woods hunting bee trees. The +Indians caught and killed them within two miles of the +clearing—some of those very Winnebagoes you treated with for +your land. It was a sunshiny day in September. You could hear the +poultry crowing, and the children playing in the dooryards. +Madeleine's little Paul was never far away from her. The Indians +rushed in with yells and finished the settlement in a few minutes. +Madame Jordan and her family were protected, but she saw children +dashed against trees, and her neighbors struck down and scalped +before she could plead for them. And little good pleading would +have done. An Indian seized Paul. His father and the old servant +lay dead across the doorstep. His mother would not let him go. The +Indian dragged her on her knees and struck her on the head. Madame +Jordan ran out at the risk of being scalped herself, and got the +poor girl into her cabin. The Indian came back for Madeleine's +scalp. Madeleine did not see him. She never seemed to notice +anybody again. She stood up quivering the whole length of her body, +and laughed in his face. It was dreadful to hear her above the +cries of the children. The Indian went away like a scared hound. +And none of the others would touch her."</p> +<p>After I heard this story I was thankful every day that Eagle +could not remember; that natural happiness had its way with her +elastic body.</p> +<p>Madame Ursule told me the family learned to give her liberty. +She rowed alone upon the river, and went where she pleased. The men +in La Baye would step aside for her. Strangers disturbed her by +bringing the consciousness of something unusual.</p> +<p>Once I surprised Marie and Katarina sitting close to the fire at +twilight, talking about lovers. Eagle was near them on a stool.</p> +<p>"That girl," exclaimed Katarina, speaking of the absent with +strong disapproval, "is one of the kind that will let another girl +take her sweetheart and then sit around and look injured! Now if +she could get him from me she might have him! But she'd have to get +him first!"</p> +<p>Eagle listened in the attitude of a young sister, giving me to +understand by a look that wisdom flowed, and she was learning.</p> +<p>We rose one morning to find the world buried in snow. The river +was frozen and its channel padded thick. As for the bay, stretches +of snow fields, with dark pools and broken gray ridges met ice at +the end of the world.</p> +<p>It was so cold that paper stuck to the fingers like feathers, +and the nails tingled with frost. The white earth creaked under +foot, and when a sled went by the snow cried out in shrill long +resistance, a spirit complaining of being trampled. Explosions came +from the river, and elm limbs and timbers of the house startled us. +White fur clothed the inner key holes. Tree trunks were black as +ink against a background of snow. The oaks alone kept their dried +foliage, which rattled like many skeletons, instead of rustling in +its faded redness, because there was no life in it.</p> +<p>But the colder it grew the higher Grignon's log fires mounted. +And when channels were cut in the snow both along the ridge above +Green Bay, and across country in every direction, French trains +moved out with jangling bells, and maids and men uttered voice +sounds which spread as by miracle on the diffusing air from horizon +to horizon. You could hear the officers speaking across the river; +and dogs were like to shake the sky down with their barking. Echoes +from the smallest noises were born in that magnified, glaring +world.</p> +<p>The whole festive winter spun past. Marie and Katarina brought +young men to the peaks of hope in the "twosing" seat, and plunged +them down to despair, quite in the American fashion. Christmas and +New Year's days were great festivals, when the settlement ate and +drank at Pierre Grignon's expense, and made him glad as if he +fathered the whole post. Madame Grignon spun and looked to the +house. And a thousand changes passed over the landscape. But in all +that time no one could see any change in my Cloud-Mother. She sewed +like a child. She laughed, and danced gavottes. She trod the snow, +or muffled in robes, with Madame Ursule and the girls, flew over it +in a French train; a sliding box with two or three horses hitched +tandem. Every evening I sat by her side at the fire, while she made +little coats and trousers for me. But remembrance never came into +her eyes. The cloud stood round about her as it did when I first +tried to penetrate it.</p> +<p>My own dim days were often in mind. I tried to recall +sensations. But I had lived a purely physical life. Her blunders of +judgment and delusion of bodily shrinking were no part of my +experience. The thinking self in me had been paralyzed. While the +thinking self in her was alive, in a cloud. Both of us were +memoryless, excepting her recollection of Paul.</p> +<p>After March sent the ice out of river and bay, spring came with +a rush as it comes in the north. Perhaps many days it was silently +rising from tree roots. In February we used to say:—"This air +is like spring." But after such bold speech the arctic region +descended upon us again, and we were snowed in to the ears. Yet +when the end of March unlocked us, it seemed we must wait for the +month of Mary to give us soft air and blue water. Then suddenly it +was spring, and every living soul knew it. Life revived with +passion. Longings which you had forgotten came and took you by the +throat, saying, "You shall no longer be satisfied with negative +peace. Rouse, and live!" Then flitting, exquisite, purple flaws +struck across milk-opal water in the bay. Fishing boats lifted +themselves in mirage, sailing lightly above the water; and islands +sat high, with a cushion of air under them.</p> +<p>The girls manifested increasing interest in what they called the +Pigeon Roost settlement affair. Madame Ursule had no doubt told +them what I said. They pitied my Cloud-Mother and me with the +condescending pity of the very young, and unguardedly talked where +they could be heard.</p> +<p>"Oh, she'll come to her senses some time, and he'll marry her of +course," was the conclusion they invariably reached; for the thing +must turn out well to meet their approval. How could they foresee +what was to happen to people whose lives held such contrasts?</p> +<p>"Father Pierre says he's nearly twenty-eight; I call him an old +bachelor," declared Katarina; "and she was a married woman. They +are really very old to be in love."</p> +<p>"You don't know what you'll do when you are old," said +Marie.</p> +<p>"Ah, I dread it," groaned Katarina.</p> +<p>"So do I."</p> +<p>"But there is grandmother. She doesn't mind it. And beaux never +trouble her now."</p> +<p>"No," sighed the other. "Beaux never trouble her now."</p> +<p>Those spring days I was wild with restlessness. Life revived to +dare things. We heard afterwards that about that time the meteor +rushed once more across France. Napoleon landed at a Mediterranean +port, gathering force as he marched, swept Louis XVIII away like a +cobweb in his path, and moved on to Waterloo. The greatest +Frenchman that ever lived fell ultimately as low as St. Helena, and +the Bourbons sat again upon the throne. But the changes of which I +knew nothing affected me in the Illinois Territory.</p> +<p>Sometimes I waked at night and sat up in bed, hot with +indignation at the injustice done me, which I could never prove, +which I did not care to combat, yet which unreasonably waked the +fighting spirit in me. Our natures toss and change, expand or +contract, influenced by invisible powers we know not why.</p> +<p>One April night I sat up in the veiled light made by a clouded +moon. Rain points multiplied themselves on the window glass; I +heard their sting. The impulse to go out and ride the wind, or pick +the river up and empty it all at once into the bay, or tear Eagle +out of the cloud, or go to France and proclaim myself with myself +for follower; and other feats of like nature, being particularly +strong in me, I struck the pillow beside me with my fist. Something +bounced from it on the floor with a clack like wood. I stretched +downward from one of Madame Ursule's thick feather beds, and picked +up what brought me to my feet. Without letting go of it I lighted +my candle. It was the padlocked book which Skenedonk said he had +burned.</p> +<p>And there the scoundrel lay at the other side of the room, +wrapped in his blanket from head to foot, mummied by sleep. I +wanted to take him by the scalp lock and drag him around on the +floor.</p> +<p>He had carried it with him, or secreted it somewhere, month +after month. I could imagine how the state of the writer worked on +his Indian mind. He repented, and was not able to face me, but felt +obliged to restore what he had withheld. So waiting until I slept, +he brought forth the padlocked book and laid it on the pillow +beside my head; thus beseeching pardon, and intimating that the +subject was closed between us.</p> +<p>I got my key, and then a fit of shivering seized me. I put the +candle stand beside the pillow and lay wrapped in bedding, +clenching the small chilly padlock and sharp-cornered boards. +Remembering the change which had come upon the life recorded in it, +I hesitated. Remembering how it had eluded me before, I opened +it.</p> +<p>The few entries were made without date. The first pages were +torn out, crumpled, and smoothed and pasted to place again. Rose +petals and violets and some bright poppy leaves, crushed inside its +lids, slid down upon the bedcover.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIIIc" id="VIIIc"></a>VIII</h2> +<p>The padlocked book—In this book I am going to write you, +Louis, a letter which will never be delivered; because I shall burn +it when it is finished. Yet that will not prevent my tantalizing +you about it. To the padlocked book I can say what I want to say. +To you I must say what is expedient.</p> +<p>That is a foolish woman who does violence to love by inordinate +loving. Yet first I will tell you that I sink to sleep saying, "He +loves me!" and rise to the surface saying, "He loves me!" and sink +again saying, "He loves me!" all night long.</p> +<p>The days when I see you are real days, finished and perfect, and +this is the best of them all. God forever bless in paradise your +mother for bearing you. If you never had come to the world I should +not have waked to life myself. And why this is I cannot tell. The +first time I ever saw your tawny head and tawny eyes, though you +did not notice me, I said, "Whether he is the king or not would +make no difference." Because I knew you were more than the king to +me.</p> +<p>Sire, you told me once you could not understand why people took +kindly to you. There is in you a gentle dignity and manhood, most +royal. As you come into a room you cast your eyes about unfearing. +Your head and shoulders are erect. You are like a lion in +suppleness and tawny color, which influences me against my will. +You inspire Confidence. Even girls like Annabel, who feel merely at +their finger ends, and are as well satisfied with one husband as +another, know you to be solid man, not the mere image of a man. +Besides these traits there is a power going out from you that takes +hold of people invisibly. My father told me there was a man at the +court of your father who could put others to sleep by a waving of +his hands. I am not comparing you to this charlatan; yet when you +touch my hand a strange current runs through me.</p> +<p>When we were in Paris I used to dress myself every morning like +a priestess going to serve in a temple. And what was it for? To +worship one dear head for half an hour perhaps.</p> +<p>You robbed me of the sight of you for two months.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Sophie Saint-Michel told me to beware of loving a man. To-day he +says, "I love you! I need you! I shall go to the devil without +you!" To-morrow he turns to his affairs. In six months he says, "I +was a fool!" Next year he says, "Who was it that drove me wild for +a time last year? What was her name?"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Is love a game where men and women try to outwit each other, and +man boasts, "She loves me"—not "I love her"?</p> +<p>You are two persons. Lazarre belongs to me. He follows, he +thinks about me. He used to slip past my windows at Lake George, +and cast his eyes up at the panes. But Louis is my sovereign. He +sees and thinks and acts without me, and his lot is apart from +mine.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>We are in a ship going to the side of the world where you are. +Except that we are going towards you, it is like being pushed off a +cliff. All my faith in the appearances of things is at an end. I +have been juggled with. I have misjudged.</p> +<p>I could have insisted that we hold Mont-Louis as tenants. The +count is our friend. It is not a strong man's fault that a weak man +is weak and unfortunate. Yet seeing Cousin Philippe wince, I could +not put the daily humiliation upon him. He is like my father come +back, broken, helpless. And Paul and I, who are young, must take +care of him where he will be least humbled.</p> +<p>I was over-pampered in Mont-Louis and Paris. I like easy living, +carriages, long-tailed gowns, jewels, trained servants, music, and +spectacles on the stage; a park and wide lands all my own; +seclusion from people who do not interest me; idleness in +enjoyment.</p> +<p>I am the devil of vanity. Annabel has not half the points I +have. When the men are around her I laugh to think I shall be fine +and firm as a statue when she is a mass of wrinkles and a wisp of +fuzz. When she is a mass of wrinkles and a wisp of fuzz she will be +riper and tenderer inside. But will the men see that? No. They will +be off after a fresher Annabel. So much for men. On the other hand, +I had but a few months of luxury, and may count on the hardness +that comes of endurance; for I was an exile from childhood. There +is strength in doing the right thing. If there were no God, if +Christ had never died on the cross, I should have to do the right +thing because it is right.</p> +<p>Why should we lay up grievances against one another? They must +disappear, and they only burn our hearts.</p> +<p>Sometimes I put my arms around Ernestine, and rest her old head +against me. She revolts. People incline to doubt the superiority of +a person who will associate with them. But the closer our poverty +rubs us the more Ernestine insists upon class differences.</p> +<p>There should be a colossal mother going about the world to turn +men over her lap and give them the slipper. They pine for it.</p> +<p>Am I helping forward the general good, or am I only suffering +Nature's punishment?</p> +<p>A woman can fasten the bonds of habit on a man, giving him food +from her table, hourly strengthening his care for her. By merely +putting herself before him every day she makes him think of her. +What chance has an exiled woman against the fearful odds of daily +life?</p> +<p>Yet sometimes I think I can wait a thousand years. In sun and +snow, in wind and dust, a woman waits. If she stretched her hand +and said "Come," who could despise her so much as she would despise +herself?</p> +<p>What is so cruel as a man? Hour after hour, day after day, year +after year, he presses the iron spike of silence in.</p> +<p>Coward!—to let me suffer such anguish!</p> +<p>Is it because I kissed you? That was the highest act of my life! +I groped down the black stairs of the Tuileries blinded by light. +Why are the natural things called wrong, and the unnatural ones +just?</p> +<p>Is it because I said I would come to you sometime? This is what +I meant: that it should give me no jealous pang to think of another +woman's head on your breast; that there is a wedlock which +appearances cannot touch.</p> +<p>No, I never would—I never would seek you; though sometimes +the horror of doing without you turns into reproach. What is he +doing? He may need me—and I am letting his life slip away. Am +I cheating us both of what could have harmed no one?</p> +<p>It is not that usage is broken off.</p> +<p>Yet if you were to come, I would punish you for coming!</p> +<p>Fine heroic days I tell myself we are marching to meet each +other. If the day has been particularly hard, I say, "Perhaps I +have carried his load too, and he marches lighter."</p> +<p>You have faults, no doubt, but the only one I could not pardon +would be your saying, "I repent!"</p> +<p>The instinct to conceal defeat and pain is so strong in me that +I would have my heart cut out rather than own it ached. Yet many +women carry all before them by a little judicious whining and +rebellion.</p> +<p>I never believe in your unfaith. If you brought a wife and +showed her to me I should be sorry for her, and still not believe +in your unfaith.</p> +<p>Louis, I have been falling down flat and crawling the ground. +Now I am up again. It didn't hurt.</p> +<p>It is the old German fairy story. Every day gold must be spun +out of straw. How big the pile of straw looks every morning, and +how little the handful of gold every night!</p> +<p>This prairie in the Indiana Territory that I dreaded as a black +gulf, is a grassy valley.</p> +<p>I love the garden; and I love to hoe the Indian corn. It springs +so clean from the sod, and is a miracle of growth. After the stalks +are around my knees, they are soon around my shoulders. The broad +leaves have a fragrance, and the silk is sweet as violets.</p> +<p>We wash our clothes in the river. Women who hoe corn, dig in a +garden, and wash clothes, earn the wholesome bread of life.</p> +<p>To-day Paul brought the first bluebells of spring, and put them +in water for me. They were buds; and when they bloomed out he said, +"God has blessed these flowers."</p> +<p>We have to nurse the sick. The goodness of these pioneer women +is unfailing. It is like the great and kind friendship of the Du +Chaumonts. They help me take care of Cousin Philippe.</p> +<p>Paul meditated to-day, "I don't want to hurt the Father's +feelings. I don't want to say He was greedy and made a better place +for Himself in heaven than He made for us down here. Is it nicer +just because He is there?"</p> +<p>His prayer: "God bless my father and mother and Ernestine. God +keep my father and mother and Ernestine. And keep my mother with me +day and night, dressed and undressed! God keep together all that +love each other."</p> +<p>When he is a man I am going to tell him, and say: "But I have +built my house, not wrecked it, I have been yours, not love's."</p> +<p>He tells me such stories as this: "Once upon a time there was +such a loving angel came down. And they ran a string through his +stomach and hung him on the wall. He never whined a bit."</p> +<p>The people in this country, which is called free, are nearly all +bound. Those who lack money as we do cannot go where they please, +or live as they would live. Is that freedom?</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>On a cool autumn night, when the fire crackles, the ten children +of the settlement, fighting or agreeing, come running from their +houses like hens. We sit on the floor in front of the hearth, and I +suffer the often-repeated martyrdom of the "Fire Pig." This tale, +invented once as fast as I could talk, I have been doomed to repeat +until I dread the shades of evening.</p> +<p>The children bunch their heads together; their lips part, as +soon as I begin to say:</p> +<p>Do you see that glowing spot in the heart of the coals? That is +the house of the Fire Pig. One day the Fire Pig found he had no +more corn, and he was very hungry. So he jumped out of his house +and ran down the road till he came to a farmer's field.</p> +<p>"Good morning, Mr. Farmer," said the little pig. "Have you any +corn for me to-day?"</p> +<p>"Why, who are you?" said the farmer.</p> +<p>"I'm a little Fire Pig."</p> +<p>"No, I haven't any corn for a Fire Pig."</p> +<p>The pig ran on till he came to another farmer's field.</p> +<p>"Good morning, Mr. Farmer, have you any corn for me to-day?"</p> +<p>"Who are you?" said the farmer.</p> +<p>"Oh, I'm the little Fire Pig."</p> +<p>"I don't know," said the farmer. "I would give you a great +bagful if you could kill the snake which comes every night and +steals my cattle."</p> +<p>The pig thought, "How can I kill that snake?" but he was so +hungry he knew he should starve without corn, so he said he would +try. The farmer told him to go down in the field, where the snake +came gliding at night with its head reared high in air. The pig +went down in the meadow, and the first creature he saw was a +sheep.</p> +<p>"Baa!" said the sheep. That was its way of saying "How do you +do?" "Who are you?"</p> +<p>"I'm the little Fire Pig."</p> +<p>"What are you doing here?"</p> +<p>"I've come to kill the great snake that eats the farmer's +cattle."</p> +<p>"I'm very glad," said the sheep, "for it takes my lambs. How are +you going to kill it?"</p> +<p>"I don't know," said the pig; "can't you help me?"</p> +<p>"I'll give you some of my wool."</p> +<p>The pig thanked the sheep, and went a little farther and met a +horse. "He-ee-ee!" said the horse. That was his way of saying "How +do you do?" "Who are you?"</p> +<p>"I am the little Fire Pig."</p> +<p>"What are you doing here?"</p> +<p>"I've come to kill the great snake that eats the farmer's +cattle."</p> +<p>"I'm glad of that," said the horse; "for it steals my colts. How +are you going to do it?"</p> +<p>"I don't know," said the pig. "Can't you help me?"</p> +<p>"I'll give you some of the long hairs from my tail," said the +horse.</p> +<p>The pig took them and thanked the horse. And when he went a +little farther he met a cow.</p> +<p>"Moo!" said the cow. That was her way of saying "How do you do?" +"Who are you?"</p> +<p>"I'm the little Fire Pig."</p> +<p>"What are you doing here?"</p> +<p>"I've come to kill the great snake that eats the farmer's +cattle."</p> +<p>"I am glad of that, for it steals my calves. How are you going +to do it?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. Can't you help me?"</p> +<p>"I'll give you one of my sharp horns," said the cow.</p> +<p>So the pig took it and thanked her. Then he spun and he twisted, +and he spun and he twisted, and made a strong woolen cord of the +sheep's wool. And he wove and he braided, and he wove and he +braided, and made a cunning snare of the horse's tail. And he +whetted and sharpened, and he whetted and sharpened, and made a +keen dart of the cow's horn.</p> +<p>—Now when the little pig has all his materials ready, and +sees the great snake come gliding, gliding—I turn the +situation over to the children. What did he do with the rope, the +snare and the horn? They work it out each in his own way. There is +a mighty wrangling all around the hearth.</p> +<p>One day is never really like another, though it seems so.</p> +<p>Perhaps being used to the sight of the Iroquois at Lake George, +makes it impossible for me to imagine what the settlers dread, and +that is an attack. We are shut around by forests. In primitive life +so much time and strength go to the getting of food that we can +think of little else.</p> +<p>It is as bad to slave at work as to slave at pleasure. But God +may forgive what people cannot help.</p> +<p>There is a very old woman among the settlers whom they call +Granny. We often sit together. She cannot get a gourd edge betwixt +her nose and chin when she drinks, and has forgotten she ever had +teeth. She does not expect much; but there is one right she +contends for, and that is the right of ironing her cap by +stretching it over her knee. When I have lived in this settlement +long enough, my nose and chin may come together, and I shall forget +my teeth. But this much I will exact of fate. My cap shall be +ironed. I will not—I will not iron it by stretching it over +my knee!</p> +<p>Count du Chaumont would be angry if he saw me learning to weave, +for instance. You would not be angry. That makes a difference +between you as men which I feel but cannot explain.</p> +<p>We speak English with our neighbors. Paul, who is to be an +American, must learn his language well. I have taught him to read +and write. I have taught him the history of his family and of his +father's country. His head is as high as my breast. When will my +head be as high as his breast?</p> +<p>Skenedonk loves you as a young superior brother. I have often +wondered what he thought about when he went quietly around at your +heels. You told me he had killed and scalped, and in spite of +education, was as ready to kill and scalp again as any white man is +for war.</p> +<p>I dread him like a toad, and wish him to keep on his side of the +walk. He is always with you, and no doubt silently urges, "Come +back to the wigwams that nourished you!"</p> +<p>Am I mistaken? Are we moving farther and farther apart instead +of approaching each other? Oh, Louis, does this road lead to +nothing?</p> +<p>I am glad I gave you that key. It was given thoughtlessly, when +I was in a bubble of joy. But if you have kept it, it speaks to you +every day.</p> +<p>Sophie Saint-Michel told me man sometimes piles all his tokens +in a retrospective heap, and says, "Who the deuce gave me this or +that?"</p> +<p>Sophie's father used to be so enraged at his wife and daughter +because he could not restore their lost comforts. But this is +really a better disposition than a mean subservience to +misfortune.</p> +<p>The children love to have me dance gavottes for them. Some of +their mothers consider it levity. Still they feel the need of a +little levity themselves.</p> +<p>We had a great festival when the wild roses were fully in bloom. +The prairie is called a mile square, and wherever a plow has not +struck, acres of wild roses grow. They hedge us from the woods like +a parapet edging a court. These volunteers are very thorny, bearing +tender claws to protect themselves with. But I am nimble with my +scissors.</p> +<p>We took the Jordan oxen, a meek pair that have broken sod for +the colony, and twined them with garlands of wild roses. Around and +around their horns, and around and around their bodies the long +ropes were wound, their master standing by with his goad. That we +wound also, and covered his hat with roses. The huge oxen swayed +aside, looking ashamed of themselves. And when their tails were +ornamented with a bunch at the tip, they switched these +pathetically. Still even an ox loves festivity, whether he owns to +it or not. We made a procession, child behind child, each bearing +on his head all the roses he could carry, the two oxen walking +tandem, led by their master in front. Everybody came out and +laughed. It was a beautiful sight, and cheered us, though we gave +it no name except the Procession of Roses.</p> +<p>Often when I open my eyes at dawn I hear music far off that +makes my heart swell. It is the waking dream of a king marching +with drums and bugles. While I am dressing I hum, "Oh, Richard, O +my king!"</p> +<p>Louis! Louis! Louis!</p> +<p>I cannot—I cannot keep it down! How can I hold still that +righteousness may be done through me, when I +love—love—love—when I clench my fists and walk on +my knees—</p> +<p>I am a wicked woman! What is all this sweet pretense of duty! It +covers the hypocrite that loves—that starves—that +cries, My king!—my king!</p> +<p>Strike me!—drive me within bounds! This long +repression—years, years of waiting—for what?—for +more waiting!—it is driving me mad!</p> +<p>You have the key.</p> +<p>I have nothing!</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IXc" id="IXc"></a>IX</h2> +<p>My God! What had she seen in me to love? I sat up and held the +book against my bosom. Its cry out of her past filled the world +from horizon to horizon. The ox that she had wreathed in roses +would have heard it through her silence. But the brutal, slow +Bourbon had gone his way, turning his stupid head from side to +side, leaving her to perish.</p> +<p>Punctuated by years, bursting from eternities of suppression, it +brought an accumulated force that swept the soul out of my +body.</p> +<p>All that had not been written in the book was as easily read as +what was set down. I saw the monotony of her life, and her gilding +of its rudeness, the pastimes she thought out for children; I saw +her nursing the helplessness which leaned upon her, and turning +aside the contempt of pioneer women who passionately admired strong +men. I saw her eyes waiting on the distant laggard who stupidly +pursued his own affairs until it was too late to protect her. I +read the entries over and over. When day broke it seemed to me the +morning after my own death, such knowing and experiencing had +passed through me. I could not see her again until I had command of +myself.</p> +<p>So I dressed and went silently down stairs. The Pawnees were +stirring in the kitchen. I got some bread and meat from them, and +also some grain for the horse; then mounted and rode to the +river.</p> +<p>The ferryman lived near the old stockade. Some time always +passed after he saw the signals before the deliberate Frenchman +responded. I led my horse upon the unwieldly craft propelled by two +huge oars, which the ferryman managed, running from one to another +according to the swing of the current. It was broad day when we +reached the other shore; one of those days, gray overhead, when +moisture breaks upward through the ground, instead of descending. +Many light clouds flitted under the grayness. The grass showed with +a kind of green blush through its old brown fleece.</p> +<p>I saw the first sailing vessel of spring coming to anchor, from +the straits of the great lakes. Once I would have hailed that +vessel as possible bearer of news. Now it could bring me nothing of +any importance.</p> +<p>The trail along the Fox river led over rolling land, dipping +into coves and rising over hills. The Fox, steel blue in the shade, +becomes tawny as its namesake when its fur of rough waves is combed +to redness in the sunlight. Under grayness, with a soft wind +blowing, the Fox showed his blue coat.</p> +<p>The prospect was so large, with a ridge running along in the +distance, and open country spreading away on the other side, that I +often turned in my saddle and looked back over the half-wooded +trail. I thought I saw a figure walking a long way behind me, and +being alone, tried to discern what it was. But under that gray sky +nothing was sharply defined. I rode on thinking of the book in the +breast of my coat.</p> +<p>It was certain I was not to marry. And being without breakfast +and unstimulated by the sky, I began to think also what unstable +material I had taken in hand when I undertook to work with Indians. +Instinctively I knew then what a young southern statesman named +Jefferson Davis whom I first met as a commandant of the fort at +Green Bay—afterwards told me in Washington: "No commonwealth +in a republic will stand with interests apart from the federated +whole." White men, who have exclaimed from the beginning against +the injustice done the red man, and who keep on pitying and +exterminating him, made a federated whole with interests apart from +his.</p> +<p>Again when I looked back I saw the figure, but it was afoot, and +I soon lost it in a cove.</p> +<p>My house had been left undisturbed by hunters and Indians +through the winter. I tied the horse to a gallery post and +unfastened the door. A pile of refuse timbers offered wood for a +fire, and I carried in several loads of it, and lighted the virgin +chimney. Then I brought water from the spring and ate breakfast, +sitting before the fire and thinking a little wearily and bitterly +of my prospect in life.</p> +<p>Having fed my horse, I covered the fire, leaving a good store of +fuel by the hearth, and rode away toward the Menominee and +Winnebago lands.</p> +<p>The day was a hard one, and when I came back towards nightfall I +was glad to stop with the officers of the stockade and share their +mess.</p> +<p>"You looked fagged," said one of them.</p> +<p>"The horse paths are heavy," I answered, "and I have been as far +as the Indian lands."</p> +<p>I had been as far as that remote time when Eagle was not a +Cloud-Mother. To cross the river and see her smiling in meaningless +happiness seemed more than I could do.</p> +<p>Yet she might notice my absence. We had been housed together +ever since she had discovered me. Our walks and rides, our fireside +talks and evening diversions were never separate. At Pierre +Grignon's the family flocked in companies. When the padlocked book +sent me out of the house I forgot that she was used to my presence +and might be disturbed by an absence no one could explain.</p> +<p>"The first sailing vessel is in from the straits," said the +lieutenant.</p> +<p>"Yes, I saw her come to anchor as I rode out this morning."</p> +<p>"She brought a passenger."</p> +<p>"Anybody of importance?"</p> +<p>"At first blush, no. At second blush, yes."</p> +<p>"Why 'no' at first blush?"</p> +<p>"Because he is only a priest."</p> +<p>"Only a priest, haughty officer! Are civilians and churchmen +dirt under army feet?"</p> +<p>The lieutenant grinned.</p> +<p>"When you see a missionary priest landing to confess a lot of +Canadians, he doesn't seem quite so important, as a prelate from +Ghent, for instance."</p> +<p>"Is this passenger a prelate from Ghent?"</p> +<p>"That is where the second blush comes in. He is."</p> +<p>"How do you know?"</p> +<p>"I saw him, and talked with him."</p> +<p>"What is he doing in Green Bay?"</p> +<p>"Looking at the country. He was inquiring for you."</p> +<p>"For me!"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"What could a prelate from Ghent want with me?"</p> +<p>"Says he wants to make inquiries about the native tribes."</p> +<p>"Oh! Did you recommend me as an expert in native tribes?"</p> +<p>"Naturally. But not until he asked if you were here."</p> +<p>"He mentioned my name?"</p> +<p>"Yes. He wanted to see you. You'll not have to step out of your +way to gratify him."</p> +<p>"From that I infer there is a new face at Pierre Grignon's."</p> +<p>"Your inference is correct. The Grignons always lodge the +priests, and a great man like this one will be certainly quartered +with them."</p> +<p>"What is he like?"</p> +<p>"A smooth and easy gentleman."</p> +<p>"In a cassock?"</p> +<p>"Tell a poor post lieutenant what a cassock is."</p> +<p>"The long-skirted black coat reaching to the heels."</p> +<p>"Our missionary priests don't wear it here. He has the bands and +broad hat and general appearance of a priest, but his coat isn't +very long."</p> +<p>"Then he has laid aside the cassock while traveling through this +country."</p> +<p>The prelate from Ghent, no doubt a common priest, that the +lieutenant undertook to dignify, slipped directly out of my +mind.</p> +<p>Madame Ursule was waiting for me, on the gallery with fluted +pillars at the front of the house.</p> +<p>"M's'r Williams, where is Madeleine?"</p> +<p>Her anxiety vibrated through the darkness.</p> +<p>"Isn't she here, madame?"</p> +<p>"She has not been seen to-day."</p> +<p>We stood in silence, then began to speak together.</p> +<p>"But, madame—"</p> +<p>"M's'r Williams—"</p> +<p>"I went away early—"</p> +<p>"When I heard from the Pawnees that you had gone off on +horseback so early I thought it possible you might have taken her +with you."</p> +<p>"Madame, how could I do that?"</p> +<p>"Of course you wouldn't have done that. But we can't find her. +We've inquired all over La Baye. She left the house when no one saw +her. She was never out after nightfall before."</p> +<p>"But, madame, she must be here!"</p> +<p>"Oh, m's'r, my hope was that you knew where she is—she has +followed you about so! The poor child may be at the bottom of the +river!"</p> +<p>"She can't be at the bottom of the river!" I retorted.</p> +<p>The girls ran out. They were dressed for a dance, and drew gauzy +scarfs around their anxious faces. The house had been searched from +ground to attic more than once. They were sure she must be hiding +from them.</p> +<p>I remembered the figure that appeared to me on the trail. My +heart stopped. I could not humiliate my Cloud-Mother by placing her +before them in the act of tracking me like a dog. I could not tell +any one about it, but asked for Skenedonk.</p> +<p>The Indian had been out on the river in a canoe. He came +silently, and stood near me. The book was between us. I had it in +the breast of my coat, and he had it on his conscience.</p> +<p>"Bring out your horse and get me a fresh one," I said.</p> +<p>"Where shall I find one?"</p> +<p>"Pierre will give you one of ours," said Madame Ursule. "But you +must eat."</p> +<p>"I had my supper with the officers of the fort, madame. I would +have made a briefer stay if I had known what had happened on this +side of the river."</p> +<p>"I forgot to tell you, M's'r Williams, there is an abbé +here from Europe. He asked for you."</p> +<p>"I cannot see him to-night."</p> +<p>Skenedonk drew near me to speak, but I was impatient of any +delay. We went into the house, and Madame Ursule said she would +bring a blanket and some food to strap behind my saddle. The girls +helped her. There was a hush through the jolly house. The master +bustled out of the family room. I saw behind him, standing as he +had stood at Mittau, a priest of fine and sweet presence, waiting +for Pierre Grignon to speak the words of introduction.</p> +<p>"It is like seeing France again!" exclaimed the master of the +house. "Abbé Edgeworth, this is M's'r Williams."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," said the abbé to me with perfect courtesy, +"believe me, I am glad to see you."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I answered, giving him as brief notice as he had +given me in Mittau, yet without rancor;—there was no room in +me for that. "You have unerringly found the best house in the +Illinois Territory, and I leave you to the enjoyment of it."</p> +<p>"You are leaving the house, monsieur?"</p> +<p>"I find I am obliged to make a short journey."</p> +<p>"I have made a long one, monsieur. It may be best to tell you +that I come charged with a message for you."</p> +<p>I thought of Madame d'Angoulême. The sister who had been +mine for a few minutes, and from whom this priest had cast me out, +declaring that God had smitten the pretender when my eclipse laid +me at his feet—remembered me in her second exile, perhaps +believed in me still. Women put wonderful restraints upon +themselves.</p> +<p>Abbé Edgeworth and I looked steadily at each other.</p> +<p>"I hope Madame d'Angoulême is well?"</p> +<p>"She is well, and is still the comforter of his Majesty's +misfortune."</p> +<p>"Monsieur the Abbé, a message would need to be very +urgent to be listened to to-night. I will give you audience in the +morning, or when I return."</p> +<p>We both bowed again. I took Pierre Grignon into the hall for +counsel.</p> +<p>In the end he rode with me, for we concluded to send Skenedonk +with a party along the east shore.</p> +<p>Though searching for the lost is an experience old as the world, +its poignancy was new to me. I saw Eagle tangled in the wild oats +of the river. I saw her treacherously dealt with by Indians who +called themselves at peace. I saw her wandering out and out, mile +beyond mile, to undwelt-in places, and the tender mercy of +wolves.</p> +<p>We crossed the ferry and took to the trail, Pierre Grignon +talking cheerfully.</p> +<p>"Nothing has happened to her, M's'r Williams," he insisted. "No +Indian about La Baye would hurt her, and the child is not so crazy +as to hurt herself."</p> +<p>It was a starless night, muffled overhead as the day had been, +but without rain or mist. He had a lantern hanging at his saddle +bow, ready to light. In the open lands we rode side by side, but +through growths along the Fox first one and then the other led the +way.</p> +<p>We found my door unfastened. I remembered for the first time I +had not locked it. Some one had been in the house. A low fire +burned in the chimney. We stirred it and lighted the lantern. +Footprints not our own had dried white upon the smooth dark +floor.</p> +<p>They pointed to the fireplace and out again. They had been made +by a woman's feet.</p> +<p>We descended the hill to the river, and tossed our light through +every bush, the lantern blinking in the wind. We explored the +ravine, the light stealing over white birches that glistened like +alabaster. It was no use to call her name. She might be hidden +behind a rock laughing at us. We had to surprise her to recover +her. Skenedonk would have traced her where we lost the trail.</p> +<p>When we went back to the house, dejected with physical +weariness, I unstrapped the blanket and the food which Madame +Ursule had sent, and brought them to Pierre Grignon. He threw the +blanket on the settee, laid out bread and meat on the table, and +ate, both of us blaming ourselves for sending the Indian on the +other side of the river.</p> +<p>We traced the hard route which I had followed the day before, +and reached Green Bay about dawn. Pierre Grignon went to bed +exhausted. I had some breakfast and waited for Skenedonk. He had +not returned, but had sent one man back to say there was no clue. +The meal was like a passover eaten in haste. I could not wait, but +set out again, with a pillion which I had carried uselessly in the +night strapped again upon the horse for her seat, in case I found +her; and leaving word for the Oneida to follow.</p> +<p>I had forgotten there was such a person as Abbé +Edgeworth, when he led a horse upon the ferry boat.</p> +<p>"You ride early as well as late. May I join you?"</p> +<p>"I ride on a search which cannot interest you, monsieur."</p> +<p>"You are mistaken. I understand what has disturbed the house, +and I want to ride with you."</p> +<p>"It will be hard for a horseman accustomed to avenues."</p> +<p>"It will suit me perfectly."</p> +<p>It did not suit me at all, but he took my coldness with entire +courtesy.</p> +<p>"Have you breakfasted, monsieur?"</p> +<p>"I had my usual slice of bread and cup of water before rising," +he answered.</p> +<p>Again I led on the weary trail to my house. Abbé +Edgeworth galloped well, keeping beside me where there was room, or +riding behind where there was not. The air blew soft, and great +shadow clouds ran in an upper current across the deepest blueness I +had seen in many a day. The sun showed beyond rows of hills.</p> +<p>I bethought myself to ask the priest if he knew anything about +Count de Chaumont. He answered very simply and directly that he +did; that I might remember Count de Chaumont was mentioned in +Mittau. The count, he said, according to common report, had retired +with his daughter and his son-in-law to Blois, where he was +vigorously rebuilding his ruined chateau of Chaumont.</p> +<p>If my mind had been upon the priest, I should have wondered what +he came for. He did not press his message.</p> +<p>"The court is again in exile?" I said, when we could ride +abreast.</p> +<p>"At Ghent."</p> +<p>"Bellenger visited me last September. He was without a +dauphin."</p> +<p>"We could supply the deficiency," Abbé Edgeworth +pleasantly replied.</p> +<p>"With the boy he left in Europe?"</p> +<p>"Oh, dear no. With royal dukes. You observed his majesty could +not pension a helpless idiot without encouraging dauphins. These +dauphins are thicker than blackberries. The dauphin myth has become +so common that whenever we see a beggar approaching, we say, 'There +comes another dauphin.' One of them is a fellow who calls himself +the Duke of Richemont. He has followers who believe absolutely in +him. Somebody, seeing him asleep, declared it was the face of the +dead king!"</p> +<p>I felt stung, remembering the Marquis du Plessy's words.</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, yes," said Abbé Edgeworth. "He has visions too. +Half memories, when the face of his mother comes back to him!"</p> +<p>"What about his scars?" I asked hardily.</p> +<p>"Scars! yes, I am told he has the proper stigmata of the +dauphin. He was taken out of the Temple prison; a dying boy being +substituted for him there. We all know the dauphin's physician died +suddenly; some say he was poisoned; and a new physician attended +the boy who died in the Temple. Of course the priest who received +the child's confession should have known a dauphin when he saw one. +But that's neither here nor there. We lived then in surprising +times."</p> +<p>"Madame d'Angoulême would recognize him as her brother if +she saw him?" I suggested.</p> +<p>"I think she is not so open to tokens as at one time. Women's +hearts are tender. The Duchess d'Angoulême could never be +convinced that her brother died."</p> +<p>"But others, including her uncle, were convinced?"</p> +<p>"The Duke of Richemont was not. What do you yourself think, +Monsieur Williams?"</p> +<p>"I think that the man who is out is an infinite joke. He tickles +the whole world. People have a right to laugh at a man who cannot +prove he is what he says he is. The difference between a pretender +and a usurper is the difference between the top of the hill and the +bottom."</p> +<p>The morning sun showed the white mortar ribs of my homestead +clean and fair betwixt hewed logs; and brightened the inside of the +entrance or hall room. For I saw the door stood open. It had been +left unfastened but not ajar. Somebody was in the house.</p> +<p>I told Abbé Edgeworth we would dismount and tie our +horses a little distance away. And I asked him to wait outside and +let me enter alone.</p> +<p>He obligingly sauntered on the hill overlooking the Fox; I +stepped upon the gallery and looked in.</p> +<p>The sweep of a gray dress showed in front of the settle. Eagle +was there. I stood still.</p> +<p>She had put on more wood. Fire crackled in the chimney. I saw, +and seemed to have known all night, that she had taken pieces of +unbroken bread and meat left by Pierre Grignon on my table; that +her shoes were cleaned and drying in front of the fire; that she +must have carried her dress above contact with the soft ground.</p> +<p>When I asked Abbé Edgeworth not to come in, her dread of +strangers influenced me less than a desire to protect her from his +eyes, haggard and draggled as she probably was. The instinct which +made her keep her body like a temple had not failed under the +strong excitement that drove her out. Whether she slept under a +bush, or not at all, or took to the house after Pierre Grignon and +I left it, she was resting quietly on the settle before the +fireplace, without a stain of mud upon her.</p> +<p>I could see nothing but the foot of her dress. Had any change +passed over her face? Or had the undisturbed smile of my +Cloud-Mother followed me on the road?</p> +<p>Perhaps the cloud had thickened. Perhaps thunders and lightnings +moved within it. Sane people sometimes turn wild after being lost, +running from their friends, and fighting against being restrained +and brought home.</p> +<p>The gray dress in front of my hearth I could not see without a +heaving of the breast.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Xc" id="Xc"></a>X.</h2> +<p>How a man's life is drawn, turned, shaped, by a woman! He may +deny it. He may swagger and lie about it. Heredity, ambition, lust, +noble aspirations, weak self-indulgence, power, failure, success, +have their turns with him. But the woman he desires above all +others, whose breast is his true home, makes him, mars him.</p> +<p>Had she cast herself on the settle exhausted and ill after +exposure? Should I find her muttering and helpless? Worse than all, +had the night made her forget that she was a Cloud-Mother?</p> +<p>I drew my breath with an audible sound in the throat. Her dress +stirred. She leaned around the edge of the settle.</p> +<p>Eagle de Ferrier, not my Cloud-Mother, looked at me. Her +features were pinched from exposure, but flooded themselves +instantly with a blush. She snatched her shoes from the hearth and +drew them on.</p> +<p>I was taken with such a trembling that I held to a gallery +post.</p> +<p>Suppose this glimpse of herself had been given to me only to be +withdrawn! I was afraid to speak, and waited.</p> +<p>She stood up facing me.</p> +<p>"Louis!"</p> +<p>"Madame!"</p> +<p>"What is the matter, sire?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, madame, nothing."</p> +<p>"Where is Paul?"</p> +<p>I did not know what to do, and looked at her completely +helpless; for if I told her Paul was dead, she might relapse; and +evasions must be temporary.</p> +<p>"The Indian took him," she cried.</p> +<p>"But the Indian didn't kill him, Eagle."</p> +<p>"How do you know?"</p> +<p>"Because Paul came to me."</p> +<p>"He came to you? Where?"</p> +<p>"At Fort Stephenson."</p> +<p>"Where is my child?"</p> +<p>"He is at Fort Stephenson."</p> +<p>"Bring him to me!"</p> +<p>"I can't bring him, Eagle."</p> +<p>"Then let me go to him."</p> +<p>I did not know what to say to her.</p> +<p>"And there were Cousin Philippe and Ernestine lying across the +step. I have been thinking all night. Do you understand it?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I understand it, Eagle."</p> +<p>By the time I had come into the house her mind leaped forward in +comprehension. The blanket she had held on her shoulders fell +around her feet. It was a striped gay Indian blanket.</p> +<p>"You were attacked, and the settlement was burned."</p> +<p>"But whose house is this?"</p> +<p>"This is my house."</p> +<p>"Did you bring me to your house?"</p> +<p>"I wasn't there."</p> +<p>"No, I remember. You were not there. I saw you the last time at +the Tuileries."</p> +<p>"When did you come to yourself, madame?"</p> +<p>"I have been sick, haven't I? But I have been sitting by this +fire nearly all night, trying to understand. I knew I was alone, +because Cousin Philippe and Ernestine—I want Paul!"</p> +<p>I looked at the floor, and must have appeared miserable. She +passed her hands back over her forehead many times as if brushing +something away. "If he died, tell me."</p> +<p>"I held him, Eagle."</p> +<p>"They didn't kill him?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"Or scalp him?"</p> +<p>"The knife never touched him."</p> +<p>"But—"</p> +<p>"It was in battle."</p> +<p>"My child died in battle? How long have I been ill?"</p> +<p>"More than a year, Eagle."</p> +<p>"And he died in battle?"</p> +<p>"He had a wound in his side. He was brought into the fort, and I +took care of him."</p> +<p>She burst out weeping, and laughed and wept, the tears running +down her face and wetting her bosom.</p> +<p>"My boy! My little son! You held him! He died like a man!"</p> +<p>I put her on the settle, and all the cloud left her in that +tempest of rain. Afterwards I wiped her face with my handkerchief +and she sat erect and still.</p> +<p>A noise of many birds came from the ravine, and winged bodies +darted past the door uttering the cries of spring. Abbé +Edgeworth sauntered by and she saw him, and was startled.</p> +<p>"Who is that?"</p> +<p>"A priest."</p> +<p>"When did he come?"</p> +<p>"He rode here with me this morning."</p> +<p>"Louis," she asked, leaning back, "who took care of me?"</p> +<p>"You have been with the Grignons since you came to the Illinois +Territory."</p> +<p>"Am I in the Illinois Territory?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I found you with the Grignons."</p> +<p>"They must be kind people!"</p> +<p>"They are; the earth's salt."</p> +<p>"But who brought me to the Illinois Territory?"</p> +<p>"A family named Jordan."</p> +<p>"The Indians didn't kill them?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"Why wasn't I killed?"</p> +<p>"The Indians regarded you with superstition."</p> +<p>"What have I said and done?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, madame, that need give you any uneasiness."</p> +<p>"But what did I say?" she insisted.</p> +<p>"You thought you were a Cloud-Mother."</p> +<p>"A Cloud-Mother!" She was astonished and asked, "What is a +Cloud-Mother?"</p> +<p>"You thought I was Paul, and you were my Cloud-Mother."</p> +<p>"Did I say such a foolish thing as that?"</p> +<p>"Don't call it foolish, madame."</p> +<p>"I hope you will forget it."</p> +<p>"I don't want to forget it."</p> +<p>"But why are you in Illinois Territory, sire?"</p> +<p>"I came to find land for the Iroquois. I intend to make a state +with the tribe."</p> +<p>"But what of France?"</p> +<p>"Oh, France is over supplied with men who want to make a state +of her. Louis XVIII has been on the throne eleven months, and was +recently chased off by Napoleon.</p> +<p>"Louis XVIII on the throne? Did true loyalists suffer that?"</p> +<p>"Evidently."</p> +<p>"Sire, what became of Napoleon?"</p> +<p>"He was beaten by the allies and sent to Elba. Louis XVIII was +brought in with processions. But in about eleven months Napoleon +made a dash across France—"</p> +<p>"Tell me slowly. You say I have been ill more than a year. I +know nothing of what has happened."</p> +<p>"Napoleon escaped from Elba, made a dash across France, and +incidentally swept the Bourbon off the throne. The last news from +Europe shows him gathering armies to meet the allies."</p> +<p>"Oh, sire, you should have been there!"</p> +<p>"Abbé Edgeworth suggests that France is well supplied +with dauphins also. Turning off dauphins has been a pastime at +court."</p> +<p>"Abbé Edgeworth? You do not mean the priest you saw at +Mittau?</p> +<p>"Confessor and almoner to his majesty. The same man."</p> +<p>"Is he here?"</p> +<p>"You saw him pass the door."</p> +<p>"Why has he come to America?"</p> +<p>"I have not inquired."</p> +<p>"Why is he here with you?"</p> +<p>"Because it pleases him, not me."</p> +<p>"He brings you some message?"</p> +<p>"So he says."</p> +<p>"What is it?"</p> +<p>"I have not had time to ask."</p> +<p>She stood up. As she became more herself and the spirit rushed +forward in her face, I saw how her beauty had ripened. Hoeing corn +and washing in the river does not coarsen well-born women. I knew I +should feel the sweetness of her presence stinging through me and +following me wherever I went in the world.</p> +<p>"Call the priest in, sire. I am afraid I have hindered the +interview."</p> +<p>"I did not meet him with my arms open, madame."</p> +<p>"But you would have heard what he had to say, if I had not been +in your house. Why am I in your house?"</p> +<p>"You came here."</p> +<p>"Was I wandering about by myself?"</p> +<p>"Yes, madame."</p> +<p>"I thought I must have been walking. When I came to myself I was +so tired, and my shoes were muddy. If you want to see the priest I +will go into another room."</p> +<p>"No, I will bring him in and let him give his message in your +presence."</p> +<p>When Abbé Edgeworth was presented to her, he slightly +raised his eyebrows, but expressed no astonishment at meeting her +lucid eyes. Nor did I explain—"God has given her back her +senses in a night."</p> +<p>The position in which she found herself was trying. She made him +a grave courtesy. My house might have been the chateau in which she +was born, so undisturbed was her manner. Her night wandering and +mind-sickness were simply put behind us in the past, with her +having taken refuge in my house, as matters which need not concern +Abbé Edgeworth. He did not concern himself with them, but +bent before her as if he had no doubt of her sanity.</p> +<p>I asked her to resume her place on the settle. There was a stool +for the abbé and one for myself. We could see the river +glinting in its valley, and the windrows of heights beyond it. A +wild bee darted into the room, droning, and out again, the sun upon +its back.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I said to Abbé Edgeworth, "I am ready now to +hear the message which you mentioned to me last night."</p> +<p>"If madame will pardon me," he answered, "I will ask you to take +me where we can confer alone."</p> +<p>"It is not necessary, monsieur. Madame de Ferrier knows my whole +story."</p> +<p>But the priest moved his shoulders.</p> +<p>"I followed you in this remote place, monsieur, that we might +talk together without interruption, unembarrassed by any +witness."</p> +<p>Madame de Ferrier rose. I put her into her seat again with +authority.</p> +<p>"It is my wish, madame, to have at least one witness with +Abbé Edgeworth and myself."</p> +<p>"I hope," he protested, "that madame will believe there can be +no objection to her presence. I am simply following instructions. I +was instructed to deliver my message in private."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," Eagle answered, "I would gladly withdraw to another +room."</p> +<p>"I forbid it, madame," I said to her.</p> +<p>"Very well," yielded Abbé Edgeworth.</p> +<p>He took a folded paper from his bosom, and spoke to me with +startling sharpness.</p> +<p>"You think I should address you as Monseigneur, as the dauphin +of France should be addressed?"</p> +<p>"I do not press my rights. If I did, monsieur the abbé, +you would not have the right to sit in my presence."</p> +<p>"Suppose we humor your fancy. I will address you as Monseigneur. +Let us even go a little farther and assume that you are known to be +the dauphin of France by witnesses who have never lost track of +you. In that case, Monseigneur, would you put your name to a paper +resigning all claim upon the throne?"</p> +<p>"Is this your message?"</p> +<p>"We have not yet come to the message."</p> +<p>"Let us first come to the dauphin. When dauphins are as +plentiful as blackberries in France and the court never sees a +beggar appear without exclaiming: 'Here comes another +dauphin!'—why, may I ask, is Abbé Edgeworth sent so +far to seek one?"</p> +<p>He smiled.</p> +<p>"We are supposing that Monseigneur, in whose presence I have the +honor to be, is the true dauphin."</p> +<p>"That being the case, how are we to account for the true +dauphin's reception at Mittau?"</p> +<p>"The gross stupidity and many blunders of agents that the court +was obliged to employ, need hardly be assumed."</p> +<p>"Poor Bellenger! He has to take abuse from both sides in order +that we may be polite to each other."</p> +<p>"As Monseigneur suggests, we will not go into that matter."</p> +<p>Eagle sat as erect as a statue and as white.</p> +<p>I felt an instant's anxiety. Yet she had herself entirely at +command.</p> +<p>"We have now arrived at the paper, I trust," said the +priest.</p> +<p>"The message?"</p> +<p>"Oh, no. The paper in which you resign all claim to the throne +of France, and which may give you the price of a principality in +this country."</p> +<p>"I do not sign any such paper."</p> +<p>"Not at all?"</p> +<p>"Not at all."</p> +<p>"You are determined to hold to your rights?"</p> +<p>"I am determined not to part with my rights."</p> +<p>"Inducements large enough might be offered." He paused +suggestively.</p> +<p>"The only man in France," I said, "empowered to treat for +abdication of the throne at present, is Napoleon Bonaparte. Did you +bring a message from him?"</p> +<p>Abbé Edgeworth winced, but laughed.</p> +<p>"Napoleon Bonaparte will not last. All Europe is against him. I +see we have arrived at the message."</p> +<p>He rose and handed me the paper he held in his hand. I rose and +received it, and read it standing.</p> +<p>It was one brief line:—</p> +<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Louis: You are +recalled.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">Marie-Therese."</span></p> +<p>The blood must have rushed over my face. I had a submerged +feeling, looking out of it at the priest.</p> +<p>"Well, Monseigneur?"</p> +<p>"It is like her heavenly goodness."</p> +<p>"Do you see nothing but her heavenly goodness in it?"</p> +<p>"This is the message?"</p> +<p>"It is a message I crossed the ocean to bring."</p> +<p>"With the consent of her uncle?"</p> +<p>"Madame d'Angoulême never expresses a wish contrary to the +wishes of his majesty."</p> +<p>"We are then to suppose that Louis XVIII offers me, through you, +monsieur, the opportunity to sign away my rights, and failing that, +the opportunity of taking them?"</p> +<p>"Supposing you are Monseigneur the dauphin, we will let our +supposition run as far as this."</p> +<p>I saw distinctly the position of Louis XVIII. Marquis du Plessy +had told me he was a mass of superstition. No doubt he had behaved, +as Bellenger said, for the good of the royalist cause. But the +sanction of heaven was not on his behavior. Bonaparte was let loose +on him like the dragon from the pit. And Frenchmen, after yawning +eleven months or so in the king's august face, threw up their hats +for the dragon. In his second exile the inner shadow and the shadow +of age combined against him. He had tasted royalty. It was not as +good as he had once thought. Beside him always, he saw the face of +Marie-Therese. She never forgot the hushed mystery of her brother. +Her silence and obedience to the crown, her loyalty to juggling and +evasion, were more powerful than resistance.</p> +<p>A young man, brought suddenly before the jaded nation and +proclaimed at an opportune moment, might be a successful toy. The +sore old king would oil more than the royalist cause, and the +blessing of heaven would descend on one who restored the veritable +dauphin.</p> +<p>I never have seen the most stupid man doubt his power to ride if +somebody hoists him into the saddle.</p> +<p>"Let us go farther with our suppositions," I said. "Suppose I +decline?"</p> +<p>I heard Madame de Ferrier gasp.</p> +<p>The priest raised his eyebrows.</p> +<p>"In that case you will be quite willing to give me a signed +paper declaring your reasons."</p> +<p>"I sign no paper."</p> +<p>"Let me suggest that Monseigneur is not consistent. He neither +resigns his supposed rights nor will he exercise them."</p> +<p>"I will neither resign them nor exercise them."</p> +<p>"This is virtually resigning them."</p> +<p>"The abbé will pardon me for saying it is not. My rights +are mine, whether I use them or not."</p> +<p>"Monseigneur understands that opportunity is a visitor that +comes but once."</p> +<p>"I understand that the most extraordinary thing has happened +to-day that will ever go unrecorded in history. One Bourbon offers +to give away a throne he has lost and another Bourbon refuses +it."</p> +<p>"You may well say it will go unrecorded in history. Excepting +this lady,"—the abbé bowed toward Eagle,—"there +is no witness."</p> +<p>"Wise precautions have been taken," I agreed. "This scrap of +paper may mean anything or nothing."</p> +<p>"You decline?" he repeated.</p> +<p>"I think France is done with the Bourbons, monsieur the +abbé. A fine spectacle they have made of themselves, cooling +their heels all over Europe, waiting for Napoleon's shoes! Will I +go sneaking and trembling to range myself among impotent kings and +wrangle over a country that wants none of us? No, I never will! I +see where my father slipped. I see where the eighteenth Louis +slipped. I am a man tenacious beyond belief. You cannot loose my +grip when I take hold. But I never have taken hold, I never will +take hold—of my native country, struggling as she is to throw +off hereditary rule!"</p> +<p>"You are an American!" said Abbé Edgeworth +contemptuously.</p> +<p>"If France called to me out of need, I would fight for her. A +lifetime of peaceful years I would toss away in a minute to die in +one achieving battle for her. But she neither calls me nor needs +me. A king is not simply an appearance—a continuation of +hereditary rights!"</p> +<p>"Your position is incredible," said the priest.</p> +<p>"I do not belittle the prospect you open before me. I see the +practical difficulties, but I see well the magnificence beyond +them."</p> +<p>"Then why do you hesitate?"</p> +<p>"I don't hesitate. A man is contemptible who stands shivering +and longing outside of what he dare not attempt. I would dare if I +longed. But I don't long."</p> +<p>"Monseigneur believes there will be complications?"</p> +<p>"I know my own obstinacy. A man who tried to work me with +strings behind a throne, would think he was struck by +lightning."</p> +<p>"Sire," Madame de Ferrier spoke out, "this is the hour of your +life. Take your kingdom."</p> +<p>"I should have to take it, madame, if I got it. My uncle of +Provence has nothing to give me. He merely says—'My dear +dauphin, if Europe knocks Napoleon down, will you kindly take hold +of a crank which is too heavy for me, and turn it for the good of +the Bourbons? We may thus keep the royal machine in the +family!'"</p> +<p>"You have given no adequate reason for declining this offer," +said the priest.</p> +<p>"I will give no reason. I simply decline."</p> +<p>"Is this the explanation that I shall make to Madame +d'Angoulême? Think of the tender sister who +says—'Louis, you are recalled!"</p> +<p>"I do think of her. God bless her!"</p> +<p>"Must I tell her that Monseigneur planted his feet like one of +these wild cattle, and wheeled, and fled from the contemplation of +a throne?"</p> +<p>"You will dress it up in your own felicitous way, monsieur."</p> +<p>"What do you wish me to say?"</p> +<p>"That I decline. I have not pressed the embarrassing question of +why I was not recalled long ago. I reserve to myself the privilege +of declining without saying why I decline."</p> +<p>"He must be made to change his mind, monsieur!" Madame de +Ferrier exclaimed.</p> +<p>"I am not a man that changes his mind every time the clock +strikes."</p> +<p>I took the padlocked book out of my breast and laid it upon the +table. I looked at the priest, not at her. The padlocked book +seemed to have no more to do with the conversation, than a hat or a +pair of gloves.</p> +<p>I saw, as one sees from the side of the eye, the scarlet rush of +blood and the snow-white rush of pallor which covered her one after +the other. The moment was too strenuous. I could not spare her. She +had to bear it with me.</p> +<p>She set her clenched hands on her knees.</p> +<p>"Sire!"</p> +<p>I faced her. The coldest look I ever saw in her gray eyes +repelled me, as she deliberately said—</p> +<p>"You are not such a fool!"</p> +<p>I stared back as coldly and sternly, and deliberately +answered—</p> +<p>"I am—just—such a fool!"</p> +<p>"Consider how any person who might be to blame for your +decision, would despise you for it afterwards!"</p> +<p>"A boy in the first flush of his youth," Abbé Edgeworth +said, his fine jaws squared with a grin, "might throw away a +kingdom for some woman who took his fancy, and whom he could not +have perhaps, unless he did throw his kingdom away. And after he +had done it he would hate the woman. But a young man in his +strength doesn't do such things!"</p> +<p>"A king who hasn't spirit to be a king!" Madame de Ferrier +mocked.</p> +<p>I mercilessly faced her down.</p> +<p>"What is there about me? Sum me up. I am robbed on every side by +any one who cares to fleece me. Whenever I am about to accomplish +anything I fall down as if knocked on the head!"</p> +<p>She rose from her seat.</p> +<p>"You let yourself be robbed because you are princely! You have +plainly left behind you every weakness of your childhood. Look at +him in his strength, Monsieur Abbé! He has sucked in the +vigor of a new country! The failing power of an old line of kings +is renewed in him! You could not have nourished such a dauphin for +France in your exiled court! Burying in the American soil has +developed what you see for yourself—the king!"</p> +<p>"He is a handsome man," Abbé Edgeworth quietly +admitted.</p> +<p>"Oh, let his beauty alone! Look at his manhood—his +kinghood!"</p> +<p>"Of what use is his kinghood if he will not exercise it?"</p> +<p>"He must!"</p> +<p>She turned upon me fiercely.</p> +<p>"Have you no ambition?"</p> +<p>"Yes, madame. But there are several kinds of ambition, as there +are several kinds of success. You have to knock people down with +each kind, if you want it acknowledged. As I told you awhile ago, I +am tenacious beyond belief, and shall succeed in what I +undertake."</p> +<p>"What are you undertaking?"</p> +<p>"I am not undertaking to mount a throne."</p> +<p>"I cannot believe it! Where is there a man who would turn from +what is offered you? Consider the life before you in this country. +Compare it with the life you are throwing away." She joined her +hands. "Sire, the men of my house who fought for the kings of +yours, plead through me that you will take your inheritance."</p> +<p>I kept my eyes on Abbé Edgeworth. He considered the +padlocked book as an object directly in his line of vision. Its +wooden covers and small metal padlock attracted the secondary +attention we bestow on trifles when we are at great issues.</p> +<p>I answered her,</p> +<p>"The men of your house—and the women of your house, +madame—cannot dictate what kings of my house should do in +this day."</p> +<p>"Well as you appear to know him, madame," said Abbé +Edgeworth, "and loyally as you urge him, your efforts are +wasted."</p> +<p>She next accused me—</p> +<p>"You hesitate on account of the Indians!"</p> +<p>"If there were no Indians in America, I should do just as I am +doing."</p> +<p>"All men," the abbé noted, "hold in contempt a man who +will not grasp power when he can."</p> +<p>"Why should I grasp power? I have it in myself. I am using +it."</p> +<p>"Using it to ruin yourself!" she cried.</p> +<p>"Monseigneur!" The abbé rose. We stood eye to eye. "I was +at the side of the king your father upon the scaffold. My hand held +to his lips the crucifix of our Lord Jesus Christ. In his death no +word of bitterness escaped him. True son of St. Louis, he supremely +loved France. Upon you he laid injunction to leave to God alone the +punishment of regicides, and to devote your life to the welfare of +all Frenchmen. Monseigneur! are you deaf to this call of sacred +duty? The voice of your father from the scaffold, in this hour when +the fortunes of your house are lowest, bids you take your rightful +place and rid your people of the usurper who grinds France and +Europe into the blood-stained earth!"</p> +<p>I wheeled and walked across the floor from Abbé +Edgeworth, and turned again and faced him.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, you have put a dart through me. If anything in the +universe could move me from my position, what you have said would +do it. But my father's blood cries through me to-day—'Shall +the son of Louis XVI be forced down the unwilling throats of his +countrymen by foreign +bayonets?—Russians—Germans—English!—Shall +the dauphin of France be hoisted to place by the alien?'—My +father would forbid it! . . . You appeal to my family love. I bear +about with me everywhere the pictured faces of my family. The +father whose name you invoke, is always close to my heart. That +royal duchess, whom you are privileged to see daily, monsieur, and +I—never—is so dear and sacred to me that I think of her +with a prayer. . . . But my life is here. . . . Monsieur, in this +new world, no man can say to me—'Come,' or 'Go.' I am as free +as the Indian. But the pretender to the throne of France, the +puppet of Russia, of England, of the enemies of my country,—a +slave to policy and intrigue—a chained wanderer about +Europe—O my God! to be such a pretender—gasping for +air—for light—as I gasped in Ste. +Pélagie!—O let me be a free man—a free man!"</p> +<p>The old churchman whispered over and over—</p> +<p>"My royal son!"</p> +<p>My arms dropped relaxed.</p> +<p>There was another reason. I did not give it. I would not give +it.</p> +<p>We heard the spring wind following the river channel—and a +far faint call that I knew so well—the triangular wild flock +in the upper air, flying north.</p> +<p>"Honk! honk!" It was the jubilant cry of freedom!</p> +<p>"Madame," said Abbé Edgeworth, resting his head on his +hands, "I have seen many stubborn Bourbons, but he is the most +obstinate of them all. We do not make as much impression on him as +that little padlocked book."</p> +<p>Her terrified eyes darted at him—and hid their panic.</p> +<p>"Monsieur Abbé," she exclaimed piercingly, "tell him no +woman will love him for throwing away a kingdom!"</p> +<p>The priest began once more.</p> +<p>"You will not resign your rights?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"You will not exercise them?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"If I postpone my departure from to-day until to-morrow, or next +week, or next month, is there any possibility of your reconsidering +this decision?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"Monseigneur, must I leave you with this answer?"</p> +<p>"Your staying cannot alter it, Monsieur Abbé."</p> +<p>"You understand this ends all overtures from France?"</p> +<p>"I understand."</p> +<p>"Is there nothing that you would ask?"</p> +<p>"I would ask Madame d'Angoulême to remember me."</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/opposite_p434.jpg"><img src= +"images/opposite_p434.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"Louis! You are a king! You are a king!".</b> +<br /></div> +<p>He came forward like a courtier, lifted my hand to his lips, and +kissed it.</p> +<p>"With your permission, Monseigneur, I will now retire and ride +slowly back along the river until you overtake me. I should like to +have some time for solitary thought."</p> +<p>"You have my permission, Monsieur Abbé."</p> +<p>He bowed to Madame de Ferrier, and so moving to the door, he +bowed again to me, and took his leave.</p> +<p>His horse's impatient start, and his remonstrance as he mounted, +came plainly to our ears. The regular beat of hoofs upon the sward +followed; then an alternating tap-tap of horse's feet diminished +down the trail.</p> +<p>Eagle and I avoided looking at each other.</p> +<p>A bird inquired through the door with inquisitive chirp, and was +away.</p> +<p>Volcanoes, and whirlwinds, fire, and all force, held themselves +condensed and quiescent in the still room.</p> +<p>I moved first, laying Marie-Therese's message on the padlocked +book. Standing with folded arms I faced Eagle, and she as stonily +faced me. It was a stare of unspeakable love that counts a thousand +years as a day.</p> +<p>She shuddered from head to foot. Thus a soul might ripple in +passing from its body.</p> +<p>"I am not worth a kingdom!" her voice wailed through the +room.</p> +<p>I opened my arms and took her. Volcanoes and whirlwinds, fire, +and all force, were under our feet. We trod them breast to +breast.</p> +<p>She held my head between her hands. The tears streamed down her +face.</p> +<p>"Louis!—you are a king!—you are a king!"</p> +<h3>THE END.</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<h2>A LIST OF RECENT FICTION OF<br /> +THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY</h2> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS IN FLOWER</h2> +<p>Over one-quarter of a million copies have been sold of this +great historical love-story of Princess Mary Tudor, sister of Henry +VIII. Price, $1.50</p> +<p>ASK YOUR BOOKSELLER FOR IT</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A VIVACIOUS ROMANCE OF REVOLUTIONARY DAYS</h2> +<p><b>ALICE <i>of</i> OLD VINCENNES</b></p> +<p>By MAURICE THOMPSON</p> +<p><i>The Atlanta Constitution says</i>:</p> +<p>"Mr. Thompson, whose delightful writings in prose and verse have +made his reputation national, has achieved his master stroke of +genius in this historical novel of revolutionary days in the +West."</p> +<p><i>The Denver Daily News says</i>:</p> +<p>"There are three great chapters of fiction: Scott's tournament +on Ashby field, General Wallace's chariot race, and now Maurice +Thompson's duel scene and the raising of Alice's flag over old Fort +Vincennes."</p> +<p><i>The Chicago Times-Herald says</i>:</p> +<p>"More original than 'Richard Carvel,' more cohesive than 'To +Have and To Hold,' more vital than 'Janice Meredith,' such is +Maurice Thompson's superb American romance, 'Alice of Old +Vincennes.' It is, in addition, more artistic and spontaneous than +any of its rivals."</p> +<p>12mo, with five illustrations and a frontispiece in color, all +drawn by Mr. F.C. Yohn</p> +<p>Price, $1.50</p> +<p>The Bowen-Merrill Company, <i>Indianapolis</i></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>"A NOVEL THAT'S WORTH WHILE"</h2> +<p><b><i>The</i> REDEMPTION <i>of</i> DAVID CORSON</b></p> +<p>By CHARLES FREDERIC GOSS</p> +<p>A Mid-century American Novel of Intense Power and Interest</p> +<p><i>The Interior says:</i></p> +<p>"This is a book that is worth while. Though it tells of weakness +and wickedness, of love and license, of revenge and remorse in an +intensely interesting way, yet it is above all else a clean and +pure story. No one can read it and honestly ask 'what's the +use.'"</p> +<p><i>Newell Dwight Hillis, Pastor of Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, +says:</i></p> +<p>"'The Redemption of David Corson' strikes a strong, healthy, +buoyant note.'"</p> +<p><i>Dr. F.W. Gunsaulus, President Armour Institute, says:</i></p> +<p>"Mr. Goss writes with the truthfulness of light. He has told a +story in which the fact of sin is illuminated with the utmost +truthfulness and the fact of redemption is portrayed with +extraordinary power. There are lines of greatness in the book which +I shall never forget."</p> +<p><i>President M.W. Stryker, Hamilton College, says:</i></p> +<p>"It is a victory in writing for one whose head seems at last to +have matched his big human heart. There is ten times as much of +reality in it as there is in 'David Harum,' which does not value +lightly that admirable charcoal sketch."</p> +<p>Price, $1.50</p> +<p>The Bowen-Merrill Company, <i>Indianapolis</i></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>"AS CRISP AND CLEAN CUT AS A NEW MINTAGE."</h2> +<p><b>THE PUPPET CROWN</b></p> +<p>BY HAROLD MACGRATH</p> +<p>A princess rarely beautiful; a duchess magnificent and +heartless; a villain revengeful and courageous; a hero youthful, +humorous, fearless and truly American;—such are the principal +characters of this delightful story.—<i>Syracuse +Post-Standard</i>.</p> +<p>Harold MacGrath has attained the highest point achievable in +recent fiction. We have the climax of romance and adventure in "The +Puppet Crown."—<i>The Philadelphia North American</i>.</p> +<p>Superior to most of the great successes.—<i>St. Paul +Pioneer Press</i>.</p> +<p>"The Puppet Crown" is a profusion of +cleverness.—<i>Baltimore American</i>.</p> +<p>Challenges comparison with authors whose names have become +immortal—<i>Chicago American</i>.</p> +<p>Latest entry in the list of winners.—<i>Cleveland +World</i>.</p> +<p>With illustrations by R. Martine Reay</p> +<p>12mo. Price, $1.50.</p> +<p>The Bowen-Merrill Company, <i>Indianapolis</i></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>FULL <i>of</i> INCIDENT, ACTION & COLOR</h2> +<p><b>LIKE ANOTHER HELEN</b></p> +<p>By GEORGE HORTON</p> +<p>Mr. Horton's powerful romance stands in a new field and brings +an almost unknown world in reality before the reader—the +world of conflict between Greek and Turk.</p> +<p>The island of Crete seems real and genuine after reading this +book; not a mere spot on the map. The tragic and pathetic troubles +of this people are told with sympathetic force.</p> +<p>Mr. Horton employs a vivid style that keeps the interest alive +and many passages are filled with delicate poetic feeling.</p> +<p>Things happen and the story moves. The characters are well +conceived and are human and convincing. Beyond question Mr. +Horton's fine story is destined to take high rank among the books +of the day.</p> +<p>With illustrations by C.M. Relyea</p> +<p>12mo, Cloth bound</p> +<p>Price, $1.50</p> +<p><i>The Chicago Times-Herald says:</i></p> +<p>"Here are chapters that are Stephen Crane plus sympathy; +chapters of illuminated description fragrant with the atmosphere of +art."</p> +<p>The Bowen-Merrill Company, <i>Indianapolis</i></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ANOTHER SUCCESSFUL HISTORICAL NOVEL</h2> +<p><b>THE BLACK WOLF'S BREED</b></p> +<p>By HARRIS DICKSON</p> +<p><i>From the Boston Globe:</i></p> +<p>"A vigorous tale of France in the old and new world during the +reign of Louis XIV."</p> +<p><i>From the Philadelphia Press:</i></p> +<p>"As delightfully seductive as certain mint-flavored beverages +they make down South."</p> +<p><i>From the Los Angeles Herald:</i></p> +<p>"The sword-play is great, even finer than the pictures in 'To +Have and To Hold.'"</p> +<p><i>From the San Francisco Chronicle:</i></p> +<p>"As fine a piece of sustained adventure as has appeared in +recent fiction."</p> +<p><i>From the St. Louis Globe-Democrat:</i></p> +<p>"There is action, vivid description and intensely dramatic +situations."</p> +<p><i>From the Indianapolis News:</i></p> +<p>"So full of tender love-making, of gallant fighting, that one +regrets it's no longer."</p> +<p>Illustrated by C.M. Relyea. Price $1.50</p> +<p>The Bowen-Merrill Company, <i>Indianapolis</i></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A FINE STORY OF THE COWBOY AT HIS BEST</h2> +<p><b>WITH HOOPS <i>of</i> STEEL</b></p> +<p>By FLORENCE FINCH KELLY</p> +<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"The friends thou hast, and +their adoption tried,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Grapple them to thy soul with +hoops of steel"</span></p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><i>From the San Francisco Chronicle:</i></p> +<p>"Western men and women will read it because it paints faithfully +the life which they know so well, and because it gives us three +big, manly fellows, fine types of the cowboy at his best. Eastern +readers will be attracted by its splendid realism."</p> +<p><i>From Julian Hawthorne:</i></p> +<p>"For my own part, I finished it all in one day, and dreamt it +over again that night. And I am an old hand, heaven knows"</p> +<p><i>From the Denver Times:</i></p> +<p>"Mrs. Kelly's character stands out from the background of the +New Mexican plains, desert and mountain with all the distinctness +of a Remington sketch."</p> +<p>With six illustrations, in color, by Dan Smith</p> +<p>Price, $1.50</p> +<p>The Bowen-Merrill Company, <i>Indianapolis</i></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A NOVEL OF EARLY NEW YORK</h2> +<p><b>PATROON VAN VOLKENBERG</b></p> +<p>By HENRY THEW STEPHENSON</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><i>From the New York Press:</i></p> +<p>"Many will compare 'Patroon Van Volkenberg,' with its dash, +style and virility, with 'Richard Carvel,' and in that respect they +will be right, as one would compare the strong, sturdy and +spreading elm with a slender sapling."</p> +<p>The action of this stirring story begins when New York was a +little city of less than 5,000 inhabitants.</p> +<p>The Governor has forbidden the port to the free traders or +pirate ships, which sailed boldly under their own flag; while the +Patroon and his merchant colleagues not only traded openly with the +buccaneers, but owned and managed such illicit craft. The story of +the clash of these conflicting interests and the resulting exciting +happenings is absorbing.</p> +<p>The atmosphere of the tale is fresh in fiction, the plot is +stirring and well knit, and the author is possessed of the ability +to write forceful, fragrant English.</p> +<p><i>From the Brooklyn Standard-Union:</i></p> +<p>"The tale is one of vibrant quality. It can not be read at a +leisurely pace. It bears the reader through piratical seas and +buccaneering adventures, through storm and stress of many sorts, +but it lands him safely, and leads him to peace."</p> +<p>12mo,</p> +<p>Illustrated in color by C.M. Relyea</p> +<p>Price, $1.50</p> +<p>The Bowen-Merrill Company, <i>Indianapolis</i></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>A STORY OF THE MORGAN RAID,</h3> +<h3>DURING THE WAR <i>of the</i> REBELLION</h3> +<p><b>THE LEGIONARIES</b></p> +<p>By HENRY SCOTT CLARK</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><i>The Memphis Commercial-appeal says:</i></p> +<p>"The backbone of the story is Morgan's great raid—one of +the most romantic and reckless pieces of adventure ever attempted +in the history of the world. Mr. Clark's description of the Ride of +the Three Thousand is a piece of literature that deserves to live; +and is as fine in its way as the chariot race from 'Ben Hur.'"</p> +<p><i>The Cincinnati Commercial-Tribune says:</i></p> +<p>"'The Legionaries' is pervaded with what seems to be the true +spirit of artistic impartiality. The author is simply a narrator. +He stands aside, regarding with equal eye all the issues involved +and the scales dip not in his hands. To sum up, the first romance +of the new day on the Ohio is an eminently readable one—a +good yarn well spun."</p> +<p><i>The Rochester Herald says:</i></p> +<p>"The appearance of a new novel in the West marks an epoch in +fiction relating to the war between the sections for the +preservation of the Union. 'The Legionaries' is a remarkable book, +and we can scarcely credit the assurance that it is the work of a +new writer."</p> +<p>12mo, illustrated Price, $1.50</p> +<p>The Bowen-Merrill Company, <i>Indianapolis</i></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE STORY OF AN AMERICAN CRUCIFIXION</h2> +<p><b>THE PENITENTES</b></p> +<p>By LOUIS HOW</p> +<p><i>The Chicago Record says:</i></p> +<p>"To describe the customs of this band of intensely religious +people, to retain all the color and picturesqueness of the original +scene without excess, was the difficult task which Mr. How has done +well."</p> +<p><i>The Brooklyn Eagle says:</i></p> +<p>"The author has been fortunate enough to unearth a colossal +American tragedy."</p> +<p><i>The Chicago Tribune says:</i></p> +<p>"'The Penitentes' abounds in dramatic possibilities. It is full +of action, warm color and variety. The denouement at the little +church of San Rafael, when the soldiers surprise the Penitentes at +mass in the early dawn of their fete day, will appeal strongly to +the dramatizer."</p> +<p><i>The Interior says:</i></p> +<p>"Mr. How has done a truly remarkable piece of work * * * any +hand, however practiced, might well be proud of the marvelously +good descriptions, the dramatic, highly unusual story, the able +characterizations."</p> +<p>12mo, Cloth, Ornamental</p> +<p>Price, $1.50</p> +<p>The Bowen-Merrill Company, <i>Indianapolis</i></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE SUBTLE SPIRIT OF THE SEA</h2> +<p><b>SWEEPERS OF THE SEA</b></p> +<p>The Story of a Strange Navy</p> +<p>By CLAUDE H. WETMORE</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><i>From the St. Louis Mirror:</i></p> +<p>"The recital of the deeds of the 'Sweepers of the Sea' is a +breathless one. The romance is heightened by the realism of the +technique of naval warfare, by the sureness and voluminosity of +nautical knowledge."</p> +<p><i>From the Buffalo Review:</i></p> +<p>"It rivals Stevenson in its ingenuity of plot and dramatic +interest."</p> +<p><i>From the Albany Journal:</i></p> +<p>"There rings the exultant note of tossing billows and a crashing +ship."</p> +<p><i>From the Minneapolis Times:</i></p> +<p>"Mr. Wetmore has the genius of Jules Verne and can make the +improbable seem the actual. In fact, 'Sweepers of the Sea' comes +into the class of important fiction, and as such will be received +and read by a discriminating public."</p> +<p>Illustrated Price, $1.50</p> +<p>The Bowen-Merrill Company, <i>Indianapolis</i></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A STORY TOLD BY A REAL STORYTELLER</h2> +<p><b>A SON OF AUSTERITY</b></p> +<p>By GEORGE KNIGHT</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Mr. Knight has created a real atmosphere for his men and women +to breathe, and his men and women take deep breaths. They are +alive, they are human, they are real.</p> +<p>He has a delightful story to tell and knows how to tell it. It +is a story of human life, of possible people in possible +situations, living out their little span of life in that state in +which it has pleased God to call them.</p> +<p>The reader realizes at once that Mr. Knight is a man who served +his seven years of apprenticeship before opening a shop on his own +account.</p> +<p>The deftness and charm of his literary style, combined with the +absorbing interest of the story, can not but prove a delight to +every reader.</p> +<p>With a frontispiece by Harrison Fisher</p> +<p>12mo, Cloth. Price, $1.50</p> +<p><i>The Liverpool Mercury says:</i></p> +<p>"This is a book far removed from the ordinary mass of +featureless fiction. There is no gainsaying the strength of +characterization and the command of English language."</p> +<p>The Bowen-Merrill Company, <i>Indianapolis</i></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VIGOROUS, ELEMENTAL, DRAMATIC</h2> +<p><b>A HEART OF FLAME</b></p> +<p>The story of a Master Passion</p> +<p>BY CHARLES FLEMING EMBREE</p> +<p>Author of "A Dream of a Throne."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The men and women in this story are children of the soil. Their +strength is in their nearness to nature. Their minds are vigorous, +their bodies powerful, their passions elemental, their courage +sublime. They are loyal in friendship, persistent in enmity, +determined in purpose.</p> +<p>The story is a story of great wrongs and of supreme love. It is +done in black and white, with few strokes, but they are masterly. +The shadows at the back are sombre but the value of contrast is +appreciated for the vivid high light in the foreground.</p> +<p>It is a work of art—powerful, convincing and abiding. +Powerful, because true to life; convincing, for it has the saving +touch of humor; and abiding because love, like "A Heart of Flame," +prevails in the end.</p> +<p>With illustrations by Dan Smith</p> +<p>12mo. cloth. Price, $1.50.</p> +<p>The Bowen-Merrill Company, <i>Indianapolis</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAZARRE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 15108-h.txt or 15108-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/1/0/15108">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/1/0/15108</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Lazarre + +Author: Mary Hartwell Catherwood + +Release Date: February 19, 2005 [eBook #15108] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAZARRE*** + + +E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Charlie Kirschner, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 15108-h.htm or 15108-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/1/0/15108/15108-h/15108-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/1/0/15108/15108-h.zip) + + + + + +LAZARRE + +by + +MARY HARTWELL CATHERWOOD + +With illustrations by Andre Castaigne + +Indianapolis +The Bown-Merrill Company +Publishers + +1901 + + + + + + + +[Illustration: _He mounted toward the guardians of the imperial court +and fortune was with him_] + + + + + +PRELUDE + + + +ST. BAT'S + + + +LAZARRE + + +"My name is Eagle," said the little girl. + +The boy said nothing. + +"My name is Eagle," she repeated. "Eagle de Ferrier. What is your name?" + +Still the boy said nothing. + +She looked at him surprised, but checked her displeasure. He was about +nine years old, while she was less than seven. By the dim light which +sifted through the top of St. Bat's church he did not appear sullen. He +sat on the flagstones as if dazed and stupefied, facing a blacksmith's +forge, which for many generations had occupied the north transept. A +smith and some apprentices hammered measures that echoed with multiplied +volume from the Norman roof; and the crimson fire made a spot vivid as +blood. A low stone arch, half walled up, and blackened by smoke, framed +the top of the smithy, and through this frame could be seen a bit of St. +Bat's close outside, upon which the doors stood open. Now an apprentice +would seize the bellows-handle and blow up flame which briefly sprang +and disappeared. The aproned figures, Saxon and brawny, made a +fascinating show in the dark shop. + +Though the boy was dressed like a plain French citizen of that year, +1795, and his knee breeches betrayed shrunken calves, and his sleeves, +wrists that were swollen as with tumors, Eagle accepted him as her +equal. His fine wavy hair was of a chestnut color, and his hands and +feet were small. His features were perfect as her own. But while life +played unceasingly in vivid expression across her face, his muscles +never moved. The hazel eyes, bluish around their iris rims, took +cognizance of nothing. His left eyebrow had been parted by a cut now +healed and forming its permanent scar. + +"You understand me, don't you?" Eagle talked to him. "But you could not +understand Sally Blake. She is an English girl. We live at her house +until our ship sails, and I hope it will sail soon. Poor boy! Did the +wicked mob in Paris hurt your arms?" + +She soothed and patted his wrists, and he neither shrank in pain nor +resented the endearment with male shyness. + +Eagle edged closer to him on the stone pavement. She was amused by the +blacksmith's arch, and interested in all the unusual life around her, +and she leaned forward to find some response in his eyes. He was +unconscious of his strange environment. The ancient church of St. +Bartholomew the Great, or St. Bat's as it was called, in the heart of +London, had long been a hived village. Not only were houses clustered +thickly around its outside walls and the space of ground named its +close; but the inside, degraded from its first use, was parceled out to +owners and householders. The nave only had been retained as a church +bounded by massive pillars, which did not prevent Londoners from using +it as a thoroughfare. Children of resident dissenters could and did hoot +when it pleased them, during service, from an overhanging window in the +choir. The Lady Chapel was a fringe-maker's shop. The smithy in the +north transept had descended from father to son. The south transept, +walled up to make a respectable dwelling, showed through its open door +the ghastly marble tomb of a crusader which the thrifty London housewife +had turned into a parlor table. His crossed feet and hands and upward +staring countenance protruded from the midst of knick-knacks. + +Light fell through the venerable clerestory on upper arcades. Some of +these were walled shut, but others retained their arched openings into +the church, and formed balconies from which upstairs dwellers could look +down at what was passing below. + +Two women leaned out of the Norman arcades, separated only by a pillar, +watching across the nave those little figures seated in front of the +blacksmith's window. An atmosphere of comfort and thrift filled St. +Bat's. It was the abode of labor and humble prosperity, not an asylum of +poverty. Great worthies, indeed, such as John Milton, and nearer our own +day, Washington Irving, did not disdain to live in St. Bartholomew's +close. The two British matrons, therefore, spoke the prejudice of the +better rather than the baser class. + +"The little devils!" said one woman. + +"They look innocent," remarked the other. "But these French do make my +back crawl!" + +"How long are they going to stay in St. Bat's?" + +"The two men with the little girl and the servant intend to sail for +America next week. The lad, and the man that brought him in--as +dangerous looking a foreigner as ever I saw!--are like to prowl out any +time. I saw them go into the smithy, and I went over to ask the smith's +wife about them. She let two upper chambers to the creatures this +morning." + +"What ails the lad? He has the look of an idiot." + +"Well, then, God knows what ails any of the crazy French! If they all +broke out with boils like the heathen of scripture, it would not +surprise a Christian. As it is, they keep on beheading one another, day +after day and month after month; and the time must come when none of +them will be left--and a satisfaction that will be to respectable +folks!" + +"First the king, and then the queen," mused one speaker. "And now news +comes that the little prince has died of bad treatment in his prison. +England will not go into mourning for him as it did for his father, King +Louis. What a pretty sight it was, to see every decent body in a bit of +black, and the houses draped, they say, in every town! A comfort it must +have been to the queen of France when she heard of such Christian +respect!" + +The women's faces, hard in texture and rubicund as beef and good ale +could make them, leaned silent a moment high above the dim pavement. St. +Bat's little bell struck the three quarters before ten; lightly, +delicately, with always a promise of the great booming which should +follow on the stroke of the hour. Its perfection of sound contrasted +with the smithy clangor of metal in process of welding. A butcher's boy +made his way through the front entrance toward a staircase, his feet +echoing on the flags, carrying exposed a joint of beef on the board upon +his head. + +"And how do your foreigners behave themselves, Mrs. Blake?" inquired the +neighbor. + +"Like French emmy-grays, to be sure. I told Blake when he would have +them to lodge in the house, that we are a respectable family. But he is +master, and their lordships has money in their purses." + +"French lordships!" exclaimed the neighbor. "Whether they calls +themselves counts or markises, what's their nobility worth? Nothing!" + +"The Markis de Ferrier," retorted Mrs. Blake, nettled by a liberty taken +with her lodgers which she reserved for herself, "is a gentleman if he +is an emmy-gray, and French. Blake may be master in his own house, but +he knows landed gentry from tinkers--whether they ever comes to their +land again or not." + +"Well, then," soothed her gossip, "I was only thinking of them French +that comes over, glad to teach their betters, or even to work with +their hands for a crust." + +"Still," said Mrs. Blake, again giving rein to her prejudices, "I shall +be glad to see all French papists out of St. Bat's. For what does +scripture say?--'Touch not the unclean thing!' And that servant-body, +instead of looking after her little missus, galloping out of the close +on some bloody errand!" + +"You ought to be thankful, Mrs. Blake, to have her out of the way, +instead of around our children, poisoning their hinfant minds! Thank God +they are playing in the church lane like little Christians, safe from +even that lad and lass yonder!" + +A yell of fighting from the little Christians mingled with their hoots +at choir boys gathering for the ten o'clock service in St. Bat's. When +Mrs. Blake and her friend saw this preparation, they withdrew their +dissenting heads from the arcades in order not to countenance what might +go on below. + +Minute followed minute, and the little bell struck the four quarters. +Then the great bell boomed out ten;--the bell which had given signal for +lighting the funeral piles of many a martyr, on Smithfield, directly +opposite the church. Organ music pealed; choir boys appeared from their +robing-room beside the entrance, pacing two and two as they chanted. The +celebrant stood in his place at the altar, and antiphonal music rolled +among the arches; pierced by the dagger voice of a woman in the arcades, +who called after the retreating butcher's boy to look sharp, and bring +her the joint she ordered. + +Eagle sprang up and dragged the arm of the unmoving boy in the north +transept. There was a weeping tomb in the chancel which she wished to +show him,--lettered with a threat to shed tears for a beautiful memory +if passers-by did not contribute their share; a threat the marble duly +executed on account of the dampness of the church and the hardness of +men's hearts. But it was impossible to disturb a religious service. So +she coaxed the boy, dragging behind her, down the ambulatory beside the +oasis of chapel, where the singers, sitting side-wise, in rows facing +each other, chanted the Venite. A few worshipers from the close, all of +them women, pattered in to take part in this daily office. The smithy +hammers rang under organ measures, and an odor of cooking sifted down +from the arcades. + +Outside the church big fat-bellied pigeons were cooing about the tower +or strutting and pecking on the ground. To kill one was a grave offense. +The worst boy playing in the lane durst not lift a hand against them. + +Very different game were Eagle and the other alien whom she led past the +red faced English children. + +"Good day," she spoke pleasantly, feeling their antagonism. They +answered her with a titter. + +"Sally Blake is the only one I know," she explained in French, to her +companion who moved feebly and stiffly behind her dancing step. "I +cannot talk English to them, and besides, their manners are not good, +for they are not like our peasants." + +Sally Blake and a bare kneed lad began to amble behind the foreigners, +he taking his cue smartly and lolling out his tongue. The whole crowd +set up a shout, and Eagle looked back. She wheeled and slapped the St. +Bat's girl in the face. + +That silent being whom she had taken under her care recoiled from the +blow which the bare kneed boy instantly gave him, and without defending +himself or her, shrank down in an attitude of entreaty. She screamed +with pain at this sight, which hurt worse than the hair-pulling of the +mob around her. She fought like a panther in front of him. + +Two men in the long narrow lane leading from Smithfield, interfered, and +scattered her assailants. + +You may pass up a step into the graveyard, which is separated by a wall +from the lane. And though nobody followed, the two men hurried Eagle and +the boy into the graveyard and closed the gate. + +It was not a large enclosure, and thread-like paths, grassy and +ungraveled, wound among crowded graves. There was a very high outside +wall: and the place insured such privacy as could not be had in St. +Bat's church. Some crusted stones lay broad as gray doors on ancient +graves; but the most stood up in irregular oblongs, white and lichened. + +A cat call from the lane was the last shot of the battle. Eagle +valiantly sleeked her disarrayed hair, the breast under her bodice still +heaving and sobbing. The June sun illuminated a determined child of the +gray eyed type between white and brown, flushed with fullness of blood, +quivering with her intensity of feeling. + +"Who would say this was Mademoiselle de Ferrier!" observed the younger +of the two men. Both were past middle age. The one whose queue showed +the most gray took Eagle reproachfully by her hands; but the other stood +laughing. + +"My little daughter!" + +"I did strike the English girl--and I would do it again, father!" + +"She would do it again, monsieur the marquis," repeated the laugher. + +"Were the children rude to you?" + +"They mocked him, father." She pulled the boy from behind a grave-stone +where he crouched unmoving as a rabbit, and showed him to her guardians. +"See how weak he is! Regard him--how he walks in a dream! Look at his +swollen wrists--he cannot fight. And if you wish to make these English +respect you you have got to fight them!" + +"Where is Ernestine? She should not have left you alone." + +"Ernestine went to the shops to obey your orders, father." + +The boy's dense inertia was undisturbed by what had so agonized the +girl. He stood in the English sunshine gazing stupidly at her guardians. + +"Who is this boy, Eagle?" exclaimed the younger man. + +"He does not talk. He does not tell his name." + +The younger man seized the elder's arm and whispered to him. + +"No, Philippe, no!" the elder man answered. But they both approached the +boy with a deference which surprised Eagle, and examined his scarred +eyebrow and his wrists. Suddenly the marquis dropped upon his knees and +stripped the stockings down those meager legs. He kissed them, and the +swollen ankles, sobbing like a woman. The boy seemed unconscious of this +homage. Such exaggeration of her own tenderness made her ask, + +"What ails my father, Cousin Philippe?" + +Her Cousin Philippe glanced around the high walls and spoke cautiously. + +"Who was the English girl at the head of your mob, Eagle?" + +"Sally Blake." + +"What would Sally Blake do if she saw the little king of France and +Navarre ride into the church lane, filling it with his retinue, and +heard the royal salute of twenty-one guns fired for him?" + +"She would be afraid of him." + +"But when he comes afoot, with that idiotic face, giving her such a good +chance to bait him--how can she resist baiting him? Sally Blake is +human." + +"Cousin Philippe, this is not our dauphin? Our dauphin is dead! Both my +father and you told me he died in the Temple prison nearly two weeks +ago!" + +The Marquis de Ferrier replaced the boy's stockings reverently, and +rose, backing away from him. + +"There is your king, Eagle," the old courtier announced to his child. +"Louis XVII, the son of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, survives in this +wreck. How he escaped from prison we do not know. Why he is here +unrecognized in England, where his claim to the throne was duly +acknowledged on the death of his father, we do not know. But we who have +often seen the royal child cannot fail to identify him; brutalized as he +is by the past horrible year of his life." + +The boy stood unwinking before his three expatriated subjects. Two of +them noted the traits of his house, even to his ears, which were full at +top, and without any indentation at the bottom where they met the sweep +of the jaw. + +The dauphin of France had been the most tortured victim of his country's +Revolution. By a jailer who cut his eyebrow open with a blow, and +knocked him down on the slightest pretext, the child had been forced to +drown memory in fiery liquor, month after month. During six worse +months, which might have been bettered by even such a jailer, hid from +the light in an airless dungeon, covered with rags which were never +changed, and with filth and vermin which daily accumulated, having his +food passed to him through a slit in the door, hearing no human voice, +seeing no human face, his joints swelling with poisoned blood, he had +died in everything except physical vitality, and was taken out at last +merely a breathing corpse. Then it was proclaimed that this corpse had +ceased to breathe. The heir of a long line of kings was coffined and +buried. + +While the elder De Ferrier shed nervous tears, the younger looked on +with eyes which had seen the drollery of the French Revolution. + +"I wish I knew the man who has played this clever trick, and whether +honest men or the rabble are behind it." + +"Let us find him and embrace him!" + +"_I_ would rather embrace his prospects when the house of Bourbon comes +again to the throne of France. Who is that fellow at the gate? He looks +as if he had some business here." + +The man came on among the tombstones, showing a full presence and +prosperous air, suggesting good vintages, such as were never set out in +the Smithfield alehouse. Instead of being smooth shaven, he wore a very +long mustache which dropped its ends below his chin. + +A court painter, attached to his patrons, ought to have fallen into +straits during the Revolution. Philippe exclaimed with astonishment-- + +"Why, it's Bellenger! Look at him!" + +Bellenger took off his cap and made a deep reverence. + +"My uncle is weeping over the dead English, Bellenger," said Philippe. +"It always moves him to tears to see how few of them die." + +"We can make no such complaint against Frenchmen in these days, +monsieur," the court painter answered. "I see you have my young charge +here, enjoying the gravestones with you;--a pleasing change after the +unmarked trenches of France. With your permission I will take him away." + +"Have I the honor, Monsieur Bellenger, of saluting the man who brought +the king out of prison?" the old man inquired. + +Again Bellenger made the marquis a deep reverence, which modestly +disclaimed any exploit. + +"When was this done?--Who were your helpers? Where are you taking him?" + +Bellenger lifted his eyebrows at the fanatical royalist. + +"I wish I had had a hand in it!" spoke Philippe de Ferrier. + +"I am taking this boy to America, monsieur the marquis," the painter +quietly answered. + +"But why not to one of his royal uncles?" + +"His royal uncles," repeated Bellenger. "Pardon, monsieur the marquis, +but did I say he had any royal uncles?" + +"Come!" spoke Philippe de Ferrier. "No jokes with us, Bellenger. Honest +men of every degree should stand together in these times." + +Eagle sat down on a flat gravestone, and looked at the boy who seemed to +be an object of dispute between the men of her family and the other man. +He neither saw nor heard what passed. She said to herself-- + +"It would make no difference to me! It is the same, whether he is the +king or not." + +Bellenger's eyes half closed their lids as if for protection from the +sun. + +"Monsieur de Ferrier may rest assured that I am not at present occupied +with jokes. I will again ask permission to take my charge away." + +"You may not go until you have answered some questions." + +"That I will do as far as I am permitted." + +"Do Monsieur and his brother know that the king is here?" inquired the +elder De Ferrier, taking the lead. + +"What reason have you to believe," responded Bellenger, "that the Count +de Provence and the Count d'Artois have any interest in this boy?" + +Philippe laughed, and kicked the turf. + +"We have seen him many a time at Versailles, my friend. You are very +mysterious." + +"Have his enemies, or his friends set him free?" demanded the old +Frenchman. + +"That," said Bellenger, "I may not tell." + +"Does Monsieur know that you are going to take him to America?" + +"That I may not tell." + +"When do you sail, and in what vessel?" + +"These matters, also, I may not tell." + +"This man is a kidnapper!" the old noble cried, bringing out his sword +with a hiss. But Philippe held his arm. + +"Among things permitted to you," said Philippe, "perhaps you will take +oath the boy is not a Bourbon?" + +Bellenger shrugged, and waved his hands. + +"You admit that he is?" + +[Illustration: "I will again ask permission to take my charge away"] + +"I admit nothing, monsieur. These are days in which we save our heads as +well as we can, and admit nothing." + +"If we had never seen the dauphin we should infer that this is no common +child you are carrying away so secretly, bound by so many pledges. A man +like you, trusted with an important mission, naturally magnifies it. You +refuse to let us know anything about this affair?" + +"I am simply obeying orders, monsieur," said Bellenger humbly. "It is +not my affair." + +"You are better dressed, more at ease with the world than any other +refugee I have seen since we came out of France. Somebody who has money +is paying to have the child placed in safety. Very well. Any country but +his own is a good country for him now. My uncle and I will not +interfere. We do not understand. But liberty of any kind is better than +imprisonment and death. You can of course evade us, but I give you +notice I shall look for this boy in America, and if you take him +elsewhere I shall probably find it out." + +"America is a large country," said Bellenger, smiling. + +He took the boy by the hand, and made his adieus. The old De Ferrier +deeply saluted the boy and slightly saluted his guardian. The other De +Ferrier nodded. + +"We are making a mistake, Philippe!" said the uncle. + +"Let him go," said the nephew. "He will probably slip away at once out +of St. Bartholomew's. We can do nothing until we are certain of the +powers behind him. Endless disaster to the child himself might result +from our interference. If France were ready now to take back her king, +would she accept an imbecile?" + +The old De Ferrier groaned aloud. + +"Bellenger is not a bad man," added Philippe. + +Eagle watched her playmate until the closing gate hid him from sight. +She remembered having once implored her nurse for a small plaster image +displayed in a shop. It could not speak, nor move, nor love her in +return. But she cried secretly all night to have it in her arms, ashamed +of the unreasonable desire, but conscious that she could not be appeased +by anything else. That plaster image denied to her symbolized the +strongest passion of her life. + +The pigeons wheeled around St. Bat's tower, or strutted burnished on the +wall. The bell, which she had forgotten since sitting with the boy in +front of the blacksmith shop, again boomed out its record of time; +though it seemed to Eagle that a long, lonesome period like eternity had +begun. + + + + +BOOK I + +AWAKING + + + + +I + + +I remember poising naked upon a rock, ready to dive into Lake George. +This memory stands at the end of a diminishing vista; the extreme point +of coherent recollection. My body and muscular limbs reflected in the +water filled me with savage pride. + +I knew, as the beast knows its herd, that my mother Marianne was hanging +the pot over the fire pit in the center of our lodge; the children were +playing with other papooses; and my father was hunting down the lake. +The hunting and fishing were good, and we had plenty of meat. Skenedonk, +whom I considered a person belonging to myself, was stripping more +slowly on the rock behind me. We were heated with wood ranging. +Aboriginal life, primeval and vigor-giving, lay behind me when I plunged +expecting to strike out under the delicious forest shadow. + +When I came up the sun had vanished, the woods and their shadow were +gone. So were the Indian children playing on the shore, and the shore +with them. My mother Marianne might still be hanging her pot in the +lodge. But all the hunting lodges of our people were as completely lost +as if I had entered another world. + +My head was bandaged, as I discovered when I turned it to look around. +The walls were not the log walls of our lodge, chinked with moss and +topped by a bark roof. On the contrary they were grander than the inside +of St. Regis church where I took my first communion, though that was +built of stone. These walls were paneled, as I learned afterward to call +that noble finishing, and ornamented with pictures, and crystal sockets +for candles. The use of the crystal sockets was evident, for one shaded +wax light burned near me. The ceiling was not composed of wooden beams +like some Canadian houses, but divided itself into panels also, +reflecting the light with a dark rosy shining. Lace work finer than a +priest's white garments fluttered at the windows. + +I had dived early in the afternoon, and it was night. Instead of finding +myself still stripped for swimming, I had a loose robe around me, and a +coverlet drawn up to my armpits. The couch under me was by no means of +hemlock twigs and skins, like our bunks at home: but soft and rich. I +wondered if I had died and gone to heaven; and just then the Virgin +moved past my head and stood looking down at me. I started to jump out +of a window, but felt so little power to move that I only twitched, and +pretended to be asleep, and watched her as we sighted game, with eyes +nearly shut. She had a poppet of a child on one arm that sat up instead +of leaning against her shoulder, and looked at me, too. The poppet had a +cap on its head, and was dressed in lace, and she wore a white dress +that let her neck and arms out, but covered her to the ground. This was +remarkable, as the Indian women covered their necks and arms, and wore +their petticoats short. I could see this image breathe, which was a +marvel, and the color moving under her white skin. Her eyes seemed to go +through you and search all the veins, sending a shiver of pleasure down +your back. + +Now I knew after the first start that she was a living girl holding a +living baby, and when my father, Thomas Williams, appeared at the door +of the room, it was certain I could not be in heaven. It came over me in +a flash that I myself was changed. In spite of the bandages my head was +as clear as if all its faculties were washed and newly arranged. I could +look back into my life and perceive things that I had only sensed as a +dumb brute. A fish thawed out after being frozen, and reanimated through +every sparkling scale and tremulous fin, could not have felt its +resurrection more keenly. My broken head gave me no trouble at all. + +The girl and baby disappeared as soon as I saw my father; which was not +surprising, for he could not be called a prepossessing half-breed. His +lower lip protruded and hung sullenly. He had heavy brows and a shaggy +thatch of hair. Our St. Regis Iroquois kept to the buckskins, though +they often had hunting shirts of fulled flannel; and my father's +buckskins were very dirty. + +A little man, that I did not know was in the room, shuffled across the +floor to keep my father from entering. Around the base of his head he +had a thin curtain of hair scarcely reaching his shoulders. His nose +pointed upward. Its tip was the shape of a candle extinguisher. He wore +horn spectacles; and knee breeches, waistcoat and coat of black like the +ink which fades to brown in a drying ink-horn. He put his hands together +and took them apart uncertainly, and shot out his lip and frowned, as if +he had an universal grudge and dared not vent it. + +He said something in a language I did not understand, and my father made +no answer. Then he began a kind of Anglo-French, worse than the patois +we used at St. Regis when we did not speak Iroquois. I made out the talk +between the two, understanding each without hesitation. + +"Sir, who are you?" + +"The chief, Thomas Williams," answered my father. + +"Pardon me, sir; but you are unmistakably an Indian." + +"Iroquois chief," said my father. "Mohawk." + +"That being the case, what authority have you for calling yourself +Thomas Williams?" challenged the little man. + +"Thomas Williams is my name." + +"Impossible, sir! Skenedonk, the Oneida, does not assume so much. He +lays no claim to William Jones or John Smith, or some other honest +British name." + +The chief maintained silent dignity. + +"Come, sir, let me have your Indian name! I can hear it if I cannot +repeat it." + +Silently contemptuous, my father turned toward me. + +"Stop, sir!" the man in the horn spectacles cried. "What do you want?" + +"I want my boy." + +"Your boy? This lad is white." + +"My grandmother was white," condescended the chief. "A white prisoner +from Deerfield. Eunice Williams." + +"I see, sir. You get your Williams from the Yankees. And is this lad's +mother white, too?" + +"No. Mohawk." + +"Why, man, his body is like milk! He is no son of yours." + +The chief marched toward me. + +"Let him alone! If you try to drag him out of the manor I will appeal to +the authority of Le Ray de Chaumont." + +My father spoke to me with sharp authority-- + +"Lazarre!" + +"What do you call him?" the little man inquired, ambling beside the +chief. + +"Eleazer Williams is his name. But in the lodges, at St. Regis, +everywhere, it is Lazarre." + +"How old is he?" + +"About eighteen years." + +"Well, Thomas Williams," said my fretful guardian, his antagonism +melting to patronage, "I will tell you who I am, and then you can feel +no anxiety. I am Doctor Chantry, physician to the Count de Chaumont. The +lad cut his head open on a rock, diving in the lake, and has remained +unconscious ever since. This is partly due to an opiate I have +administered to insure complete quiet; and he will not awake for several +hours yet. He received the best surgery as soon as he was brought here +and placed in my hands by the educated Oneida, Skenedonk." + +"I was not near the lodge," said my father. "I was down the lake, +fishing." + +"I have bled him once, and shall bleed him again; though the rock did +that pretty effectually. But these strapping young creatures need +frequent blood-letting." + +The chief gave him no thanks, and I myself resolved to knock the little +doctor down, if he came near me with a knife. + +"In the absence of Count de Chaumont, Thomas," he proceeded, "I may +direct you to go and knock on the cook's door, and ask for something to +eat before you go home." + +"I stay here," responded my father. + +"There is not the slightest need of anybody's watching beside the lad +to-night. I was about to retire when you were permitted to enter. He is +sleeping like an infant." + +"He belongs to me," the chief said. + +Doctor Chantry jumped at the chief in rage. + +"For God's sake, shut up and go about your business!" + +It was like one of the little dogs in our camp snapping at the patriarch +of them all, and recoiling from a growl. My father's hand was on his +hunting knife; but he grunted and said nothing. Doctor Chantry himself +withdrew from the room and left the Indian in possession. Weak as I was +I felt my insides quake with laughter. My very first observation of the +whimsical being tickled me with a kind of foreknowledge of all his weak +fretfulness. + +My father sat down on the floor at the foot of my couch, where the wax +light threw his shadow, exaggerating its unmoving profile. I noticed one +of the chairs he disdained as useless; though when eating or drinking +with white men he sat at table with them. The chair I saw was one that I +faintly recognized, as furniture of some previous experience, slim +legged, gracefully curved, and brocaded. Brocaded was the word. I +studied it until I fell asleep. + +The sun, shining through the protected windows, instead of glaring into +our lodge door, showed my father sitting in the same position when I +woke, and Skenedonk at my side. I liked the educated Iroquois. He was +about ten years my senior. He had been taken to France when a stripling, +and was much bound to the whites, though living with his own tribe. +Skenedonk had the mildest brown eyes I ever saw outside a deer's head. +He was a bald Indian with one small scalp lock. But the just and perfect +dome to which his close lying ears were attached needed no hair to adorn +it. You felt glad that nothing shaded the benevolence of his all-over +forehead. By contrast he emphasized the sullenness of my father; yet +when occasion had pressed there never was a readier hand than +Skenedonk's to kill. + +I tossed the cover back to spring out of bed with a whoop. But a woman +in a high cap with ribbons hanging down to her heels, and a dress short +enough to show her shoes, stepped into the room and made a courtesy. Her +face fell easily into creases when she talked, and gave you the feeling +that it was too soft of flesh. Indeed, her eyes were cushioned all +around. She spoke and Skenedonk answered her in French. The meaning of +every word broke through my mind as fire breaks through paper. + +"Madame de Ferrier sent me to inquire how the young gentleman is." + +Skenedonk lessened the rims around his eyes. My father grunted. + +"Did Madame de Ferrier say 'the young gentleman?'" Skenedonk inquired. + +"I was told to inquire. I am her servant Ernestine," said the woman, her +face creased with the anxiety of responding to questions. + +"Tell Madame de Ferrier that the young gentleman is much better, and +will go home to the lodges to-day." + +"She said I was to wait upon him, and give him his breakfast under the +doctor's direction." + +"Say with thanks to Madame de Ferrier that I wait upon him." + +Ernestine again courtesied, and made way for Doctor Chantry. He came in +quite good natured, and greeted all of us, his inferiors, with a +humility I then thought touching, but learned afterwards to distrust. +My head already felt the healing blood, and I was ravenous for food. He +bound it with fresh bandages, and opened a box full of glittering +knives, taking out a small sheath. From this he made a point of steel +spring like lightning. + +"We will bring the wholesome lancet again into play, my lad," said +Doctor Chantry. I waited in uncertainty with my feet on the floor and my +hands on the side of the couch, while he carefully removed coat and +waistcoat and turned up his sleeves. + +"Ernestine, bring the basin," he commanded. + +My father may have thought the doctor was about to inflict a vicarious +puncture on himself. Skenedonk, with respect for civilized surgery, +waited. I did not wait. The operator bared me to the elbow and showed a +piece of plaster already sticking on my arm. The conviction of being +outraged in my person came upon me mightily, and snatching the wholesome +lancet I turned its spring upon the doctor. He yelled. I leaped through +the door like a deer, and ran barefooted, the loose robe curdling above +my knees. I had the fleetest foot among the Indian racers, and was going +to throw the garment away for the pure joy of feeling the air slide past +my naked body, when I saw the girl and poppet baby who had looked at me +during my first consciousness. They were sitting on a blanket under the +trees of De Chaumont's park, which deepened into wilderness. + +The baby put up a lip, and the girl surrounded it with her arm, +dividing her sympathy with me. I must have been a charming object. +Though ravenous for food and broken-headed, I forgot my state, and +turned off the road of escape to stare at her like a tame deer. + +She lowered her eyes wisely, and I got near enough without taking fright +to see a book spread open on the blanket, showing two illuminated pages. +Something parted in me. I saw my mother, as I had seen her in some past +life:--not Marianne the Mohawk, wife of Thomas Williams, but a fair +oval-faced mother with arched brows. I saw even her pointed waist and +puffed skirts, and the lace around her open neck. She held the book in +her hands and read to me from it. + +I dropped on my knees and stretched my arms above my head, crying aloud +as women cry with gasps and chokings in sudden bereavement. Nebulous +memories twisted all around me and I could grasp nothing. I raged for +what had been mine--for some high estate out of which I had fallen into +degradation. I clawed the ground in what must have seemed convulsions to +the girl. Her poppet cried and she hushed it. + +"Give me my mother's book!" I strangled out of the depths of my throat; +and repeated, as if torn by a devil--"Give me my mother's book!" + +She blanched so white that her lips looked seared, and instead of +disputing my claim, or inquiring about my mother, or telling me to +begone, she was up on her feet. Taking her dress in her finger tips and +settling back almost to the ground in the most beautiful obeisance I +ever saw, she said-- + +"Sire!" + +Neither in Iroquois nor in Iroquois-French had such a name been given to +me before. I had a long title signifying Tree-Cutter, which belonged to +every chief of our family. But that word---"Sire!"--and her deep +reverence seemed to atone in some way for what I had lost. I sat up, +quieting myself, still moved as water heaves. She put the missal on the +lap of my single garment, and drew back a step, formally standing. My +scarred ankles, at which the Indian children used to point, were exposed +to her gaze, for I never would sit on them after the manner of the +tribe. There was no restraining the tears that ran down my face. She +might have mocked me, but she remained white and quiet; while I sat as +dumb as a dog, and as full of unuttered speech. Looking back now I can +see what passionate necessity shook me with throbs to be the equal of +her who had received me as a superior. + +De Chaumont's manor house, facing a winding avenue, could be seen from +where we were. It was of stone, built to enclose a court on three sides, +in the form that I afterwards recognized as that of French palaces. +There were a great many flowers in the court, and vines covered the ends +of the wings. All those misty half remembered hunting seasons that I had +spent on Lake George were not without some knowledge. The chimneys and +roofs of Le Ray de Chaumont's manor often looked at me through trees as +I steered my boat among the islands. He was a great land owner, having +more than three hundred thousand acres of wilderness. And he was +friendly with both Indians and Americans. His figure did not mean much +to me when I saw it, being merely a type of wealth, and wealth extends +little power into the wilderness. + +The poppet of a child climbed up and held to the girl's dress. She +stooped over and kissed it, saying, "Sit down, Paul." The toy human +being seemed full of intelligence, and after the first protest examined +me fearlessly, with enchanting smiles about the mouth and eyes. I +noticed even then an upward curling of the mouth corners and a kind of +magic in the liquid blue gaze, of which Paul might never be conscious, +but which would work on every beholder. + +That a child should be the appendage of such a very young creature as +the girl, surprised me no more than if it had been a fawn or a dog. In +the vivid moments of my first rousing to life I had seen her with Paul +in her arms; and he remained part of her. + +We heard a rush of horses up the avenue, and out of the woods came Le +Ray de Chaumont and his groom, the wealthy land owner equipped in +gentleman's riding dress from his spurs to his hat. He made a fine show, +whip hand on his hip and back erect as a pine tree. He was a man in +middle life, but he reined up and dismounted with the swift agility of +a youth, and sent his horse away with the groom, as soon as he saw the +girl run across the grass to meet him. Taking her hand he bowed over it +and kissed it with pleasing ceremony, of which I approved. An Iroquois +chief in full council had not better manners than Le Ray de Chaumont. + +Paul and I waited to see what was going to happen, for the two came +toward us, the girl talking rapidly to the man. I saw my father and +Skenedonk and the doctor also coming from the house, and they readily +spied me sitting tame as a rabbit near the baby. + +You never can perceive yourself what figure you are making in the world: +for when you think you are the admired of all eyes you may be displaying +a fool; and when life seems prostrated in you it may be that you show as +a monument on the heights. But I could not be mistaken in De Chaumont's +opinion of me. He pointed his whip handle at me, exclaiming-- + +"What!--that scarecrow, madame?" + + + + +II + + +"But look at him," she urged. + +"I recognize first," said De Chaumont as he sauntered, "an old robe of +my own." + +"His mother was reduced to coarse serge, I have been told." + +"You speak of an august lady, my dear Eagle. But this is Chief Williams' +boy. He has been at the hunting lodges every summer since I came into +the wilderness. There you see his father, the half-breed Mohawk." + +"I saw the dauphin in London, count. I was a little child, but his +scarred ankles and wrists and forehead are not easily forgotten." + +"The dauphin died in the Temple, Eagle." + +"My father and Philippe never believed that." + +"Your father and Philippe were very mad royalists." + +"And you have gone over to Bonaparte. They said that boy had all the +traits of the Bourbons, even to the shaping of his ear." + +"A Bourbon ear hears nothing but Bonaparte in these days," said De +Chaumont. "How do you know this is the same boy you saw in London?" + +"Last night while he was lying unconscious, after Doctor Chantry had +bandaged his head and bled him, I went in to see if I might be of use. +He was like some one I had seen. But I did not know him until a moment +ago. He ran out of the house like a wild Indian. Then he saw us sitting +here, and came and fell down on his knees at sight of that missal. I saw +his scars. He claimed the book as his mother's--and you know, count, it +was his mother's!" + +"My dear child, whenever an Indian wants a present he dreams that you +give it to him, or he claims it. Chief Williams' boy wanted your +valuable illuminated book. I only wonder he had the taste. The rings on +your hands are more to an Indian's liking." + +"But he is not an Indian, count. He is as white as we are." + +"That signifies nothing. Plenty of white children have been brought up +among the tribes. Chief Williams' grandmother, I have heard, was a +Yankee woman." + +Not one word of their rapid talk escaped an ear trained to faintest +noises in the woods. I felt like a tree, well set up and sound, but +rooted and voiceless in my ignorant helplessness before the two so +frankly considering me. + +My father stopped when he saw Madame de Ferrier, and called to me in +Iroquois. It was plain that he and Doctor Chantry disagreed. Skenedonk, +put out of countenance by my behavior, and the stubbornness of the +chief, looked ready to lay his hand upon his mouth in sign of being +confounded before white men; for his learning had altered none of his +inherited instincts. + +But as for me, I was as De Chaumont had said, Chief Williams' boy, faint +from blood letting and twenty-four hours' fasting; and the father's +command reminded me of the mother's dinner pot. I stood up erect and +drew the flowered silk robe around me. It would have been easier to walk +on burning coals, but I felt obliged to return the book to Madame de +Ferrier. She would not take it. I closed her grasp upon it, and +stooping, saluted her hand with courtesy as De Chaumont had done. If he +had roared I must have done this devoir. But all he did was to widen his +eyes and strike his leg with his riding whip. + +My father and I seldom talked. An Indian boy who lives in water and +forest all summer and on snowshoes all winter, finds talk enough in the +natural world without falling back upon his family. Dignified manners +were not lacking among my elders, but speech had seemed of little +account to me before this day. + +The chief paddled and I sat naked in our canoe;--for we left the +flowered robe with a horse-boy at the stables;--the sun warm upon my +skin, the lake's blue glamour affecting me like enchantment. + +Neither love nor aversion was associated with my father. I took my head +between my hands and tried to remember a face that was associated with +aversion. + +"Father," I inquired, "was anybody ever very cruel to me?" + +He looked startled, but spoke harshly. + +"What have you got in your head? These white people have been making a +fool of you." + +"I remember better to-day than I ever remembered before. I am different. +I was a child: but to-day manhood has come. Father, what is a dauphin?" + +The chief made no answer. + +"What is a temple? Is it a church, like ours at St. Regis?" + +"Ask the priest." + +"Do you know what Bourbon is, father,--particularly a Bourbon ear?" + +"Nothing that concerns you." + +"But how could I have a Bourbon ear if it didn't concern me?" + +"Who said you had such an ear?" + +"Madame de Ferrier." + +The chief grunted. + +"At least she told De Chaumont," I repeated exactly, "I was the boy she +saw in London, that her father said had all the traits of the Bourbons. +Where is London?" + +The chief paddled without replying. Finding him so ignorant on all +points of the conversation, or so determined to put me down, I gazed +awhile at our shadow gliding in the water, and then began again. + +"Father, do you happen to know who Bonaparte is?" + +This time he answered. + +"Bonaparte is a great soldier." + +"Is he a white man or an Indian?" + +"He is a Frenchman." + +I meditated on the Frenchmen I dimly remembered about St. Regis. They +were undersized fellows, very apt to weep when their emotions were +stirred. I could whip them all. + +"Did he ever come to St. Regis?" + +The chief again grunted. + +"Does France come to St. Regis?" he retorted with an impatient question. + +"What is France, father?" + +"A country." + +"Shall we ever go there to hunt?" + +"Shall we ever go the other side of the sunrise to hunt? France is the +other side of the sunrise. Talk to the squaws." + +Though rebuked, I determined to do it if any information could be got +out of them. The desire to know things was consuming. I had the belated +feeling of one who waked to consciousness late in life and found the +world had run away from him. The camp seemed strange, as if I had been +gone many years, but every object was so wonderfully distinct. + +My mother Marianne fed me, and when I lay down dizzy in the bunk, +covered me. The family must have thought it was natural sleep. But it +was a fainting collapse, which took me more than once afterwards as +suddenly as a blow on the head, when my faculties were most needed. +Whether this was caused by the plunge upon the rock or the dim life from +which I had emerged, I do not know. One moment I saw the children, and +mothers from the neighboring lodges, more interested than my own +mother: our smoky rafters, and the fire pit in the center of unfloored +ground: my clothes hanging over the bunk, and even a dog with his nose +in the kettle. And then, as it had been the night before, I waked after +many hours. + +By that time the family breathing sawed the air within the walls, and a +fine starlight showed through the open door, for we had no window. +Outside the oak trees were pattering their leaves like rain, reminding +me of our cool spring in the woods. My bandaged head was very hot, in +that dark lair of animals where the log bunks stretched and deepened +shadow. + +If Skenedonk had been there I would have asked him to bring me water, +with confidence in his natural service. The chief's family was a large +one, but not one of my brothers and sisters seemed as near to me as +Skenedonk. The apathy of fraternal attachment never caused me any pain. +The whole tribe was held dear. + +I stripped off Doctor Chantry's unendurable bandages, and put on my +clothes, for there were brambles along the path. The lodges and the dogs +were still, and I crept like a hunter after game, to avoid waking them. +Our village was an irregular camp, each house standing where its owner +had pleased to build it on the lake shore. Behind it the blackness of +wooded wilderness seemed to stretch to the end of the world. + +The spring made a distinct tinkle in the rush of low sound through the +forest. A rank night sweetness of mints and other lush plants mixed its +spirit with the body of leaf earth. I felt happy in being a part of all +this, and the woods were to me as safe as the bed-chamber of a mother. +It was fine to wallow, damming the span of escaping water with my +fevered head. Physical relief and delicious shuddering coolness ran +through me. + +From that wet pillow I looked up and thought again of what had happened +that day, and particularly of the girl whom De Chaumont had called +Madame de Ferrier and Eagle. Every word that she had spoken passed again +before my mind. Possibilities that I had never imagined rayed out from +my recumbent body as from the hub of a vast wheel. I was white. I was +not an Indian. I had a Bourbon ear. She believed I was a dauphin. What +was a dauphin, that she should make such a deep obeisance to it? My +father the chief, recommending me to the squaws, had appeared to know +nothing about it. + +All that she believed De Chaumont denied. The rich book which stirred +such torment in me--"you know it was his mother's!" she said--De +Chaumont thought I merely coveted. I can see now that the crude +half-savage boy wallowing in the spring stream, set that woman as high +as the highest star above his head, and made her the hope and symbol of +his possible best. + +A woman's long cry, like the appeal of that one on whom he meditated, +echoed through the woods and startled him out of his wallow. + + + + +III + + +I sat up with the water trickling down my back. The cry was repeated, +out of the west. + +I knew the woods, but night alters the most familiar places. It was so +dark in vaults and tunnels of trees and thickets that I might have +burrowed through the ground almost as easily as thresh a path. The +million scarcely audible noises that fill a forest surrounded me, and +twigs not broken by me cracked or shook. Still I made directly toward +the woman's voice which guided me more plainly; but left off running as +my ear detected that she was only in perplexity. She called at +intervals, imperatively but not in continuous screams. She was a white +woman; for no squaw would publish her discomfort. A squaw if lost would +camp sensibly on a bed of leaves, and find her way back to the village +in the morning. The wilderness was full of dangers, but when you are +elder brother to the bear and the wildcat you learn their habits, and +avoid or outwit them. + +Climbing over rocks and windfalls I came against a solid log wall and +heard the woman talking in a very pretty chatter the other side of it. +She only left off talking to call for help, and left off calling for +help to scold and laugh again. There was a man imprisoned with her, and +they were speaking English, a language I did not then understand. But +what had happened to them was very plain. They had wandered into a pen +built by hunters to trap bears, and could not find the bush-masked and +winding opening, but were traveling around the walls. It was lucky for +them that a bear had not arrived first, though in that case their horses +must have smelled him. I heard the beasts shaking their bridles. + +I found my way to the opening, and whistled. At once the woman ceased +her chatter and drew in her breath, and they both asked me a question +that needed no interpretation. I told them where they were, and the +woman began talking at once in my own tongue and spoke it as well as I +could myself. + +"In a bear pen? George, he says we are in a bear pen! Take us out, dear +chief, before the bear family arrive home from their ball. I don't know +whether you are a chief or not, but most Indians are. My nurse was a +chief's daughter. Where are you? I can't see anything but chunks of +blackness." + +I took her horse by the bridle and led him, and so got both the riders +outside. They had no tinder, and neither had I; and all of us groped for +the way by which they had come to the bear pen. The young man spurred +his horse in every direction, and turned back unable to get through. + +Though we could not see one another I knew that both the adventurers +were young, and that they expected to be called to severe account for +the lawless act they were committing. The girl, talking English, or +French, or Mohawk almost in one breath, took the blame upon herself and +made light of the boy's self-reproaches. + +She laughed and said--"My father thinks I am with Miss Chantry, and Miss +Chantry thinks I am with my father. He will blame her for letting me +ride with George Croghan to meet him, and lose the way and so get into +the bear pen. And she will blame my father, and your dearest Annabel +will let the Count de Chaumont and Miss Chantry fight it out. It is not +an affair for youth to meddle with, George." + +Having her for interpreter the boy and I consulted. I might have led him +back to our hunting camp, but it was a hard road for a woman and an +impossible one for horses. There was no inhabited house nearer than De +Chaumont's own. He decided they must return to the road by which they +had come into the bear pen, and gladly accepted my offer to go with him; +dismounting and leading Annabel de Chaumont's horse while I led his. We +passed over rotten logs and through black tangles, the girl bending to +her saddle bow, unwearied and full of laughter. It was plain that he +could not find any outlet, and falling behind with the cumbered horse he +let me guide the party. + +I do not know by what instinct I felt my way, conscious of slipping +between the wild citizens of that vast town of trees; but we finally +reached a clearing and saw across the open space a lighted cabin. Its +sashless windows and defective chinks were gilded with the yellow light +that comes from a glowing hearth. + +"I know this place!" exclaimed Annabel. "It is where the Saint-Michels +used to live before they went to my father's settlement at Le Rayville. +Look at the house! Nobody lives there. It must be full of witches." + +Violin music testified that the witches were merry. We halted, and the +horses neighed and were answered by others of their kind. + +"George Croghan's grandmother was struck by a witch ball. And here her +grandson stands, too tired to run. But perhaps there aren't any witches +in the house. I don't believe wicked things would be allowed to enter +it. The Saint-Michels were so pious, and ugly, and resigned to the +poverty of refugees. Their society was so good for me, my mother, when +she was alive, made me venerate them until I hated them. Holy Sophie +died and went to heaven. I shall never see her again. She was, indeed, +excellent. This can't be a nest of witches. George, why don't you go and +knock on the door?" + +It was not necessary, for the door opened and a man appeared, holding +his violin by the neck. He stepped out to look around the cabin at some +horses fastened there, and saw and hailed us. + +I was not sorry to be allowed to enter, for I was tired to exhaustion, +and sat down on the floor away from the fire. The man looked at me +suspiciously, though he was ruddy and good natured. But he bent quite +over before De Chaumont's daughter, and made a flourish with his hand +in receiving young Croghan. There were in the cabin with him two women +and two little girls; and a Canadian servant like a fat brown bear came +from the rear of the house to look at us and then went back to the +horses. + +All the women began to speak, but Annabel de Chaumont could talk faster +than the four others combined, so they knew our plight before we learned +that they were the Grignon and Tank families, who were going into the +west to find settlement and had made the house their camp for one night. +The Dutch maid, dark and round-eyed, and the flaxen little Grignon, had +respect for their elders and held their tongues while Madame Tank and +Madame Grignon spoke, but Annabel de Chaumont was like a grove of +sparrows. The world seemed swarming with young maids. The travelers were +mere children, while the count's daughter was startling as an angel. Her +clothing fitted her body like an exquisite sheath. I do not know what it +was, but it made her look as slim as a dragon fly. Her white and rose +pink face had a high arched nose, and was proud and saucy. She wore her +hair beaten out like mist, with rich curly shreds hanging in front of +her ears to her shoulders. She shook her head to set her hat straight, +and turned her eyes in rapid smiling sweeps. I knew as well then as I +ever did afterwards that she was bound to befool every man that came +near her. + +There were only two benches in the cabin, but it was floored and better +made than our hunting lodges. The temporary inmates and their guests +sat down in a long row before the fire. I was glad to make a pillow of a +saddle near the wall, and watch their backs, as an outsider. +Mademoiselle de Chaumont absorbed all eyes and all attention. She told +about a ball, to which she had ridden with her governess and servants a +three days' journey, and from which all the dancers were riding back a +three days' journey to join in another ball at her father's house. With +the hospitality which made Le Ray de Chaumont's manor the palace of the +wilderness as it existed then, she invited the hosts who sheltered her +for the night, to come to the ball and stay all summer. And they +lamented that they could not accept the invitation, being obliged to +hurry on to Albany, where a larger party would give them escort on a +long westward journey. + +The head of the house took up his bow, as if musing on the ball, and +Annabel de Chaumont wriggled her feet faster and faster. Tireless as +thistledown that rolls here and there at the will of the wind, up she +sprang and began to dance. The children watched her spellbound. None of +us had ever seen the many figures through which she passed, or such +wonderful dancing. The chimney was built of logs and clay, forming +terraces. As if it was no longer possible for her to stay on the ground +she darted from the bench-end to the lowest log, and stepped on up as +fearlessly as a thing of air, until her head touched the roof. Monsieur +Grignon played like mad, and the others clapped their hands. While she +poised so I sat up to watch her, and she noticed me for the first time +by firelight. + +"Look at that boy--he has been hurt--the blood is running down his +cheek!" she cried. "I thought he was an Indian--and he is white!" + +She came down as lightly as she had gone up, and caused me to be haled +against my will to the middle of a bench. I wanted the women to leave me +alone, and told them my head had been broken two days before, and was +nearly well. The mothers, too keen to wash and bandage to let me escape, +opened a saddle pack and tore good linen. + +George Croghan stood by the chimney, slim and tall and handsome. His +head and face were long, his hair was of a sunny color, and his mouth +corners were shrewd and good natured. I liked him the moment I saw him. +Younger in years than I, he was older in wit and manly carriage. While +he looked on it was hard to have Madame Tank seize my head in her hands +and examine my eyebrow. She next took my wrists, and not satisfied, +stripped up the right sleeve and exposed a crescent-shaped scar, one of +the rare vaccination marks of those days. I did not know what it was. +Her animated dark eyes drew the brows together so that a pucker came +between them. I looked at Croghan, and wanted to exclaim--"Help +yourself! Anybody may handle me!" + +"Ursule Grignon!" she said sharply, and Madame Grignon answered, + +"Eh, what, Katarina?" + +"This is the boy." + +"But what boy?" + +"The boy I saw on the ship." + +"The one who was sent to America--" + +Madame Tank put up her hand, and the other stopped. + +"But that was a child," Madame Grignon then objected. + +"Nine years ago. He would be about eighteen now." + +"How old are you?" they both put to me. + +Remembering what my father had told Doctor Chantry, I was obliged to own +that I was about eighteen. Annabel de Chaumont sat on the lowest log of +the chimney with her feet on a bench, and her chin in her hand, +interested to the point of silence. Something in her eyes made it very +galling to be overhauled and have my blemishes enumerated before her and +Croghan. What had uplifted me to Madame de Ferrier's recognition now +mocked, and I found it hard to submit. It would not go well with the +next stranger who declared he knew me by my scars. + +"What do they call you in this country?" inquired Madame Tank. + +I said my name was Lazarre Williams. + +"It is not!" she said in an undertone, shaking her head. + +I made bold to ask with some warmth what my name was then, and she +whispered--"Poor child!" + +It seemed that I was to be pitied in any case. In dim self-knowledge I +saw that the core of my resentment was her treating me with +commiseration. Madame de Ferrier had not treated me so. + +"You live among the Indians?" Madame Tank resumed. + +The fact was evident. + +"Have they been kind to you?" + +I said they had. + +Madame Tank's young daughter edged near her and inquired in a whisper, + +"Who is he, mother?" + +"Hush!" answered Madame Tank. + +The head of the party laid down his violin and bow, and explained to us: + +"Madame Tank was maid of honor to the queen of Holland, before reverses +overtook her. She knows court secrets." + +"But she might at least tell us," coaxed Annabel, "if this Mohawk is a +Dutchman." + +Madame Tank said nothing. + +"What could happen in the court of Holland? The Dutch are slow coaches. +I saw the Van Rensselaers once, near Albany, riding in a wagon with +straw under their feet, on common chairs, the old Patroon himself +driving. This boy is some off-scouring." + +"He outranks you, mademoiselle," retorted Madame Tank. + +"That's what I wanted to find out," said Annabel. + +I kept half an eye on Croghan to see what he thought of all this woman +talk. For you cannot help being more dominated by the opinion of your +contemporaries than by that of the fore-running or following generation. +He held his countenance in excellent command, and did not meddle even by +a word. You could be sure, however, that he was no credulous person who +accepted everything that was said to him. + +Madame Tank looked into the reddened fireplace, and began to speak, but +hesitated. The whole thing was weird, like a dream resulting from the +cut on my head: the strange white faces; the camp stuff and saddlebags +unpacked from horses; the light on the coarse floor; the children +listening as to a ghost story; Mademoiselle de Chaumont presiding over +it all. The cabin had an arched roof and no loft. The top was full of +shadows. + +"If you are the boy I take you to be," Madame Tank finally said, sinking +her voice, "you may find you have enemies." + +"If I am the boy you take me to be, madame, who am I?" + +She shook her head. + +"I wish I had not spoken at all. To tell you anything more would only +plunge you into trouble. You are better off to be as you are, than to +know the truth and suffer from it. Besides, I may be mistaken. And I am +certainly too helpless myself to be of any use to you. This much I will +say: when you are older, if things occur that make it necessary for you +to know what I know, send a letter to me, and I will write it down." + +With delicacy Monsieur Grignon began to play a whisper of a tune on his +violin. I did not know what she meant by a letter, though I understood +her. Madame Tank spoke the language as well as anybody. I thought then, +as idiom after idiom rushed back on my memory, that it was an universal +language, with the exception of Iroquois and English. + +"We are going to a place called Green Bay, in the Northwest Territory. +Remember the name: Green Bay. It is in the Wisconsin country." + + + + +IV + + +Dawn found me lying wide awake with my head on a saddle. I slipped out +into the dewy half light. + +That was the first time I ever thought about the mountains. They seemed +to be newly created, standing up with streamers of mist torn and +floating across their breasts. The winding cliff-bound lake was like a +gorge of smoke. I felt as if I had reared upon my hind feet, lifting my +face from the ground to discover there was a God. Some of the prayers +our priest had industriously beaten into my head, began to repeat +themselves. In a twinkling I was a child, lonely in the universe, +separated from my dim old life, instinct with growth, yet ignorant of my +own needs. + +What Madame de Ferrier and Madame Tank had said influenced me less than +the intense life of my roused activities. + +It was mid forenoon by the sun when I reached our lodges, and sat down +fagged outside my father's door, to think longer before I entered. +Hunger was the principal sensation, though we had eaten in the cabin the +night before, and the Indian life inures a man to fasting when he cannot +come by food. I heard Skenedonk talking to my father and mother in our +cabin. The village was empty; children and women, hunters and fishermen +having scattered to woods and waters. + +"He ought to learn books," said Skenedonk. "Money is sent you every year +to be spent upon him: yet you spend nothing upon him." + +"What has he needed?" said my father. + +"He needs much now. He needs American clothes. He wept at the sight of a +book. God has removed the touch since he plunged in the water." + +"You would make a fool of him," said my father. "He was gone from the +lodge this morning. You taught him an evil path when you carried him +off." + +"It is a natural path for him: he will go to his own. I stayed and +talked with De Chaumont, and I bring you an offer. De Chaumont will take +Lazarre into his house, and have him taught all that a white boy should +know. You will pay the cost. If you don't, De Chaumont will look into +this annuity of which you give no account." + +"I have never been asked to give account. Could Lazarre learn anything? +The priest has sat over him. He had food and clothing like my own." + +"That is true. But he is changed. Marianne will let him go." + +"The strange boy may go," said my mother. "But none of my own children +shall leave us to be educated." + +I got up and went into the cabin. All three knew I had heard, and they +waited in silence while I approached my mother and put my hands on her +shoulders. There was no tenderness between us, but she had fostered me. +The small dark eyes in her copper face, and her shapeless body, were +associated with winters and summers stretching to a vanishing point. + +"Mother," I said, "is it true that I am not your son?" + +She made no answer. + +"Is it true that the chief is not my father?" + +She made no answer. + +"Who sends money to be spent on me every year?" + +Still she made no answer. + +"If I am not your son, whose son am I?" + +In the silence I turned to Skenedonk. + +"Isn't my name Lazarre Williams, Skenedonk?" + +"You are called Lazarre Williams." + +"A woman told me last night that it was not my name. Everyone denies me. +No one owns me and tells whose child I am. Wasn't I born at St. Regis?" + +"If you were, there is no record of your birth on the register. The +chief's other children have their births recorded." + +I turned to my father. The desolation of being cut off and left with +nothing but the guesses of strangers overcame me. I sobbed so the hoarse +choke echoed in the cabin. Skenedonk opened his arms, and my father and +mother let me lean on the Oneida's shoulder. + +I have thought since that they resented with stoical pain his taking +their white son from them. They both stood severely reserved, passively +loosening the filial bond. + +All the business of life was suspended, as when there is death in the +lodge. Skenedonk and I sat down together on a bunk. + +"Lazarre," my father spoke, "do you want to be educated?" + +The things we pine for in this world are often thrust upon us in a way +to choke us. I had tramped miles, storming for the privileges that had +made George Croghan what he was. Fate instantly picked me up from +unendurable conditions to set me down where I could grow, and I squirmed +with recoil from the shock. + +I felt crowded over the edge of a cliff and about to drop into a valley +of rainbows. + +"Do you want to live in De Chaumont's house and learn his ways?" + +My father and mother had been silent when I questioned them. It was my +turn to be silent. + +"Or would you rather stay as you are?" + +"No, father," I answered, "I want to go." + +The camp had never been dearer. I walked among the Indian children when +the evening fires were lighted, and the children looked at me curiously +as at an alien. Already my people had cut me off from them. + +"What I learn I will come back and teach you," I told the young men and +women of my own age. They laughed. + +"You are a fool, Lazarre. There is a good home for you at St. Regis. If +you fall sick in De Chaumont's house who will care?" + +"Skenedonk is my friend," I answered. + +"Skenedonk would not stay where he is tying you. When the lake freezes +you will be mad for snowshoes and a sight of the St. Lawrence." + +"Perhaps so. But we are not made alike. Do not forget me." + +They gave me belts and garters, and I distributed among them all my +Indian property. Then, as if to work a charm which should keep me from +breaking through the circle, they joined hands and danced around me. I +went to every cabin, half ashamed of my desertion, yet unspeakably +craving a blessing. The old people variously commented on the measure, +their wise eyes seeing the change in one who had been a child rather +than a young man among them. + +If the wrench from the village was hard, the induction into the manor +was harder. Skenedonk took me in his boat, skirting the long strip of +mountainous shore which separated us from De Chaumont. + +He told me De Chaumont would permit my father to pay no more than my +exact reckoning. + +"Do you know who sends the money?" I inquired. + +The Oneida did not know. It came through an agent in New York. + +"You are ten years older than I am. You must remember very well when I +was born." + +"How can that be?" answered Skenedonk. "Nobody in the tribe knows when +you were born." + +"Are children not like the young of other creatures? Where did I come +from?" + +"You came to the tribe with a man, and Chief Williams adopted you." + +"Did you see the man?" + +"No. I was on the other side of the ocean, in France." + +"Who saw him?" + +"None of our people. But it is very well known. If you had noticed +anything you would have heard the story long ago." + +What Skenedonk said was true. I asked him, bewildered--"Why did I never +notice anything?" + +The Oneida tapped his bald head. + +"When I saw you first you were not the big fellow with speaking eyes +that you are to-day. You would sit from sunrise to sunset, looking +straight ahead of you and never moving except when food was put in your +hand. As you grew older the children dragged you among them to play. You +learned to fish, and hunt, and swim; and knew us, and began to talk our +language. Now at last you are fully roused, and are going to learn the +knowledge there is in books." + +I asked Skenedonk how he himself had liked books, and he shook his head, +smiling. They were good for white men, very good. An Indian had little +use for them. He could read and write and cast accounts. When he made +his great journey to the far country, what interested him most was the +behavior of the people. + +We did not go into the subject of his travels at that time, for I began +to wonder who was going to teach me books, and heard with surprise that +it was Doctor Chantry. + +"But I struck him with the little knife that springs out of a box." + +Skenedonk assured me that Doctor Chantry thought nothing of it, and +there was no wound but a scratch. He looked on me as his pupil. He knew +all kinds of books. + +Evidently Doctor Chantry liked me from the moment I showed fight. His +Anglo-Saxon blood was stirred. He received me from Skenedonk, who shook +my hand and wished me well, before paddling away. + +De Chaumont's house was full as a hive around the three sides of its +flowered court. A ball was in preparation, and all the guests had +arrived. Avoiding these gentry we mounted stairs toward the roof, and +came into a burst of splendor. As far as the eye could see through +square east and west windows, unbroken forests stretched to the end of +the world, or Lake George wound, sown thick with islands, ranging in +size from mere rocks supporting a tree, to wooded acres. + +The room which weaned me from aboriginal life was at the top of the +central building. Doctor Chantry shuffled over the clean oak floor and +introduced me to my appointments. There were curtains like frost work, +which could be pushed back from the square panes. At one end of the huge +apartment was my huge bed, formidable with hangings. Near it stood a +table for the toilet. He opened a closet door in the wall and showed a +spiral staircase going down to a tunnel which led to the lake. For when +De Chaumont first came into the wilderness and built the central house +without its wings, he thought it well to have a secret way out, as his +chateau in the old country had. + +"The tunnel is damp," said Doctor Chantry. "I never venture into it, +though all the corner rooms below give upon this stairway, and mine is +just under yours." + +It was like returning me the lake to use in my own accustomed way. For +the remainder of my furniture I had a study table, a cupboard for +clothes, some arm-chairs, a case of books, and a massive fireplace with +chimney seats at the end of the room opposite the bed. + +I asked Doctor Chantry, "Was all this made ready for me before I was +sure of coming here?" + +"When the count decides that a thing will be done it is usually done," +said my schoolmaster. "And Madame de Ferrier was very active in +forwarding the preparations." + +The joy of youth in the unknown was before me. My old camp life receded +behind me. + +Madame de Ferrier's missal-book lay on the table, and when I stopped +before it tongue-tied, Doctor Chantry said I was to keep it. + +"She gives it to you. It was treasured in her family on account of +personal attachment to the giver. She is not a Catholic. She was brought +up as good a Protestant as any English gentlewoman." + +"I told her it was my mother's. It seemed to be my mother's. But I don't +know--I can't remember." + +My master looked at the missal, and said it was a fine specimen of +illumination. His manner toward me was so changed that I found it hard +to refer to the lancet. This, however, very naturally followed his +examination of my head. He said I had healthy blood, and the wound was +closing by the first intention. The pink cone at the tip of his nose +worked in a whimsical grin as he heard my apology. + +"It is not often you will make the medicine man take his own remedy, my +lad." + +We thus began our relation with the best feeling. It has since appeared +that I was a blessing to Doctor Chantry. My education gave him something +to do. For although he called himself physician to Count de Chaumont, he +had no real occupation in the house, and dabbled with poetry, dozing +among books. De Chaumont was one of those large men who gather in the +weak. His older servants had come to America with his father, and were +as attached as kindred. A natural parasite like Doctor Chantry took to +De Chaumont as means of support; and it was pleasing to both of them. + +My master asked me when I wanted to begin my studies, and I said, "Now." +We sat down at the table, and I learned the English alphabet, some +phrases of English talk, some spelling, and traced my first characters +in a copy-book. With consuming desire to know, I did not want to leave +off at dusk. In that high room day lingered. The doctor was fretful for +his supper before we rose from our task. + +Servants were hurrying up and down stairs. The whole house had an air of +festivity. Doctor Chantry asked me to wait in a lower corridor while he +made some change in his dress. + +I sat down on a broad window sill, and when I had waited a few minutes, +Mademoiselle de Chaumont darted around a corner, bare armed and bare +necked. She collapsed to the floor at sight of me, and then began to +dance away in the opposite direction with stiff leaps, as a lamb does in +spring-time. + +I saw she was in pain or trouble, needing a servant, and made haste to +reach her; when she hid her face on both arms against the wall. + +"Go off!" she hissed. "--S-s-s! Go off! I haven't anything on!--Don't go +off! Open my door for me quick!--before anybody else comes into the +hall!" + +"Which door is it?" I asked. She showed me. It had a spring catch, and +she had stepped into the hall to see if the catch was set. + +"The catch was set!" gasped Mademoiselle de Chaumont. "Break the +door--get it open--anyway--Quick!" + +By good fortune I had strength enough in my shoulder to set the door +wide off its spring, and she flew to the middle of the room slamming it +in my face. + +Fitness and unfitness required nicer discrimination than the crude boy +from the woods possessed. When I saw her in the ball-room she had very +little more on than when I saw her in the hall, and that little clung +tight around her figure. Yet she looked quite unconcerned. + +After we had eaten supper Doctor Chantry and I sat with his sister where +we could see the dancing, on a landing of the stairway. De Chaumont's +generous house was divided across the middle by a wide hall that made an +excellent ball-room. The sides were paneled, like the walls of the room +in which I first came to my senses. Candles in sconces were reflected by +the polished, dark floor. A platform for his fiddlers had been built at +one end. Festoons of green were carried from a cluster of lights in the +center of the ceiling, to the corners, making a bower or canopy under +which the dancers moved. + +It is strange to think that not one stone remains upon another and +scarcely a trace is left of this manor. When De Chaumont determined to +remove to his seat at Le Rayville, in what was then called Castorland, +he had his first hold pulled down. + +Miss Chantry was a blunt woman. Her consideration for me rested on my +being her brother's pupil. She spoke more readily than he did. From our +cove we looked over the railing at an active world. + +"Madame Eagle is a picture," remarked Miss Chantry. "---- Eagle! What a +name for civilized people to give a christened child! But these French +are as likely as not to call their boys Anne or Marie, and it wouldn't +surprise me if they called their girls Cat or Dog. Eagle or Crow, she is +the handsomest woman on the floor." + +"Except Mademoiselle Annabel," the doctor ventured to amend. + +"That Annabel de Chaumont," his sister vigorously declared, "has neither +conscience nor gratitude. But none of the French have. They will take +your best and throw you away with a laugh." + +My master and I watched the brilliant figures swimming in the glow of +wax candles. Face after face could be singled out as beautiful, and the +scant dresses revealed taper forms. Madame de Ferrier's garments may +have been white or blue or yellow; I remember only her satin arms and +neck, the rosy color of her face, and the powder on her hair making it +white as down. Where this assembly was collected from I did not know, +but it acted on the spirits and went like volatile essence to the brain. + +"Pheugh!" exclaimed Miss Chantry, "how the French smell!" + +I asked her why, if she detested them so, she lived in a French family, +and she replied that Count de Chaumont was an exception, being almost +English in his tastes. He had lived out of France since his father came +over with La Fayette to help the rebellious Americans. + +I did not know who the rebellious Americans were, but inferred that +they were people of whom Miss Chantry thought almost as little as she +did of the French. + +Croghan looked quite a boy among so many experienced gallants, but well +appointed in his dress and stepping through the figures featly. He was, +Miss Chantry said, a student of William and Mary College. + +"This company of gentry will be widely scattered when it disperses +home," she told us. "There is at least one man from over-seas." + +I thought of the Grignon and Tank families, who were probably on the +road to Albany. Miss Chantry bespoke her brother's attention. + +"There he is." + +"Who?" the doctor inquired. + +"His highness," she incisively responded, "Prince Jerome Bonaparte." + +I remembered my father had said that Bonaparte was a great soldier in a +far off country, and directly asked Miss Chantry if the great soldier +was in the ball-room. + +She breathed a snort and turned upon my master. "Pray, are you teaching +this lad to call that impostor the great soldier?" + +Doctor Chantry denied the charge and cast a weak-eyed look of surprise +at me. + +I said my father told me Bonaparte was a great soldier, and begged to +know if he had been deceived. + +"Oh!" Miss Chantry responded in a tone which slighted Thomas Williams. +"Well! I will tell you facts. Napoleon Bonaparte is one of the worst and +most dangerous men that ever lived. He sets the world by the ears, and +carries war into every country of Europe. That is his youngest brother +yonder--that superfine gallant, in the long-tailed white silk coat down +to his heels, and white small-clothes, with diamond buckles in his +shoes, and grand lace stock and ruffles. Jerome Bonaparte spent last +winter in Baltimore; and they say he is traveling in the north now to +forget a charming American that Napoleon will not let him marry. He has +got his name in the newspapers of the day, and so has the young lady. +The French consul warned her officially. For Jerome Bonaparte may be +made a little king, with other relations of your great soldier." + +The young man who might be made a little king was not as large as I was +myself, and had a delicate and womanish cut of countenance. I said he +was not fit for a king, and Miss Chantry retorted that neither was +Napoleon Bonaparte fit for an emperor. + +"What is an emperor?" I inquired. + +"A chief over kings," Doctor Chantry put in. "Bonaparte is a conqueror +and can set kings over the countries he has conquered." + +I said that was the proper thing to do. Miss Chantry glared at me. She +had weak hair like her brother, but her eyes were a piercing blue, and +the angles of her jaws were sharply marked. + +Meditating on things outside of my experience I desired to know what the +white silk man had done. + +"Nothing." + +"Then why should the emperor give him a kingdom?" + +"Because he is the emperor's brother." + +"But he ought to do something himself," I insisted. "It is not enough to +accept a chief's place. He cannot hold it if he is not fit." + +"So the poor Bourbons found. But they were not upstarts at any rate. I +hope I shall live to see them restored." + +Here was another opportunity to inform myself. I asked Miss Chantry who +the Bourbons were. + +"They are the rightful kings of France." + +"Why do they let Bonaparte and his brothers take their place?" + +Doctor Chantry turned from the promenaders below and, with slow and +careful speech, gave me my first lesson in history. + +"There was a great civil war in France called the Revolution, when part +of the people ran mad to kill the other part. They cut off the heads of +the king and queen, and shut up the two royal children in prison. The +dauphin died." + +"What is a dauphin?" + +"The heir to the throne of France was called the dauphin." + +"Was he the king's son?" + +"The king's eldest son." + +"If he had brothers were they dauphins too?" + +"No. He alone was the dauphin. The last dauphin of France had no living +brothers. He had only a sister." + +"You said the dauphin died." + +"In a prison called the Temple, in Paris." + +"Was the Temple a prison?" + +"Yes." + +Madame de Ferrier had said her father and some other person did not +believe the dauphin died in the Temple. + +"Suppose he was alive?" I hazarded. + +"Suppose who was alive?" said Miss Chantry. + +"The dauphin." + +"He isn't." + +"Did all the people believe he was dead?" + +"They didn't care whether he was dead or not. They went on killing one +another until this man Bonaparte put himself at the head of the army and +got the upper hand of them. The French are all fire and tow, and the man +who can stamp on them is their idol." + +"You said you hoped you would live to see the Bourbons restored. Dead +people cannot be restored." + +"Oh, the Bourbons are not all dead. The king of France had brothers. The +elder one of these would be king now if the Bourbons came back to the +throne." + +"But he would not be king if the dauphin lived?" + +"No," said Miss Chantry, leaning back indifferently. + +My head felt confused, throbbing with the dull ache of healing. I +supported it, resting my elbow on the railing. + +The music, under cover of which we had talked, made one of its pauses. +Annabel de Chaumont looked up at us, allowing the gentleman in the +long-tailed silk coat to lead her toward the stairs. + + + + +V + + +Miss Chantry exclaimed, and her face stiffened with an expression which +I have since learned to know as the fear of dignitaries; experienced +even by people who profess to despise the dignitaries. Mademoiselle de +Chaumont shook frizzes around her face, and lifted the scant dress from +her satin shod feet as she mounted the stairs. Without approaching us +she sat down on the top step of the landing with young Bonaparte, and +beckoned to me. + +I went at her bidding and stood by the rail. + +"Prince Jerome Bonaparte wants to see you. I have told him about the +bear pen, and Madame Tank, and the mysterious marks on you, and what she +said about your rank." + +I must have frowned, for the young gentleman made a laughing sign to me +that he did not take Annabel seriously. He had an amiable face, and +accepted me as one of the oddities of the country. + +"What fun," said Annabel, "to introduce a prince of the empire to a +prince of the woods!" + +"What do you think of your brother?" I inquired. + +He looked astonished and raised his eyebrows. + +"I suppose you mean the emperor?" + +I told him I did. + +"If you want my candid opinion," his eyes twinkled, and he linked his +hands around his white satin knees, "I think my brother rules his family +with a rod of iron." + +"What will you do," I continued, "when your family are turned out?" + +"My faith!" said Annabel, "this in a house favorable to the Empire!" + +"A very natural question," said Jerome. "I have often asked myself the +same thing." + +"The king of France," I argued, "and all the Bourbons were turned out. +Why shouldn't the Bonapartes be?" + +"Why shouldn't they, indeed!" responded Jerome. "My mother insists they +will be. But I wouldn't be the man who undertakes to turn out the +emperor." + +"What is he like?" + +"Impossible to describe him." + +"Is he no larger than you?" + +Annabel gurgled aloud. + +"He is not as large." + +"Yet he is a great soldier?" + +"A great soldier. And he is adored by the French." + +"The French," I quoted, "are all fire and tow." + +"Thank you!" said Annabel, pulling out her light frizzes. + +"You seem interested in the political situation," remarked Prince +Jerome. + +I did not know what he meant by the political situation, but told him I +had just heard about the Bonapartes. + +"Where have you lived?" he laughed. + +I told him it didn't matter where people lived; it all depended on +whether they understood or not. + +"What a sage!--I think I'm one of the people who will never be able to +understand," said Jerome. + +I said he did not look as if he had been idiotic, and both he and +Mademoiselle de Chaumont laughed. + +"Monsieur"-- + +"Lazarre Williams," supplemented Annabel. + +"Monsieur Lazarre Williams, whatever your lot in life, you will have one +advantage over me; you will be an American citizen." + +"Haven't I that doleful advantage myself?" mourned Annabel. "A Baltimore +convent, an English governess--a father that may never go back to +France!" + +"Mademoiselle, all advantages of nationality, of person, of mind, of +heart, are yours!" + +So tipping the interview with a compliment he rose up, and Annabel rose +also, making him a deep courtesy, and giving him her hand to be led back +to the floor. He kissed her white forefinger, and bowed to me. + +"You have suggested some interesting thoughts, monsieur prince of the +woods. Perhaps you may yet take your turn on the throne of France. What +would you do in that case?" + +"I would make the people behave themselves if I had to grind them to +powder." + +"Now there spoke old Louis XIV!" laughed young Jerome Bonaparte. We both +bowed, and he passed down with Annabel into the hall. + +I did not know what made Madame de Ferrier watch me from her distant +place with widened eyes. + +Miss Chantry spoke shrilly to her brother behind me. + +"You will never be able to do anything with a lad who thrusts himself +forward like that! He has no sense of fitness!--standing there and +facing down the brother of a crowned head!--bad as the head is. Of +course Mademoiselle Annabel set him on; she loves to make people +ridiculous!" + +I walked downstairs after Prince Jerome, threaded a way among gazing +dancers, and left the hall, stung in my pride. + +We do strangely expand and contract in vital force and reach of vision. +I wanted to put the lake--the world itself--between me and that +glittering company. The edge of a ball-room and the society of men in +silks and satins, and of bewitching women, were not intended for me. + +Homesickness like physical pain came over me for my old haunts. They +were newly recognized as beloved. I had raged against them when +comparing myself to Croghan. But now I thought of the evening camp fire, +and hunting-stories, of the very dogs that licked my hand; of St. Regis, +and my loft bed, of snowshoes, and the blue northern river, longing for +them as the young Mohawks said I should long. Tom betwixt two natures, +the white man's and the Indian's, I flung a boat out into the water and +started to go home faster than I had come away. The slowness of a boat's +progress, pushed by the silly motion of oars, which have not the nice +discrimination of a paddle, impressed me as I put the miles behind. + +When the camp light shone through trees it must have been close to +midnight, and my people had finished their celebration of the corn +dance. An odor of sweet roasted ears dragged out of hot ashes reached +the poor outsider. Even the dogs were too busy to nose me out. I slunk +as close as I dared and drew myself up a tree, lying stretched with arms +and legs around a limb. + +They would have admitted me to the feast, but as a guest. I had no +longer a place of my own, either here or there. It was like coming back +after death, to realize that you were unmissed. The camp was full of +happiness and laughter. Young men chased the young maids, who ran +squealing with merriment. My father, Thomas Williams, and my mother, +Marianne, sat among the elders tranquil and satisfied. They were +ignorant Indians; but I had no other parents. Skenedonk could be seen, +laughing at the young Mohawks. + +If there was an oval faced mother in my past, who had read to me from +the missal, I wanted her. If, as Madame Tank said, I outranked De +Chaumont's daughter, I wanted my rank. It was necessary for me to have +something of my own: to have love from somebody! + +Collapsed and dejected, I crept down the tree and back to the life that +was now forced upon me whether I wished to continue it or not. Belonging +nowhere, I remembered my refuge in the new world of books. + +Lying stretched in the boat with oars shipped, drifting and turning on +the crooked lake, I took exact stock of my position in the world, and +marked out my future. + +These things were known: + +I was not an Indian. + +I had been adopted into the family of Chief Williams. + +Money was sent through an agent in New York for my support and +education. + +There were scars on my wrists, ankles, arm and eyebrow. + +These scars identified me in Madame de Ferrier's mind and Madame Tank's +mind as a person from the other side of the world. + +I had formerly been deadened in mind. + +I was now keenly alive. + +These things were not known: + +Who I was. + +Who sent money for my support and education. + +How I became scarred. + +What man had placed me among the Indians. + +For the future I bound myself with three laws: + +To leave alone the puzzle of my past. + +To study with all my might and strength. + +When I was grown and educated, to come back to my adopted people, the +Iroquois, draw them to some place where they could thrive, and by +training and education make them an empire, and myself their leader. + +The pale-skin's loathing of the red race had not then entered my +imagination. I said in conclusion: + +"Indians have taken care of me; they shall be my brothers." + + + + +VI + + +The zigzag track of the boat represented a rift widening between me and +my past. I sat up and took the oars, feeling older and stronger. + +It was primitive man, riding between the highlands, uncumbered, free to +grasp what was before him. + +De Chaumont did not believe in and was indifferent to the waif whom his +position of great seigneur obliged him to protect. What did I care? I +had been hidden among the Indians by kindred or guardians humane enough +not to leave me destitute. They should not trouble my thoughts, and +neither--I told myself like an Indian--should the imaginings of women. + +A boy minds no labor in following his caprices. The long starlit pull I +reckoned as nothing; and slipped to my room when daylight was beginning +to surprise the dancers. + +It was so easy to avoid people in the spaciousness of De Chaumont's +manor that I did not again see the young Bonaparte nor any of the guests +except Croghan. They slept all the following day, and the third day +separated. Croghan found my room before leaving with his party, and we +talked as well as we could, and shook hands at parting. + +The impressions of that first year stay in my mind as I have heard the +impressions of childhood remain. It was perhaps a kind of brief +childhood, swift in its changes, and running parallel with the +development of youth. + +My measure being sent to New York by De Chaumont, I had a complete new +outfit in clothes; coat, waistcoat, and small-clothes, neckwear, +ruffles, and shirts, buckle shoes, stockings of mild yarn for cold +weather, and thread stockings. Like most of the things for which we +yearn, when I got them I did not like them as well as the Indian +garments they obliged me to shed. + +Skenedonk came to see me nearly every day, and sat still as long as he +could while I toiled at books. I did not tell him how nearly I had +disgraced us both by running secretly away to camp. So I was able to go +back and pay visits with dignity and be taken seriously, instead of +encountering the ridicule that falls upon retreat. + +My father was neither pleased nor displeased. He paid my accounts +exactly, before the camp broke up for the winter, making Skenedonk his +agent. My mother Marianne offered me food as she would have offered it +to Count de Chaumont; and I ate it, sitting on a mat as a guest. Our +children, particularly the elder ones, looked me over with gravity, and +refrained from saying anything about my clothes. + +Our Iroquois went north before snow flew, and the cabins stood empty, +leaves drifting through fire-holes in the bark thatch. + +There have been students greedy of knowledge. I seemed hollow with the +fasting of a lifetime. My master at first tried to bind me to times; he +had never encountered so boundless an appetite. As soon as I woke in the +morning I reached for a book, and as days became darker, for tinder to +light a candle. I studied incessantly, dashing out at intervals to lake +or woods, and returning after wild activity, with increased zest to the +printed world. My mind appeared to resume a faculty it had suspended, +and to resume with incredible power. Magnetized by books, I cared for +nothing else. That first winter I gained hold on English and Latin, on +French reading, mathematics, geography, and history. My master was an +Oxford man, and when roused from dawdling, a scholar. He grew foolishly +proud and fond of what he called my prodigious advance. + +De Chaumont's library was a luscious field, and Doctor Chantry was +permitted to turn me loose in it, so that the books were almost like my +own. I carried them around hid in my breast; my coat-skirts were +weighted with books. There were Plutarch's Lives in the old French of +Amyot, over which I labored; a French translation of Homer; Corneille's +tragedies; Rochefoucauld; Montaigne's essays, in ten volumes; Thomson's +poems, and Chesterfield's letters, in English; the life of Petrarch; +three volumes of Montesquieu's works; and a Bible; which I found greatly +to my taste. It was a wide and catholic taste. + +De Chaumont spent nearly all that autumn and winter in Castorland, +where he was building his new manor and founding his settlement called +Le Rayville. As soon as I became a member of his household his +patriarchal kindness was extended to me, though he regarded me simply as +an ambitious half-breed. + +The strong place which he had built for his first holding in the +wilderness thus grew into a cloistered school for me. It has vanished +from the spot where it stood, but I shall forever see it between lake +and forest. + +Annabel de Chaumont openly hated the isolation of the place, and was +happy only when she could fill it with guests. But Madame de Ferrier +evidently loved it, remaining there with Paul and Ernestine. Sometimes I +did not see her for days together. But Mademoiselle de Chaumont, before +her departure to her Baltimore convent for the winter, amused herself +with my education. She brought me an old book of etiquette in which +young gentlemen were admonished not to lick their fingers or crack bones +with their teeth at table. Nobody else being at hand she befooled with +Doctor Chantry and me, and I saw for the first time, with surprise, an +old man's infatuation with a poppet. + +It was this foolishness of her brother's which Miss Chantry could not +forgive De Chaumont's daughter. She was incessant in her condemnation, +yet unmistakably fond in her English way of the creature she condemned. +Annabel loved to drag my poor master in flowery chains before his +relative. She would make wreaths of crimson leaves for his bald head, +and exhibit him grinning like a weak-eyed Bacchus. Once he sat doting +beside her at twilight on a bench of the wide gallery while his sister, +near by, kept guard over their talk. I passed them, coming back from my +tramp, with a glowing branch in my hand. For having set my teeth in the +scarlet tart udder of a sumach, all frosted with delicate fretwork, I +could not resist bringing away some of its color. + +"Did you get that for me?" called Annabel. I mounted the steps to give +it to her, and she said, "Thank you, Lazarre Williams. Every day you +learn some pretty new trick. Doctor Chantry has not brought me anything +from the woods in a long while." + +Doctor Chantry stirred his gouty feet and looked hopelessly out at the +landscape. + +"Sit here by your dearest Annabel," said Mademoiselle de Chaumont. + +Her governess breathed the usual sigh of disgust. + +I sat by my dearest Annabel, anxious to light my candle and open my +books. She shook the frizzes around her cheeks and buried her hands +under the scarlet branch in her lap. + +"Do you know, Lazarre Williams, I have to leave you?" + +I said I was sorry to hear it. + +"Yes, I have to go back to my convent, and drag poor Miss Chantry with +me, though she is a heretic and bates the forms of our religion. But she +has to submit, and so do I, because my father will have nobody but an +English governess." + +"Mademoiselle," spoke Miss Chantry, "I would suggest that you sit on a +chair by yourself." + +"What, on one of those little crowded chairs?" said Annabel. + +She reached out her sly hand for mine and drew it under cover of the +sumach branch. + +"I have been thinking about your rank a great deal, Lazarre Williams, +and wondering what it is." + +"If you thought more about your own it would be better," said Miss +Chantry. + +"We are Americans here," said Annabel. "All are equal, and some are +free. I am only equal. Must your dearest Annabel obey you about the +chair, Miss Chantry?" + +"I said I would suggest that you sit on a chair by yourself." + +"I will, dear. You know I always follow your suggestions." + +I felt the hand that held mine tighten its grip in a despairing squeeze. +Annabel suddenly raised the branch high above her head with both arms, +and displayed Doctor Chantry's hand and mine clasped tenderly in her +lap. She laughed until even Miss Chantry was infected, and the doctor +tittered and wiped his eyes. + +"Watch your brother, Miss Chantry--don't watch me! You thought he was +squeezing my hand--and he thought so too! Lazarre Williams is just out +of the woods and doesn't know any better. But Doctor Chantry--he is +older than my father!" + +"We wished to oblige you, mademoiselle," I said. But the poor English +gentleman tittered on in helpless admiration. He told me privately--"I +never saw another girl like her. So full of spirits, and so frank!" + +Doctor Chantry did not wear his disfiguring horn spectacles when Annabel +was near. He wrote a great deal of poetry while the blow of parting from +her was hanging over him, and read it to me of mornings, deprecating my +voiceless contempt. I would hear him quarreling with a servant in the +hall; for the slightest variation in his comfort engendered rages in him +that were laughable. Then he entered, red-nosed, red-eyed, and +bloodlessly shivering, with a piece of paper covered by innumerable +small characters. + +"Good morning, my lad," he would say. + +"Good morning, Doctor Chantry," I answered. + +"Here are a few little stanzas which I have just set down. If you have +no objection I will read them." + +I must have listened like a trapped bear, sitting up and longing to get +at him, for he usually finished humbly, folding his paper and putting it +away in his breast. There was reason to believe that he spent valuable +hours copying all these verses for Annabel de Chaumont. But there is no +evidence that she carried them with her when she and her governess +departed in a great coach all gilt and padding. Servants and a wagon +load of baggage and supplies accompanied De Chaumont's daughter on the +long journey to her Baltimore convent. + +Shaking in every nerve and pale as a sheet, my poor master watched her +out of sight. He said he should not see his sister again until spring; +and added that he was a fool, but when a creature of light came across +his path he could not choose but worship. His affections had been +blighted by a disappointment in youth, but he had thought he might at +least bask in passing sunshine, though fated to unhappiness. I was +ashamed to look at him, or to give any sign of overhearing his weakness, +and exulted mightily in my youth, despising the enchantments of a woman. +Madame de Ferrier watched the departure from another side of the +gallery, and did not witness my poor master's breakdown. She came and +talked to him, and took more notice of him than I had ever seen her take +before. + +In a day or two he was quite himself, plodding at the lessons, suddenly +furious at the servants, and giving me fretful histories of his wrongs +when brandy and water were not put by his bedside at night, or a +warming-pan was not passed between his sheets. + +About this time I began to know without being taught and without +expressing it in words, that there is a natural law of environment which +makes us grow like the company we keep. During the first six months of +my stay in De Chaumont's house Doctor Chantry was my sole companion. I +looked anxiously into the glass on my dressing-table, dreading to see a +reflection of his pettiness. I saw a face with large features, eager in +expression. The eyes were hazel, and bluish around the iris rims, the +nose aquiline, the chin full, the head high, and round templed. The hair +was sunny and wavy, not dark and tight fitting like that of my Indian +father and mother. There would be always a scar across my eyebrow. I +noticed that the lobe of my ear was not deeply divided from my head, but +fashioned close to it in triangular snugness, though I could not have +said so. Regular life and abundant food, and the drive of purpose, were +developing all my parts. I took childish pleasure in watching my Indian +boyhood go, and vital force mounting every hour. + +Time passed without marking until January. The New England Thanksgiving +we had not then heard of; and Christmas was a holy day of the church. On +a January afternoon Madame de Ferrier sent Ernestine to say that she +wished to see Doctor Chantry and me. + +My master was asleep by the fire in an armchair. I looked at his +disabled feet, and told Ernestine I would go with her alone. She led me +to a wing of the house. + +Even an Indian boy could see through Annabel de Chaumont. But who might +fathom Madame de Ferrier? Every time I saw her, and that was seldom, +some change made her another Madame de Ferrier, as if she were a +thousand women in one. I saw her first a white clad spirit, who stood by +my head when I awoke; next, a lady who rose up and bowed to me; then a +beauty among dancers; afterwards, a little girl running across the turf, +or a kind woman speaking to my master. Often she was a distant figure, +coming and going with Paul and Ernestine in De Chaumont's woods. If we +encountered, she always said, "Good day, monsieur," and I answered "Good +day, madame." + +I had my meals alone with Doctor Chantry, and never questioned this +custom, from the day I entered the house. De Chaumont's chief, who was +over the other servants, and had come with him from his chateau near +Blois, waited upon me, while Doctor Chantry was served by another man +named Jean. My master fretted at Jean. The older servant paid no +attention to that. + +Madame de Ferrier and I had lived six months under the same roof as +strangers. Consciousness plowed such a direct furrow in front of me that +I saw little on either side of it. She was a name, that I found written +in the front of the missal, and copied over and over down foolscap paper +in my practice of script: + + "Eagle Madeleine Marie de Ferrier." + "Eagle Madeleine Marie de Ferrier." + +She stood in her sitting room, which looked upon the lake, and before a +word passed between us I saw she was unlike any of her former selves. +Her features were sharpened and whitened. She looked beyond me with gray +colored eyes, and held her lips apart. + +"I have news. The Indian brought me this letter from Albany." + +I could not help glancing curiously at the sheet in her hand, spotted on +the back with broken red wafers. It was the first letter I had ever +seen. Doctor Chantry told me he received but one during the winter from +his sister, and paid two Spanish reals in postage for it, besides a fee +and some food and whisky to the Indian who made the journey to deliver +such parcels. It was a trying and an important experience to receive a +letter. I was surprised that Madame Tank had recommended my sending one +into the Wisconsin country. + +"Count de Chaumont is gone; and I must have advice." + +"Madame," I said, "Doctor Chantry was asleep, but I will wake him and +bring him here." + +"No. I will tell you. Monsieur, my Cousin Philippe is dead." + +It might have shocked me more if I had known she had a Cousin Philippe. +I said stupidly: + +"Is he?" + +"Cousin Philippe was my husband, you understand." + +"Madame, are you married?" + +"Of course!" she exclaimed. And I confessed to myself that in no other +way could Paul be accounted for. + +"But you are here alone?" + +Two large tears ran down her face. + +"You should understand the De Ferriers are poor, monsieur, unless +something can be saved from our estates that the Bonapartes have given +away. Cousin Philippe went to see if we could recover any part of them. +Count de Chaumont thought it a favorable time. But he was too old for +such a journey; and the disappointments at the end of it." + +"Old! Was he old, madame?" + +"Almost as old as my father." + +"But you are very young." + +"I was only thirteen when my father on his deathbed married me to Cousin +Philippe. We were the last of our family. Now Cousin Philippe is dead +and Paul and I are orphans!" + +She felt her loss as Paul might have felt his. He was gurgling at +Ernestine's knee in the next room. + +"I want advice," she said; and I stood ready to give it, as a man always +is; the more positively because I knew nothing of the world. + +"Cousin Philippe said I must go to France, for Paul's sake, and appeal +myself to the empress, who has great influence over the emperor. His +command was to go at once." + +"Madame, you cannot go in midwinter." + +"Must I go at all?" she cried out passionately. "Why don't you tell me a +De Ferrier shall not crawl the earth before a Bonaparte! You--of all +men! We are poor and exiles because we were royalists--are royalists--we +always shall be royalists! I would rather make a wood-chopper of Paul +than a serf to this Napoleon!" + +She checked herself, and motioned to a chair. + +"Sit down, monsieur. Pardon me that I have kept you standing." + +I placed the chair for her, but she declined it, and we continued to +face each other. + +"Madame," I said, "you seem to blame me for something. What have I +done?" + +"Nothing, monsieur." + +"I will now ask your advice. What do you want me to do that I have not +done?" + +"Monsieur, you are doing exactly what I want you to do." + +"Then you are not displeased with me?" + +"I am more pleased with you every time I see you. Your advice is good. I +cannot go in midwinter." + +"Are you sure your cousin wanted you to make this journey?" + +"The notary says so in this letter. Philippe died in the farm-house of +one of our peasants, and the new masters could not refuse him burial in +the church where De Ferriers have lain for hundreds of years. He was +more fortunate than my father." + +This interview with Madame de Ferrier in which I cut so poor a figure, +singularly influenced me. It made me restless, as if something had +entered my blood. In January the real spring begins, for then sap +starts, and the lichens seem to quicken. I felt I was young, and rose up +against lessons all day long and part of the night. I rushed in haste to +the woods or the frozen lake, and wanted to do mighty deeds without +knowing what to undertake. More than anything else I wanted friends of +my own age. To see Doctor Chantry dozing and hear him grumbling, no +longer remained endurable; for he reminded me that my glad days were due +and I was not receiving them. Worse than that, instead of proving +grateful for all his services, I became intolerant of his opinion. + +"De Chaumont will marry her," he said when he heard of Madame de +Ferrier's widowhood. "She will never be obliged to sue to the +Bonapartes. The count is as fond of her as he is of his daughter." + +"Must a woman marry a succession of fathers?"--I wanted to know. + +My master pointed out that the count was a very well favored and +youthful looking man. His marriage to Madame de Ferrier became even more +distasteful. She and her poppet were complete by themselves. Wedding her +to any one was casting indignity upon her. + +Annabel de Chaumont was a countess and Madame de Ferrier was a marquise. +These names, I understood, meant that they were ladies to be served and +protected. De Chaumont's daughter was served and protected, and as far +as he was allowed to do so, he served and protected the daughter of his +fellow countryman. + +"But the pride of emigres," Doctor Chantry said, "was an old story in +the De Chaumont household. There were some Saint-Michels who lived in a +cabin, strictly on their own means, refusing the count's help, yet they +had followed him to Le Rayville in Castorland. Madame de Ferrier lived +where her husband had placed her, in a wing of De Chaumont's house, +refusing to be waited on by anybody but Ernestine, paying what her +keeping cost; when she was a welcome guest." + +My master hobbled to see her. And I began to think about her day and +night, as I had thought about my books; an isolated little girl in her +early teens, mother and widow, facing a future like a dead wall, with +daily narrowing fortunes. The seclusion in which she lived made her +sacred like a religious person. I did not know what love was, and I +never intended to dote, like my poor master. Before the end of January, +however, such a change worked in me that I was as fierce for the vital +world as I had been for the world of books. + + + + +VII + + +A trick of the eyes, a sweet turning of the mouth corners, the very +color of the hair--some irresistible physical trait, may compel a +preference in us that we cannot control; especially when we first notice +these traits in a woman. My crying need grew to be the presence of +Madame de Ferrier. It was youth calling to youth in that gorgeous winter +desert. + +Her windows were hoar-frost furred without and curtained within. Though +I knew where they were I got nothing by tramping past and glancing up. I +used to saunter through the corridor that led to her rooms, startled yet +pleased if Ernestine came out on an errand. Then I would close my book +and nod, and she would courtesy. + +"Oh, by the way," I would turn to remark, "I was passing, and thought I +would knock and ask how Madame de Ferrier is to-day. But you can tell +me." + +When assured of Madame de Ferrier's health I would continue: + +"And Paul--how is Paul?" + +Paul carried himself marvelously. He was learning to walk. Ernestine +believed the lie about knocking, and I felt bolder every time I told it. + +The Indian part of me thought of going hunting and laying slaughtered +game at their door. But it was a doubtful way of pleasing, and the bears +hibernated, and the deer were perhaps a day's journey in the white +wastes. + +I used to sing in the clear sharp air when I took to the frozen lake and +saw those heights around me. I look back upon that winter, across what +befell me afterwards, as a time of perfect peace; before virgin snows +melted, when the world was a white expanse of innocence. + +Our weather-besieged manor was the center of it. Vaguely I knew there +was life on the other side of great seas, and that New York, Boston, +Philadelphia, Baltimore and New Orleans were cities in which men moved +and had their being. My country, the United States, had bought from +Napoleon Bonaparte a large western tract called Louisiana, which +belonged to France. A new state named Ohio was the last added to the +roll of commonwealths. Newspapers, which the Indian runner once or twice +brought us from Albany, chronicled the doings of Aaron Burr, +Vice-President of the United States, who had recently drawn much +condemnation on himself by a brutal duel. + +"Aaron Burr was here once," said my master. + +"What is he like?" I inquired. + +"A lady-killer." + +"But he is next in dignity to the President." + +Doctor Chantry sniffed. + +"What is even the President of a federation like this, certain to fall +to pieces some fine day!" + +I felt offended; for my instinct was to weld people together and hold +them so welded. + +"If I were a president or a king," I told him, "and men conspired to +break the state, instead of parleying I would hang them up like dogs." + +"Would you?" + +Despising the country in which he found himself, my master took no +trouble to learn its politics. But since history had rubbed against us +in the person of Jerome Bonaparte, I wanted to know what the world was +doing. + +"Colonel Burr had a pleasant gentleman with him at the manor," Doctor +Chantry added. "His name was Harmon Blennerhassett; a man of good +English stock, though having a wild Irish strain, which is deplorable." + +The best days of that swift winter were Sundays, when my master left off +snapping, and stood up reverently in our dining-room to read his church +service. Madame de Ferrier and Paul and Ernestine came from their +apartment to join in the Protestant ritual; and I sat beside them so +constantly that the Catholic priest who arrived at Easter to dress up +the souls of the household, found me in a state of heresy. + +I have always thought a woman needs a dark capping of hair, whatever her +complexion, to emphasize her beauty. For light locks seem to fray out to +nothing, and waste to air instead of fitly binding a lovely countenance. +Madame de Ferrier's hair was of exactly the right color. Her eyebrows +were distinct dark lines, and the lashes were so dense that you noticed +the curling rim they made around her gray eyes. Whether the gift of +looking to your core is beauty or not, I can only say she had it. And I +could not be sworn what her features were; such life and expression +played over and changed them every moment. + +As to her figure, it was just in its roundness and suppleness, and had a +lightness of carriage that I have never seen equaled. There was charm in +looking at without approaching her that might have satisfied me +indefinitely, if De Chaumont had not come home. + +Ernestine herself made the first breach in that sacred reserve. The old +woman met me in the hall, courtesied, and passed as usual. I turned +behind the broad ribbons which hung down her back from cap to heels, and +said: + +"Oh, by the way, Ernestine, how is Madame de Ferrier? I was going to +knock--" + +And Ernestine courtesied again, and opened the door, standing aside for +me to enter. + +Madame de Ferrier sat on a bearskin before the hearth with Paul, who +climbed over her and gave her juicy kisses. There was a deep wood fire, +upheld by very tall andirons having cups in their tops, which afterwards +I learned were called posset cups. She was laughing so that her white +teeth showed, and she made me welcome like a playmate; remaining on the +rug, and bidding Ernestine set a chair for me near the fire. + +"It is very kind of you to spare me some time, monsieur," said Madame de +Ferrier. She admonished Paul--"Don't choke your little mother." + +I told her boldly that nothing but the dread of disturbing her kept me +from knocking every day. We had always walked into the lodges without +knocking, and I dwelt on this as one of my new accomplishments. + +"I am not studying night and day," she answered. "Sophie Saint-Michel +and her mother were my teachers, and they are gone now, one to heaven +and the other to Castorland." + +Remembering what Annabel de Chaumont said about holy Sophie I inquired +if she had been religious. + +"The Saint-Michels were better than religious; both mother and daughter +were eternally patient with the poor count, whose troubles unsettled his +reason. They had no dear old Ernestine, and were reduced to the hardest +labor. I was a little child when we came to America, yet even then the +spirit of the Saint-Michels seemed to me divine." + +"I wish I could remember when I was a little child." + +"Can you not recall anything?" + +"I have a dim knowledge of objects." + +"What objects?" + +"St. Regis church, and my taking first communion; and the hunting, the +woods and water, boats, snowshoes, the kind of food I liked; Skenedonk +and all my friends--but I scarcely knew them as persons until I awoke." + +"What is your first distinct recollection?" + +"Your face." + +"Mine?" + +"Yes, yours, madame. I saw it above me when you came into the room at +night." + +She looked past me and said: + +"You have fortunately missed some of the most terrible events that ever +happened in the world, monsieur. My mother and father, my two brothers, +Cousin Philippe and I, were in prison together. My mother and brothers +were taken, and we were left." + +I understood that she spoke of the Terror, about which I was eager to +know every then unwritten detail. Doctor Chantry had told me many +things. It fascinated me far more than ancient history, which my master +was inclined to press upon me. + +"How can you go back to France, madame?" + +"That's what I ask myself every day. That life was like a strange +nightmare. Yet there was our chateau, Mont-Louis, two or three days' +journey east from Paris. The park was so beautiful. I think of it, and +of Paul." + +"And what about this country, madame? Is there nothing beautiful here?" + +"The fact has been impressed on me, monsieur, that it does not belong to +me. I am an emigre. In city or country my father and Cousin Philippe +kept me with them. I have seen nothing of young people, except at balls. +We had no intimate friends. We were always going back. I am still +waiting to go back, monsieur--and refusing to go if I must." + +It was plain that her life had been as restricted as mine, though the +bonds were different. She was herded with old people, made a wife and +mother while yet a child, nursed in shadow instead of in the hot +sunshine which produced Annabel de Chaumont. + +After that we met each other as comrades meet, and both of us changed +like the face of nature, when the snow went and warm winds came. + +This looking at her without really approaching was going on innocently +when one day Count de Chaumont rode up to the manor, his horse and his +attendant servants and horses covered with mud, filling the place with a +rush of life. + +He always carried himself as if he felt extremely welcome in this world. +And though a man ought to be welcome in his own house, especially when +he has made it a comfortable refuge for outsiders, I met him with the +secret resentment we bear an interloper. + +He looked me over from head to foot with more interest than he had ever +before shown. + +"We are getting on, we are getting on! Is it Doctor Chantry, or the +little madame, or the winter housing? Our white blood is very much in +evidence. When Chief Williams comes back to the summer hunting he will +not know his boy." + +"The savage is inside yet, monsieur," I told him. "Scratch me and see." + +"Not I," he laughed. + +"It is late for thanks, but I will now thank you for taking me into your +house." + +"He has learned gratitude for little favors! That is Madame de Ferrier's +work." + +"I hope I may be able to do something that will square our accounts." + +"That's Doctor Chantry's work. He is full of benevolent intentions--and +never empties himself. When you have learned all your master knows, what +are you going to do with it?" + +"I am going to teach our Indians." + +"Good. You have a full day's work before you. Founding an estate in the +wilderness is nothing compared to that. You have more courage than De +Chaumont." + +Whether the spring or the return of De Chaumont drove me out, I could no +longer stay indoors, but rowed all day long on the lake or trod the +quickening woods. Before old Pierre could get audience with his house +accounts, De Chaumont was in Madame de Ferrier's rooms, inspecting the +wafer blotched letter. He did not appear as depressed as he should have +been by the death of his old friend. + +"These French have no hearts," I told Doctor Chantry. + +He took off his horn spectacles and wiped his eyes, responding: + +"But they find the way to ours!" + +Slipping between islands in water paths that wound as a meadow stream +winds through land, I tried to lose myself from the uneasy pain which +followed me everywhere. + +There may be people who look over the scheme of their lives with entire +complacence. Mine has been the outcome of such strange misfortunes as to +furnish evidence that there is another fate than the fate we make +ourselves. In that early day I felt the unseen lines tighten around me. +I was nothing but a young student of unknown family, able to read and +write, to talk a little English, with some knowledge of history, +geography, mathematics, and Latin. Strength and scope came by atoms. I +did not know then as I know now that I am a slow grower, even when +making gigantic effort. An oak does not accumulate rings with more +deliberation than I change and build myself. + +My master told me a few days later that the count decreed Madame de +Ferrier must go back to France. He intended to go with her and push her +claim; and his daughter and his daughter's governess would bear them +company. Doctor Chantry and I contemplated each other, glaring in mutual +solemnity. His eyes were red and watery, and the nose sharpened its +cone. + +"When are they going?" I inquired. + +"As soon as arrangements for comfortable sailing can be made. I wish I +were going back to England. I shall have to save twenty-five years +before I can go, but the fund is started." + +If I saved a hundred and twenty-five years I could not go anywhere; for +I had nothing to save. The worthlessness of civilization rushed over +me. When I was an Indian the boundless world was mine. I could build a +shelter, and take food and clothes by my strength and skill. My boat or +my strong legs carried me to all boundaries. + +I did not know what ailed me, but chased by these thoughts to the lake, +I determined not to go back again to De Chaumont's house. I was sick, +and my mother woods opened her arms. As if to show me what I had thrown +away to haunt the cages of men, one of those strange sights which is +sometimes seen in that region appeared upon the mountain. No one can +tell who lights the torch. A thread of fire ran up like an opening seam, +broadened, and threw out pink ravelings. The flame wavered, paled by +daylight, but shielding itself with strong smoke, and leaped from ledge +to ledge. I saw mighty pines, standing one moment green, and the next, +columns of fire. So the mass diverged, or ran together until a mountain +of fire stood against the sky, and stretched its reflection, a glowing +furnace, across the water. + +Flecks of ash sifted on me in the boat. I felt myself a part of it, as I +felt myself a part of the many sunsets which had burned out on that +lake. Before night I penetrated to the heart of an island so densely +overgrown, even in spring when trees had no curtains, that you were lost +as in a thousand mile forest. I camped there in a dry ravine, with +hemlock boughs under and over me, and next day rolled broken logs, and +cut poles and evergreens with my knife, to make a lodge. + +It was boyish, unmannerly conduct; but the world had broken, to chaos +around me; and I set up the rough refuge with skill. Some books, my fish +line and knife, were always in the boat with me, as well as a box of +tinder. I could go to the shore, get a breakfast out of the water, and +cook it myself. Yet all that day I kept my fast, having no appetite. + +Perhaps in the bottom of my heart I expected somebody to be sent after +me, bearing large inducements to return. We never can believe we are not +valuable to our fellows. Pierre or Jean, or some other servants in the +house, might perforce nose me out. I resolved to hide if such an envoy +approached and to have speech with nobody. We are more or less ashamed +of our secret wounds, and I was not going to have Pierre or Jean report +that I sat sulking in the woods on an island. + +It was very probable that De Chaumont's household gave itself no trouble +about my disappearance. I sat on my hemlock floor until the gray of +twilight and studied Latin, keeping my mind on the text; save when a +squirrel ventured out and glided bushy trained and sinuous before me, or +the marble birches with ebony limbs, drew me to gloat on them. The white +birch is a woman and a goddess. I have associated her forever with that +afternoon. Her poor cousin the poplar, often so like her as to deceive +you until ashen bough and rounded leaf instruct the eye, always grows +near her like a protecting servant. The poor cousin rustles and fusses. +But my calm lady stands in perfect beauty, among pines straight as +candles, never tremulous, never trivial. All alabaster and ebony, she +glows from a distance; as, thinking of her, I saw another figure glow +through the loop-holes of the woods. + +It was Madame de Ferrier. + + + + +VIII + + +A leap of the heart and dizziness shot through me and blurred my sight. +The reality of Madame de Ferrier's coming to seek me surpassed all +imaginings. + +She walked with quick accustomed step, parting the second growth in her +way, having tracked me from the boat. Seeing my lodge in the ravine she +paused, her face changing as the lake changes; and caught her breath. I +stood exultant and ashamed down to the ground. + +"Monsieur, what are you doing here?" Madame de Ferrier cried out. + +"Living, madame," I responded. + +"Living? Do you mean you have returned to your old habits?" + +"I have returned to the woods, madame." + +"You do not intend to stay here?" + +"Perhaps." + +"You must not do it!" + +"What must I do?" + +"Come back to the house. You have given us much anxiety." + +I liked the word "us" until I remembered it included Count de Chaumont. + +"Why did you come out here and hide yourself?" + +My conduct appeared contemptible. I looked mutely at her. + +"What offended you?" + +"Nothing, madame." + +"Did you want Doctor Chantry to lame himself hobbling around in search +of you, and the count to send people out in every direction?" + +"No, madame." + +"What explanation will you make to the count?" + +"None, madame." I raised my head. "I may go out in the woods without +asking leave of Count de Chaumont." + +"He says you have forsaken your books and gone back to be an Indian." + +I showed her the Latin book in my hand. She glanced slightly at it, and +continued to make her gray eyes pass through my marrow. + +Shifting like a culprit, I inquired: + +"How did you know I was here?" + +"Oh, it was not hard to find you after I saw the boat. This island is +not large." + +"But who rowed you across the lake, madame?" + +"I came by myself, and nobody except Ernestine knows it. I can row a +boat. I slipped through the tunnel, and ventured." + +"Madame, I am a great fool. I am not worth your venturing." + +"You are worth any danger I might encounter. But you should at least go +back for me." + +"I will do anything for you, madame. But why should I go back?--you will +not long be there." + +"What does that matter? The important thing is that you should not lapse +again into the Indian." + +"Is any life but the life of an Indian open to me, madame?" + +She struck her hands together with a scream. + +"Louis! Sire!" + +Startled, I dropped the book and it sprawled at her feet like the open +missal. She had returned so unexpectedly to the spirit of our first +meeting. + +"O, if you knew what you are! During my whole life your name has been +cherished by my family. We believed you would sometime come to your own. +Believe in yourself!" + +I seemed almost to remember and perceive what I was--as you see in +mirage one inverted boat poised on another, and are not quite sure, and +the strange thing is gone. + +Perhaps I was less sure of the past because I was so sure of the +present. A wisp of brown mist settling among the trees spread cloud +behind her. What I wanted was this woman, to hide in the woods for my +own. I could feed and clothe her, deck her with necklaces of garnets +from the rocks, and wreaths of the delicate sand-wort flower. She said +she would rather make Paul a woodchopper than a suppliant, taking the +constitutional oath. I could make him a hunter and a fisherman. Game, +bass, trout, pickerel, grew for us in abundance. I saw this vision with +a single eye; it looked so possible! All the crude imaginings of youth +colored the spring woods with vivid beauty. My face betrayed me, and +she spoke to me coldly. + +"Is that your house, monsieur?" + +I said it was. + +"And you slept there last night?" + +"I can build a much better one." + +"What did you have for dinner?" + +"Nothing." + +"What did you have for breakfast?" + +"Nothing." + +Evidently the life I proposed to myself to offer her would not suit my +lady! + +She took a lacquered box from the cover of her wrappings, and moved down +the slope a few steps. + +"Come here to your mother and get your supper." + +I felt tears rush to my eyes. She sat down, spread a square of clean +fringed linen upon the ground, and laid out crusty rounds of buttered +bread that were fragrant in the springing fragrance of the woods, firm +slices of cold meat, and a cunning pastry which instantly maddened me. I +was ashamed to be such a wolf. + +We sat with our forest table between us and ate together. + +"I am hungry myself," she said. + +A glorified veil descended on the world. If evening had paused while +that meal was in progress it would not have surprised me. There are half +hours that dilate to the importance of centuries. But when she had +encouraged me to eat everything to the last crumb, she shook the +fringed napkin, gathered up the lacquered box, and said she must be +gone. + +"Monsieur, I have overstepped the bounds of behavior in coming after +you. The case was too urgent for consideration of myself. I must hurry +back, for the count's people would not understand my secret errand +through the tunnel. Will you show yourself at the house as soon as +possible?" + +I told her humbly that I would. + +"But let me put you in the boat, madame." + +She shook her head. "You may follow, after I am out of sight. If you +fail to follow"--she turned in the act of departing and looked me +through. + +I told her I would not fail. + +When Madame de Ferrier disappeared beyond the bushes I sat down and +waited with my head between my hands, still seeing upon closed eyelids +her figure, the scant frock drawn around it, her cap of dark hair under +a hood, her face moving from change to change. And whether I sat a year +or a minute, clouds had descended when I looked, as they often did in +that lake gorge. So I waited no longer, but followed her. + +The fog was brown, and capped the evening like a solid dome, pressing +down to the earth, and twisting smoke fashion around my feet. It threw +sinuous arms in front of me as a thing endowed with life and capable of +molding itself; and when I reached my boat and pushed off on the water, +a vast mass received and enveloped me. + +More penetrating than its clamminess was the thought that Madame de +Ferrier was out in it alone. + +I tried one of the long calls we sometimes used in hunting. She might +hear, and understand that I was near to help her. But it was shouting +against many walls. No effort pierced the muffling substance which +rolled thickly against the lungs. Remembering it was possible to +override smaller craft, I pulled with caution, and so bumped lightly +against the boat that by lucky chance hovered in my track. + +"Is it you, madame?" I asked. + +She hesitated. + +"Is it you, monsieur?" + +"Yes." + +"I think I am lost. There is no shore. The fog closed around me so soon. +I was waiting for it to lift a little." + +"It may not lift until morning, madame. Let me tie your boat to mine." + +"Do you know the way?" + +"There is no way. We shall have to feel for the shore. But Lake George +is narrow, and I know it well." + +"I want to keep near you." + +"Come into my boat, and let me tie the other one astern." + +She hesitated again, but decided, "That would be best." + +I drew the frail shells together--they seemed very frail above such +depths--and helped her cross the edges. We were probably the only people +on Lake George. Tinder lighted in one boat would scarcely have shown us +the other, though in the sky an oval moon began to make itself seen +amidst rags of fog. The dense eclipse around us and the changing light +overhead were very weird. + +Madame de Ferrier's hands chilled mine, and she shook in her thin cape +and hood. Our garments were saturated. I felt moisture trickling down my +hair and dropping on my shoulders. + +She was full of vital courage, resisting the deadly chill. This was not +a summer fog, lightly to be traversed. It went dank through the bones. +When I had helped her to a bench, remembering there was nothing dry to +wrap around her, I slipped off my coat and forcibly added its thickness +to her shoulders. + +"Do you think I will let you do that, monsieur?" + +My teeth chattered and shocked together so it was impossible to keep +from laughing, as I told her I always preferred to be coatless when I +rowed a boat. + +We could see each other by the high light that sometimes gilded the +face, and sometimes was tarnished almost to eclipse. Madame de Ferrier +crept forward, and before I knew her intention, cast my garment again +around me. I helped the boat shift its balance so she would have to +grasp at me for support; the chilled round shape of her arm in my hand +sent waves of fire through me. With brazen cunning, moreover, that +surprised myself, instead of pleading, I dictated. + +"Sit beside me on the rower's bench, madame, and the coat will stretch +around both of us." + +Like a child she obeyed. We were indeed reduced to saving the warmth of +our bodies. I shipped my oars and took one for a paddle, bidding Madame +de Ferrier to hold the covering in place while I felt for the shore. She +did so, her arm crossing my breast, her soft body touching mine. She was +cold and still as the cloud in which we moved; but I was a god, riding +triumphantly high above the world, satisfied to float through celestial +regions forever, bearing in my breast an unquenchable coal of fire. + +The moon played tricks, for now she was astern, and now straight ahead, +in that confusing wilderness of vapor. + +"Madame," I said to my companion, "why have you been persuaded to go +back to France?" + +She drew a deep breath. + +"I have not been persuaded. I have been forced by circumstances. Paul's +future is everything." + +"You said you would rather make him a woodchopper than a suppliant to +the Bonapartes." + +"I would. But his rights are to be considered first. He has some small +chance of regaining his inheritance through the influence of Count de +Chaumont now. Hereafter there may be no chance. You know the fortunes +and lands of all emigres were forfeited to the state. Ours have finally +reached the hands of one of Napoleon's officers. I do not know what will +be done. I only know that Paul must never have cause to reproach me." + +I was obliged to do my duty in my place as she was doing her duty in +hers; but I wished the boat would sink, and so end all journeys to +France. It touched shore, on the contrary, and I grasped a rock which +jutted toward us. It might be the point of an island, it might be the +eastern land, as I was inclined to believe, for the moon was over our +right shoulders. + +Probing along with the oar I found a cove and a shallow bottom, and +there I beached our craft with a great shove. + +"How good the earth feels underfoot!" said Madame de Ferrier. We were +both stiff. I drew the boats where they could not be floated away, and +we turned our faces to the unknown. I took her unresisting arm to guide +her, and she depended upon me. + +This day I look back at those young figures groping through cloud as at +disembodied and blessed spirits. The man's intensest tenderness, +restrained by his virginhood and his awe of the supple delicate shape at +his side, was put forth only in her service. They walked against bushes. +He broke a stick, and with it probed every yard of the ascent which they +were obliged to make. Helping his companion from bush to log, from seam +to seam of the riven slope, from ledge to ledge, he brought her to a +level of high forest where the fog was thinner, and branches interlaced +across their faces. + +The climb made Madame de Ferrier draw her breath quickly. She laughed +when we ended it. Though I knew the shores as well as a hunter, it was +impossible to recognize any landmark. The trees, the moss, and forest +sponge under our feet, the very rocks, were changed by that weird +medium. And when the fog opened and we walked as through an endless +tunnel of gray revolving stone, it was into a world that never existed +before and would never exist again. + +There was no path. Creeping under and climbing over obstacles, sometimes +enclosed by the whiteness of steam, sometimes walking briskly across +lighted spaces, we reached a gorge smoking as the lake smoked in the +chill of early mornings. Vapor played all its freaks on that brink. The +edge had been sharply defined. But the fog shut around us like a +curtain, and we dared not stir. + +Below, a medallion shaped rift widened out, and showed us a scene as I +have since beheld such things appear upon the stage. Within the round +changing frame of wispy vapor two men sat by a fire of logs and +branches. We could smell wood smoke, and hear the branches crackle, +convincing us the vision was real. Behind them stood a cabin almost as +rude as my shelter on the island. + +One man was a grand fellow, not at all of the common order, though he +was more plainly clothed than De Chaumont. His face was so familiar that +I almost grasped recognition--but missed it. The whole cast was full and +aquiline, and the lobe of his ear, as I noticed when light fell on his +profile, sat close to his head like mine. + +The other man worked his feet upon the treadle of a small wheel, which +revolved like a circular table in front of him, and on this he deftly +touched something which appeared to be an earthenware vessel. His thin +fingers moved with spider swiftness, and shaped it with a kind of magic. +He was a mad looking person, with an air of being tremendously driven by +inner force. He wore mustaches the like of which I had never seen, +carried back over his ears; and these hairy devices seemed to split his +countenance in two crosswise. + +Some broken pottery lay on the ground, and a few vessels, colored and +lustrous so they shone in the firelight, stood on a stump near him. + +The hollow was not a deep one, but if the men had been talking, their +voices did not reach us until the curtain parted. + +"You are a great fool or a great rascal, or both, Bellenger," the +superior man said. + +"Most people are, your highness," responded the one at the wheel. He +kept it going, as if his earthenware was of more importance than the +talk. + +"You are living a miserable life, roving about." + +"Many other Frenchmen are no better off than I am, my prince." + +"True enough. I've roved about myself." + +"Did you turn schoolmaster in Switzerland, prince?" + +"I did. My family are in Switzerland now." + +"Some of the nobles were pillaged by their peasants as well as by the +government. But your house should not have lost everything." + +"You are mistaken about our losses. The Orleans Bourbons have little or +no revenue left. Monsieur and Artois were the Bourbons able to maintain +a court about them in exile. So you have to turn potter, to help support +the idiot and yourself?" + +"Is your highness interested in art?" + +"What have I to do with art?" + +"But your highness can understand how an idea will haunt a man. It is +true I live a wretched life, but I amuse myself trying to produce a +perfect vase. I have broken thousands. If a shape answers my +expectations, that very shape is certain to crack in the burning or run +in the glaze." + +"Then you don't make things to sell?" + +"Oh, yes. I make noggins and crockery to sell in the towns. There is a +kind of clay in these hills that suits me." + +"The wonderful vase," said the other yawning, "might perhaps interest me +more if some facts were not pressing for discussion. I am a man of +benevolent disposition, Bellenger." + +"Your royal highness--" + +"Stop! I have been a revolutionist, like my poor father, whose memory +you were about to touch--and I forbid it. But I am a man whose will it +is to do good. It is impossible I should search you out in America to +harm my royal cousin. Now I want to know the truth about him." + +Madame de Ferrier had forgotten her breath. We both stood fastened on +that scene in another world, guiltless of eavesdropping. + +The potter shifted his eyes from side to side, seeming to follow the +burr of his vessel upon the wheel. + +"I find you with a creature I cannot recognize as my royal cousin. If +this is he, sunk far lower than when he left France in your charge, why +are two-thirds of his pension sent out from New York to another person, +while you receive for his maintenance only one-third?" + +The potter bounded from his wheel, letting the vessel spin off to +destruction, and danced, stretching his long mustaches abroad in both +hands as the ancients must have rent their clothes. He cried that he had +been cheated, stripped, starved. + +"I thought they were straitened in Monsieur's court," he raged, "and +they have been maintaining a false dauphin!" + +"As I said, Bellenger," remarked his superior, "you are either a fool or +the greatest rascal I ever saw." + +He looked at Bellenger attentively. + +"Yet why should you want to mix clues--and be rewarded with evident +misery? And how could you lose him out of your hand and remain +unconscious of it? He was sent to the ends of the earth for safety--poor +shattered child!--and if he is safe elsewhere, why should you be +pensioned to maintain another child? They say that a Bourbon never +learns anything; but I protest that a Bourbon knows well what he does +know. I feel sure my uncle intends no harm to the disabled heir. Who is +guilty of this double dealing? I confess I don't understand it." + +Now whether by our long and silent stare we drew his regard, or chance +cast his eye upward, the potter that instant saw us standing in the +cloud above him. He dropped by his motionless wheel, all turned to clay +himself. The eyeballs stuck from his face. He opened his mouth and +screeched as if he had been started and could not leave off-- + +"The king!--the king!--the king!--the king!" + + + + +IX + + +The fool's outcry startled me less than Madame de Ferrier. She fell +against me and sank downward, so that I was obliged to hold her up in my +arms. I had never seen a woman swoon. I thought she was dying, and +shouted to them below to come and help me. + +The potter sat sprawling on the ground, and did not bestir himself to do +anything. As soon as my hands and mind were free I took him by the +scruff of the neck and kicked him behind with a good will. My rage at +him for disregarding her state was the savage rage of an Iroquois. The +other man laughed until the woods rang. Madame de Ferrier sat up in what +seemed to me a miraculous manner. We bathed her temples with brandy, and +put her on a cushion of leaves raked up and dried to make a seat by the +fire. The other man, who helped me carry her into the ravine, stood with +his hat off, as was her due. She thanked him and thanked me, half +shrouding her face with her hood, abashed at finding herself lost among +strangers in the night; which was my fault. I told him I had been a bad +guide for a lady who had missed her way; and he said we were fortunate +to reach a camp instead of stumbling into some danger. + +He was much older than I, at least fourteen years, I learned +afterwards, but it was like meeting Skenedonk again, or some friend from +whom I had only been parted. + +The heartening warmth of the fire made steam go up from our clothes; and +seeing Madame de Ferrier alive once more, and the potter the other side +of his wheel taking stock of his hurt, I felt happy. + +We could hear in the cabin behind us a whining like that uttered by a +fretful babe. + +My rage at the potter ending in good nature, I moved to make some amends +for my haste; but he backed off. + +"You startled us," said the other man, "standing up in the clouds like +ghosts. And your resemblance to one who has been dead many years is very +striking, monsieur." + +I said I was sorry if I had kicked the potter without warrant, but it +seemed to me a base act to hesitate when help was asked for a woman. + +"Yet I know little of what is right among men, monsieur," I owned. "I +have been learning with a master in Count de Chaumont's manor house less +than a year. Before that my life was spent in the woods with the +Indians, and they found me so dull that I was considered witless until +my mind awoke." + +"You are a fine fellow," the man said, laying his hands on my shoulders. +"My heart goes out to you. You may call me Louis Philippe. And what may +I call you?" + +"Lazarre." + +He had a smiling good face, square, but well curved and firm. Now that I +saw him fronting me I could trace his clear eyebrows, high forehead, and +the laughter lines down his cheeks. He was long between the eyes and +mouth, and he had a full and resolute chin. + +"You are not fat, Lazarre," said Philippe, "your forehead is wide rather +than receding, and you have not a double chin. Otherwise you are the +image of one--Who are you?" + +"I don't know." + +"Don't know who you are?" + +"No. We heard all that you and the potter were saying down here, and I +wondered how many boys there are in America that are provided for +through an agent in New York, without knowing their parents. Now that is +my case." + +"Do you say you have lived among the Indians?" + +"Yes: among the Iroquois." + +"Who placed you there?" + +"No one could tell me except my Indian father; and he would not tell." + +"Do you remember nothing of your childhood?" + +"Nothing." + +"Did you ever see Bellenger before?" + +"I never saw him before to-night." + +"But I saw him," said Madame de Ferrier, "in London, when I was about +seven years old. It made a stronger impression on me than anything else +that ever happened in my life, except"--she stopped. + +"Except the taking off of my mother and brothers to the guillotine." + +The man who told me to call him Louis Philippe turned toward her, with +attention as careful as his avoidance when she wished to be unobserved. +She rose, and came around the fire, making a deep courtesy. + +"My family may not be unknown to his royal highness the Duke of Orleans. +We are De Ferriers of Mont-Louis; emigres now, like many others." + +"Madame, I knew your family well. They were loyal to their king." + +"My father died here in America. Before we sailed we saw this man in +London." + +"And with him--" + +"A boy." + +"Do you remember the boy well?" + +"I remember him perfectly." + +The wailing in the cabin became louder and turned to insistent animal +howls. Instead of a babe the imprisoned creature was evidently a dog. I +wondered that the potter did not let him out to warm his hide at the +fire. + +"Did you ever see the boy again?" + +"I did not see him again until he was brought to Count de Chaumont's +house last summer." + +"Why to De Chaumont? Le Ray de Chaumont is not one of us. He is of the +new nobility. His chateau near Blois was bought by his grandfather, and +he takes his name from the estate. I have heard he is in favor with +Bonaparte." + +"Even we of the old nobility, prince, may be reduced to seek favor of +Bonaparte." + +"Heaven forbid, madame. I say nothing against him; though I could say +much." + +"Say nothing against Count de Chaumont. Count de Chaumont befriends all +emigres." + +"I have nothing to say against Count de Chaumont. He is not of our +party; he is of the new. Fools! If we princes had stood by each other as +the friends of the Empire stand by their emperor, we could have killed +the Terror." + +The animal in the cabin by this time was making such doleful cries I +said to the potter. + +"Let him out. It is dreadful to be shut in by walls." + +The potter, stooping half over and rolling stiffly from foot to foot in +his walk, filled me with compunction at having been brutal to so pitiful +a creature, and I hurried to open the door for him. The animal clawed +vigorously inside, and the instant I pushed back the ill-fitted slabs, +it strained through and rushed on all fours to the fire. Madame de +Ferrier fled backward, for what I liberated could hardly be seen without +dread. + +It was a human being. Its features were a boy's, and the tousled hair +had a natural wave. While it crouched for warmth I felt the shock of +seeing a creature about my own age grinning back at me, fishy eyed and +black mouthed. + +"There!" Bellenger said, straightening up in his place like a bear +rising from all fours. "That is the boy your De Ferriers saw in London." + +I remembered the boy Madame Tank had told about. Whether myself or this +less fortunate creature was the boy, my heart went very pitiful toward +him. Madame de Ferrier stooped and examined, him; he made a juicy noise +of delight with his mouth. + +"This is not the boy you had in London, monsieur," she said to +Bellenger. + +The potter waved his hands and shrugged. + +"You believe, madame, that Lazarre is the boy you saw in London?" said +Louis Philippe. + +"I am certain of it." + +"What proofs have you?" + +"The evidence of my eyes." + +"Tell that to Monsieur!" exclaimed the potter. + +"Who is Monsieur?" I asked. + +"The eldest brother of the king of France is called Monsieur. The Count +de Provence will be called Monsieur until he succeeds Louis XVII and is +crowned Louis XVIII--if that time ever comes. He cannot be called Louis +XVII"--the man who told me to call him Louis Philippe took my arm, and I +found myself walking back and forth with him as in a dream while he +carefully formed sentence after sentence. "Because the dauphin who died +in the Temple prison was Louis XVII. But there are a few who say he did +not die: that a dying child was substituted for him: that he was +smuggled out and carried to America, Bellenger was the agent employed. +The dauphin's sister is married to her cousin, the nephew of Monsieur. +She herself believes these things; and it is certain a sum of money is +sent out to America every year for his maintenance. He was reduced to +imbecility when removed from the Temple. It is not known whether he will +ever be fit to reign if the kingdom returns to him. No communication has +been held with him. He was nine years old when removed from the Temple: +he would now be in his nineteenth year. When I last saw him he was a +smiling little prince with waving hair and hazel eyes, holding to his +mother's hand"-- + +"Stop!" + +The frenzy of half recollection came on me, and that which I had put +away from my mind and sworn to let alone, seized and convulsed me. +Dreams, and sensations, and instincts massed and fell upon me in an +avalanche of conviction. + +I was that uncrowned outcast, the king of France! + + + + +BOOK II + +WANDERING + + + + +I + + +A primrose dawn of spring touched the mountains as Madame de Ferrier and +I stepped into the tunnel's mouth. The wind that goes like a besom +before sunrise, swept off the fog to corners of the sky, except a few +spirals which still unwound from the lake. The underground path to De +Chaumont's manor descended by terraces of steps and entered blackness. + +A rank odor of earth filled it; and I never passed that way without +hearkening for the insect-like song of the rattlesnake. The ground was +slippery, and thick darkness seemed to press the soul out of the body. +Yet I liked it; for when we reached the staircase of rock that entered +the house, she would vanish. + +And so it was. + +She did say--"Good-night--and good-morning." + +And I answered, "Good-morning and good-night." + +We were both physically exhausted. My head swarmed as with sparkles, and +a thousand emotions tore me, for I was at the age when we risk all on +chances. I sat alone on the steps, unmindful of that penetrating chill +of stone which increases rather than decreases, the longer you sit upon +it, and thought of all that had been said by my new friend at the +camp-fire, while the moon went lower and lower, the potter turned his +wheel, and the idiot slept. + +The mixed and oblique motives of human nature--the boy's will--worked +like gigantic passions. + +She had said very little to me in the boat, and I had said very little +to her; not realizing that the camp talk, in which she took no part, +separated us in a new way. + +Sitting alone on the steps I held this imaginary conversation with her. + +"I am going to France!" + +"You, monsieur?" + +"Yes, I!" + +"How are you going?" + +"I don't know; but I am going!" + +"The Duke of Orleans did not mention such a thing." + +"Bother the Duke of Orleans!" + +"When are you going?" + +"Now!" + +"But it may not be best to go at this time." + +"It is always best to go where you are!" + +"Monsieur, do not throw away your future on an unconsidered move." + +"Madame, I will throw away my eternity!" + +Then I went back through the tunnel to the beach, stripped, and took a +plunge to clear my head and warm my blood, rubbing off with my shirt. + +On reaching my room the first thing I did was to make a bundle of +everything I considered necessary and desirable. There was no reason for +doing this before lying down; but with an easier mind I closed my eyes; +and opened them to find sunset shining through the windows, and Doctor +Chantry keeping guard in an arm-chair at my side. + +"Nature has taken her revenge on you, my lad," said he. "And now I am +going to take mine." + +"I have slept all day!" + +"Renegades who roam the woods all night must expect to sleep all day." + +"How do you know I have been in the woods all night?" + +"I heard you slipping up the tunnel stairs without any shoes on at +daylight. I have not been able to sleep two nights on account of you." + +"Then why don't you go to bed yourself, my dear master?" + +"Because I am not going to let you give me the slip another time. I am +responsible for you: and you will have me on your back when you go +prowling abroad again." + +"Again?" I questioned innocently. + +"Yes, again, young sir! I have been through your luggage, and find that +you have packed changes of clothing and things necessary and unnecessary +to a journey,--even books." + +"I hope you put them neatly together"-- + +"Nothing of the kind. I scattered them." + +"Do you want me to go bare into the world?" I laughed. + +"Lazarre," said my master, "you were a good lad, studious and zealous +beyond anything I ever saw." + +"And now I am bad and lazy." + +"You have dropped your books and taken to wild ways." + +"There is one thing, dear master, I haven't done: I haven't written +poetry." + +He blinked and smiled, and felt in his breast pocket, but thought better +of it, and forebore to draw the paper out. There was no escaping his +tenacious grip. He sat by and exercised me in Latin declensions while I +dressed. We had our supper together. I saw no member of the household +except the men, Pierre and Jean. Doctor Chantry ordered a mattress put +in my room and returned there with me. + +We talked long on the approaching departure of the count and Madame de +Ferrier. He told me the latest details of preparation, and tremulously +explained how he must feel the loss of his sister. + +"I have nothing left but you, Lazarre." + +"My dear master," I said, patting one of his shriveled hands between +mine, "I am going to be open with you." + +I sat on the side of my bed facing his arm-chair, and the dressing-glass +reflected his bald head and my young head drawn near together. + +"Did you ever feel as if you were a prince?" + +Doctor Chantry wagged a pathetic negative. + +"Haven't you ever been ready to dare anything and everything, because +something in you said--I must!" + +Again Doctor Chantry wagged a negative. + +"Now I have to break bounds--I have to leave the manor and try my +fortune! I can't wait for times and seasons--to be certain of this--to +be certain of that!--I am going to leave the house to-night--and I am +going to France!" + +"My God!" cried Doctor Chantry, springing up. "He is going to +France!--Rouse the servants!--Call De Chaumont!" He struck his gouty +foot against the chair and sat down nursing it in both hands. I +restrained him and added my sympathy to his groans. + +"Have you as much as a Spanish real of your own, my lad?" he catechised +me, when the foot was easy. + +I acknowledged that I had not. + +"It costs dear to travel about the world. It is not like coming down the +trail from St. Regis to Lake George. How are you to travel without +money?" + +I laughed at the very uncertainty, and answered that money would be +found. + +"Found! It isn't found, I tell you! It is inherited by the idle, or +gathered by the unscrupulous, or sweated and toiled for! It costs days +and years, and comes in drops. You might as well expect to find a +kingdom, lad!" + +"Maybe I shall find a kingdom, master!" + +"Oh, what a thing it is to be young!" sighed Doctor Chantry. + +I felt it myself, and hugged my youth. + +"Do you know how to reach the sea-port?" he continued. + +I said anybody could follow the Hudson to New York. + +"You're bitten, my poor lad! It's plain what ails you. You might as well +try to swim the Atlantic. De Chaumont intends her for himself. And in +the unjust distribution of this world, your rival has the power and you +have the feelings. Stay where you are. You'll never forget it, but it +will hurt less as years go by." + +"Master," I said to him, "good sense is on your side. But if I knew I +should perish, I would have to go!" + +And I added from fullness of conviction-- + +"I would rather undertake to do something, and perish, than live a +thousand years as I am." + +Doctor Chantry struck the chair arm with his clenched fist. + +"My lad, so would I--so would I!--I wish I had been dowered with your +spirit!--I'm going with you!" + +As soon as he had made this embarrassing resolution my master blew his +nose and set his British jaws firmly together. I felt my own jaw drop. + +"Have you as much as a Spanish real of your own?" I quoted. + +"That I have, young sir, and some American notes, such as they are, and +good English pounds, beside." + +"And do you know how to reach the seaport?" + +"Since I came that way I can return that way. You have youth, my lad, +but I have brains and experience." + +"It's plain what ails you, Doctor Chantry. And you might as well try to +swim the Atlantic." + +My poor master dropped his head on his breast, and I was ashamed of +baiting him and began to argue tenderly. I told him he could not bear +hardships; he was used to the soft life in De Chaumont's house; while my +flesh had been made iron in the wilderness. I intended to take a boat +from those hidden at our summer camp, to reach the head of Lake George. +But from that point to the Hudson river--where the town of Luzerne now +stands--it was necessary to follow a trail. I could carry the light +canoe over the trail, but he could not even walk it. + +The more I reasoned with him the more obstinate he became. There was a +wonderful spring called Saratoga, which he had visited with De Chaumont +a few years before as they came into the wilderness; he was convinced +that the water would set him on foot for the rest of the journey. + +"It is twenty-nine miles above Albany. We could soon reach it," he +urged. + +"I have heard of it," I answered. "Skenedonk has been there. But he says +you leave the river and go into the woods." + +"I know the way," he testily insisted. "And there used to be near the +river a man who kept horses and carried visitors to the spring." + +The spirit of reckless adventure, breaking through years of extreme +prudence, outran youth. + +"What will you do in France?" I put to him. He knew no more than I what +I should do. + +And there was Count de Chaumont to be considered. How would he regard +such a leave-taking? + +Doctor Chantry was as insensible to De Chaumont as I myself. Still he +agreed to write a note to his protector while I prepared my quill to +write one to Madame de Ferrier. With the spirit of the true parasite he +laid all the blame on me, and said he was constrained by duty to follow +and watch over me since it was impossible to curb a nature like mine. +And he left a loop-hole open for a future return to De Chaumont's easy +service, when the hardships which he willingly faced brought him his +reward. + +This paper he brazenly showed me while I was struggling to beg Madame de +Ferrier's pardon, and to let her know that I aimed at something definite +whether I ever reached port or not. + +I reflected with satisfaction that he would probably turn back at +Saratoga. We descended together to his room and brought away the things +he needed. In bulk they were twice as large as the load I had made for +myself. He also wrote out strict orders to Pierre to seal up his room +until his return. The inability of an old man to tear himself from his +accustomed environment cheered my heart. + +We then went back to bed, and like the two bad boys we were, slept +prepared for flight. + + + + +II + + +"This is fine!" said Doctor Chantry, when we descended from the rough +stage which had brought us across a corduroy trail, and found ourselves +at the entrance of a spacious wooden tavern. "When I passed Saratoga +before there were only three log houses, and the inn had two rooms below +and one above. It was lighted by pine torches stuck in the chinks of the +wall--and see how candles shine through these windows!" + +The tavern stood in a cleared place with miles of forest around it, and +a marsh stretching near by. Dusk could not prevent our seeing a few log +habitations, one of them decorated with a merchant's sign. We entered +among swarming crowds, a little world dropped into the backwoods. This +was more surprising because we had just left behind us a sense of wild +things gathering to their night haunts, and low savage cries, and +visions of moose and deer through far-off arches. + +A man who appeared to be the host met us, his sprightly interest in our +welfare being tempered by the consciousness of having many guests; and +told us the house was full, but he would do what he could for us. + +"Why is the house full?" fretted Doctor Chantry. "What right have you, +my dear sir, to crowd your house and so insure our discomfort?" + +"None at all, sir," answered the host good naturedly. "If you think you +can do better, try for lodgings at the store-keeper's." + +"The store-keeper's!" Doctor Chantry's hysterical cry turned some +attention to us. "I shall do nothing of the kind. I demand the best you +have, sir." + +"The best I can give you," amended our host. "You see we are very full +of politicians from Washington. They crowd to the spring." + +My master turned his nose like the inflamed horn of a unicorn against +the politicians from Washington, and trotted to the fireplace where +blazing knots cheered a great tap-room set with many tables and benches. + +And there rested Skenedonk in silent gravity, toasting his moccasins. +The Iroquois had long made Saratoga a gathering place, but I thought of +this Oneida as abiding in St. Regis village; for our people did not come +to the summer hunting in May. + +Forgetting that I was a runaway I met him heartily, and the fawn eyes in +his bald head beamed their accustomed luster upon me. I asked him where +my father and mother and the rest of the tribe were, and he said they +had not left St. Regis. + +"And why are you so early?" I inquired. + +He had been at Montreal, and had undertaken to guide a Frenchman as far +as Saratoga. It is not easy to surprise an Indian. But I wondered that +Skenedonk accepted my presence without a question, quite as if he had +himself made the appointment. + +However, the sights to be seen put him out of my head. Besides the +tap-room crowded with men there was a parlor in which women of fashion +walked about, contrasting with the place. They had all been to a spring +to drink water; for only one spring was greatly used then; and they +talked about the medicinal effects. Some men left the stronger waters, +which could be had at a glittering portcullised bar opposite the +fireplace in the tap-room, to chat with these short-waisted beauties. I +saw one stately creature in a white silk ball costume, his stockings +splashed to the knees with mud from the corduroy road. + +But the person who distinguished himself from everybody else by some +nameless attraction, was a man perhaps forty years old, who sat in a +high-backed settle at a table near the fire. He was erect and thin as a +lath, long faced, square browed and pale. His sandy hair stood up like +the bristles of a brush. Carefully dressed, with a sword at his side--as +many of the other men had--he filled my idea of a soldier; and I was not +surprised to hear his friends sitting opposite call him General Jackson. + +An inkstand, a quill and some paper were placed before him, but he +pushed them aside with his glass of toddy to lift one long fore-finger +and emphasize his talk. He had a resonant, impressive voice, with a +manner gentle and persuasive, like a woman's: and he was speaking of +Aaron Burr, the man whose duel had made such a noise in the newspapers. + +[Illustration: He pushed them aside with his glass of toddy to lift one +long fore-finger and emphasize his talk.] + +"I disagree with you, Mr. Campbell. You are prejudiced against Mr. Burr +on account of his late unfortunate affair. Even in that case I maintain +every man has a right to honor and satisfaction. But he loves the +Spanish on our southwestern borders no better than I do,--and you know +how I love the Spanish!" + +The other man laughed, lounging against the table. + +"You can't believe anything ill of Aaron Burr, General." + +I might have given attention to what they were saying, since here were +men from Washington, the very fountain of government, if Doctor Chantry +had not made me uneasy. He chose the table at which they were sitting +and placed himself in the seat nearest the fire, with the utmost nicety +about his own comfort. He wiped his horn spectacles, and produced his +own ink and quill and memorandum from a breast pocket. I had begged the +doctor to keep strict account between us, that I might pay back from my +pension whatever he spent on me, and with fine spider-like characters he +was proceeding to debit me with the stage fare, when another quill +barred his entrance to his ink-horn. + +He took off his spectacles and glared pink-eyed at the genial gentleman +with sandy upright hair. + +"Sir!" he cried, "that is my ink!" + +General Jackson, absorbed in talk, did not notice Doctor Chantry, who +half arose and shouted directly at his ear, + +"Sir, that is my ink!" + +He knocked the interloping quill in the direction of its owner. + +The genial sandy gentleman changed countenance in a way to astonish +beholders. + +"Have I disputed it, sir?" + +"No, sir, but you have dipped into it without asking leave." + +"By God, sir, what is a fip'ny-bit's worth of ink?" + +"But it's mine, sir!" + +"I see, sir; you're a Yankee, sir!" + +"I'm not, sir; I'm English--the finest race in the world!" + +General Jackson looked him up and down as they rose fronting each other, +and filled the air with dazzling words. + +"I should judge so, sir, by the specimen I see before me!" + +Doctor Chantry was like a fighting-cock, and it was plainly his age +which kept the other from striking him. He was beginning our journey +well, but I felt bound to intercept whatever fell upon him, and stood +between them. The other men at the table rose with General Jackson. + +"Gentlemen," I pleaded with the best words I could command in the +language, "do not forget your dignity, and disturb the peace of this +house for a bottle of ink!" + +The quarrel was ridiculous, and the Southerners laughed. General +Jackson himself again changed countenance, and gave me, I do not know +why, a smile that must have been reflected from the face of a woman he +adored. But my poor master showed the bull-dog; and taking him by the +arm and the collar I toddled him away from that table to a dark entry, +where I held him without any admonition save a sustained grip. He became +like a child, weeping and trembling, and declaring that everybody was in +league against him. Argument is wasted on people having such infirmity +of temper. When he was well cooled I put him in an arm-chair by a fire +in the ladies' parlor, and he was soon very meek and tractable, watching +the creatures he so admired. + +"You must go to bed as soon as you have your supper," I said to him. +"The journey to Saratoga has been a hard one for you. But Skenedonk is +here fortunately, and he can take you home again." + +My master looked at me with the shrewishness of an elephant. I had not +at that time seen an elephant. When I did see one, however, the shifting +of its eyes brought back the memory of Doctor Chantry when I had him at +bay by the fire. + +"You are not going to get away from me," he responded. "If you are tired +of it, so am I. Otherwise, we proceed." + +"If you pick quarrels with soldiers and duelists at every step, what are +we to do?" + +"I picked no quarrel. It is my luck. Everyone is against me!" He hung +his head in such a dejected manner that I felt ashamed of bringing his +temperament to account: and told him I was certain no harm would come +of it. + +"I am not genial," Doctor Chantry owned; "I wish I were. Now you are +genial, Lazarre. People take to you. You attract them. But whatever I +am, you are obliged to have my company: you cannot get along without me. +You have no experience, and no money. I have experience,--and a few +pounds:--not enough to retire into the country upon, in England; but +enough to buy a little food for the present." + +I thought I could get along better without the experience and even the +few pounds, than with him as an encumbrance; though I could not bring +myself to the cruelty of telling him so. For there is in me a fatal +softness which no man can have and overbear others in this world. It +constrains me to make the other man's cause my own, though he be at war +with my own interests. + +Therefore I was at the mercy of Skenedonk, also. The Indian appeared in +the doorway and watched me. I knew he thought there was to be trouble +with the gentleman from Washington, and I went to him to ease his mind. + +Skenedonk had nothing to say, however, and made me a sign to follow him. +As we passed through the tap-room, General Jackson gave me another +pleasant look. He had resumed his conversation and his own ink-bottle as +if he had never been interrupted. + +The Indian led me upstairs to one of the chambers, and opened the door. + +In the room was Louis Philippe, and when we were shut alone together, he +embraced me and kissed me as I did not know men embraced and kissed. + +"Do you know Skenedonk?" I exclaimed. + +"If you mean the Indian who brought you at my order, he was my guide +from Montreal." + +"But he was not with you at the potter's camp." + +"Yes, he was in the hut, wrapped in his blanket, and after you drove the +door in he heard all that was said. Lazarre"--Louis Philippe took my +face in his hands--"make a clean breast of it." + +We sat down, and I told him without being questioned what I was going to +do. He gravely considered. + +"I saw you enter the house, and had a suspicion of your undertaking. It +is the worst venture you could possibly make at this time. We will begin +with my family. Any belief in you into which I may have been betrayed is +no guaranty of Monsieur's belief. You understand," said Louis Philippe, +"that Monsieur stands next to the throne if there is no dauphin, or an +idiot dauphin?" + +I said I understood. + +"Monsieur is not a bad man. But Bellenger, who took charge of the +dauphin, has in some manner and for some reason, provided himself with a +substitute, and he utterly denies you. Further: supposing that you are +the heir of France, restored to your family and proclaimed--of what use +is it to present yourself before the French people now? They are +besotted with this Napoleon. The Empire seems to them a far greater +thing than any legitimate monarchy. Of what use, do I say? It would be a +positive danger for you to appear in France at this time! Napoleon has +proscribed every Bourbon. Any prince caught alive in France will be put +to death. Do you know what he did last year to the Duke d'Enghien? He +sent into Germany for the duke, who had never harmed him, never +conspired against him--had done nothing, in fact, except live an +innocent life away from the seat of Napoleon's power. The duke was +brought to Paris under guard and put in the dungeons of Vincennes. He +demanded to see Bonaparte. Bonaparte would not see him. He was tried by +night, his grave being already dug in the castle ditch. That lovely +young fellow--he was scarcely above thirty--was taken out to the ditch +and shot like a dog!" + +I stood up with my hands clenched. + +"Sit down," said Louis Philippe. "There is no room in the world at this +time for anybody but that jealous monster." + +"He shall not tie me here," I said. + +"You intend to go?" + +"I intend to go." + +"This Bonaparte," said Louis Philippe, "has his troubles. His brother +Jerome has married an American in Baltimore. A fine explosion that will +make when it reaches his ears. Where are you going to land, Lazarre?" + +I said that must depend on the ship I took. + +"And what are you going to do when you land?" + +I said I would think that out later. + +Then the spirit being upon me, I burst bounds and told him impetuously +that I was going to learn what the world held for me. Without means, +without friends, or power or prospects, or certainty of any good +results--impudent--reckless--utterly rash--"I am going," I cried, +"because I must go!" + +"There is something about you which inspires love, my boy," said Louis +Philippe; and I heard him with astonishment. "Perhaps it comes from the +mother; she was a witcher of all mankind." + +"I cannot understand why any one should love so ignorant a creature, but +God grant there be others that love me, too; for I have lived a life +stinted of all affection. And, indeed, I did not know I wanted it until +last year. When we talked late the other night, and you told me the +history of all my family, the cruelest part of my lot seemed the +separation from those that belonged to me. Separation from what is our +own ought not to be imposed upon us even by God Himself!" + +"What!" said Louis Philippe, "is he following a woman!" + +My face burned, and probably went white, for I felt the blood go back on +my heart. He took my hand and stroked it. + +"Don't chain yourself behind that chariot. Wait a little while for your +good star to rise. I wish I had money. I wish I could be of use to you +in France. I wish I stood nearer to Monsieur, for your sake. Every one +must love this bold pure face. It bears some resemblance to Madame +Royal. The sister of the dauphin is a good girl, not many years your +senior. Much dominated by her uncles, but a royal duchess. It is the +fashion now to laugh at chivalry. You are the most foolish example of it +I ever saw! It is like seeing a knight without horse, armor, or purse, +set out to win an equipment before he pursues his quest! Yet I love you +for it, my boy!" + +"It would be well for me if I had more friends like you." + +"Why, I can be of no use! I cannot go back to France at this time, and +if I could, what is my influence there? I must wander around in foreign +parts, a private gentleman eking out my living by some kind of industry. +What are you going to do with the fretful old fellow you have with you?" + +I groaned and laughed. + +"Carry him on my back. There is no getting rid of him. He is following +me to France. He is my lesson-master." + +"How will you support him?" + +"He is supporting me at present. But I would rather take my chances +alone." + +"You have another follower," said Louis Philippe. "Your Indian has been +in France, and after hearing our talk at the camp, he foresaw you might +be moved to this folly, and told me he intended to guide you there, or +wherever you go!" + +"And Skenedonk, too!" + +I shook with laughter. It was so like Skenedonk to draw his conclusions +and determine on the next step. + +"What shall I do with them?" + +"The old master can be your secretary, and as for the Indian, you can +take him for your servant." + +"A secretary and a servant, for an outcast without a penny to his +pouch!" + +"You see the powers that order us are beginning well with you. Starting +with a secretary and a servant, you may end with a full household and a +court! I ought to add my poor item of tribute, and this I can do. There +is a ship-master taking cargo this month in New York bay, who is a +devoted royalist; a Breton sailor. For a letter from me he will carry +you and your suite to the other side of the world; but you will have to +land in his port." + +"And what will the charges be?" + +"Nothing, except gratitude, if I put the case as strongly to him as I +intend to do. God knows I may be casting a foul lot for you. His ship is +staunch, rigged like the Italian salt ships. But it is dirty work +crossing the sea; and there is always danger of falling into the hands +of pirates. Are you determined?" + +I looked him in the eyes, and said I was; thanking him for all his +goodness to one who had so little expectation of requiting him. The +sweet heartiness of an older man so far beyond myself in princely +attainments and world knowledge, who could stoop to such a raw savage, +took me by storm. + +I asked him if he had any idea who the idiot was that we had seen in +Bellenger's camp. He shook his head, replying that idiots were +plentiful, and the people who had them were sometimes glad to get rid of +them. + +"The dauphin clue has been very cleverly managed by--Bellenger, let us +say," Louis Philippe remarked. "If you had not appeared, I should not +now believe there is a dauphin." + +I wanted to tell him all the thoughts tossing in my mind; but silence is +sometimes better than open speech. Facing adventure, I remembered that I +had never known the want of food for any length of time during my +conscious life. And I had a suspicion the soft life at De Chaumont's had +unstrung me for what was before me. But it lasted scarce a year, and I +was built for hardship. + +He turned to his table to write the ship-master's letter. Behold, there +lay a book I knew so well that I exclaimed---- + +"Where did you get my missal?" + +"Your missal, Lazarre? This is mine." + +I turned the leaves, and looked at the back. It was a continuation of +the prayers of the church. There were blank leaves for the inscribing of +prayers, and one was written out in a good bold hand. + +"His Majesty Louis XVI composed and wrote that prayer himself," said +Louis Philippe. "The comfort-loving priests had a fashion of dividing +the missal into three or four parts, that a volume might not be so heavy +to carry about in their pockets. This is the second volume. It was +picked up in the Tuileries after that palace was sacked." + +I told him mine must be the preceding volume, because I did not know +there was any continuation. The prayers of the church had not been my +study. + +"Where did you get yours, Lazarre?" + +"Madame de Ferrier gave it to me. When I saw it I remembered, as if my +head were split open to show the picture, that my mother had read from +that very book to me. I cannot explain it, but so it was." + +"I am not surprised she believes, against Bellenger's evidence, that you +are Louis of France." + +"I will bring my book and show it to you." + +We compared the volumes after supper, and one was the mate of the other. + +The inn dining-room had one long table stretched down its entire length, +heaped with wild meats and honey and pastries and fish in abundance. +General Jackson sat at one end, and at the other sat the landlord, +explaining to all his guests what each dish was, and urging good +appetite. I sat by Louis Philippe, whose quality was known only to +myself, with Doctor Chantry on the other side fretting for the +attendance to which Jean had used him. + +My master was so tired that I put him early to bed; and then sat talking +nearly all night with the gracious gentleman to whom I felt bound by +gratitude and by blood. + + + + +III + + +Dieppe, high and glaring white above the water, will always symbolize to +me the gate of France. The nobility of that view remained in my thoughts +when half the distance to Paris was traversed. + +I could shut my eyes and see it as I lay on the straw in a post-house +stable. A square hole in the front of the grenier gave upon the +landscape. Even respectable houses in that part of the country were then +built with few or no windows; but delicious masses of grayness they +were, roofed with thick and overhanging thatch. + +"The stables of France are nothing but covered dunghills," Doctor +Chantry grumbled; so when I crept with the Indian to lodgings over the +cattle, one of the beds in the house was hired for the gouty master. +Even at inns there were two or three beds in a room where they set us to +dine. + +"An English inn-keeper would throw their furniture into the fire!" he +cried in a language fortunately not understood. + +"But we have two good rooms on the ground floor, and another for +Skenedonk," I sometimes remonstrated with him, "at three shillings and +sixpence a day, in your money." + +"You would not see any man, let his rank be what it may," Doctor +Chantry retorted, "dining in his bedroom, in England. And look at these +walls!--papered with two or three kinds of paper, the bare spots hung +with tapestry moth-eaten and filled with spiders! And what have we for +table?--a board laid on cross-bars! And the oaken chairs are +rush-bottomed, and so straight the backs are a persecution! The door +hinges creak in these inns, the wind blows through--" + +So his complaints went on, for there never was a man who got so much out +of small miseries. Skenedonk and I must have failed to see all in our +travels that he put before us. For we were full of enjoyment and wonder: +at the country people, wooden shod, the women's caps and long cloaks; at +the quiet fair roads which multiplied themselves until we often paused +enchanted in a fairy world of sameness; at market-towns, where fountains +in the squares were often older than America, the country out of which +we arrived. + +Skenedonk heard without shifting a muscle all Doctor Chantry's +grievances; and I told him we ought to cherish them, for they were views +of life we could not take ourselves. Few people are made so delicately +that they lose color and rail at the sight of raw tripe brought in by a +proud hostess to show her resources for dinner; or at a chicken coming +upon the table with its head tucked beneath its wing. + +"We are fed with poulet, poulet, nothing but poulet," said Doctor +Chantry, "until the poulets themselves are ashamed to look us in the +face!" + +We fared well, indeed, and the wine was good, and my master said he must +sustain himself on it though it proved his death. He could not march as +Skenedonk and I regularly marched. We hired a cart to lift him and our +knapsacks from village to village, with a driver who knew the road to +Paris. When the distances were long we sometimes mounted beside him. I +noticed that the soil of this country had not the chalk look of other +lands which I afterwards saw to the east and north; but Napoleon was +already making good the ancient thoroughfares. + +When my master was on shipboard he enjoyed the sea even less than the +free air of these broad stretches; for while he could cast an eye about +and approve of something under the sky--perhaps a church steeple, or the +color of a thatch which filled me with joy--he could not approve of +anything aboard a ship. Indeed, it was pity to have no delight in +cleaving the water, and in the far-off spouting of whales, to say +nothing of a living world that rides in undulations. For my part, I +loved even the creaking of a ship, and the uncertainty of ever coming to +port, and the anxiety lest a black flag should show above every sail we +passed. The slow progress of man from point to point in his experience, +while it sometimes enrages, on the whole interests me; and the monotony +of a voyage has a sweetness like the monotony of daily bread. I looked +out of the grenier window upon the high road, and upon the June sun in +the act of setting; for we had supped and gone early to rest after a +hard day. Post horses were stamping underneath, all ready for some noble +count who intended to make another stage of his journey before +nightfall. + +Small obtrusive cares, such as the desire that my shoes should last well +into Paris, mingled with joy in the smell of the earth at sunset, and +the looking forward to seeing Madame de Ferrier again. I wrapped myself +every night in the conviction that I should see her, and more freely +than I had ever seen her in America. + +There was a noise of horses galloping, and the expected noble count +arrived; being no other than De Chaumont with his post coaches. He +stepped out of the first, and Ernestine stepped out of the second, +carrying Paul. She took him to his mother. The door flew open, and the +woman I adored received her child and walked back and forth with him. +Annabel leaned out while the horses were changed. I saw Miss Chantry, +and my heart misgave me, remembering her brother's prolonged lament at +separation from her. + +He was, I trusted, already shut into one of those public beds which are +like cupboards; for the day had begun for us at three of the morning. +But if he chose to show himself, and fall upon De Chaumont for luxurious +conveyance to Paris, I was determined that Skenedonk and I should not +appear. I wronged my poor master, who told me afterwards he watched +through a crack of the cupboard bed with his heart in his mouth. + +The pause was a very short one, for horses are soon changed. Madame de +Ferrier threw a searching eye over the landscape. It was a mercy she did +not see the hole in the grenier, through which I devoured her, daring +for the first time to call her secretly--Eagle--the name that De +Chaumont used with common freedom! Now how strange is this--that one +woman should be to a man the sum of things! And what was her charm I +could not tell, for I began to understand there were many beautiful +women in the world, of all favors, and shapely perhaps as the one of my +love. Only her I found drawing the soul out of my body; and none of the +others did more than please the eye like pictures. + +The carriages were gone with the sun, and it was no wonder all fell gray +over the world. + +De Chaumont had sailed behind us, and he would be in Paris long before +us. + +I had first felt some uneasiness, and dread of being arrested on our +journey; though our Breton captain--who was a man of gold that I would +travel far to see this day, if I could, even beneath the Atlantic, where +he and his ship now float--obtained for us at Dieppe, on his own pledge, +a kind of substitute for passports. We were a marked party, by reason of +the doctor's lameness and Skenedonk's appearance. The Oneida, during his +former sojourn in France, had been encouraged to preserve the novelty +of his Indian dress. As I had nothing to give him in its place it did +not become me to find fault. And he would have been more conspicuous +with a cocked hat on his bare red scalp, and knee breeches instead of +buckskins. Peasants ran out to look at him, and in return we looked at +them with a good will. + +We reached the very barriers of Paris, however, without falling into +trouble. And in the streets were so many men of so many nations that +Skenedonk's attire seemed no more bizarre than the turbans of the east +or the white burnous of the Arab. + +It was here that Skenedonk took his role as guide, and stalked through +narrow crooked streets, which by comparison made New York, my first +experience of a city, appear a plain and open village. + +I do not pretend to know anything about Paris. Some spots in the mystic +labyrinth stand out to memory, such as that open space where the +guillotine had done its work, the site of the Bastille, and a long +street leading from the place of the Bastille, parallel with the river; +and this I have good reason to remember. It is called Rue St. Antoine. I +learned well, also, a certain prison, and a part of the ancient city +called Faubourg St. Germain. One who can strike obscure trails in the +wilderness of nature, may blunt his fine instincts on the wilderness of +man. + +This did not befall the Indian. He took a bee line upon his old tracks, +and when the place was sighted we threaded what seemed to be a rivulet +between cliffs, for a moist depressed street-center kept us straddling +something like a gutter, while with outstretched hands we could brace +the opposite walls. + +We entered a small court where a gruff man, called a concierge, having a +dirty kerchief around his head, received us doubtfully. He was not the +concierge of Skenedonk's day. We showed him coin; and Doctor Chantry sat +down in his chair and looked at him with such contempt that his respect +increased. + +The house was clean, and all the stairs we climbed to the roof were well +scoured. From the mansard there was a beautiful view of Paris, with +forest growth drawing close to the heart of the city. For on that side +of the world men dare not murder trees, but are obliged to respect and +cherish them. + +My poor master stretched himself on a bed by the stooping wall, and in +disgust of life and great pain of feet, begged us to order a pan of +charcoal and let him die the true Parisian death when that is not met on +the scaffold. Skenedonk said to me in Iroquois that Doctor Chantry was a +sick old woman who ought to be hidden some place to die, and it was his +opinion that the blessing of the church would absolve us. We could then +make use of the pouch of coin to carry on my plans. + +My plans were more ridiculous than Skenedonk's. His at least took sober +shape, while mine were still the wild emotions of a young man's mind. +Many an hour I had spent on the ship, watching the foam speed past her +side, trying to foresee my course like hers in a trackless world. But it +seemed I must wait alertly for what destiny was making mine. + +We paid for our lodgings, three commodious rooms, though in the mansard; +my secretary dragging himself to sit erect with groans and record the +increasing debt of myself and my servant. + +"Come, Skenedonk," I then said. "Let us go down to the earth and buy +something that Doctor Chantry can eat." + +That benevolent Indian was quite as ready to go to market as to abate +human nuisances. And Doctor Chantry said he could almost see English +beef and ale across the channel; but translated into French they would, +of course, be nothing but poulet and sour wine. I pillowed his feet with +a bag of down which he had kicked off his bed, and Skenedonk and I +lingered along the paving as we had many a time lingered through the +woods. There were book stalls a few feet square where a man seemed +smothered in his own volumes; and victual shops where you could almost +feed yourself for two or three sous; and people sitting outdoors +drinking wine, as if at a general festival. I thought Paris had comfort +and prosperity--with hereditary kings overthrown and an upstart in their +place. Yet the streets were dirty, with a smell of ancientness that +sickened me. + +We got a loaf of bread as long as a staff, a pat of butter in a leaf, +and a bottle of wine. My servant, though unused to squaw labor, took on +himself the porterage of our goods, and I pushed from street to street, +keenly pleased with the novelty, which held somewhere in its volatile +ether the person of Madame de Ferrier. + +Skenedonk blazed our track with his observant eye, and we told ourselves +we were searching for Doctor Chantry's beef. Being the unburdened hunter +I undertook to scan cross places, and so came unexpectedly upon the Rue +St. Antoine, as a man told me it was called, and a great hurrahing that +filled the mouths of a crowd blocking the thoroughfare. + +"Long live the emperor!" they shouted. + +The man who told me the name of the street, a baker all in white, with +his tray upon his head, objected contemptuously. + +"The emperor is not in Paris: he is in Boulogne." + +"You never know where he is--he is here--there--everywhere!" declared +another workman, in a long dark garment like a hunting-shirt on the +outside of his small clothes. + +"Long live the emperor!--long live the emperor!" + +I pushed forward as two or three heavy coaches checked their headlong +speed, and officers parted the crowd. + +"There he is!" admitted the baker behind me. Something struck me in the +side, and there was Bellenger the potter, a man I thought beyond the +seas in America. His head as I saw it that moment put the emperor's head +out of my mind. He had a knife, and though he had used the handle, I +foolishly caught it and took it from him. With all his strength he then +pushed me so that I staggered against the wheel of a coach. + +"Assassin!" he screamed; and then Paris fell around my ears. + +If anybody had seen his act nobody refrained from joining in the cry. + +"Assassin! Assassin! To the lamp post with him!" + +I stood stupefied and astonished as an owl blinking in the sunshine, and +two guards held my collar. The coaches lashed away, carrying the man of +destiny--as I have since been told he called himself--as rapidly as +possible, leaving the victim of destiny to be bayed at by that +many-headed dog, the mongrel populace of Paris. + + + + +IV + + +The idiot boy somewhere upon the hills of Lake George, always in a world +of fog which could not be discovered again, had often come to my mind +during my journeys, like a self that I had shed and left behind. But +Bellenger was a cipher. I forgot him even at the campfire. Now here was +this poor crazy potter on my track with vindictive intelligence, the day +I set foot in Paris. Time was not granted even to set the lodging in +order. He must have crossed the ocean with as good speed as Doctor +Chantry and Skenedonk and I. He may have spied upon us from the port, +through the barriers, and even to our mansard. At any rate he had found +me in a crowd, and made use of me to my downfall: and I could have +knocked my stupid head on the curb as I was haled away. + +One glimpse of Skenedonk I caught while we marched along Rue St. +Antoine, the gendarmes protecting me from the crowd. He thought I was +going to the scaffold, where many a strapping fellow had gone in the +Paris of his youth, and fought to reach me, laying about him with his +loaf of bread. Skenedonk would certainly trail me, and find a way to be +of use, unless he broke into trouble as readily as I had done. + +My guards crossed the river in the neighborhood of palaces, and came by +many windings to a huge pile rearing its back near a garden place, and +there I was turned over to jailers and darkness. The entrance was +unwholesome. A man at a table opened a tome which might have contained +all the names in Paris. He dipped his quill and wrote by candlelight. + +"Political offender or common criminal?" he inquired. + +"Political offender," the officer answered. + +"What is he charged with?" + +"Trying to assassinate the emperor in his post-chaise." + +"La, la, la!" the recorder grunted. "Another attempt! And gunpowder put +in the street to blow the emperor up only last week. Good luck attends +him:--only a few windows broken and some common people killed. Taken in +the act, was this fellow?" + +"With the knife in his hand." + +"What name?" the recorder inquired. + +I had thought on the answer, and told him merely that my name was +Williams. + +"Eh, bien, Monsieur Veeleeum. Take him to the east side among the +political offenders," said the master-jailer to an assistant or turnkey. + +"But it's full," responded the turnkey. + +"Shove him in some place." + +They searched me, and the turnkey lighted another candle. The meagerness +of my output was beneath remark. When he had led me up a flight of +stone steps he paused and inquired, + +"Have you any money?" + +"No." + +"So much the worse for you." + +"What is the name of this prison?" I asked. + +"Ste. Pelagie," he answered. "If you have no money, and expect to eat +here, you better give me some trinket to sell for you." + +"I have no trinkets to give you." + +He laughed. + +"Your shirt or breeches will do." + +"Are men shut up here to starve?" + +The jailer shrugged. + +"The bread is very bad, and the beans too hard to eat. We do not furnish +the rations; it is not our fault. The rule here is nothing buys nothing. +But sleep in your breeches while you can. You will soon be ready enough +to eat them." + +I was ready enough to eat them then, but forbore to let him know it. The +whole place was damp and foul. We passed along a corridor less than four +feet wide, and he unlocked a cell from which a revolting odor came. +There was no light except what strained through a loophole under the +ceiling. He turned the key upon me, and I held my nose. Oh, for a deep +draught of the wilderness! + +There seemed to be an iron bed at one side, with a heap of rags on top. +I resolved to stand up all night before trusting myself to that couch. +The cell was soon explored. Two strides in each direction measured it. +The stone walls were marked or cut with names I could dimly see. + +I braced my back against the door and watched the loophole where a gray +hint of daylight told that the sun must be still shining. This faded to +a blotch in the thick stone, and became obliterated. + +Tired by the day's march, and with a taste of clean outdoor air still in +my lungs, I chose one of the two corners not occupied by the ill odored +bed, sat down, and fell asleep, dropping my cares. A grating of the lock +disturbed me. The jailer pushed a jug of water into the room, and +replaced his bolts. + +Afterwards I do not remember anything except that the stone was not +warm, and my stomach craved, until a groan in my ear stabbed sleep. I +sat up awake in every nerve. There was nobody in the cell with me. +Perhaps the groan had come from a neighboring prisoner. + +Then a faint stir of covering could be heard upon the bed. + +I rose and pressed as far as I could into my corner. No beast of the +wilderness ever had such terror for me as the unknown thing that had +been my cell-mate half a night without my knowledge. + +Was a vampire--a demon--a witch--a ghost locked in there with me? + +It moaned again, so faintly, that compassion instantly got the better of +superstition. + +"Who is there?" I demanded; as if the knowledge of a name would cure +terror of the suffering thing naming itself. + +I got no answer, and taking my resolution in hand, moved toward the bed, +determined to know what housed with me. The jug of water stood in the +way, and I lifted it with instinctive answer to the groan. + +The creature heard the splash, and I knew by its mutter what it wanted. +Groping darkly, to poise the jug for an unseen mouth, I realized that +something helpless to the verge of extinction lay on the bed, and I +would have to find the mouth myself or risk drowning it. I held the +water on the bed-rail with my right hand, groped with the other, and +found a clammy, death-cold forehead, a nose and cavernous cheeks, an +open and fever roughened mouth. I poured water on my handkerchief and +bathed the face. That would have been my first desire in extreme +moments. The poor wretch gave a reviving moan, so I felt emboldened to +steady the jug and let drop by drop gurgle down its throat. + +Forgetting the horror of the bed I sat there, repeating at intervals +this poor ministration until the porthole again dawned, and blackness +became the twilight of day. + +My cell-mate could not see me. I doubt if he ever knew that a hand gave +him water. His eyes were meaningless, and he was so gaunt that his body +scarcely made a ridge on the bed. + +Some beans and mouldy bread were put in for my rations. The turnkey +asked me how I intended to wash myself without basin or ewer or towels, +and inquired further if he could be of service in disposing of my shirt +or breeches. + +"What ails this man?" + +He shrugged, and said the prisoner had been wasting with fever. + +"You get fever in Ste. Pelagie," he added, "especially when you eat the +prison food. This man ought to be sent to the infirmary, but the +infirmary is overflowing now." + +"Who is he?" + +"A journalist, or poet, or some miserable canaille of that sort. He will +soon be out of your way." Our guard craned over to look at him. +"_Oui_--da! He is a dying man! A priest must be sent to him soon. I +remember he demanded one several days ago." + +But that day and another dragged through before the priest appeared. I +sent out my waistcoat, and got a wretched meal, and a few spoonfuls of +wine that I used to moisten the dying man's lips. His life may or may +not have been prolonged; but out of collapse he opened his mouth +repeatedly and took the drops. He was more my blessing than I was his. + +For I had an experience which has ever since given me to know the souls +of prisoners. + +The first day, in spite of the cell's foulness, I laughed secretly at +jailers and felt at peace, holding the world at bay. I did not then know +that Ste. Pelagie was the tomb of the accused, where more than one +prisoner dragged out years without learning why he was put there. I was +not brought to any trial or examination. + +But gradually an uneasiness which cannot be imagined by one who has not +felt it, grew upon me. I wanted light. The absence of it was torture! +Light--to vivify the stifling air, which died as this man was dying--as +I should die--in blinding mirk! + +Moisture broke out all over my body, and cold dew stood on my forehead. +How could human lungs breathe the midnight of blackening walls? The +place was hot with the hell of confinement. I said over and over--"O +God, Thou art Light!--in Thee is no darkness at all!" + +This anguish seemed a repetition of something I had endured once before. +The body and spirit remembered, though the mind had no register. I +clawed at the walls. If I slept, it was to wake gasping, fighting upward +with both hands. + +The most singular phase was that I reproached myself for not soaking up +more sun in the past. Oh, how much light was going to waste over wide +fields and sparkling seas! The green woods, the green grass--they had +their fill of sun, while we two perished! + +I remembered creeping out of glare under the shadow of rocks, and +wondered how I could have done it! If I ever came to the sun again I +would stretch myself and roll from side to side, to let it burn me well! +How blessed was the tan we got in summer from steeping in light! + +Looking at my cell-mate I could have rent the walls. + +"We are robbed," I told his deaf ears. "The light, poured freely all +over the city, the light that belongs to you and me as much as to +anybody, would save you! I wish I could pick you up and carry you out +where the sun would shine through your bones! But let us be glad, you +and I, that there is a woman who is not buried like a whitening sprout +under this weight of stone! She is free, to walk around and take the +light in her gray eyes and the wind in her brown hair. I swear to God if +I ever come out of this I will never pass so much as a little plant +prostrate in darkness, without helping it to the light." + +It was night by the loophole when our turnkey threw the door open. I +heard the priest and his sacristan joking in the corridor before they +entered carrying their sacred parcels. The priest was a doddering old +fellow, almost deaf, for the turnkey shouted at his ear, and dim of +sight, for he stooped close to look at the dying man, who was beyond +confession. + +"Bring us something for a temporary altar," he commanded the turnkey, +who stood candle in hand. + +The turnkey gave his light to the sacristan, and taking care to lock us +in, hurried to obey. + +I measured the lank, ill-strung assistant, more an overgrown boy than a +man of brawn, but expanded around his upper part by the fullness of a +short white surplice. He had a face cheerful to silliness. + +The turnkey brought a board supported by crosspieces; and withdrew, +taking his own candle, as soon as the church's tapers were lighted. + +The sacristan placed the temporary altar beside the foot of the bed, +arrayed it, and recited the Confiteor. + +Then the priest mumbled the Misereatur and Indulgentiam. + +I had seen extreme unction administered as I had seen many another +office of the church in my dim days, with scarcely any attention. Now +the words were terribly living. I knew every one before it rolled off +the celebrant's lips. Yet under that vivid surface knowledge I carried +on as vivid a sequence of thought. + +The priest elevated the ciborium, repeating, + +"Ecce Agnus Dei." + +Then three times--"Domine, non sum dignus." + +I heard and saw with exquisite keenness, yet I was thinking, + +"If I do not get out of here he will have to say those words over me." + +He put the host in the parted mouth of the dying, and spoke-- + +"Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vetam +aeternam." + +I thought how easy it would be to strip the loose surplice over the +sacristan's head. There was a swift clip of the arm around your +opponent's neck which I had learned in wrestling, that cut the breath +off and dropped him as limp as a cloth. It was an Indian trick. I said +to myself it would be impossible to use that trick on the sacristan if +he left the cell behind the deaf old priest. I did not want to hurt him. +Still, he would have a better chance to live after I had squeezed his +neck, than I should have if I did not squeeze it. + +The priest took out of a silver case a vessel of oil, and a branch. He +sprinkled holy water with the branch, upon the bed, the walls, the +sacristan and me, repeating, + +"Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem +dealbabor." + +While I bent my head to the drops, I knew it was impossible to choke +down the sacristan, strip off his surplice, invest myself with it and +get out of the cell before priest or turnkey looked back. The sacrilege +of such an attack would take all the strength out of me. + +The priest said the Exaudi nos, exhorted the insensible figure, then +recited the Credo and the Litany, the sacristan responding. + +Silence followed. + +I knew the end was approaching. My hands were as cold as the nerveless +one which would soon receive the candle. I told myself I should be a +fool to attempt it. There was not one chance in a hundred. I should not +squeeze hard enough. The man would yell. If I were swift as lightning +and silent as force, they would take me in the act. It was impossible. +But people who cannot do impossible things have to perish. + +The priest dipped his thumb in oil, and with it crossed the eyes, ears, +nose, mouth, and hands of him who was leaving the use of these five +senses and instruments of evil. + +Then he placed a lighted candle in the stiffened fingers, and ended +with-- + +"Accipe lampadem ardentem custodi unctionem tuam." + +I said to myself--"I cannot do it! Nobody could! It is impossible!" + +The sacristan now began to strip the altar and pack all the sacred +implements into their cases: preparing his load in the center of the +room. + +The man was dead. + +The sacristan's last office was to fix the two lighted altar candles on +the head and foot railing of the bed. They showed the corpse in its +appalling stillness, and stood like two angels, with the pit between +them. + +The sacristan rapped upon the door to let the turnkey know it was time +to unlock. + +I drew the thick air to my lung depths. The man who would breathe no +more was not as rigid as I stood. But there was no use in attempting +such a thing! + +The turnkey opened a gap of doorway through which he could see the +candles and the bed. He opened no wider than the breadth of the priest, +who stepped out as the sacristan bent for the portables. + +There was lightning in my arm as it took the sacristan around the neck +and let him limp upon the stones. The tail of the priest's cassock was +scarcely through the door. + +"Eh bien! sacristan," called the turnkey. "Make haste with your load. I +have this death to report. He is not so pretty that you must stand +gazing at him all night!" + +I had the surplice over the sacristan's head and over mine, and backed +out with my load, facing the room. + +If my jailer had thrust his candle at me, if the priest had turned to +speak, if the man in the cell had got his breath before the bolt was +turned, if my white surplice had not appeared the principal part of me +in that black place--. + +It was impossible!--but I had done it. + + + + +V + + +The turnkey's candle made a star-point in the corridor. He walked ahead +of the priest and I walked behind. We descended to the entrance where +the man with the big book sat taking stock of another wretch between +officers. I saw as I shaded my face with the load, that his inattentive +eye dwelt on my surplice, which would have passed me anywhere in France. + +"Good-night, monsieur the cure," said the turnkey, letting us through +the outer door. + +"Good-night, good-night," the priest responded. + +"And to you, sacristan." + +"Good-night," I muttered, and he came a step after me. The candle was +yet in his hand, showing him my bulk, and perhaps the small clothes he +had longed to vend. I expected hue and cry, but walked on after the +priest, and heard the heavy doors jar, and breathed again. + +Hearkening behind and in front, on the right and the left, I followed +him in the direction of what I have since learned to call the Jardin des +Plantes. It is near Ste. Pelagie. + +The priest, wearied by his long office, spoke only once about the +darkness; for it was a cloudy night; and did not attend to my muttered +response. I do not know what sympathy the excellent old man might have +shown to an escaped prisoner who had choked his sacristan, and I had no +mind to test it. He turned a corner, and with the wall angle between us, +I eased down the sacred furniture, drew off the surplice and laid that +upon it, and took to my heels up the left hand street; for the guard had +brought me across the river to Ste. Pelagie. + +I had no hat, and the cut of my coat showed that I had lost a waistcoat. +Avoiding the little circles of yellowness made by lamp posts, I reached +without mishap of falling into the hands of any patrol, a bridge +crossing to an island point, and from the other side of the point to the +opposite shore. At intervals along the parapet dim lights were placed. + +Compared to Lake George, which wound like a river, and the mighty St. +Lawrence as I remembered it, the Seine was a narrow stream. Some boats +made constellations on the surface. The mass of island splitting it into +two branches was almost the heart of Paris. There were other foot +passengers on the bridge, and a gay carriage rolled by. I did not see +any gendarmes, and only one foot passenger troubled me. + +I was on the bridge above the left arm of the river when an ear trained +in the woods caught his footstep, pausing as mine paused, and hurrying +as mine hurried. If the sacristan had been found in Ste. Pelagie a +pursuer would not track me so delicately, and neither would Skenedonk +hold back on the trail. I stopped in the shade when we two were alone on +the second span, and wheeled, certain of catching my man under the +flare of a cresset. I caught him, and knew that it was Bellenger +following me. + +My mind was made up in an instant. I walked back to settle matters with +him, though slaughter was far from my thoughts. I had done him no harm; +but he was my enemy, and should be forced to let me alone. + +The fellow who had appeared so feeble at his cabin that I opened the +door for him, and so poor-spirited that his intellect claimed pity, +stood up as firm as a bear at my approach, and met my eyes with perfect +understanding. + +Not another thing do I remember. The facts are simply these: I faced +Bellenger; no blows passed; my mind flashed blank with the partial +return of that old eclipse which has fallen upon me after strong +excitement, in more than one critical moment. The hiatus seems brief +when I awake though it may have lasted hours. I know the eclipse has +been upon me, like the wing-shadow of eternity; but I have scarcely let +go of time. + +I could not prove that Bellenger dragged me to the parapet and threw me +into the river. If I had known it I should have laughed at his doing so, +for I could swim like a fish, through or under water, and sit on the +lake bottom holding my breath until Skenedonk had been known to dive for +me. + +When next I sensed anything at all it was a feeling of cold. + +I thought I was lying in one of the shallow runlets that come into Lake +George, and the pebbles were an uneasy bed, chilling my shoulders. I was +too stiff to move, or even turn my head to lift out of water the ear on +which it rested. But I could unclose my eyelids, and this is what I +saw:--a man naked to his waist, half reclining against a leaning slab of +marble, down which a layer of water constantly moved. His legs were +clothed, and his other garments lay across them. His face had sagged in +my direction. There was a deep slash across his forehead, and he showed +his teeth and his glassy eyes at the joke. + +Beyond this silent figure was a woman as silent. The ridge of his body +could not hide the long hair spread upon her breast. I considered the +company and the moisture into which I had fallen with unspeakable +amazement. We were in a low and wide stone chamber with a groined +ceiling, supported by stone pillars. A row of lamps was arranged above +us, so that no trait or feature might escape a beholder. + +That we were put there for show entered my mind slowly and brought +indignation. To be so helpless and so exposed was an outrage against +which I struggled in nightmare impotence; for I was bare to my hips +also, and I knew not what other marks I carried beside those which had +scarred me all my conscious life. + +Now in the distance, and echoing, feet descended stairs. + +I knew that people were coming to look at us, and I could not move a +muscle in resentment. + +I heard their voices, fringed with echoes, before either speaker came +within my vision. + +"This is the mortuary chapel of the Hotel Dieu?" + +"Yes, monsieur the marquis, this is the mortuary chapel." + +"Um! Cheerful place!" + +"Much more cheerful than the bottom of the river, monsieur the marquis." + +"No doubt. Never empty, eh?" + +"I have been a servant of the Hotel Dieu fourteen years, monsieur the +marquis, and have not yet seen all the marble slabs vacant." + +"You receive the bodies of the drowned?" + +"And place them where they may be seen and claimed." + +"How long do you keep them?" + +"That depends. Sometimes their friends seek them at once. We have kept a +body three months in the winter season, though he turned very green." + +"Are all in your present collection gathering verdure?" + +"No, monsieur. We have a very fresh one, just brought in; a big stalwart +fellow, with the look of the country about him." + +"Small clothes?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Buckle shoes?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Hair light and long?" + +"The very man, monsieur the marquis." + +"I suppose I shall have to look at him. If he had to make himself +unpleasant he should have stayed at the chateau where his mother could +identify him. He is one of my peasants, come to Paris to see life! I +must hold my nose and do it." + +"It is not necessary to hold the nose, monsieur." + +"After fourteen years, perhaps not." + +I heard the snap of a snuff-box lid as the marquis fortified himself. + +My agony for the woman who was to be looked at turned so sharp that I +uttered a click in my throat. But they passed her, and merely glanced at +my next neighbor. + +The old marquis encountered my fixed stare. Visibly it shocked through +him. He was all gray, and curled and powdered, instead of being clipped +close and smooth in the style of the Empire; an exquisite, thin-featured +man, high of nose and eyebrows, not large, but completely turned out as +ample man and bright spirit. The slightest fragrance of scent was in his +presence, and a shade of snuff on his upper lip appeared fine +supercilious hairs. + +I did not look at the servant of the Hotel Dieu. The old noble and I +held each other with unflinching gaze. + +"Do you recognize him, monsieur?" + +"I do," the old noble deliberately answered. "I should know this face +anywhere. Have him taken to my carriage directly." + +"Your carriage, monsieur! He can be sent--" + +"I said take him to my carriage." + +"It shall be done. His eyes have opened since he came in. But they +sometimes look as if they would speak! Their faces change constantly. +This other man who is grinning to-night may be quite serious to-morrow." + +"And by the end of the month sorry enough, eh?" + +The servant of the Hotel Dieu tittered amiably, and I knew he was going +for help to lift me off the slab, when he uttered a cry of surprise. The +old marquis wheeled sharply, and said: + +"Eh, bien! Is this another of them, promenading himself?" + +I felt the Oneida coming before his silent moccasins strode near me. He +did not wait an instant, but dragged me from the wet and death cold +marble to the stone floor, where he knelt upon one knee and supported +me. O Skenedonk! how delicious was the warmth of your healthy body--how +comforting the grip of your hunter arms! Yet there are people who say an +Indian is like a snake! I could have given thanks before the altar at +the side of the crypt, which my fixed eyes encountered as he held me. +The marble dripped into its gutter as if complaining of my escape. + +"Oh, my dear friend!" cried the servant. + +Skenedonk answered nothing at all. + +"Who is this gentleman," the marquis inquired, "that seems to have the +skin of a red German sausage drawn tight over his head?" + +"This is an American Indian, monsieur the marquis." + +"An Indian?" + +"Yes, monsieur; but he understands French." + +"Thank you for the hint. It may save me from having a German sausage +drawn tight over my head. I have heard that American Indians practice +giving their friends that appearance. How do you know he understands +French?" + +"I think it is the man who used to come to the Hotel Dieu years ago, +when I was new in its service. He was instructed in religion by +churchmen in Paris, and learned the language. Oh, my dear monsieur--I +think it is Iroquois that he is called--I am aware the Americans have +different manners, but here we do not go into the mortuary chapel of the +Hotel Dieu and disarrange the bodies without permission!" + +Skenedonk's eyes probably had less of the fawn in them than usual. I +felt the guttural sound under his breast. + +"I have found him, and now I will take him." + +"But that is the marquis' servant!" + +"The marquis is his servant!" + +"Oh, my dear monsieur the Indian! You speak of a noble of France, the +Marquis du Plessy! Be satisfied," pleaded the servitor of the Hotel +Dieu, "with this other body, whom no one is likely to claim! I may be +permitted to offer you that, if you are determined--though it may cost +me my place!--and after fourteen years' service! It you would appease +him, monsieur the marquis--though I do not know whether they ever take +money." + +"I will appease him," said the old noble. "Go about your errand and be +quick." + +The servant fled up the stairs. + +"This man is not dead, my friend," said the Marquis du Plessy. + +Skenedonk knew it. + +"But he will not live long in this cursed crypt," the noble added. "You +will get into my carriage with him, we will take him and put him in hot +sheets, and see what we can do for him." + +I could feel Skenedonk's antagonism giving way in the relaxing of his +muscles. + +But maintaining his position the Oneida asserted: + +"He is not yours!" + +"He belongs to France." + +"France belongs to him!" the Indian reversed. + +"Eh, eh! Who is this young man?" + +"The king." + +"We have no king now, my friend. But assuming there is a man who should +be king, how do you know this is the one?" + +If Skenedonk made answer in words it was lost to me. The spirit sank to +submergence in the body, I remember combating motion like a drugged +person. + +Torpor and prostration followed the recurring eclipse as that followed +excitement and shock. I was not ill; and gathered knowledge of the +environment, which was different from anything I had before experienced. +De Chaumont's manor was a wilderness fortress compared to this private +hotel of an ancient family in the heart of Paris. + +I lay in a bed curtained with damask, and looked through open glass +doors at a garden. Graveled walks, bosky trees and masses of flowers, +plats of grass where arbored seats were placed, stretched their vista to +a wall clothed in ivy, which proved to be the end of a chapel. For high +over the curtain of thick green shone a rose window. The afternoon sun +laid bare its fine staining, but only in the darkness when the church +was illuminated and organ music rolled from it, did the soul of that +window appear struck through with light. + +Strange servants and Doctor Chantry by glimpses, and the old noble and +the Oneida almost constantly, were about me. Doctor Chantry looked +complacently through the curtains and wished me good-morning. I smiled +to see that he was lodged as he desired, and that his clothes had been +renewed in fine cloth, with lawn to his neck and silk stockings for his +shrunk calves. My master was an elderly beau; and I gave myself no care +that he had spent his money--the money of the expedition--on foppery. + +Skenedonk also had new toggery in scarfs and trinkets which I did not +recognize, and his fine buckskins were cleaned. The lackeys appeared +subservient to him, and his native dignity was never more impressive +than in that great house. I watched my host and my servant holding +interviews, which Skenedonk may have considered councils, on the benches +in the garden, and from which my secretary, the sick old woman, seemed +excluded. But the small interest of seeing birds arrive on branches, and +depart again, sufficed me; until an hour when life rose strongly. + +I sat up in bed, and finding myself alone, took advantage of an +adjoining room where a marble bath was set in the floor. Returning +freshened from the plunge, with my sheet drawn around me, I found one of +those skilled and gentle valets who seem less men than he-maids. + +"I am to dress monsieur when monsieur is ready," said this person. + +"I am ready now," I answered, and he led me into a suite of rooms and +showed me an array which took my breath: dove-colored satin knee +breeches, and a long embroidered coat of like color, a vest sprigged +with rosebuds, cravat and lace ruffles, long silk stockings and shoes to +match in extravagance, a shirt of fine lawn, and a hat for a nobleman. + +"Tell your master," I said to the lackey, "that he intends me great +kindness, but I prefer my own clothes." + +"These are monsieur's own clothes, made to his order and measure." + +"But I gave no order, and I was not measured." + +The man raised his shoulders and elbows with gentlest dissent. + +"These are only a few articles of monsieur's outfit. Here is the key. If +monsieur selects another costume he will find each one complete." + +By magic as it seemed, there was a wardrobe full of fineries provided +for my use. The man displayed them; in close trousers and coats with +short fronts, or knee breeches and long tails; costumes, he said, for +the street, for driving, riding, traveling, for evening, and for +morning; and one white satin court dress. At the marquis' order he had +laid out one for a ball. Of my old clothes not a piece was to be seen. + +The miracle was that what he put upon me fitted me. I became transformed +like my servant and my secretary, and stood astonished at the result. + + + + +VI + + +"Enter the prince of a fairy tale," said the Marquis du Plessy when the +lackey ushered me into the garden. + +It was a nest of amber at that time of sunset, and he waited for me at a +table laid for supper, under a flat canopy of trees which had their tops +trained and woven into a mat. + +I took his hand to kiss, but he rose up and magnificently placed me in a +chair opposite himself. + +"Your benefits are heavy, monsieur," I said. "How shall I acknowledge +them?" + +"You owe me nothing at all," he answered; "as you will see when I have +told you a true story. It would sound like a lie if anything were +incredible in these fabulous times." + +"But you do not know anything about me." + +"I am well instructed in your history, by that charming attendant in +fringed leather breeches, who has been acquainted with you much longer +than you have been acquainted with yourself." + +"Yet I am not sure of deserving the marquis' interest." + +"Has the marquis admitted that he feels any interest in you? Though this +I will own: few experiences have affected me like your living eyes +staring out of the face of my dead king!" + +We met each other again with a steady gaze like that in the mortuary +chapel. + +"Do you believe I am ----?" + +"Do I believe you are ----? Who said there was such a person in +existence?" + +"Louis Philippe." + +"The Duke of Orleans? Eh, bien! What does he know of the royal family? +He is of the cadette branch." + +"But he told me the princess, the dauphin's sister, believes that the +dauphin was taken alive from the Temple and sent to America." + +"My dear Lazarre, I do not say the Duke of Orleans would lie--far be it +from me--though these are times in which we courageously attack our +betters. But he would not object to seeing the present pretender ousted. +Why, since his father voted for the death of Louis XVI, he and his are +almost outlawed by the older branch! Madame Royal, the Duchess of +Angouleme, cannot endure him. I do not think she would speak to him!" + +"He is my friend," I said stoutly. + +"Remember you are another pretender, and he has espoused your cause. I +think him decent myself--though there used to be some pretty stories +told about him and the fair sentimentalist who educated him--Madame de +Genlis. But I am an old man; I forget gossip." + +My host gave lively and delicate attention to his food as it was +brought, and permitted nothing to be overheard by his lackeys. + +The evening was warm, and fresh with the breath of June; and the garden, +by a contrivance of lamps around its walls, turned into a dream world +after sunset faded. + +It was as impossible to come to close terms with this noble of the old +regime as with a butterfly. He alighted on a subject; he waved his +wings, and rose. I felt a clumsy giant while he fluttered around my +head, smiling, mocking, thrusting his pathos to the quick. + +"My dear boy, I do not say that I believe in you; I do not observe +etiquette with you. But I am going to tell you a little story about the +Tuileries. You have never seen the palace of the Tuileries?" + +I said I had not. + +"It has been restored for the use of these Bonapartes. When I say these +Bonapartes, Lazarre, I am not speaking against the Empire. The Empire +gave me back my estates. I was not one of the stringent emigres. My +estates are mine, whoever rules in France. You may consider me a +betwixt-and-betweener. Do so. My dear boy, I am. My heart is with my +dead king. My carcass is very comfortable, both in Paris and on my +ancestral lands. Napoleon likes me as an ornament to his bourgeois +court. I keep my opinion of him to myself. Do you like garlic, my boy?" + +I told him I was not addicted to the use of it. + +"Garlic is divine. God gave it to man. A hint of it in the appropriate +dish makes life endurable. I carry a piece in a gold box at the bottom +of my vest pocket, that I may occasionally take it out and experience a +sense of gratitude for divine benefits." + +He took out his pet lump, rubbed it on the outside of his wine bottle, +poured out a glassful and drank it, smiling adorably at me in ecstasy! + +"We were speaking of the Tuileries. You should have seen the place when +it was sacked after the flight of the royal family. No, you should not +have seen it! I am glad you were gone. Mirrors were shattered, and +lusters, vases, china, gold candlesticks, rolled about and were trampled +on the floor. The paintings were stabbed with pikes; tables, screens, +gilt stools, chairs crushed, and carpets cut to pieces; garments of all +kinds strewn and torn; all that was not carried off by pillagers being +thus destroyed. It was yet a horrible sight days after the mob had done +their work, and slaughtered bodies of guards had been carried away, and +commissioners with their clerks and assistants began to restore order." + +"Did you see the Tuileries at that time, monsieur?" + +"I did. I put on the clothes of one of my peasants, slumped in Jacquot's +wooden shoes, and kept my mouth open as well as I could for the dust. +The fantastic was yet in my blood. Exile takes that out of everybody +except your royal uncle of Provence. But I knew in my heart what I would +help do with that mob, if our turn ever came again!" + +His dark eyes rested on the red wine as on a pool of blood. + +"Sick of the ruin, I leaned out to look in the garden, from a window in +the queen's own apartment. I stepped on a shelf, which appeared fixed +under the window; but it moved, and I found that it could be pushed on +grooves into the wall. There was a cavity made to hold it. It had +concealed two armchairs placed opposite each other, so cunningly that +their paneled sides yet looked a part of the thick wall. I sat down in +one of them, and though the cushion was stiff, I felt something hard +under it." + +Monsieur du Plessy glanced around in every direction to satisfy himself +that no ears lurked within hearing. + +"Eh, bien! Under the cushion I found the queen's jewel-case! +Diamonds--bags of gold coin--a half circlet of gems!--since the great +necklace was lost such an array had not seen the light in France. The +value must be far above a million francs." + +The marquis fixed his eyes on me and said: + +"What should I have done with it, Lazarre?" + +"It belonged to the royal family," I answered. + +"But everything which belonged to the royal family had been confiscated +to the state. I had just seen the belongings of the royal family +trampled as by cattle. First one tyrant and then another rose up to tell +us what we should do, to batten himself off the wretched commonwealth, +and then go to the guillotine before his successor. As a good citizen I +should have turned these jewels and stones and coins over to the state. +But I was acting the part of Jacquot, and as an honest peasant I whipped +them under my blouse and carried them away. In my straits of exile I +never decreased them. And you may take inventory of your property and +claim it when we rise from the table." + +My heart came up in my throat. I reached across and caught his hands. + +"You believe in me--you believe in me!" + +"Do I observe any etiquette with you, Lazarre? This is the second time I +have brought the fact to your notice. I particularly wish you to note +that I do not observe any etiquette with you." + +"What does a boy who has been brought up among Indians know about +etiquette! But you accept me, or you could not put the property you have +loyally and at such risk saved for my family, into my hands." + +"I don't accept even your uncle of Provence. The king of Spain and I +prefer to call him by that modest title. Since you died or were removed +from the Temple, he has taken the name of Louis XVIII, and maintained a +court at the expense of the czar of Russia and the king of Spain. He is +a fine Latinist; quotes Latin verse; and keeps the mass bells +everlastingly ringing; the Russians laugh at his royal masses! But in my +opinion the sacred gentleman is either moral slush or a very deep +quicksand. It astonishes me," said the Marquis du Plessy, "to find how +many people I do disapprove of! I really require very little of the +people I am obliged to meet." + +He smoothed my hands which were yet holding his, and exploded: + +"The Count of Provence is an old turtle! Not exactly a reptile, for +there is food in him. But of a devilish flat head and cruel snap of the +jaws!" + +"How can that be," I argued, "when his niece loves him so? And even I, +in the American woods, with mind eclipsed, was not forgotten. He sent me +of the money that he was obliged to receive in charity!" + +"It is easy to dole out charity money; you are squeezing other people's +purses, not your own. What I most object to in the Count of Provence, is +that assumption of kingly airs, providing the story is true which leaked +secretly among the emigres. The story which I heard was that the dauphin +had not died, but was an idiot in America. An idiot cannot reign. But +the throne of France is not clamoring so loud for a Bourbon at present +that the idiot's substitute must be proclaimed and hold a beggar's +court. There are mad loyalists who swear by this eighteenth Louis. I am +not one of them. In fact, Lazarre, I was rather out of tune with your +house!" + +"Not you!" I said. + +"I do not fit in these times. I ought to have gone with my king and my +friends under the knife. Often I am ashamed of myself for slipping away. +That I should live to see disgusting fools in the streets of Paris, +after the Terror was over!--young men affecting the Greek and Roman +manner--greeting one another by wagging of the head! They wore gray +coats with black collars, gray or green cravats, carried cudgels, and +decreed that all men should have the hair plaited, powdered, and +fastened up with a comb, like themselves! The wearer of a queue was +likely to be knocked on the head. These creatures used to congregate at +the old Feydeau theater, or meet around the entrance of the Louvre, to +talk classical jargon, and wag!" + +The Marquis du Plessy drew himself together with a strong shudder. I had +the desire to stand between him and the shocks of an alien world. Yet +there was about him a tenacious masculine strength, an adroitness of +self-protection which needed no champion. + +"Did the Indian tell you about a man named Bellenger?" I inquired. + +"Bellenger is part of the old story about the dauphin's removal. I heard +of him first at Coblenz. And I understand now that he is following you +with another dauphin, and objecting to you in various delicate ways. +Napoleon Bonaparte is master of France, and in the way to be master of +Europe, because he has a nice sense of the values of men, and the best +head for detail that was ever formed in human shape. There is something +almost supernatural in his grasp of affairs. He lets nothing escape him. +The only mistake he ever made was butchering the young Duke +d'Enghien--the courage and clearness of the man wavered that one +instant; and by the way, he borrowed my name for the duke's incognito +during the journey under arrest! England, Russia, Austria and Sweden are +combining against Napoleon. He will beat them. For while other men +sleep, or amuse themselves, or let circumstance drive them, he is +planning success and providing for all possible contingencies. Take a +leaf out of the general's book, my boy. No enemy is contemptible. If you +want to force the hand of fortune--scheme!--scheme!--all the +time!--out-scheme the other fellow!" + +The marquis rose from the table. + +"I am longer winded," he said, "than a man named De Chaumont, who has +been importuning Bonaparte, in season and out of season, to reinstate an +American emigre, a Madame de Ferrier." + +"Will Bonaparte restore her lands?" I asked, feeling my voice like a +rope in my throat. + +"Do you know her family?" + +"I knew Madame de Ferrier in America." + +"Their estate lies next to mine. And what is the little De Ferrier like +since she is grown?" + +"A beautiful woman." + +"Ah--ah! Bonaparte's plan will then be easy of execution. You may see +her this evening here in the Faubourg St. Germain. I believe she is to +appear at Madame de Permon's, where Bonaparte may look in." + +My host bolted the doors of his private cabinet, and took from the +secret part of a wall cupboard the queen's jewel-case. We opened it +between us. The first thing I noticed was a gold snuffbox, set with +portraits of the king, the queen, and their two children. + +How I knew them I cannot tell. Their pictured faces had never been put +before my conscious eyes until that moment. Other portraits might have +been there. I had no doubt, no hesitation. + +I was on my knees before the face I had seen in spasms of +remembrance--with oval cheeks, and fair hair rolled high--and open +neck--my royal mother! + +Next I looked at the king, heavier of feature, honest and straight +gazing, his chin held upward; at the little sister, a smaller miniature +of the queen; at the softly molded curves of the child that was myself! + +The marquis turned his back. + +Before I could speak I rose and put my arms around him. He wheeled, took +my hand, stood at a little distance, and kissed it. + +We said not one word about the portraits, but sat down with the +jewel-case again between us. + +"These stones and coins are also my sister's, monsieur the marquis?" + +He lifted his eyebrows. + +"I had ample opportunity, my dear boy, to turn them into the exchequer +of the Count of Provence. Before his quarrel with the late czar of +Russia he maintained a dozen gentlemen-in-waiting, and perhaps as many +ladies, to say nothing of priests, servants, attendants of attendants, +and guards. This treasure might last him two years. If the king of Spain +and his majesty of Russia got wind of it, and shut off their pensions, +it would not last so long. I am too thrifty a Frenchman to dissipate the +hoards of the state in foreign parts! Yet, if you question my taste--I +will not say my honesty, Lazarre--" + +"I question nothing, monsieur! I ask advice." + +"Eh, bien! Then do not be quite as punctilious as the gentleman who got +turned out of the debtor side of Ste. Pelagie into an alley. 'This will +not do,' says he. So around he posts to the entrance, and asks for +admittance again!" + +"Catch me knocking at Ste. Pelagie for admittance again!" + +"Then my advice is to pay your tailor, if he has done his work +acceptably." + +"He has done it marvelously, especially in the fitting." + +"A Parisian workman finds it no miracle to fit a man from his old +clothes. I took the liberty of sending your orders. Having heard my +little story, you understand that you owe me nothing but your society; +and a careful inventory of this trust." + +We were a long time examining the contents of the case. There were six +bags of coin, all gold louis; many unset gems; rings for the hand; and +clusters of various sorts which I knew not how to name, that blazed +with a kind of white fire very dazzling. The half-way crown was crusted +thick with colored stones the like of which I could not have imagined in +my dreams. Their names, the marquis told me, were sapphires, emeralds, +rubies; and large clear diamonds, like beads of rain. When everything +was carefully returned to place, he asked: + +"Shall I still act as your banker?" + +I begged him to hide the jewel box again, and he concealed it in the +wall. + +"We go to the Rue Ste. Croix, Lazarre, which is an impossible place for +your friend Bellenger at this time. Do you dance a gavotte?" + +I told him I could dance the Indian corn dance, and he advised me to +reserve this accomplishment. + +"Bonaparte's police are keen on any scent, especially the scent of a +prince. His practical mind would reject the Temple story, if he ever +heard it; and there are enough live Bourbons for him to watch." + +"But there is the Count de Chaumont," I suggested. + +"He is not a man that would put faith in the Temple story, either, and I +understand he is kindly disposed towards you." + +"I lived in his house nearly a year." + +"He is not a bad fellow for the new sort. I feel certain of him. He is +coaxing my friendship because of ancient amity between the houses of Du +Plessy and De Ferrier." + +"Did you say, monsieur, that Bonaparte intends to restore Madame de +Ferrier's lands?" + +"They have been given to one of his rising officers." + +"Then he will not restore them?" + +"Oh, yes, with interest! His plan is to give her the officer for a +husband." + + + + +VII + + +Even in those days of falling upon adventure and taking hold of life +with the arrogance of young manhood, I knew the value of money, though +it has always been my fault to give it little consideration. Experience +taught me that poverty goes afoot and sleeps with strange bed-fellows. +But I never minded going afoot or sharing the straw with cattle. +However, my secretary more than once took a high hand with me because he +bore the bag; and I did mind debt chasing my heels like a rising tide. + +Our Iroquois had their cottages in St. Regis and their hunting cabins on +Lake George. They went to church when not drunk and quarrelsome, paid +the priest his dues, labored easily, and cared nothing for hoarding. But +every step of my new life called for coin. + +As I look back on that hour the dominating thought rises clearly. + +To see men admitting that you are what you believe yourself to be, is +one of the triumphs of existence. The jewel-case stamped identification +upon me. I felt like one who had communicated with the past and received +a benediction. There was special provision in the way it came to me; +for man loves to believe that God watches over and mothers him. + +Forgetting--if I had ever heard--how the ancients dreaded the powers +above when they had been too fortunate, I went with the marquis in high +spirits to the Rue Ste. Croix. There were pots of incense sending little +wavers of smoke through the rooms, and the people might have peopled a +dream. The men were indeed all smooth and trim; but the women had given +rein to their fancies. + +Our hostess was a fair and gracious woman, of Greek ancestry, as +Bonaparte himself was, and her daughter had been married to his favorite +general, the marquis told me. + +I notice only the unusual in clothing; the scantiness of ladies' apparel +that clung like the skin, and lay upon the oak floor in ridges, among +which a man must shove his way, was unusual to me. + +I saw, in space kept cleared around her chair, one beauty with nothing +but sandals on her feet, though these were white as milk, silky skinned +like a hand, and ringed with jewels around the toes. + +Bonaparte's youngest sister stood receiving court. She was attired like +a Bacchante, with bands of fur in her hair, topped by bunches of gold +grapes. Her robe and tunic of muslin fine as air, woven in India, had +bands of gold, clasped with cameos, under the bosom and on the arms. +Each woman seemed to have planned outdoing the others in conceits which +marked her own fairness. + +I looked anxiously down the spacious room without seeing Madame de +Ferrier. The simplicity, which made for beauty of houses in France, +struck me, in the white and gold paneling, and the chimney, which lifted +its mass of design to the ceiling. I must have been staring at this and +thinking of Madame de Ferrier when my name was called in a lilting and +excited fashion: + +"Lazarre!" + +There was Mademoiselle de Chaumont in the midst of gallants, and better +prepared to dance a gavotte than any other charmer in the room. For her +gauze dress, fastened on the shoulders so that it fell not quite off her +bosom, reached only to the middle of the calf. This may have been for +the protection of rosebuds with which ribbons drawn lengthwise through +the skirt, were fringed; but it also showed her child-like feet and +ankles, and made her appear tiptoe like a fairy, and more remarkable +than any other figure except the barefooted dame. She held a crook +massed with ribbons and rosebuds in her hand, rallying the men to her +standard by the lively chatter which they like better than wisdom. + +Mademoiselle Annabel gave me her hand to kiss, and made room for the +Marquis du Plessy and me in her circle. I felt abashed by the looks +these courtiers gave me, but the marquis put them readily in the +background, and delighted in the poppet, taking her quite to himself. + +"We hear such wonderful stories about you, Lazarre! Besides, Doctor +Chantry came to see us and told us all he knew. Remember, Lazarre +belonged to us before you discovered him, monsieur the Marquis du +Plessy! He and I are Americans!" + +Some women near us commented, as seemed to be the fashion in that +society, with a frankness which Indians would have restrained. + +"See that girl! The emperor may now imagine what his brother Jerome has +done! Her father has brought her over from America to marry her, and it +will need all his money to accomplish that!" + +Annabel shook the rain of misty hair at the sides of her rose pink face, +and laughed a joyful retort. + +"No wonder poor Prince Jerome had to go to America for a wife! Did you +ever see such hairy faced frights as these Parisians of the Empire! +Lazarre fell ill looking at them. He pretends he doesn't see women, +monsieur, and goes about with his coat skirts loaded with books. I used +to be almost as much afraid of him as I am of you!" + +"Ah, mademoiselle, I dread to enter paradise." + +"Why, monsieur?" + +"The angels are afraid of me!" + +"Not when you smile." + +"Teach me that adorable smile of yours!" + +"Oh, how improving you will be to Lazarre, monsieur! He never paid me a +compliment in his life. He never said anything but the truth." + +"The lucky dog! What pretty things he had to say!" + +Annabel laughed and shook her mist in great enjoyment. I liked to watch +her, yet I wondered where Madame de Ferrier was, and could not bring +myself to inquire. + +"These horrible incense pots choke me," said Annabel. + +"I like them," said the marquis. + +"Do you? So do I," she instantly agreed with him. + +"Though we get enough incense in church." + +"I should think so! Do you like mass?" + +"I was brought up on my knees. But I never acquired the real devotee's +back." + +"Sit on your heels," imparted Annabel in strict confidence. "Try it." + +"I will. Ah, mademoiselle, any one who could bring such comfort into +religion might make even wedlock endurable!" + +Madame de Ferrier appeared between the curtains of a deep window. She +was talking with Count de Chaumont and an officer in uniform. Her face +pulsed a rosiness like that quiver in winter skies which we call +northern lights. The clothes she wore, being always subdued by her head +and shoulders, were not noticeable like other women's clothes. But I +knew as soon as her eyes rested on me that she found me changed. + +De Chaumont came a step to meet me, and I felt miraculously equal to +him, with some power which was not in me before. + +"You scoundrel, you have fallen into luck!" he said heartily. + +"One of our proverbs is, 'A blind pig will find an acorn once in a +while.'" + +"There isn't a better acorn in the woods, or one harder to shake down. +How did you do it?" + +I gave him a wise smile and held my tongue; knowing well that if I had +remained in Ste. Pelagie and the fact ever came to De Chaumont's ears, +like other human beings he would have reprehended my plunging into the +world. + +"We are getting on tremendously, Lazarre! When your inheritance falls +in, come back with me to Castorland. We will found a wilderness empire!" + +I did not inquire what he meant by my inheritance falling in. The +marquis pressed behind me, and when I had spoken to Madame de Ferrier I +knew it was his right to take the hand of the woman who had been his +little neighbor. + +"You don't remember me, madame?" + +"Oh, yes, I do, Monsieur du Plessy; and your wall fruit, too!" + +"The rogue! Permit me to tell you those pears are hastening to be ready +for you once more." + +"And Bichette, monsieur--is dear old Bichette alive?" + +"She is alive, and draws the chair as well as ever. I hear you have a +little son. He may love the old pony and chair as you used to love +them." + +"Seeing you, monsieur, is like coming again to my home!" + +"I trust you may come soon." + +They spoke of fruit and cattle. Neither dared mention the name of any +human companion associated with the past. + +I took opportunity to ask Count de Chaumont if her lands were recovered. +A baffled look troubled his face. + +"The emperor will see her to-night," he answered. "It is impossible to +say what can be done until the emperor sees her." + +"Is there any truth in the story that he will marry her to the officer +who holds her estate?" + +The count frowned. + +"No--no! That's impossible." + +"Will the officer sell his rights if Madame de Ferrier's are not +acknowledged?" + +"I have thought of that. And I want to consult the marquis." + +When he had a chance to draw the marquis aside, I could speak to Madame +de Ferrier without being overheard; though my time might be short. She +stood between the curtains, and the man in uniform had left his place to +me. + +"Well, I am here," I said. + +"And I am glad," she answered. + +"I am here because I love you." + +She held a fold of the curtain in her hand and looked down at it; then +up at me. + +"You must not say that again." + +"Why?" + +"You know why." + +"I do not." + +"Remember who you are." + +"I am your lover." + +She looked quickly around the buzzing drawing-room, and leaned +cautiously nearer. + +"You are my sovereign." + +"I believe that, Eagle. But it does not follow that I shall ever reign." + +"Are you safe here? Napoleon Bonaparte has spies." + +"But he has regard also for old aristocrats like the Marquis du Plessy." + +"Yet remember what he did to the Duke d'Enghien. A Bourbon prince is not +allowed in France." + +"How many people consider me a Bourbon prince? I told you why I am here. +Fortune has wonderfully helped me since I came to France. Lazarre, the +dauphin from the Indian camps, brazenly asks you to marry him, Eagle!" + +Her face blanched white, but she laughed. + +"No De Ferrier ever took a base advantage of royal favor. Don't you +think this is a strange conversation in a drawing-room of the Empire? I +hated myself for being here--until you came in." + +"Eagle, have you forgotten our supper on the island?" + +"Yes, sire." She scarcely breathed the word. + +"My unanointed title is Lazarre. And I suppose you have forgotten the +fog and the mountain, too?" + +"Yes." + +"Lazarre!" + +"Yes, Lazarre." + +"You love me! You shall love me!" + +"As a De Ferrier should; no farther!" + +Her lifted chin expressed a strength I could not combat. The slight, +dark-haired girl, younger than myself, mastered and drew me as if my +spirit was a stream, and she the ocean into which it must flow. Darkness +like that of Ste. Pelagie dropped over the brilliant room. I was nothing +after all but a palpitating boy, venturing because he must venture. +Light seemed to strike through her blood, however, endowing her with a +splendid pallor. + +"I am going," I determined that moment, "to Mittau." + +The adorable curve of her eyelids, unlike any other eyelids I ever saw, +was lost to me, for her eyes flew wide open. + +"To ----" + +She looked around and hesitated to pronounce the name of the Count of +Provence. + +"Yes. I am going to find some one who belongs to me." + +"You have the marquis for a friend." + +"And I have also Skenedonk, and our tribe, for my friends. But there is +no one who understands that a man must have some love." + +"Consult Marquis du Plessy about going to Mittau. It may not be wise. +And war is threatened on the frontier." + +"I will consult him, of course. But I am going." + +"Lazarre, there were ladies on the ship who cursed and swore, and men +who were drunk the greater part of the voyage. I was brought up in the +old-fashioned way by the Saint-Michels, so I know nothing of present +customs. But it seems to me our times are rude and wicked. And you, just +awake to the world, have yet the innocence of that little boy who sank +into the strange and long stupor. If you changed I think I could not +bear it!" + +"I will not change." + +A stir which must have been widening through the house as a ripple +widens on a lake, struck us, and turned our faces with all others to a +man who stood in front of the chimney. He was not large in person, but +as an individual his presence was massive--was penetrating. I could have +topped him by head and shoulders; yet without mastery. He took snuff as +he slightly bowed in every direction, shut the lid with a snap, and +fidgeted as if impatient to be gone. He had a mouth of wonderful beauty +and expression, and his eyes were more alive than the eyes of any other +man in the assembly. I felt his gigantic force as his head dipped +forward and he glanced about under his brows. + +"There is the emperor," De Chaumont told Eagle; and I thought he made +indecent haste to return and hale her away before Napoleon. + +The greatest soldier in Europe passed from one person to another with +the air of doing his duty and getting rid of it. Presently he raised his +voice, speaking to Madame de Ferrier so that, all in the room might +hear. + +"Madame, I am pleased to see that you wear leno. I do not like those +English muslins, sold at the price of their weight in gold, and which do +not look half as well as beautiful white leno. Wear leno, cambric, or +silk, ladies, and then my manufactures will flourish." + +I wondered if he would remember the face of the man pushed against his +wheel and called an assassin, when the Marquis du Plessy named me to him +as the citizen Lazarre. + +"You are a lucky man, Citizen Lazarre, to gain the marquis for your +friend. I have been trying a number of years to make him mine." + +"All Frenchmen are the friends of Napoleon," the marquis said to me. + +I spoke directly to the sovereign, thereby violating etiquette, my +friend told me afterwards, laughing; and Bonaparte was a stickler for +precedent. + +"But all Frenchmen," I could not help reminding the man in power, "are +not faithful friends." + +He gave me a sharp look as he passed on, and repeated what I afterward +learned was one of his favorite maxims: + +"A faithful friend is the true image." + + + + +VIII + + +"Must you go to Mittau?" the Marquis du Plessy said when I told him what +I intended to do. "It is a long, expensive post journey; and part of the +way you may not be able to post. Riga, on the gulf beyond Mittau, is a +fine old town of pointed gables and high stone houses. But when I was in +Mittau I found it a mere winter camp of Russian nobles. The houses are +low, one-story structures. There is but one castle, and in that his +Royal Highness the Count of Provence holds mimic court." + +We were riding to Versailles, and our horses almost touched sides as my +friend put his hand on my shoulder. + +"Don't go, Lazarre. You will not be welcome there." + +"I must go, whether I am welcome or not." + +"But I may not last until you come back." + +"You will last two months. Can't I post to Mittau and back in two +months?" + +"God knows." + +I looked at him drooping forward in the saddle, and said: + +"If you need me I will stay, and think no more about seeing those of my +own blood." + +"I do need you; but you shall not stay. You shall go to Mittau in my +own post-carriage. It will bring you back sooner." + +But his post-carriage I could not accept. The venture to Mittau, its +wear and tear and waste, were my own; and I promised to return with all +speed. I could have undertaken the road afoot, driven by the necessity I +felt. + +"The Duchess of Angouleme is a good girl," said the marquis, following +the line of my thoughts. "She has devoted herself to her uncle and her +husband. When the late czar withdrew his pension, and turned the whole +mimic court out of Mittau, she went with her uncle, and even waded the +snow with him when they fell into straits. Diamonds given to her by her +grandmother, the Empress Maria Theresa, she sold for his support. But +the new czar reinstated them; and though they live less pretentiously at +Mittau in these days, they still have their priest and almoner, the Duke +of Guiche, and other courtiers hanging upon them. My boy, can you make a +court bow and walk backwards? You must practice before going into +Russia." + +"Wouldn't it be better," I said, "for those who know how, to practice +the accomplishment before me?" + +"Imagine the Count of Provence stepping down from playing royalty to do +that!" my friend laughed. + +"I don't know why he shouldn't, since he knows I am alive. He has sent +money every year for my support." + +"An established custom, Lazarre, gains strength every day it is +continued. You see how hard it is to overturn an existing system, +because men have to undo the work they have been doing perhaps for a +thousand years. Time gives enormous stability. Monsieur the Count of +Provence has been practicing royalty since word went out that his nephew +had died in the Temple. It will be no easy matter to convince him you +are fit to play king in his stead." + +This did not disturb me, however. I thought more of my sister. And I +thought of vast stretches across the center of Europe. The Indian +stirred in me, as it always did stir, when the woman I wanted was +withdrawn from me. + +I could not tell my friend, or any man, about Madame de Ferrier. This +story of my life is not to be printed until I am gone from the world. +Otherwise the things set down so freely would remain buried in myself. + +Some beggars started from hovels, running like dogs, holding diseased +and crooked-eyed children up for alms, and pleading for God's sake that +we would have pity on them. When they disappeared with their coin I +asked the marquis if there had always been wretchedness in France. + +"There is always wretchedness everywhere," he answered. "Napoleon can +turn the world upside down, but he cannot cure the disease of hereditary +poverty. I never rode to Versailles without encountering these people." + +When we entered the Place d'Armes fronting the palace, desolation worse +than that of the beggars faced us. That vast noble pile, untenanted and +sacked, symbolized the vanished monarchy of France. Doors stood wide. +The court was strewn with litter and filth; and grass started rank +betwixt the stones where the proudest courtiers in the world had trod. I +tried to enter the queen's rooms, but sat on the steps leading to them, +holding my head in my hands. It was as impossible as it had been to +enter the Temple. + +The fountains which once made a concert of mist around their lake basin, +satisfying like music, the marquis said, were dried, and the figures +broken. Millions had been spent upon this domain of kings, and nothing +but the summer's natural verdure was left to unmown stretches. The foot +shrank from sending echoes through empty palace apartments, and from +treading the weedy margins of canal and lake. + +"I should not have brought you here, Lazarre," said my friend. + +"I had to come, monsieur." + +We walked through meadow and park to the little palaces called Grand and +Petit Trianon, where the intimate life of the last royal family had been +lived. I looked well at their outer guise, but could not explore them. + +The groom held our horses in the street that leads up to the Place +d'Armes, and as we sauntered back, I kicked old leaves which had fallen +autumn after autumn and banked the path. + +It rushed over me again! + +I felt my arms go above my head as they did when I sank into the depths +of recollection. + +"Lazarre! Are you in a fit?" The Marquis du Plessy seized me. + +"I remember! I remember! I was kicking the leaves--I was walking with my +father and mother--somewhere--somewhere--and something threatened us!" + +"It was in the garden of the Tuileries," said the Marquis du Plessy +sternly. "The mob threatened you, and you were going before the National +Assembly! I walked behind. I was there to help defend the king." + +We stood still until the paroxysmal rending in my head ceased. Then I +sat on the grassy roadside trying to smile at the marquis, and shrugging +an apology for my weakness. The beauty of the arched trees disappeared, +and when next I recognized the world we were moving slowly toward Paris +in a heavy carriage, and I was smitten with the conviction that my +friend had not eaten the dinner he ordered in the town of Versailles. + +I felt ashamed of the weakness which came like an eclipse, and withdrew +leaving me in my strength. It ceased to visit me within that year, and +has never troubled me at all in later days. Yet, inconsistently, I look +back as to the glamour of youth; and though it worked me hurt and +shame, I half regret that it is gone. + +The more I saw of the Marquis du Plessy the more my slow tenacious heart +took hold on him. We went about everywhere together. I think it was his +hope to wed me to his company and to Paris, and shove the Mittau venture +into an indefinite future; yet he spared no pains in obtaining for me my +passports to Courland. + +At this time, with cautious, half reluctant hand, he raised the veil +from a phase of life which astonished and revolted me. I loved a woman. +The painted semblances of women who inhabited a world of sensation had +no effect upon me. + +"You are wonderfully fresh, Lazarre," the marquis said. "If you were not +so big and male I would call you mademoiselle! Did they never sin in the +American backwoods?" + +Then he took me in his arms like a mother, and kissed me, saying, "Dear +son and sire, I am worse than your great-grandfather!" + +Yet my zest for the gaiety of the old city grew as much as he desired. +The golden dome of the Invalides became my bubble of Paris, floating +under a sunny sky. + +Whenever I went to the hotel which De Chaumont had hired near the +Tuileries, Madame de Ferrier received me kindly; having always with her +Mademoiselle de Chaumont or Miss Chantry, so that we never had a word in +private. I thought she might have shown a little feeling in her rebuff, +and pondered on her point of view regarding my secret rank. De +Chaumont, on the other hand, was beneath her in everything but wealth. +How might she regard stooping to him? + +Miss Chantry was divided between enforced deference and a Saxon +necessity to tell me I would not last. I saw she considered me one of +the upstarts of the Empire, singularly favored above her brother, but +under my finery the same French savage she had known in America. + +Eagle brought Paul to me, and he toddled across the floor, looked at me +wisely, and then climbed my knee. + +Doctor Chantry had been living in Paris a life above his dreams of +luxury. When occasionally I met my secretary he was about to drive out; +or he was returning from De Chaumont's hotel. And there I caught my poor +master reciting poems to Annabel, who laughed and yawned, and made faces +behind her fan. I am afraid he drew on the marquis' oldest wines, +finding indulgence in the house; and he sent extravagant bills to me for +gloves and lawn cravats. It was fortunate that De Chaumont took him +during my absence. He moved his belongings with positive rapture. The +marquis and I both thought it prudent not to publish my journey. + +Doctor Chantry went simpering, and abasing himself before the French +noble with the complete subservience of a Saxon when a Saxon does become +subservient. + +"The fool is laughable," said the Marquis du Plessy. "Get rid of him, +Lazarre. He is fit for nothing but hanging upon some one who will feed +him." + +"He is my master," I answered. "I am a fool myself." + +"You will come back from Mittau convinced of that, my boy. The wise +course is to join yourself to events, and let them draw your chariot. My +dislikers say I have temporized with fate. It is true I am not so +righteous as to smell to heaven. But two or three facts have been deeply +impressed on me. There is nothing more aggressive than the virtue of an +ugly, untempted woman; or the determination of a young man to set every +wrong thing in the world right. He cannot wait, and take mellow interest +in what goes on around him, but must leap into the ring. You could live +here with me indefinitely, while the nation has Bonaparte, like the +measles. When the disease has run its course--we may be able to bring +evidence which will make it unnecessary for the Count of Provence to +hasten here that France may have a king." + +"I want to see my sister, monsieur." + +"And lose her and your own cause forever." + +But he helped me to hire a strong traveling chaise, and stock it with +such comforts as it would bear. He also turned my property over to me, +recommending that I should not take it into Russia. Half the jewels, at +least, I considered the property of the princess in Mittau; but his +precaution influenced me to leave three bags of coin in Doctor +Chantry's care; for Doctor Chantry was the soul of thrift with his own; +and to send Skenedonk with the jewel-case to the marquis' bank. The +cautious Oneida took counsel of himself and hid it in the chaise. He +told me when we were three days out. + +It is as true that you are driven to do some things as that you can +never entirely free yourself from any life you have lived. That sunny +existence in the Faubourg St. Germain, the morning and evening talks +with a man who bound me to him as no other man has since bound me, were +too dear to leave even briefly without wrenching pain. I dreamed nightly +of robbers and disaster, of being ignominiously thrust out of Mittau, of +seeing a woman whose face was a blur and who moved backward from me when +I called her my sister; of troops marching across and trampling me into +the earth as straw. I groaned in spirit. Yet to Mittau I was spurred by +the kind of force that seems to press from unseen distances, and is as +fatal as temperament. + +When I paid my last visit at De Chaumont's hotel, and said I was going +into the country, Eagle looked concerned, as a De Ferrier should; but +she did not turn her head to follow my departure. The game of man and +woman was in its most blindfold state between us. + +There was one, however, who watched me out of sight. The marquis was +more agitated than I liked to see him. He took snuff with a constant +click of the lid. + +The hills of Champagne, green with vines, and white as with an underlay +of chalk, rose behind us. We crossed the frontier, and German hills took +their places, with a castle topping each. I was at the time of life when +interest stretches eagerly toward every object; and though this journey +cannot be set down in a story as long as mine, the novelty--even the +risks, mischances and wearinesses of continual post travel, come back +like an invigorating breath of salt water. + +The usual route carried us eastward to Cracow, the old capital of +Poland, scattered in ruined grandeur within its brick walls. Beyond it I +remember a stronghold of the Middle Ages called the fortress of +Landskron. + +The peasants of this country, men in shirts and drawers of coarse linen, +and women with braided hair hanging down under linen veils, stopped +their carts as soon as a post-carriage rushed into sight, and bent +almost to the earth. At post-houses the servants abased themselves to +take me by the heel. In no other country was the spirit of man so +broken. Poles of high birth are called the Frenchmen of the north, and +we saw fair men and women in sumptuous polonaises and long robes who +appeared luxurious in their traveling carriages. But stillness and +solitude brooded on the land. From Cracow to Warsaw wide reaches of +forest darkened the level. Any open circle was belted around the horizon +with woods, pines, firs, beech, birch, and small oaks. Few cattle fed on +the pastures, and stunted crops of grain ripened in the melancholy +light. + +From Cracow to Warsaw is a distance of one hundred and thirty leagues, +if the postilion lied not, yet on that road we met but two carriages and +not more than a dozen carts. Scattering wooden villages, each a line of +hovels, appeared at long intervals. + +Post-houses were kept by Jews, who fed us in the rooms where their +families lived. Milk and eggs they had none to offer us; and their beds +were piles of straw on the ground, seldom clean, never untenanted by +fleas. + +Beggars ran beside us on the wretched roads as neglected as themselves. +Where our horses did not labor through sand, the marshy ground was paved +with sticks and boughs, or the surface was built up with trunks of trees +laid crosswise. + +In spacious, ill-paved Warsaw, through which the great Vistula flows, we +rested two days. I knelt with confused thoughts, trying to pray in the +Gothic cathedral. We walked past it into the old town, of high houses +and narrow streets, like a part of Paris. + +In Lithuania the roads were paths winding through forests full of stumps +and roots. The carriage hardly squeezed along, and eight little horses +attached to it in the Polish way had much ado to draw us. The postilions +were young boys in coarse linen, hardy as cattle, who rode bare-back +league upon league. + +Old bridges cracked and sagged when we crossed them. And here the +forests rose scorched and black in spots, because the peasants, bound to +pay their lords turpentine, fired pines and caught the heated ooze. + +Within the proper boundary of Russia our way was no better. There we saw +queer projections of boards around trees to keep bears from climbing +after the hunters. + +The Lithuanian peasants had few wants. Their carts were put together +without nails. Their bridles and traces were made of bark. They had no +tools but hatchets. A sheepskin coat and round felt cap kept a man warm +in cold weather. His shoes were made of bark, and his home of logs with +penthouse roof. + +In houses where travelers slept the candles were laths of deal, about +five feet long, stuck into crevices of the wall or hung over tables. Our +hosts carried them about, dropping unheeded sparks upon the straw beds. + +In Grodno, a town of falling houses and ruined palaces, we rested again +before turning directly north. + +There my heart began to sink. We had spent four weeks on a comfortless +road, working always toward the goal. It was nearly won. A speech of my +friend the marquis struck itself out sharply in the northern light. + +"You are not the only Pretender, my dear boy. Don't go to Mittau +expecting to be hailed as a novelty. At least two peasants have started +up claiming to be the prince who did not die in the Temple, and have +been cast down again, complaining of the treatment of their dear sister! +The Count d'Artois says he would rather saw wood for a living than be +king after the English fashion. I would rather be the worthless old +fellow I am than be king after the Mittau fashion; especially when his +Majesty, Louis XVIII, sees you coming!" + + + + +IX + + +Purposely we entered Mittau about sunset, which was nearer ten o'clock +than nine in that northern land; coming through wheat lands to where a +network of streams forms the river Aa. In this broad lap of the province +of Courland sat Mittau. Yelgava it was called by the people among whom +we last posted, and they pronounced the word as if naming something as +great as Paris. + +It was already July, St. John's day being two weeks gone; yet the echoes +of its markets and feastings lingered. The word "Johanni" smote even an +ear deaf to the language. It was like a dissolving fair. + +"You are too late for Johanni," said the German who kept the house for +travelers, speaking the kind of French we heard in Poland. "Perhap it is +just as well for you. This Johanni has nearly ruined me!" + +Yet he showed a disposition to hire my singular servant from me at a +good wage, walking around and around Skenedonk, who bore the scrutiny +like a pine tree. + +The Oneida enjoyed his travels. It was easy for him to conform to the +thoughts and habits of Europe. We had not talked about the venture into +Russia. He simply followed me where I went without asking questions, +proving himself faithful friend and liberal minded gentleman. + +We supped privately, and I dressed with care. Horses were put in for our +last short post of a few streets. We had suffered such wretched quarters +on the way that the German guest-house spread itself commodiously. Yet +its walls were the flimsiest slabs. I heard some animal scratching and +whining in the next chamber. On the post-road, however, we had not +always a wall betwixt ourselves and the dogs. + +The palace in Mittau stood conspicuous upon an island in the river. As +we approached, it looked not unlike a copy of Versailles. The pile was +by no means brilliant with lights, as the court of a king might glitter, +finding reflection upon the stream. We drove with a clatter upon the +paving, and a sentinel challenged us. + +I had thought of how I should obtain access to this secluded royal +family, and Skenedonk was ready with the queen's jewel-case in his +hands. Not on any account was he to let it go out of them until I took +it and applied the key; but gaining audience with Madame d'Angouleme, he +was to tell her that the bearer of that casket had traveled far to see +her, and waited outside. + +Under guard the Oneida had the great doors shut behind him. The wisdom +of my plan looked less conspicuous as time went by. The palace loomed +silent, without any cheer of courtiers. The horses shook their straps, +and the postilion hung lazily by one leg, his figure distinct against +the low horizon still lighted by after-glow. Some Mittau noises came +across the Aa, the rumble of wheels, and a barking of dogs. + +When apprehension began to pinch my heart of losing my servant and my +whole fortune in the abode of honest royal people, and I felt myself but +a poor outcast come to seek a princess for my sister, a guard stood by +the carriage, touching his cap, and asked me to follow him. + +We ascended the broad steps. He gave the password to a sentinel there, +and held wide one leaf of the door. He took a candle; and otherwise dark +corridors and ante-chambers, somber with heavy Russian furnishings, rugs +hung against the walls, barbaric brazen vessels and curious vases, +passed like a half-seen vision. + +Then the guard delivered me to a gentleman in a blue coat, with a red +collar, who belonged to the period of the Marquis du Plessy without +being adorned by his whiteness and lace. The gentleman staring at me, +strangely polite and full of suspicion, conducted me into a well-lighted +room where Skenedonk waited by the farther door, holding the jewel-case +as tenaciously as he would a scalp. + +I entered the farther door. It closed behind me. + +A girl stood in the center of this inner room, looking at me. I remember +none of its fittings, except that there was abundant light, showing her +clear blue eyes and fair hair, the transparency of her skin, and her +high expression. She was all in black, except a floating muslin cape or +fichu, making a beholder despise the finery of the Empire. + +We must have examined each other even sternly, though I felt a sudden +giving way and heaving in my breast. She was so high, so sincere! If I +had been unfit to meet the eyes of that princess I must have shriveled +before her. + +From side to side her figure swayed, and another young girl, the only +attendant in the room, stretched out both arms to catch her. + +We put her on a couch, and she sat gasping, supported by the lady in +waiting. Then the tears ran down her face, and I kissed the transparent +hands, my own flesh and blood, I believed that hour as I believe to +this. + +"O Louis--Louis!" + +The wonder of her knowledge and acceptance of me, without a claim being +put forward, was around me like a cloud. + +"You were so like my father as you stood there--I could see him again as +he parted from us! What miracle has restored you? How did you find your +way here? You are surely Louis?" + +I sat down beside her, keeping one hand between mine. + +"Madame, I believe as you believe, that I am Louis Charles, the dauphin +of France. And I have come to you first, as my own flesh and blood, who +must have more knowledge and recollection of things past than I myself +can have. I have not long been waked out of the tranced life I formerly +lived." + +"I have wept more tears for the little brother--broken in intellect and +exiled farther than we--than for my father and mother. They were at +peace. But you, poor child, what hope was there for you? Was the person +who had you in his charge kind to you? He must have been. You have grown +to be such a man as I would have you!" + +"Everybody has been kind to me, my sister." + +"Could they look in that face and be unkind? All the thousand questions +I have to ask must be deferred until the king sees you. I cannot wait +for him to see you! Mademoiselle de Choisy, send a message at once to +the king!" + +The lady in waiting withdrew to the door, and the royal duchess quivered +with eager anticipation. + +"We have had pretended dauphins, to add insult to exile. You may not +take the king unaware as you took me! He will have proofs as plain as +his Latin verse. But you will find his Majesty all that a father could +be to us, Louis! I think there never was a man so unselfish!--except, +indeed, my husband, whom you cannot see until he returns." + +Again I kissed my sister's hand. We gazed at each other, our different +breeding still making strangeness between us, across which I yearned; +and she examined me. + +Many a time since I have reproached myself for not improving those +moments with the most candid and right-minded princess in Europe, by +forestalling my enemies. I should have told her of my weakness instead +of sunning my strength in the love of her. I should have made her see my +actual position, and the natural antagonism of the king, who would not +so readily see a strong personal resemblance when that was not +emphasized by some mental stress, as she and three very different men +had seen it. + +Instead of making cause with her, however, I said over and +over--"Marie-Therese! Marie-Therese!"--like a homesick boy come again to +some familiar presence. "You are the only one of my family I have seen +since waking; except Louis Philippe." + +"Don't speak of that man, Louis! I detest the house of Orleans as a +Christian should detest only sin! His father doomed ours to death!" + +"But he is not to blame for what his father did." + +"What do you mean by waking?" + +"Coming to my senses." + +"All that we shall hear about when the king sees you." + +"I knew your picture on the snuffbox." + +"What snuffbox?" + +"The one in the queen's jewel-case." + +"Where did you find that jewel-case?" + +"Do you remember the Marquis du Plessy?" + +"Yes. A lukewarm loyalist, if loyalist at all in these times." + +"My best friend." + +"I will say for him that he was not among the first emigres. If the +first emigres had stayed at home and helped their king, they might have +prevented the Terror." + +"The Marquis du Plessy stayed after the Tuileries was sacked. He found +the queen's jewel-case, and saved it from confiscation to the state." + +"Where did he find it? Did you recognize the faces?" + +"Oh, instantly!" + +The door opened, deferring any story, for that noble usher who had +brought me to the presence of Marie-Therese stood there, ready to +conduct us to the king. + +My sister rose and I led her by the hand, she going confidently to +return the dauphin to his family, and the dauphin going like a fool. +Seeing Skenedonk standing by the door, I must stop and fit the key to +the lock of the queen's casket, and throw the lid back to show her +proofs given me by one who believed in me in spite of himself. The +snuffbox and two bags of coin were gone, I saw with consternation, but +the princess recognized so many things that she missed nothing, +controlling herself as her touch moved from trinket to trinket that her +mother had worn. + +"Bring this before the king," she said. And we took it with us, the +noble in blue coat and red collar carrying it. + +"His Majesty," Marie-Therese told me as we passed along a corridor, +"tries to preserve the etiquette of a court in our exile. But we are +paupers, Louis. And mocking our poverty, Bonaparte makes overtures to +him to sell the right of the Bourbons to the throne of France!" + +She had not yet adjusted her mind to the fact that Louis XVIII was no +longer the one to be treated with by Bonaparte or any other potentate, +and the pretender leading her smiled like the boy of twenty that he was. + +"Napoleon can have no peace while a Bourbon in the line of succession +lives." + +"Oh, remember the Duke d'Enghien!" she whispered. + +Then the door of a lofty but narrow cabinet, lighted with many candles, +was opened, and I saw at the farther end a portly gentleman seated in an +arm-chair. + +A few gentlemen and two ladies in waiting, besides Mademoiselle de +Choisy, attended. + +Louis XVIII rose from his seat as my sister made a deep obeisance to +him, and took her hand and kissed it. At once, moved by some singular +maternal impulse, perhaps, for she was half a dozen years my senior, as +a mother would whimsically decorate her child, Marie-Therese took the +half circlet of gems from the casket, reached up, and set it on my head. + +For an instant I was crowned in Mittau, with my mother's tiara. + +I saw the king's features turn to granite, and a dark red stain show on +his jaws like coloring on stone. The most benevolent men, and by all his +traits he was one of the most benevolent, have their pitiless moments. +He must have been prepared to combat a pretender before I entered the +room. But outraged majesty would now take its full vengeance on me for +the unconsidered act of the child he loved. + +"First two peasants, Hervagault and Bruneau, neither of whom had the +audacity to steal into the confidence of the tenderest princess in +Europe with the tokens she must recognize, or to penetrate into the +presence," spoke the king: "and now an escaped convict from Ste. +Pelagie, a dandy from the Empire!" + +I was only twenty, and he stung me. + +"Your royal highness," I said, speaking as I believed within my rights, +"my sister tries to put a good front on my intrusion into Mittau." + +I took the coronet from my head and gave it again to the hand which had +crowned me. Marie-Therese let it fall, and it rocked near the feet of +the king. + +"Your sister, monsieur! What right have you to call Madame d'Angouleme +your sister!" + +"The same right, monsieur, that you have to call her your niece." + +The features of the princess became pinched and sharpened under the +softness of her fair hair. + +"Sire, if this is not my brother, who is he?" + +Louis XVIII may have been tender to her every other moment of his life, +but he was hard then, and looked beyond her toward the door, making a +sign with his hand. + +That strange sympathy which works in me for my opponent, put his +outraged dignity before me rather than my own wrong. Deeper, more +sickening than death, the first faintness of self-distrust came over me. +What if my half-memories were unfounded hallucinations? What if my +friend Louis Philippe had made a tool of me, to annoy this older Bourbon +branch that detested him? What if Bellenger's recognition, and the +Marquis du Plessy's, and Marie-Therese's, went for nothing? What if some +other, and not this angry man, had sent the money to America-- + +The door opened again. We turned our heads, and I grew hot at the +cruelty which put that idiot before my sister's eyes. He ran on all +fours, his gaunt wrists exposed, until Bellenger, advancing behind, took +him by the arm and made him stand erect. It was this poor creature I had +heard scratching on the other side of the inn wall. + +How long Bellenger had been beforehand with me in Mittau I could not +guess. But when I saw the scoundrel who had laid me in Ste. Pelagie, and +doubtless dropped me in the Seine, ready to do me more mischief, smug +and smooth shaven, and fine in the red-collared blue coat which seemed +to be the prescribed uniform of that court, all my confidence returned. +I was Louis of France. I could laugh at anything he had to say. + +Behind him entered a priest, who advanced up the room, and made +obeisance to the king, as Bellenger did. + +Madame d'Angouleme looked once at the idiot, and hid her eyes: the king +protecting her. I said to myself, + +"It will soon be against my breast, not yours, that she hides her face, +my excellent uncle of Provence!" + +Yet he was as sincere a man as ever said to witnesses, + +"We shall now hear the truth." + +The few courtiers, enduring with hardiness a sight which they perhaps +had seen before though Madame d'Angouleme had not, made a rustle among +themselves as if echoing, + +"Yes, now we shall hear the truth!" + +The king again kissed my sister's hand, and placed her in a seat beside +his arm-chair, which he resumed. + +"Monsieur the Abbe Edgeworth," he said, "having stood on the scaffold +with our martyred sovereign, as priest and comforter, is eminently the +one to conduct an examination like this, which touches matters of +conscience. We leave it in his hands." + +Abbe Edgeworth, fine and sweet of presence, stood by the king, facing +Bellenger and the idiot. That poor creature, astonished by his +environment, gazed at the high room corners, or smiled experimentally at +the courtiers, stretching his cracked lips over darkened fangs. + +"You are admitted here, Bellenger," said the priest, "to answer his +Majesty's questions in the presence of witnesses." + +"I thank his Majesty," said Bellenger. + +The abbe began as if the idiot attracted his notice for the first time. + +"Who is the unfortunate child you hold with your right hand?" + +"The dauphin of France, monsieur the abbe," spoke out Bellenger, his +left hand on his hip. + +"What! Take care what you say! How do you know that the dauphin of +France is yet among the living?" + +Bellenger's countenance changed, and he took his hand off his hip and +let it hang down. + +"I received the prince, monsieur, from those who took him out of the +Temple prison." + +"And you never exchanged him for another person, or allowed him to be +separated from you?" + +Bellenger swore with ghastly lips--"Never, on my hopes of salvation, +monsieur the abbe!" + +"Admitting that somebody gave you this child to keep--by the way, how +old is he?" + +"About twenty years, monsieur." + +"What right had you to assume he was the dauphin?" + +"I had received a yearly pension, monsieur, from his Majesty himself, +for the maintenance of the prince." + +"You received the yearly pension through my hand, acting as his +Majesty's almoner, His Majesty was ever too bountiful to the +unfortunate. He has many dependents. Where have you lived with your +charge?" + +"We lived in America, sometimes in the woods; and sometimes in towns." + +"Has he ever shown hopeful signs of recovering his reason?" + +"Never, monsieur the abbe." + +Having touched thus lightly on the case of the idiot, Abbe Edgeworth +turned to me. + +The king's face retained its granite hardness. But Bellenger's passed +from shade to shade of baffled confidence; recovering only when the +priest said, + +"Now look at this young man. Have you ever seen him before?" + +"Yes, monsieur, I have; both in the American woods, and in Paris." + +"What was he doing in the American woods?" + +"Living on the bounty of one Count de Chaumont, a friend of +Bonaparte's." + +"Who is he?" + +"A French half-breed, brought up among the Indians." + +"What name does he bear?" + +"He is called Lazarre." + +"But why is a French half-breed named Lazarre attempting to force +himself on the exiled court here in Mittau?" + +"People have told him that he resembles the Bourbons, monsieur." + +"Was he encouraged in this idea by the friend of Bonaparte whom you +mentioned?" + +"I think not, monsieur the abbe. But I heard a Frenchman tell him he was +like the martyred king, and since that hour he has presumed to consider +himself the dauphin." + +"Who was this Frenchman?" + +"The Duke of Orleans, Louis Philippe de Bourbon, monsieur the abbe." + +There was an expressive movement among the courtiers. + +"Was Louis Philippe instrumental in sending him to France?" + +"He was. He procured shipping for the pretender." + +"When the pretender reached Paris, what did he do?" + +"He attempted robbery, and was taken in the act and thrown into Ste. +Pelagie. I saw him arrested." + +"What were you doing in Paris?" + +"I was following and watching this dangerous pretender, monsieur the +abbe." + +"Did you leave America when he did?" + +"The evening before, monsieur. And we outsailed him." + +"Did you leave Paris when he did?" + +"Three days later, monsieur. But we passed him while he rested." + +"Why do you call such an insignificant person a dangerous pretender?" + +"He is not insignificant, monsieur: as you will say, when you hear what +he did in Paris." + +"He was thrown into the prison of Ste. Pelagie, you told me." + +"But he escaped, by choking a sacristan so that the poor man will long +bear the marks on his throat. And the first thing I knew he was high in +favor with the Marquis du Plessy, and Bonaparte spoke to him; and the +police laughed at complaints lodged against him." + +"Who lodged complaints against him?" + +"I did, monsieur." + +"But he was too powerful for you to touch?" + +"He was well protected, monsieur the abbe. He flaunted. While the poor +prince and myself suffered inconvenience and fared hard--" + +"The poor prince, you say?" + +"We never had a fitting allowance, monsieur," Bellenger declared +aggressively. "Yet with little or no means I tried to bring this +pretender to justice and defend his Majesty's throne." + +"Pensioners are not often so outspoken in their dissatisfaction," +remarked the priest. + +I laughed as I thought of the shifts to which Bellenger must have been +put. Abbe Edgeworth with merciless dryness inquired, + +"How were you able to post to Mittau?" + +"I borrowed money of a friend in Paris, monsieur, trusting that his +Majesty will requite me for my services." + +"But why was it necessary for you to post to Mittau, where this +pretender would certainly meet exposure?" + +"Because I discovered that he carried with him a casket of the martyred +queen's jewels, stolen from the Marquis du Plessy." + +"How did the Marquis du Plessy obtain possession of the queen's jewels?" + +"That I do not know." + +"But the jewels are the lawful property of Madame d'Angouleme. He must +have known they would be seized." + +"I thought it necessary to bring my evidence against him, monsieur." + +"There was little danger of his imposing himself upon the court. Yet you +are rather to be commended than censured, Bellenger. Did this pretender +know you were in Paris?" + +"He saw me there." + +"Many times?" + +"At least twice, monsieur the abbe." + +"Did he avoid you?" + +"I avoided him. I took pains to keep him from knowing how I watched +him." + +"You say he flaunted. When he left Paris for Mittau was the fact +generally reported?" + +"No, monsieur." + +"You learned it yourself?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"But he must have known you would pursue him." + +"He left with great secrecy, monsieur the abbe." It was given out that +he was merely going to the country." + +"What made you suspect he was coming to Mittau?" + +"He hired a strong post-chaise and made many preparations." + +"But didn't his friend the Marquis du Plessy discover the robbery? Why +didn't he follow and take the thief?" + +"Dead men don't follow, monsieur the abbe. The Marquis du Plessy had a +duel on his hands, and was killed the day after this Lazarre left +Paris." + +Of all Bellenger's absurd fabrications this story was the most +ridiculous. I laughed again. Madame d'Angouleme took her hands from her +face and our eyes met one instant, but the idiot whined like a dog. She +shuddered, and covered her sight. + +The priest turned from Bellenger to me with a fair-minded expression, +and inquired, + +"What have you to say?" + +I had a great deal to say, though the only hearer I expected to convince +was my sister. If she believed in me I did not care whether the others +believed or not. I was going to begin with Lake George, the mountain, +and the fog, and Bellenger's fear of me, and his rage when Louis +Philippe told him the larger portion of the money sent from Europe was +given to me. + +Facing Marie-Therese, therefore, instead of the Abbe Edgeworth, I spoke +her name. She looked up once more. And instead of being in Mittau, I +was suddenly on a balcony at Versailles! + +The night landscape, chill and dim, stretched beyond a multitude of +roaring mouths, coarse lips, flaming eyes, illuminated by torches, the +heads ornamented with a three-colored thing stuck into the caps. My hand +stretched out for support, and met the tight clip of my mother's +fingers. I knew that she was towering between Marie-Therese and me a +fearless palpitating statue. The devilish roaring mob shot above itself +a forced, admiring, piercing cry--"Long live the queen!" Then all became +the humming of bees--the vibration of a string--nothing! + + + + +X + + +Blackness surrounded the post-carriage in which I woke, and it seemed to +stand in a tunnel that was afire at one end. Two huge trees, branches +and all, were burning on a big hearth, stones glowing under them; and +figures with long beards, in black robes, passed betwixt me and the +fire, stirring a cauldron. If ever witches' brewing was seen, it looked +like that. + +The last eclipse of mind had come upon me without any rending and +tearing in the head, and facts returned clearly and directly. I saw the +black robed figures were Jews cooking supper at a large fireplace, and +we had driven upon the brick floor of a post-house which had a door +nearly the size of a gable. At that end spread a ghostly film of open +land, forest and sky. I lay stretched upon cushions as well as the +vehicle would permit, and was aware by a shadow which came between me +and the Jews that Skenedonk stood at the step. + +"What are you about?" I spoke with a rush of chagrin, sitting up. "Are +we on the road to Paris?" + +"Yes," he answered. + +"You have made a mistake, Skenedonk!" + +"No mistake," he maintained. "Wait until I bring you some supper. After +supper we can talk." + +"Bring the supper at once then, for I am going to talk now." + +"Are you quite awake?" + +"Quite awake. How long did it last this time?" + +"Two days." + +"We are not two days' journey out of Mittau?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, when you have horses put in to-morrow morning, turn them back to +Mittau." + +Skenedonk went to the gigantic hearth, and one of the Jews ladled him +out a bowlful of the cauldron stew, which he brought to me. + +The stuff was not offensive and I was hungry. He brought another bowlful +for himself, and we ate as we had often done in the woods. The fire +shone on his bald pate and gave out the liquid lights of his fawn eyes. + +"I have made a fool of myself in Mittau, Skenedonk." + +"Why do you want to go back?" + +"Because I am not going to be thrown out of the palace without a +hearing." + +"What is the use?" said Skenedonk. "The old fat chief will not let you +stay. He doesn't want to hear you talk. He wants to be king himself." + +"Did you see me sprawling on the floor like the idiot?" + +"Not like the idiot. Your face was down." + +"Did you see the duchess?" + +"Yes." + +"What did she do?" + +"Nothing. She leaned on the women and they took her away." + +"Tell me all you saw." + +"When you went in to hold council, I watched, and saw a priest and +Bellenger and the boy that God had touched, all go in after you. So I +knew the council would be bad for you, Lazarre, and I stood by the door +with my knife in my hand. When the talk had gone on awhile I heard +something like the dropping of a buck on the ground, and sprang in, and +the men drew their swords and the women screamed. The priest pointed at +you and said, 'God has smitten the pretender!' Then they all went out of +the room except the priest, and we opened your collar. I told him you +had fallen like that before, and the stroke passed off in sleep. He said +your carriage waited, and if I valued your safety I would put you in it +and take you out of Russia. He called servants to help me carry you. I +thought about your jewels; but some drums began to beat, and I thought +about your life!" + +"But, Skenedonk, didn't my sister--the lady I led by the hand, you +remember--speak to me again, or look at me, or try to revive me?" + +"No. She went away with the women carrying her." + +"She believed in me--at first! Before I said a word she knew me! She +wouldn't leave me merely because her uncle and a priest thought me an +impostor! She is the tenderest creature on earth, Skenedonk--she is +more like a saint than a woman!" + +"Some saints on the altar are blind and deaf," observed the Oneida. "I +think she was sick." + +"I have nearly killed her! And I have been tumbled out of Mittau as a +pretender!" + +"You are here. Get some men to fight, and we will go back." + +"What a stroke--to lose my senses at the moment I needed them most!" + +"You kept your scalp." + +"And not much else. No! If you refuse to follow me, and wait here at +this post-house, I am going back to Mittau!" + +"I go where you go," said Skenedonk. "But best go to sleep now." + +This I was not able to do until long tossing on the thorns of chagrin +wore me out. I was ashamed like a prodigal, baffled, and hurt to the +bruising of my soul. A young man's chastened confidence in himself is +hard to bear, but the loss of what was given as a heritage at birth is +an injustice not to be endured. + +The throne of France was never my goal, to be reached through blood and +revolution. Perhaps the democratic notions in my father's breast have +found wider scope in mine. I wanted to influence men, and felt even at +that time that I could do it; but being king was less to my mind than +being acknowledged dauphin, and brother, and named with my real name. + +I took my fists in my hands and swore to force recognition, if I +battered a lifetime on Mittau. + +At daylight our post-horses were put to the chaise and I gave the +postilion orders myself. The little fellow bowed himself nearly double, +and said that troops were moving behind us to join the allied forces +against Napoleon. + +At once the prospect of being snared among armies and cut off from all +return to Paris, appalled me as a greater present calamity than being +cast out of Mittau. Mittau could wait for another expedition. + +"Very well," I said. "Take the road to France." + +We met August rains. We were bogged. A bridge broke under us. We dodged +Austrian troops. It seemed even then a fated thing that a Frenchman +should retreat ignominiously from Russia. + +There is a devilish antagonism of inanimate and senseless things, begun +by discord in ourselves, which works unreasonable torture. Our return +was an abominable journal which I will not recount, and going with it +was a mortifying facility for drawing opposing forces. + +However, I knew my friend the marquis expected me to return defeated. He +gave me my opportunity as a child is indulged with a dangerous +plaything, to teach it caution. + +He would be in his chateau of Plessy, cutting off two days' posting to +Paris. And after the first sharp pangs of chagrin and shame at losing +the fortune he had placed in my hands, I looked forward with impatience +to our meeting. + +"We have nothing, Skenedonk!" I exclaimed the first time there was +occasion for money on the road. "How have you been able to post? The +money and the jewel-case are gone." + +"We have two bags of money and the snuffbox," said the Oneida. "I hid +them in the post-carriage." + +"But I had the key of the jewel-case." + +"You are a good sleeper," responded Skenedonk. + +I blessed him heartily for his forethought, and he said if he had known +I was a fool he would not have told me we carried the jewel-case into +Russia. + +I dared not let myself think of Madame de Ferrier. The plan of buying +back her estates, which I had nurtured in the bottom of my heart, was +now more remote than America. + +One bag of coin was spent in Paris, but three remained there with Doctor +Chantry. We had money, though the more valuable treasure stayed in +Mittau. + +In the sloping hills and green vines of Champagne we were no longer +harassed dodging troops, and slept the last night of our posting at +Epernay. Taking the road early next morning, I began to watch for Plessy +too soon, without forecasting that I was not to set foot within its +walls. + +We came within the marquis' boundaries upon a little goose girl, +knitting beside her flock. Her bright hair was bound with a woolen cap. +Delicious grass, and the shadow of an oak, under which she stood, were +not to be resisted, so I sent the carriage on. She looked open-mouthed +after Skenedonk, and bobbed her dutiful, frightened courtesy at me. + +The marquis' peasants were by no means under the influence of the +Empire, as I knew from observing the lad whom he had sought among the +drowned in the mortuary chapel of the Hotel Dieu, and who was afterwards +found in a remote wine shop seeing sights. The goose girl dared not +speak to me unless I required it of her, and the unusual notice was an +honor she would have avoided. + +"What do you do here?" I inquired. + +Her little heart palpitated in the answer--"Oh, guard the geese." + +"Do they give you trouble?" + +"Not much, except that wicked gander." She pointed out with her +knitting-needle a sleek white fellow, who flirted his tail and turned an +eye, quavering as if he said--"La, la, la!" + +"What does he do?" + +"He would be at the vines and the corn, monsieur." + +"Bad gander!" + +"I switch him," she informed me, like a magistrate. + +"But that would only make him run." + +"Also I have a string in my pocket, and I tie him by the leg to a +tree." + +"Serves him right. Is the Marquis du Plessy at the chateau?" + +Her face grew shaded, as a cloud chases sunlight before it across a +meadow. "Do you mean the new marquis, the old marquis' cousin, monsieur? +He went away directly after the burial." + +"What burial?"' + +"The old marquis' burial. That was before St. John's day." + +"Be careful what you say, my child!" + +"Didn't you know he was dead, _monsieur?_" + +"I have been on a journey. Was his death sudden?" + +"He was killed in a duel in Paris." + +I sat down on the grass with my head in my hands. Bellenger had told the +truth. + +One scant month the Marquis du Plessy fostered me like a son. To this +hour my slow heart aches for the companionship of the lightest, most +delicate spirit I ever encountered in man. + +Once I lifted my head and insisted, + +"It can't be true!" + +"Monsieur," the goose girl asserted solemnly, "it is true. The blessed +St. Alpin, my patron, forget me if I tell you a lie." + +Around the shadowed spot where I sat I heard trees whispering on the +hills, and a cart rumbling along the hardened dust of the road. + +"Monsieur," spoke the goose girl out of her good heart, "if you want to +go to his chapel I will show you the path." + +She tied a string around the leg of the wicked gander and attached him +to the tree, shaking a wand at him in warning. He nipped her sleeve, and +hissed, and hopped, his wives remonstrating softly; but his guardian +left him bound and carried her knitting down a valley to a stream, +across the bridge, and near an opening in the bushes at the foot of a +hill. + +"Go all to the right, monsieur," she said, "and you will come to the +chapel where the Du Plessys are buried." + +I gave her the largest coin in my pocket, and she flew back as well as +the spirit of childhood could fly in wooden shoes. All the geese, formed +in a line, waddled to meet her, perhaps bearing a memorial of wrongs +from their husband. + +The climb was steep, rounding a darkened ferny shoulder of lush forest, +yet promising more and more a top of sunlight. At the summit was a +carriage road which ascended by some easier plane. Keeping all to the +right as the goose girl directed, I found a chapel like a shrine. + +It was locked. Through the latticed door I could see an altar, +whereunder the last Du Plessy who had come to rest there, doubtless lay +with his kin. + +I sat down on one of the benches under the trees. The ache within me +went deep. But all that sunny hillcrest seemed brightened by the +marquis. It was cheerful as his smile. "Let us have a glass of wine and +enjoy the sun," he said in the breeze flowing around his chapel. "And +do you hear that little citizen of the tree trunks, Lazarre?" + +The perfume of the woods rose invisibly to a cloudless sky. My last +tryst with my friend was an hour in paradise's antechamber. + +The light quick stepping of horses and their rattling harness brought +Madame de Ferrier's carriage quickly around the curve fronting the +chapel. Her presence was the one touch which the place lacked, and I +forgot grief, shame, impatience at being found out in my trouble, and +stood at her step with my hat in my hand. + +She said--"O Lazarre!"--and Paul beat on Ernestine's knee, echoing--"O +Zar!" and my comfort was absolute as release from pain, because she had +come to visit her old friend the marquis. + +I helped her down and stood with her at the latticed door. + +"How bright it is here!" said Eagle. + +"It is very bright. I came up the hill from a dark place." + +"Did the news of his death meet you on the post-road?" + +"It met me at the foot of this hill. The goose girl told me." + +"Oh, you have been hurt!" she said, looking at me. "Your face is all +seamed. Don't tell me about Mittau to-day. Paul and I are taking +possession of the estates!" + +"Napoleon has given them back to you!" + +"Yes, he has! I begged the De Chaumonts to let me come alone! By hard +posting we reached Mont-Louis last night. You are the only person in +France to whom I would give that vacant seat in the carriage to-day." + +I cared no longer for my own loss, as I am afraid has been too much my +way all through life; or whether I was a prince or not. Like paradise +after death, as so many of our best days come, this perfect day was +given me by the marquis himself. Eagle's summer dress touched me. Paul +and Ernestine sat facing us, and Paul ate cherries from a little basket, +and had his fingers wiped, beating the cushion with his heels in excess +of impatience to begin again. + +We paused at a turn of the height before descending, where fields could +be seen stretching to the horizon, woods fair and clean as parks, +without the wildness of the American forest, and vineyards of bushy +vines that bore the small black grapes. Eagle showed me the far +boundaries of Paul's estates. Then we drove where holly spread its +prickly foliage near the ground, where springs from cliffs trickled +across delicious lanes. + +Hoary stone farmhouses, built four-square like a fortress, each having a +stately archway, saluted us as we passed by. The patron and his wife +came out, and laborers, pulling their caps, dropped down from high-yoked +horses. + +But when the long single street of stone cottages which formed the +village opened its arms, I could see her breast swelling and her gray +eyes sweeping all with comprehensive rush. + +An elderly man, shaking some salad in a wire basket, dropped it at his +feet, and bowed and bowed, sweeping his cap to the ground. Some women +who were washing around a roofed pool left their paddles, and ran, +wiping suds from their arms; and houses discharged their inmates, babies +in children's arms, wives, old men, the simplicity of their lives and +the openness of their labor manifest. They surrounded the carriage. +Eagle stood Paul upon his feet that they might worship him, and his +mouth corners curled upward, his blue-eyed fearless look traveled from +face to face, while her gloved hand was kissed, and God was praised that +she had come back. + +"O Jean!" she cried, "is your mother alive?" and "Marguerite! have you a +son so tall?" + +An old creature bent double, walked out on four feet, two of them being +sticks, lifted her voice, and blessed Eagle and the child a quarter of +an hour. Paul's mother listened reverently, and sent him in Ernestine's +arms for the warped human being to look upon at close range with her +failing sight. He stared at her unafraid, and experimentally put his +finger on her knotted cheek; at which all the women broke into chorus as +I have heard blackbirds rejoice. + +"I have not seen them for so long!" Madame de Ferrier said, wiping her +eyes. "We have all forgotten our behavior!" + +An inverted pine tree hung over the inn door, and dinner was laid for us +in its best room, where host and hostess served the marquise and the +young marquis almost on their knees. + +When we passed out at the other end of the village, Eagle showed me a +square-towered church. + +"The De Ferriers are buried there--excepting my father. I shall put a +tablet in the wall for Cousin Philippe. Few Protestants in France had +their rights and privileges protected as ours were by the throne. I +mention this fact, sire, that you may lay it up in your mind! We have +been good subjects, well worth our salt in time of war." + +Best of all was coming to the chateau when the sun was about an hour +high. The stone pillars of the gateway let us upon a terraced lawn, +where a fountain played, keeping bent plumes of water in the air. The +lofty chateau of white stone had a broad front, with wings. Eagle bade +me note the two dove-cotes or pigeon towers, distinctly separate +structures, one flanking each wing, and demonstrating the antiquity of +the house. For only nobles in medieval days were accorded the privilege +of keeping doves. + +Should there be such another evening for me when I come to paradise, if +God in His mercy brings me there, I shall be grateful, but hardly with +such fresh-hearted joy. Night descends with special benediction on +remote ancient homes like Mont-Louis. We walked until sunset in the +park, by lake, and bridged stream, and hollied path; Ernestine +carrying Paul or letting him pat behind, driving her by her long cap +ribbons while he explored his mother's playground. But when the birds +began to nest, and dewfall could be felt, he was taken to his supper and +his bed, giving his mother a generous kiss, and me a smile of his +upcurled mouth corners. His forehead was white and broad, and his blue +eyes were set well apart. + +[Illustration: We walked until sunset in the park, by lake, and bridged +stream, and hollied path.] + +I can yet see the child looking over Ernestine's shoulder. She carried +him up stairs of oak worn hollow like stone, a mighty hand-wrought +balustrade rising with them from hall to roof. + +We had our supper in a paneled room where the lights were reflected as +on mirrors of polished oak, and the man who served us had served Madame +de Ferrier's father and grandfather. The gentle old provincial went +about his duty as a religious rite. + +There was a pleached walk like that in the marquis' Paris garden, of +branches flattened and plaited to form an arbor supported by tree +columns; which led to a summer-house of stone smothered in ivy. We +walked back and forth under this thick roof of verdure. Eagle's cap of +brown hair was roughened over her radiant face, and the open throat of +her gown showed pulses beating in her neck. Her lifted chin almost +touched my arm as I told her all the Mittau story, at her request. + +"Poor Madame d'Angouleme! The cautious priest and the king should not +have taken you from me like that! She knew you as I knew you; and a +woman's knowing is better than a man's proofs. She will have times of +doubting their policy. She will remember the expression of your mouth, +your shrugs, and gestures--the little traits of the child Louis, that +reappear in the man." + +"I wish I had never gone to Mittau to give her a moment's distress." + +"Is she very beautiful?" + +"She is like a lily made flesh. She has her strong dislikes, and one of +them is Louis Philippe--" + +"Naturally," said Eagle. + +"But she seemed sacred to me. Perhaps a woman brings that hallowedness +out of martyrdom." + +"God be with the royal lady! And you, sire!" + +"And you!--may you be always with me, Eagle!" + +"This journey to Mittau changes nothing. You were wilful. You would go +to the island in Lake George: you would go to Mittau." + +"Both times you sent me." + +"Both times I brought you home! Let us not be sorrowful to-night." + +"Sorrowful! I am so happy it seems impossible that I come from Mittau, +and this day the Marquis du Plessy died to me! I wish the sun had been +tied to the trees, as the goose girl tied her gander." + +"But I want another day," said Eagle. "I want all the days that are my +due at home." + +We ascended the steps of the stone pavilion, and sat down in an arch +like a balcony over the sunken garden. Pears and apricots, their +branches flattened against the wall, showed ruddy garnered sunlight +through the dusk. The tangled enclosure sloped down to the stream, from +which a fairy wisp of mist wavered over flower bed and tree. Dew and +herbs and the fragrance of late roses sent up a divine breath, invisibly +submerging us, like a tide rising out of the night. + +Madame de Ferrier's individual traits were surprised in this nearness, +as they never had been when I saw her at a distance in alien +surroundings. A swift ripple, involuntary and glad, coursed down her +body; she shuddered for joy half a minute or so. + +Two feet away, I worshiped her smiling eyes and their curved ivory lids, +her rounded head with its abundant cap of hair, her chin, her shoulders, +her bust, the hands in her lap, the very sweep of her scant gown about +her feet. + +The flash of extreme happiness passing, she said gravely, + +"But that was a strange thing--that you should fall unconscious!" + +"Not so strange," I said; and told her how many times before the +eclipse--under the edge of which my boyhood was passed--had completely +shadowed me. At the account of Ste. Pelagie she leaned toward me, her +hands clenched on her breast. When we came to the Hotel Dieu she leaned +back pallid against the stone. + +"Dear Marquis du Plessy!" she whispered, as his name entered the story. + +When it was ended she drew some deep breaths in the silence. + +"Sire, you must be very careful. That Bellenger is an evil man." + +"But a weak one." + +"There may be a strength of court policy behind him." + +"The policy of the court at Mittau is evidently a policy of denial." + +"Your sister believed in you." + +"Yes, she believed in me." + +"I don't understand," said Madame de Ferrier, leaning forward on her +arms, "why Bellenger had you in London, and another boy on the +mountain." + +"Perhaps we shall never understand it." + +"I don't understand why he makes it his business to follow you." + +"Let us not trouble ourselves about Bellenger." + +"But are you safe in France since the Marquis du Plessy's death?" + +"I am safe to-night, at least." + +"Yes, far safer than you would be in Paris." + +"And Skenedonk is my guard." + +"I have sent a messenger to Plessy for him," Madame de Ferrier said. "He +will be here in the morning." + +I thanked her for remembering him in the excitement of her home coming. +We heard a far sweet call through a cleft of the hills, and Eagle turned +her head. + +"That must be the shepherd of Les Rochers. He has missed a lamb. Les +Rochers is the most distant of our farms, but its night noises can be +heard through an opening in the forest. Paul will soon be listening for +all these sounds! We must drive to Les Rochers to-morrow. It was there +that Cousin Philippe died." + +I could not say how opportunely Cousin Philippe had died. The violation +of her childhood by such a marriage rose up that instant a wordless +tragedy. + +"Sire, we are not observing etiquette in Mont-Louis as they observe it +at Mittau. I have been talking very familiarly to my king. I will keep +silent. You speak." + +"Madame, you have forbidden me to speak!" + +She gave me a startled look, and said, + +"Did you know Jerome Bonaparte has come back? He left his wife in +America. She cannot be received in France, because she has committed the +crime of marrying a prince. She is to be divorced for political +reasons." + +"Jerome Bonaparte is a hound!" I spoke hotly. + +"And his wife a venturesome woman--to marry even a temporary prince." + +"I like her sort, madame!" + +"Do you, sire?" + +"Yes, I like a woman who can love!" + +"And ruin?" + +"How could you ruin me?" + +"The Saint-Michels brought me up," said Eagle. "They taught me what is +lawful and unlawful. I will never do an unlawful thing, to the disgrace +and shame of my house. A woman should build her house, not tear it +down." + +"What is unlawful?" + +"It is unlawful for me to encourage the suit of my sovereign." + +"Am I ever likely to be anything but what they call in Mittau a +pretender, Eagle?" + +"That we do not know. You shall keep yourself free from entanglements." + +"I am free from them--God knows I am free enough!--the lonesomest, most +unfriended savage that ever set out to conquer his own." + +"You were born to greatness. Great things will come to you." + +"If you loved me I could make them come!" + +"Sire, it isn't healthy to sit in the night air. We must go out of the +dew." + +"Oh, who would be healthy! Come to that, who would be such a royal +beggar as I am?" + +"Remember," she said gravely, "that your claim was in a manner +recognized by one of the most cautious, one of the least ardent +royalists, in France." + +The recognition she knew nothing about came to my lips, and I told her +the whole story of the jewels. The snuffbox was in my pocket. Sophie +Saint-Michel had often described it to her. + +She sat and looked at me, contemplating the stupendous loss. + +"The marquis advised me not to take them into Russia," I acknowledged. + +"There is no robbery so terrible as the robbery committed by those who +think they are doing right." + +"I am one of the losing Bourbons." + +"Can anything be hidden in that closet in the queen's dressing-room +wall?" mused Eagle. "I believe I could find it in the dark, Sophie told +me so often where the secret spring may be touched. When the De +Chaumonts took me to the Tuileries I wanted to search for it. But all +the state apartments are now on the second floor, and Madame Bonaparte +has her own rooms below. Evidently she knows nothing of the secrets of +the place. The queen kept her most beautiful robes in that closet. It +has no visible door. The wall opens. And we have heard that a door was +made through the back of it to let upon a spiral staircase of stone, and +through this the royal family made their escape to Varennes, when they +were arrested and brought back." + +We fell into silence at mention of the unsuccessful flight which could +have changed history; and she rose and said--"Good-night, sire." + +Next morning there was such a delicious world to live in that breathing +was a pleasure. Dew gauze spread far and wide over the radiant domain. +Sounds from cattle, and stables, and the voices of servants drifted on +the air. Doves wheeled around their towers, and around the chateau +standing like a white cliff. + +I walked under the green canopy watching the sun mount and waiting for +Madame de Ferrier. When she did appear the old man who had served her +father followed with a tray. I could only say--"Good-morning, madame," +not daring to add--"I have scarcely slept for thinking of you." + +"We will have our coffee out here," she told me. + +It was placed on the broad stone seat under the arch of the pavilion +where we sat the night before; bread, unsalted butter from the farms, +the coffee, the cream, the loaf sugar. Madame de Ferrier herself opened +a door in the end of the wall and plunged into the dew of the garden. +Her old servant exclaimed. She caught her hair in briers and laughed, +tucking it up from falling, and brought off two great roses, each the +head and the strength of a stem, to lay beside our plates. The breath of +roses to this hour sends through my veins the joy of that. + +Then the old servant gathered wall fruit for us, and she sent some in +his hand to Paul. Through a festooned arch of the pavilion giving upon +the terraces, we saw a bird dart down to the fountain, tilt and drink, +tilt and drink again, and flash away. Immediately the multitudinous +rejoicing of a skylark dropped from upper air. When men would send +thanks to the very gate of heaven their envoy should be a skylark. + +Eagle was like a little girl as she listened. + +"This is the first day of September, sire." + +"Is it? I thought it was the first day of creation." + +"I mention the date that you may not forget it. Because I am going to +give you something to-day." + +My heart leaped like a conqueror's. + +Her skin was as fresh as the roses, looking marvelous to touch. The +shock of imminent discovery went through me. For how can a man consider +a woman forever as a picture? A picture she was, in the short-waisted +gown of the Empire, of that white stuff Napoleon praised because it was +manufactured in France. It showed the line of her throat, being parted +half way down the bosom by a ruff which encircled her neck and stood +high behind it. The transparent sleeves clung to her arms, and the +slight outline of her figure looked long in its close casing. + +The gown tail curled around her slippered foot damp from the plunge in +the garden. She gave it a little kick, and rippled again suddenly +throughout her length. + +Then her face went grave, like a child's when it is surprised in +wickedness. + +"But our fathers and mothers would have us forget their suffering in the +festival of coming home, wouldn't they, Lazarre?" + +"Surely, Eagle." + +"Then why are you looking at me with reproach?" + +"I'm not." + +"Perhaps you don't like my dress?" + +I told her it was the first time I had ever noticed anything she wore, +and I liked it. + +"I used to wear my mother's clothes. Ernestine and I made them over. But +this is new; for the new day, and the new life here." + +"And the day," I reminded her, "is the first of September." + +She laughed, and opened her left hand, showing me two squat keys so +small that both had lain concealed under two of her finger tips. + +"I am going to give you a key, sire." + +"Will it unlock a woman's mind?" + +"It will open a padlocked book. Last night I found a little blank-leaved +book, with wooden covers. It was fastened by a padlock, and these keys +were tied to it. You may have one key: I will keep the other." + +"The key to a padlocked book with nothing in it." + +Her eyes tantalized me. + +"I am going to put something in it. Sophie Saint-Michel said I had a +gift for putting down my thoughts. If the gift appeared to Sophie when I +was a child, it must grow in me by use. Every day I shall put some of my +life into the book. And when I die I will bequeath it to you!" + +"Take back the key, madame. I have no desire to look into your coffin." + +She extended her hand. + +"Then our good and kind friend Count de Chaumont shall have it." + +"He shall not!" + +I held to her hand and kept my key. + +She slipped away from me. The laughter of the child yet rose through the +dignity of the woman. + +"When may I read this book, Eagle?" + +"Never, of my free will, sire. How could I set down all I thought about +you, for instance, if the certainty was hanging over me that you would +read my candid opinions and punish me for them!" + +"Then of what use is the key?" + +"You would rather have it than give it to another, wouldn't you?" + +"Decidedly." + +"Well, you will have the key to my thoughts!" + +"And if the book ever falls into my hands--" + +"I will see that it doesn't!" + +"I will say, years from now--" + +"Twenty?" + +"Twenty? O Eagle!" + +"Ten." + +"Months? That's too long!" + +"No, ten years, sire." + +"Not ten years, Eagle. Say eight." + +"No, nine." + +"Seven. If the book falls into my hands at the end of seven years, may I +open it?" + +"I may safely promise you that," she laughed. "The book will never fall +into your hands." + +I took from my pocket the gold snuffbox with the portraits on the lid, +and placed my key carefully therein. Eagle leaned forward to look at +them. She took the box in her hand, and gazed with long reverence, +drooping her head. + +Young as I was, and unskilled in the ways of women, that key worked +magic comfort. She had given me a link to hold us together. The +inconsistent, contradictory being, old one instant with the wisdom of +the Saint-Michels, rippling full of unrestrained life the next, denying +me all hope, yet indefinitely tantalizing, was adorable beyond words. I +closed my eyes: the blinding sunshine struck them through the ivied +arch. + +Turning my head as I opened them, I saw an old man come out on the +terrace. + +He tried to search in every direction, his gray head and faded eyes +moving anxiously. Madame de Ferrier was still. I heard her lay the +snuffbox on the stone seat. I knew, though I could not let myself watch +her, that she stood up against the wall, a woman of stone, her lips +chiseled apart. + +"Eagle--Eagle!" the old man cried from the terrace. + +She whispered--"Yes, Cousin Philippe!" + + + + +XI + + +Swiftly as she passed between the tree columns, more swiftly her youth +and vitality died in that walk of a few yards. + +We had been girl and boy together a brief half hour, heedless and gay. +When she reached the arbor end, our chapter of youth was ended. + +I saw her bloodless face as she stepped upon the terrace. + +The man stretched his arms to her. As if the blight of her spirit fell +upon him, the light died out of his face and he dropped his arms at his +sides. + +He was a courtly gentleman, cadaverous and shabby as he stood, all the +breeding of past generations appearing in him. + +"Eagle?" he said. The tone of piteous apology went through me like a +sword. + +She took his hands and herself drew them around her neck. He kissed her +on both cheeks. + +"O Cousin Philippe!" + +"I have frightened you, child! I meant to send a message first--but I +wanted to see you--I wanted to come home!" + +"Cousin Philippe, who wrote that letter?" + +"The notary, child. I made him do it." + +"It was cruel!" She gave way, and brokenly sobbed, leaning helpless +against him. + +The old marquis smoothed her head, and puckered his forehead under the +sunlight, casting his eyes around like a culprit. + +"It was desperate. But I could do nothing else! You see it has +succeeded. While I lay in hiding, the sight of the child, and your +youth, has softened Bonaparte. That was my intention, Eagle!" + +"The peasants should have told me you were living!" + +"They didn't know I came back. Many of them think I died in America. The +family at Les Rochers have been very faithful; and the notary has held +his tongue. We must reward them, Eagle. I have been hidden very closely. +I am tired of such long hiding!" + +He looked toward the chateau and lifted his voice sharply-- + +"Where's the baby? I haven't seen the baby!" + +With gracious courtesy, restraining an impulse to plunge up the steps, +he gave her his arm; and she swayed against it as they entered. + +When I could see them no more, I rose, and put my snuffbox in my breast. +The key rattled in it. + +A savage need of hiding when so wounded, worked first through the +disorder that let me see none of the amenities of leave-taking, +self-command, conduct. + +I was beyond the gates, bare-headed, walking with long strides, when an +old mill caught my eye, and I turned towards it, as we turn to trifles +to relieve us from unendurable tension. The water dripped over the +wheel, and long green beard trailed from its chin down the sluice. In +this quieting company Skenedonk spied me as he rattled past with the +post-carriage; and considering my behavior at other times, he was not +enough surprised to waste any good words of Oneida. + +He stopped the carriage and I got in. He pointed ahead toward a curtain +of trees which screened the chateau. + +"Paris," I answered. + +"Paris," he repeated to the postilion, and we turned about. I looked +from hill to stream, from the fruited brambles of blackberry to reaches +of noble forest, realizing that I should never see those lands again, or +the neighboring crest where my friend the marquis slept. + +We posted the distance to Paris in two days. + +What the country was like or what towns we passed I could not this hour +declare with any certainty. At first making effort and groping numbly in +my mind, but the second day grasping determination, I formed my plans, +and talked them over with Skenedonk. We would sail for America on the +first convenient ship; waiting in Paris only long enough to prepare for +the post journey to a port. Charges must at once be settled with Doctor +Chantry, who would willingly stay in Paris while the De Chaumonts +remained there. + +Beyond the voyage I did not look. The first faint tugging of my foster +country began to pull me as it has pulled many a broken wretch out of +the conditions of the older world. + +Paris was horrible, with a lonesomeness no one could have foreseen in +its crowded streets. A taste of war was in the air. Troops passed to +review. Our post-carriage met the dashing coaches of gay young men I +knew, who stared at me without recognition. Marquis du Plessy no longer +made way for me and displayed me at his side. + +I drove to his hotel in the Faubourg St. Germain for my possessions. It +was closed: the distant relative who inherited after him being an heir +with no Parisian tastes. The care-taker, however, that gentle old valet +like a woman, who had dressed me in my first Parisian finery, let us in, +and waited upon us with food I sent him out to buy. He gave me a letter +from my friend, which he had held to deliver on my return, in case any +accident befell the marquis. He was tremulous in his mourning, and all +his ardent care of me was service rendered to the dead. + +I sat in the garden, with the letter spread upon the table where we had +dined. Its brevity was gay. The writer would have gone under the knife +with a jest. He did not burden me with any kind of counsel. We had +touched. We might touch again. It was as if a soul sailed by, waving its +hat. + +"My Dear Boy:-- + +"I wanted you, but it was best you should not stay and behold the +depravity of your elders. It is about a woman. + +"May you come to a better throne than the unsteady one of France. + + "Your friend and servant, + Etienne du Plessy. + +"Garlic is the spice of life, my boy!" + +I asked no questions about the affair in which he had been engaged. If +he had wanted me to know he would have told me. + +The garden was more than I could endure. I lay down early and slept +late, as soon as I awoke in the morning beginning preparation for +leaving France. Yet two days passed, for we were obliged to exchange our +worn post-carriage for another after waiting for repairs. The old valet +packed my belongings; though I wondered what I was going to do with them +in America. The outfit of a young man of fashion overdressed a refugee +of diminished fortune. + +For no sooner was I on the street than a sense of being unmistakably +watched grew upon me. I scarcely caught anybody in the act. A succession +of vanishing people passed me from one to another. A working man in his +blouse eyed me; and disappeared. In the afternoon it was a soldier who +turned up near my elbow, and in the evening he was succeeded by an +equally interested old woman. I might not have remembered these people +with distrust if Skenedonk had not told me he was trailed by changing +figures, and he thought it was time to get behind trees. + +Bellenger might have returned to Paris, and set Napoleon's spies on the +least befriended Bourbon of all; or the police upon a man escaped from +Ste. Pelagie after choking a sacristan. + +The Indian and I were not skilled in disguises as our watchers were. Our +safety lay in getting out of Paris. Skenedonk undertook to stow our +belongings in the post-chaise at the last minute. I went to De +Chaumont's hotel to bring the money from Doctor Chantry and to take +leave without appearing to do so. + +Mademoiselle de Chaumont seized me as I entered. Her carriage stood in +the court. Miss Chantry was waiting in it while Annabel's maid fastened +her glove. + +"O Lazarre!" the poppet cried, her heartiness going through me like +wine. "Are you back? And how you are changed! They must have abused you +in Russia. We heard you went to Russia. But since dear Marquis du Plessy +died we never hear the truth about anything." + +I acknowledged that I had been to Russia. + +"Why did you go there? Tell your dearest Annabel. She won't tell." + +"To see a lady." + +Annabel shook her fretwork of misty hair. + +"That's treason to me. Is she beautiful?" + +"Very." + +"Kind?" + +"Perfectly." + +"Well, you're not. By the way, why are you looking so wan if she is +beautiful and kind?" + +"I didn't say she was beautiful and kind for me, did I?" + +"No, of course not. She has jilted you, the wretch. Your dearest Annabel +will console you, Lazarre!" She clasped my arm with both hands. "Madame +de Ferrier's husband is alive!" + +"What consolation is there in that?" + +"A great deal for me. She has her estates back, and he was only hiding +until she got them. I know the funniest thing!" + +Annabel hooked her finger and led me to a small study or cabinet at the +end of the drawing-room. + +A profusion of the most beautiful stuffs was arranged there for display. + +"Look!" the witch exclaimed, pinching my wrist in her rapture. "India +muslin embroidered in silver lama, Turkish velvet, ball dresses for a +bride, ribbons of all colors, white blond, Brussels point, Cashmere +shawls, veils in English point, reticules, gloves, fans, essences, a +bridal purse of gold links--and worse than all,--except this string of +perfect pearls--his portrait on a medallion of ivory, painted by +Isabey!" + +"What is this collection?" + +"A corbeille!" + +"What's a corbeille?" + +Annabel crossed her hands in desperation. "Oh, haven't you been in Paris +long enough to know what a corbeille is? It's the collection of gifts a +bridegroom makes for his bride. He puts his taste, his sentiment, +his"--she waved her fingers in the air--"as well as his money, into it. +A corbeille shows what a man is. He must have been collecting it ever +since he came to France. I feel proud of him. I want to pat him on his +dear old back!" + +Not having him there to pat she patted me. + +"You are going to be married?" + +"Who said I was going to be married?" + +"Isn't this your corbeille?" + +Annabel lifted herself to my ear. + +"It was Madame de Ferrier's!" + +"What!" + +"I'm sure of it!" + +"Who bought it?" + +"Count de Chaumont, of course." + +"Was Madame de Ferrier going to marry him?" + +"Who wouldn't marry a man with such a corbeille?" + +"Was she?" + +"Don't grind your teeth at your dearest Annabel. She hadn't seen it, but +it must have decided her. I am sure he intended to marry Madame de +Ferrier, and he does most things he undertakes to do. That inconsiderate +wretch of a Marquis de Ferrier--to spoil such a corbeille as this! But +Lazarre!" She patted her gloved hands. "Here's the consolation:--my +father will be obliged to turn his corbeille into my trousseau when I am +married!" + +"What's a trousseau?" + +"Goose! It's a bride's wardrobe, I knew he had something in this +cabinet, but he never left the key in the door until to-day. He was so +completely upset when the De Ferriers came into Paris!" + +"Are they in Paris?" + +"Yes, at their own hotel. The old marquis has posted here to thank the +emperor! The emperor is away with the troops, so he is determined at +least to thank the empress at the assembly to-night." + +"Will Madame de Ferrier go to the Tuileries?" + +"Assuredly. Fancy how furious my father must be!" + +"May I enter?" said the humblest of voices outside the door. + +We heard a shuffling step. + +Annabel made a face and clenched her hands. The sprite was so harmless I +laughed at her mischief. She brought in Doctor Chantry as she had +brought me, to behold the corbeille; covering her father's folly with +transparent fabrications, which anybody but the literal Briton must have +seen through. He scarcely greeted me at all, folding his hands, pale and +crushed, the sharp tip of his nose standing up more than ever like a +porcelain candle-extinguisher, while I was anxious to have him aside, to +get my money and take my leave. + +"See this beautiful corbeille, Doctor Chantry! Doesn't it surprise you +Lazarre should have such taste? We are going this morning to the mayor +of the arrondissement. Nothing is so easy as civil marriage under the +Empire! Of course the religious sacrament in the church of the Capuchins +follows, and celebrating that five minutes before midnight, will make +all Paris talk! Go with us to the mayor, Doctor Chantry!" + +"No," he answered, "no!" + +"My father joins us there. We have kept Miss Chantry waiting too long. +She will be tired of sitting in the carriage." + +Chattering with every breath Annabel entrained us both to the court, my +poor master hobbling after her a victim, and staring at me with hatred +when I tried to get a word in undertone. + +I put Annabel into the coach, and Miss Chantry made frigid room for me. + +"Hasten yourself, Lazarre," said Mademoiselle de Chaumont. + +I looked back at the poor man who was being played with, and she cried +out laughing-- + +"Did you go to Russia a Parisian to come back a bear?" + +I entered her coach, intending to take my leave as soon as I had seen +Count de Chaumont. Annabel chattered all the way about civil marriage, +and directed Miss Chantry to wait for us while we went in to the mayor. +I was perhaps too indifferent to the trick. The usually sharp governess, +undecided and piqued, sat still. + +The count was not in the mayor's office. A civil marriage was going +forward, and a strange bridal party looked at us. + +"Now, Lazarre," the strategist confided, "your dearest Annabel is going +to cover herself with Parisian disgrace. You don't know how maddening +it is to have every step dogged by a woman who never was, never could +have been--and manifestly never will be--young! Wasn't that a divine +flash about the corbeille and the mayor? Miss Chantry will wait outside +half a day. As I said, she will be very tired of sitting in the +carriage. This is what you must do; smuggle me out another way; call +another carriage, and take me for a drive and wicked dinner. I don't +care what the consequences are, if you don't!" + +I said I certainly didn't, and that I was ready to throw myself in the +Seine if that would amuse her; and she commended my improvement in +manners. We had a drive, with a sympathetic coachman; and a wicked +dinner in a suburb, which would have been quite harmless on American +ground. The child was as full of spirits as she had been the night she +mounted the cabin chimney. But I realized that more of my gold pieces +were slipping away, and I had not seen Doctor Chantry. + +"We were going to the mayor's," she maintained, when reproached. "My +father would have joined us if he had been there. He would certainly +have joined us if he had seen me alone with you. Nothing is so easy as +civil marriage under the Empire. Of course the religious sacrament +follows, when people want it, and if it is celebrated in the church of +the Capuchins--or any other church--five minutes before midnight, it +will make all Paris talk! Every word I said was true!" + +"But Doctor Chantry believed something entirely different." + +"You can't do anything for the English," said Annabel. "Next week he +will say haw-haw." + +Doctor Chantry could not be found when we returned to her father's +hotel. She gave me her fingers to kiss in good-bye, and told me I was +less doleful. + +"We thought you were the Marquis du Plessy's son, Lazarre. I always have +believed that story the Holland woman told in the cabin, about your rank +being superior to mine. Don't be cut up about Madame de Ferrier! You may +have to go to Russia again for her, but you'll get her!" + +The witch shook the mist of hair at the sides of her pretty aquiline +face, blew a kiss at me, and ran up the staircase and out of my life. +After waiting long for Doctor Chantry I hurried to Skenedonk and sent +him with instructions to find my master and conclude our affair before +coming back. + +The Indian silently entered the Du Plessy hotel after dusk, crestfallen +and suspicious. He brought nothing but a letter, left in Doctor +Chantry's room; and no other trace remained of Doctor Chantry. + +"What has he done with himself, Skenedonk?" I exclaimed. + +The Oneida begged me to read that we might trail him. + +It was a long and very tiresome letter written in my master's spider +tracks, containing long and tiresome enumerations of his services. He +presented a large bill for his guardianship on the voyage and across +France. He said I was not only a Rich Man through his Influence, but I +had proved myself an ungrateful one, and had robbed him of his only +Sentiment after a disappointed Existence. My Impudence was equaled only +by my astonishing Success, and he chose not to contemplate me as the +Husband of Beauty and Lofty Station, whose Shoes he in his Modesty and +Worth, felt unworthy to unlatch. Therefore he withdrew that very day +from Paris, and would embrace the Opportunity of going into pensive +Retirement and rural Contemplation, in his native Kingdom; where his +Sister would join him when she could do so with Dignity and Propriety. + +I glanced from line to line smiling, but the postscript brought me to my +feet. + +"The Deposit which you left with me I shall carry with me, as no more +than my Due for lifting low Savagery to high Gentility, and beg to +subscribe my Thanks for at least this small Tribute of Gratitude." + +"Doctor Chantry is gone with the money!" + +Skenedonk bounded up grasping the knife which he always carried in a +sheath hanging from his belt. + +"Which way did the old woman go?" + +"Stop," I said. + +The Indian half crouched for counsel. + +"I'll be a prince! Let him have it." + +"Let him rob you?" + +"We're quits, now. I've paid him for the lancet stab I gave him." + +"But you haven't a whole bagful of coin left." + +"We brought nothing into France, and it seems certain we shall take +nothing but experience out of it. And I'm young, Skenedonk. He isn't." + +The Oneida grunted. He was angrier than I had ever seen him. + +"We ought to have knocked the old woman on the head at Saratoga," he +responded. + +Annabel's trick had swept away my little fortune. With recklessness +which repeated loss engenders I proposed we scatter the remaining coin +in the street, but Skenedonk prudently said we would divide and conceal +it in our clothes. I gave the kind valet a handful to keep his heart +warm; and our anxieties about our valuables were much lightened. + +Then we consulted about our imminent start, and I told my servant it +would be better to send the post-chaise across the Seine. He agreed with +me. And for me to come to it as if by accident the moment we were ready +to join each other on the road. He agreed to that. All of our belongings +would be put into it by the valet and himself, and when we met we would +make a circuit and go by the way of St. Denis. + +"We will meet," I told him, "at eleven o'clock in front of the +Tuileries." + +Skenedonk looked at me without moving a muscle. + +"I want to see the palace of the Tuileries before I leave France." + +He still gazed at me. + +"At any risk, I am going to the Tuileries to-night!" + +My Iroquois grunted. A glow spread all over his copper face and head. If +I had told him I was going to an enemy's central camp fire to shake a +club in the face of the biggest chief, he could not have thought more of +my daring or less of my common sense. + +"You will never come out." + +"If I don't, Skenedonk, go without me." + +He passed small heroics unnoticed. + +"Why do you do it?" + +I couldn't tell him. Neither could I leave Paris without doing it. I +assured him many carriages would be there, near the entrance, which was +called, I believed, the pavilion of Flora; and by showing boldness we +might start from that spot as well as from any other. He abetted the +reckless devil in me, and the outcome was that I crossed the Seine +bridge by myself about ten o'clock; remembering my escape from Ste. +Pelagie; remembering I should never see the gargoyles on Notre Dame any +more, or the golden dome of the Invalides, or hear the night hum of +Paris, whether I succeeded or not. For if I succeeded I should be away +toward the coast by morning; and if I did not succeed, I should be +somewhere under arrest. + +I can see the boy in white court dress, with no hint of the traveler +about him, who stepped jauntily out of a carriage and added himself to +groups entering the Tuileries. The white court dress was armor which he +put on to serve him in the dangerous attempt to look once more on a +woman's face. He mounted with a strut toward the guardians of the +imperial court, not knowing how he might be challenged; and fortune was +with him. + +"Lazarre!" exclaimed Count de Chaumont, hurrying behind to take my +elbow. "I want you to help me!" + +Remembering with sudden remorse Annabel's escape and our wicked dinner, +I halted eager to do him service. He was perhaps used to Annabel's +escapes, for a very different annoyance puckered his forehead as he drew +me aside within the entrance. + +"Have you heard the Marquis de Ferrier is alive?" + +I told him I had heard it. + +"Damned old fox! He lay in hiding until the estates were recovered. Then +out he creeps to enjoy them!" + +I pressed the count's hand. We were one in disapproval. + +"It's a shame!" said the count. + +It was a shame, I said. + +"And now he's posted into Paris to make a fool of himself." + +"How?" + +"Have you seen Madame de Ferrier?" + +"No, I have not seen her." + +"I believe we are in time to intercept him. You have a clever head, boy. +Use it. How shall we get this old fellow out of the Tuileries without +letting him speak to the emperor?" + +"Easily, I should think, since Napoleon isn't here." + +"Yes, he is. He dashed into Paris a little while ago, and may leave +to-night. But he is here." + +"Why shouldn't the Marquis de Ferrier speak to Napoleon?" + +"Because he is going to make an ass of himself before the court, and +what's worse, he'll make a laughing-stock of me." + +"How can he do that?" + +"He is determined to thank the emperor for restoring his estates. He +might thank the empress, and she wouldn't know what he was talking +about. But the emperor knows everything. I have used all the arguments I +dared to use against it, but he is a pig for stubbornness. For my sake, +for Madame de Ferrier's sake, Lazarre, help me to get him harmlessly out +of the Tuileries, without making a public scandal about the restitution +of the land!" + +"What scandal can there be, monsieur? And why shouldn't he thank +Napoleon for giving him back his estates after the fortunes of +revolution and war?" + +"Because the emperor didn't do it. I bought them!" + +"You!" + +"Yes, I bought them. Come to that, they are my property!" + +"Madame de Ferrier doesn't know this?" + +"Certainly not. I meant to settle them on her. Saints and angels, boy, +anybody could see what my intentions were!" + +"Then she is as poor as she was in America?" + +"Poorer. She has the Marquis de Ferrier!" + +We two who loved her, youth and man, rich and powerful, or poor and +fugitive, felt the passionate need of protecting her. + +"She wouldn't accept them if she knew it." + +"Neither would the marquis," said De Chaumont. "The Marquis de Ferrier +might live on the estates his lifetime without any interference. But if +he will see the emperor, and I can't prevent it any other way, I shall +have to tell him!" + +"Yes, you will have to tell him!" + +I thought of Eagle in the village, and the old woman who blessed her a +quarter of an hour, and Paul standing on the seat to be worshiped. How +could I go to America and leave her? And what could I do for her when a +rich man like De Chaumont was powerless? + +"Can't you see Napoleon," I suggested, "and ask him to give the marquis +a moment's private audience, and accept his thanks?" + +"No!" groaned De Chaumont. "He wouldn't do it. I couldn't put myself in +such a position!" + +"If Napoleon came in so hurriedly he may not show himself in the state +apartments to-night." + +"But he is accessible, wherever he is. He doesn't deny himself to the +meanest soldier. Why should he refuse to see a noble of the class he is +always conciliating when he can?" + +"Introduce me to the Marquis de Ferrier," I finally said, "and let me +see if I can talk against time while you get your emperor out of his +way." + +I thought desperately of revealing to the old royalist what I believed +myself to be, what Eagle and he believed me to be, and commanding him, +as his rightful prince, to content himself with less effusive and less +public gratitude to an usurper. He would live in the country, shrinking +so naturally from the court that a self-imposed appearance there need +never be repeated. + +I believe this would have succeeded. A half hour more of time might have +saved years of comfort to Eagle--for De Chaumont was generous--and have +changed the outcome of my own life. But in scant fifteen minutes our +fate was decided. + +De Chaumont and I had moved with our heads together, from corridor to +antechamber, from antechamber to curtained salon of the lower floor. The +private apartments of the Bonaparte family were thrown open, and in the +mahogany furnished room, all hung with yellow satin, I noticed a Swiss +clock which pointed its minute finger to a quarter before eleven. I made +no hurry. My errand was not accomplished. Skenedonk would wait for me, +and even dare a search if he became suspicious. + +The count, knowing what Madame de Ferrier considered me, perhaps knew my +plan. He turned back at once assenting. + +The Marquis and Marquise de Ferrier were that instant going up the grand +staircase, and would be announced. Eagle turned her face above me, the +long line of her throat uplifted, and went courageous and smiling on her +way. The marquis had adapted himself to the court requirements of the +Empire. Noble gentleman of another period, he stalked a piteous +masquerader where he had once been at home. + +Count de Chaumont grasped my arm and we hurried up the stairs after +them. The end of a great and deep room was visible, and I had a glimpse, +between heads and shoulders, of a woman standing in the light of many +lusters. She parted her lips to smile, closing them quickly, but having +shown little dark teeth. She was of exquisite shape, her face and arms +and bosom having a clean fair polish like the delicate whiteness of a +magnolia, as I have since seen that flower in bloom. She wore a small +diadem in her hair, and her short-waisted robe trailed far back among +her ladies. I knew without being told that this was the empress of the +French. + +De Chaumont's hand was on my arm, but another hand touched my shoulder. +I looked behind me. This time it was not an old woman, or a laborer in +a blouse, or a soldier; but I knew my pursuer in his white court dress. +Officer of the law, writ in the lines of his face, to my eyes appeared +all over him. + +"Monsieur Veeleeum!" + +As soon as he said that I understood it was the refugee from Ste. +Pelagie that he wanted. + +"Certainly," I answered. "Don't make a disturbance." + +"You will take my arm and come with me, Monsieur Veeleeum." + +"I will do nothing of the kind until my errand is finished," I answered +desperately. + +De Chaumont looked sharply at the man, but his own salvation required +him to lay hold on the marquis. As he did so, Eagle's face and my face +encountered in a panel of mirror, two flashes of pallor; and I took my +last look. + +"You will come with me now," said the gendarme at my ear. + +She saw him, and understood his errand. + +There was no chance. De Chaumont wheeled ready to introduce me to the +marquis. I was not permitted to speak to him. But Eagle took my right +arm and moved down the corridor with me. + +Decently and at once the disguised gendarme fell behind where he could +watch every muscle without alarming Madame de Ferrier. She appeared not +to see him. I have no doubt he praised himself for his delicacy and her +unconsciousness of my arrest. + +"You must not think you can run away from me," she said. + +"I was coming back," I answered, making talk. + +My captor's person heaved behind me, signifying that he silently +laughed. He kept within touch. + +"Do you know the Tuileries well?" inquired Eagle. + +"No. I have never been in the palace before." + +"Nor I, in the state apartments." + +We turned from the corridor into a suite in these upper rooms, the +gendarme humoring Madame de Ferrier, and making himself one in the crowd +around us. De Chaumont and the Marquis de Ferrier gave chase. I saw them +following, as well as they could. + +"This used to be the queen's dressing-room," said Eagle. We entered the +last one in the suite. + +"Are you sure?" + +"Quite sure." + +"This is the room you told me you would like to examine?" + +"The very one. I don't believe the Empire has made any changes in it. +These painted figures look just as Sophie described them." + +Eagle traced lightly with her finger one of the shepherdesses dancing on +the panel; and crossed to the opposite side of the room. People who +passed the door found nothing to interest them, and turned away, but the +gendarme stayed beside us. Eagle glanced at him as if resenting his +intrusion, and asked me to bring her a candle and hold it near a mark +on the tracery. The gendarme himself, apologetic but firm, stepped to +the sconce and took the candle. I do not know how the thing was done, or +why the old spring and long unused hinges did not stick, but his back +was toward us--she pushed me against the panel and it let me in. + +And I held her and drew her after me, and the thing closed. The wall had +swallowed us. + +We stood on firm footing as if suspended in eternity. No sound from the +swarming palace, not even possible noise made by the gendarme, reached +us. It was like being earless, until she spoke in the hollow. + +"Here's the door on the staircase, but it will not open!" + +I groped over every inch of it with swift haste in the blackness. + +"Hurry--hurry!" she breathed. "He may touch the spring himself--it moves +instantly!" + +"Does this open with a spring, too?" + +"I don't know. Sophie didn't know!" + +"Are you sure there is any door here?" + +"She told me there was." + +"This is like a door, but it will not move." + +It sprang inward against us, a rush of air and a hollow murmur as of +wind along the river, following it. + +"Go--be quick!" said Madame de Ferrier. + +"But how will you get out?" + +"I shall get out when you are gone." + +"O, Eagle, forgive me!" (Yet I would have dragged her in with me again!) + +"I am in no danger. You are in danger. Goodbye, my liege." + +Cautiously she pushed me through the door, begging me to feel for every +step. I stood upon the top one, and held to her as I had held to her in +passing through the other wall. + +I thought of the heavy days before her and the blank before me. I could +not let go her wrists. We were fools to waste our youth. I could work +for her in America. My vitals were being torn from me. I should go to +the devil without her. I don't know what I said. But I knew the brute +love which had risen like a lion in me would never conquer the woman who +kissed me in the darkness and held me at bay. + +"O Louis--O Lazarre! Think of Paul and Cousin Philippe! You shall be +your best for your little mother! I will come to you sometime!" + +Then she held the door between us, and I went down around and around the +spiral of stone. + + + + +BOOK III + +ARRIVING + + + + +I + + +Even when a year had passed I said of my escape from the Tuileries: "It +was a dream. How could it have happened?" For the adventures of my +wandering fell from me like a garment, leaving the one changeless +passion. + +Skenedonk and I met on the ship a New England minister, who looked upon +and considered us from day to day. I used to sit in the stern, the miles +stretching me as a rack stretches flesh and tendons. The minister +regarded me as prostrated by the spider bite of that wicked Paris; out +of which he learned I had come, by talking to my Oneida. + +The Indian and I were a queer pair that interested him, and when he +discovered that I bore the name of Eleazar Williams his friendship was +sealed to us. Eunice Williams of Deerfield, the grandmother of Thomas +Williams, was a traditional brand never snatched from the burning, in +the minister's town of Longmeadow, where nearly every inhabitant was +descended from or espoused to a Williams. Though he himself was born +Storrs, his wife was born Williams; and I could have lain at his feet +and cried, so open was the heart of this good man to a wanderer +rebounding from a family that disowned the pretender. He was my welcome +back to America. The breath of eastern pines, and the resinous sweetness +of western plains I had not yet seen, but which drew me so that I could +scarcely wait to land, came to me with that man. Before the voyage ended +I had told him my whole history as far as I knew it, except the story of +Madame de Ferrier; and the beginning of it was by no means new to him. +The New England Williamses kept a prayerful eye on that branch +descending through the Iroquois. This transplanted Briton, returning +from his one memorable visit to the England of his forefathers, despised +my Bourbon claims, and even the French contraction of my name. + +"What are you going to do now, Eleazar?" he inquired. + +Hugging my old dream to myself, feeling my heart leap toward that +western empire which must fascinate a young man as long as there remain +any western lands to possess, I told him I intended to educate our +Iroquois as soon as I could prepare myself to do it, and settle them +where they could grow into a greater nation. + +The man of God kindled in the face. He was a dark-eyed, square-browed, +serious man, with black hair falling below his white band. His mouth had +a sweet benign expression, even when he quizzed me about my dauphinhood. +A New England pastor was a flame that burned for the enlightenment of +the nations. From that hour it was settled that I should be his pupil, +and go with him to Longmeadow to finish my education. + +When we landed he helped me to sell my Babylonish clothes, except the +white court dress, to which I clung with tenacity displeasing to him, +and garb myself in more befitting raiment. By Skenedonk's hand I sent +some of the remaining gold coins to my mother Marianne and the chief, +when he rejoined the tribe and went to pass the winter at St. Regis. And +by no means did I forget to tell him to bring me letters from De +Chaumont's manor in the spring, if any arrived there for me. + +How near to heaven the New England village seemed, with Mount Tom on the +horizon glorious as Mount Zion, the mighty sweep of meadow land, the +Connecticut river flowing in great peace, the broad street of elms like +some gigantic cathedral nave, and in its very midst a shrine--the +meetinghouse, double-decked with fan-topped windows. + +Religion and education were the mainsprings of its life. Pastor Storrs +worked in his study nearly nine hours a day, and spent the remaining +hours in what he called visitation of his flock. + +This being lifted out of Paris and plunged into Longmeadow was the +pouring of white hot metal into chill moulds. It cast me. With a +seething and a roar of loosened forces, the boy passed to the man. + +Nearly every night during all those years of changing, for even +faithfulness has its tides, I put the snuffbox under my pillow, and +Madame de Ferrier's key spoke to my ear. I would say to myself: "The one +I love gave me this key. Did I ever sit beside her on a ledge of stone +overlooking a sunken garden?--so near that I might have touched her! +Does she ever think of the dauphin Louis? Where is she? Does she know +that Lazarre has become Eleazar Williams?" + +The pastor's house was fronted with huge white fluted pillars of wood, +upholding a porch roof which shaded the second floor windows. The doors +in that house had a short-waisted effect with little panels above and +long panels below. I had a chamber so clean and small that I called it +in my mind the Monk's Cell, nearly filled with the high posted bed, the +austere table and chairs. The whitewashed walls were bare of pictures, +except a painted portrait of Stephen Williams, pastor of Longmeadow from +1718 to 1783. Daily his laughing eyes watched me as if he found my +pretensions a great joke. He had a long nose, and a high forehead. His +black hair crinkled, and a merry crease drew its half circle from one +cheek around under his chin to the other. + +Longmeadow did not receive me without much question and debate. There +were Williamses in every direction; disguised, perhaps, for that +generation, under the names of Cooley, Stebbins, Colter, Ely, Hole, and +so on. A stately Sarah Williams, as Mrs. Storrs, sat at the head of the +pastor's table. Her disapproval was a force, though it never manifested +itself except in withdrawal. If Mrs. Storrs had drawn back from me while +I lived under her roof, I should have felt an outcast indeed. The subtle +refinement of those Longmeadow women was like the hinted sweetness of +arbutus flower. Breeding passed from generation to generation. They had +not mixed their blood with the blood of any outsiders; and their +forbears were English yeomen. + +I threw myself into books as I had done during my first months at De +Chaumont's, before I grew to think of Madame de Ferrier. One of those +seven years I spent at Dartmouth. But the greater part of my knowledge I +owe to Pastor Storrs. Greek and Hebrew he gave me to add to the +languages I was beginning to own; and he unlocked all his accumulations +of learning. It was a monk's life that I lived; austere and without +incident, but bracing as the air of the hills. The whole system was +monastic, though abomination alighted on that word in Longmeadow. I took +the discipline into my blood. It will go down to those after me. + +There a man had to walk with God whether he wanted to or not. + +Living was inexpensive, each item being gaged by careful housekeeping. +It was a sin to gorge the body, and godly conversation was better than +abundance. Yet the pastor's tea-table arises with a halo around it. The +rye and Indian bread, the doughnuts fragrant as flowers, the sparing +tea, the prim mats which saved the cloth, the wire screen covering +sponge cake--how sacred they seem! + +The autumn that I came to Longmeadow, Napoleon Bonaparte was beaten on +the sea by the English, but won the battle of Austerlitz, defeating the +Russian coalition and changing the map of Europe. + +I felt sometimes a puppet while this man played his great part. It was +no comfort that others of my house were nothing to France. Though I did +not see Louis Philippe again, he wandered in America two or three years, +and went back to privacy. + +During my early novitiate at Longmeadow, Aaron Burr's conspiracy went to +pieces, dragging down with it that pleasant gentleman, Harmon +Blennerhassett, startling men like Jackson, who had best befriended him +unawares. But this in nowise affected my own plans of empire. The +solidarity of a nation of Indians on a remote tract could be no menace +to the general government. + +Skenedonk came and went, and I made journeys to my people with him. But +there was never any letter waiting at De Chaumont's for me. After some +years indeed, the count having returned to Castorland, to occupy his new +manor at Le Rayville, the mansion I had known was torn down and the +stone converted to other uses. Skenedonk brought me word early that +Mademoiselle de Chaumont had been married to an officer of the Empire, +and would remain in France. + +The door between my past and me was sealed. Madame de Ferrier stood on +the other side of it, and no news from her penetrated its dense barrier. +I tried to write letters to her. But nothing that I could write was fit +to send, and I knew not whether she was yet at Mont-Louis. Forever she +was holding the door against me. + +Skenedonk, coming and going at his caprice, stayed a month in every +year at Longmeadow, where the townspeople, having had a surfeit of +aboriginal names, called him John. He raised no objection, for that with +half a dozen other Christian titles had been bestowed on him in baptism; +and he entered the godly list of Williamses as John Williams. + +The first summer I spent in Longmeadow there was an eclipse of the sun +about the middle of June. I remember lying on open land, my book on its +face beside me, and watching it through my eyelashes; until the weird +and awful twilight of a blotted sun in mid-heaven sent birds and beasts +to shelter as from wrath. When there was but a hairy shining around the +orbed blackness, and stars trembled out and trembled back, as if they +said: "We are here. The old order will return," and the earth held its +breath at threat of eternal darkness, the one I loved seemed to approach +in the long shadows. It was a sign that out of the worst comes the best. +But it was a terror to the unprepared; and Pastor Storrs preached about +it the following Sunday. + +The missionary spirit of Longmeadow stirred among the Williamses, and +many of them brought what they called their mites to Pastor Storrs for +my education. If I were made a king no revenue could be half so sweet as +that. The village was richer than many a stonier New England place, but +men were struggling then all over the wide states and territories for +material existence. + +The pension no longer came from Europe. It ceased when I returned from +France. Its former payment was considered apocryphal by Longmeadow, +whose very maids--too white, with a pink spot in each cheek--smiled with +reserved amusement at a student who thought it possible he could ever be +a king. I spoke to nobody but Pastor Storrs about my own convictions. +But local newspapers, with their omniscient grip on what is in the air, +bandied the subject back and forth. + +We sometimes walked in the burying ground among dead Williamses, while +he argued down my claims, leaving them without a leg to stand on. +Reversing the usual ministerial formula, "If what has been said is true, +then it follows, first, secondly," and so on, he used to say: + +"Eleazar, you were brought up among the Indians, conscious only of +bodily existence, and unconscious of your origin; granted. Money was +sent--let us say from Europe--for your support; granted. Several +persons, among them one who testified strongly against his will, told +you that you resembled the Bourbons; granted. You bear on your person +marks like those which were inflicted on the unfortunate dauphin of +France; granted. You were malignantly pursued while abroad; granted. But +what does it all prove? Nothing. It amounts simply to this: you know +nothing about your early years; some foreign person--perhaps an English +Williams--kindly interested himself in your upbringing; you were +probably scalded in the camps; you have some accidental traits of the +Bourbons; a man who heard you had a larger pension than the idiot he was +tending, disliked you. You can prove nothing more." + +I never attempted to prove anything more to Pastor Storrs. It would have +been most ungrateful to persuade him I was an alien. At the same time he +prophesied his hopes of me, and many a judicious person blamed him for +treating me as something out of the ordinary, and cockering up pride. + +A blunter Williams used to take me by the button on the street. + +"Eleazar Williams," he would say, "do you pretend to be the son of the +French king? I tell you what! I will not let the name of Williams be +disgraced by any relationship to any French monarch! You must do one of +two things: you must either renounce Williamsism or renounce +Bourbonism!" + +Though there was liberty of conscience to criticise the pastor, he was +autocrat of Longmeadow. One who preceded Pastor Storrs had it told about +him that two of his deacons wanted him to appoint Ruling Elders. He +appointed them; and asked them what they thought the duties were. They +said he knew best. + +"Well," said the pastor, "one of the Ruling Elders may come to my house +before meeting, saddle my horse, and hold the stirrup while I get on. +The other may wait at the church door and hold him while I get off, and +after meeting bring him to the steps. This is all of my work that I can +consent to let Ruling Elders do for me." + +The Longmeadow love of disputation was fostered by bouts which Ruling +Elders might have made it their business to preserve, if any Ruling +Elders were willing to accept their appointment. The pastor once went to +the next town to enjoy argument with a scientific doctor. When he +mounted his horse to ride home before nightfall the two friends kept up +their debate. The doctor stood by the horse, or walked a few steps as +the horse moved. Presently both men noticed a fire in the east; and it +was sunrise. They had argued all night. + +In Longmeadow a man could not help practicing argument. I also practiced +oratory. And all the time I practiced the Iroquois tongue as well as +English and French, and began the translation of books into the language +of the nation I hoped to build. That Indians made unstable material for +the white man to handle I would not believe. Skenedonk was not unstable. +His faithfulness was a rock. + +For some reason, and I think it was the reach of Pastor Storrs, men in +other places began to seek me. The vital currents of life indeed sped +through us on the Hartford and Springfield stage road. It happened that +Skenedonk and I were making my annual journey to St. Regis when the +first steamboat accomplished its trip on the Hudson river. About the +time that the Wisconsin country was included in Illinois Territory, I +decided to write a letter to Madame Tank at Green Bay, and insist on +knowing my story as she believed she knew it. Yet I hesitated; and +finally did not do it. I found afterwards that there was no post-office +at Green Bay. A carrier, sent by the officers of the fort and villagers, +brought mail from Chicago. He had two hundred miles of wilderness to +traverse, and his blankets and provisions as well as the mail to carry; +and he did this at the risk of his life among wild men and beasts. + +The form of religion was always a trivial matter to me. I never ceased +to love the sacrifice of the mass, which was an abomination and an +idolatrous practice to Pastor Storrs. The pageantry of the Roman Church +that first mothered and nurtured me touches me to this day. I love the +Protestant prayers of the English Church. And I love the stern and +knotty argument, the sermon with heads and sequences, of the New England +Congregationalist. For this catholicity Catholics have upbraided me, +churchmen rebuked me, and dissenters denied that I had any religion at +all. + +When the Episcopal Bishop of New York showed me kindness, and Pastor +Storrs warned me against being proselyted, I could not tell him the +charm in the form of worship practiced by the woman I loved. There was +not a conscious minute when I forgot her. Yet nobody in Longmeadow knew +of her existence. In my most remorseful days, comparing myself with +Pastor Storrs, I was never sorry I had clung to her and begged her not +to let me go alone. For some of our sins are so honestly the expression +of nature that justification breaks through them. + +On the western border there was trouble with dissatisfied Indians, and +on the sea there was trouble with the British, so that people began to +talk of war long before it was declared, and to blame President Madison +for his over-caution in affairs. A battle was fought at Tippecanoe in +the Indiana Territory, which silenced the Indians for a while. But every +one knew that the English stood behind them. Militia was mustered, the +army recruited, and embargo laid upon shipping in the ports, and all +things were put forward in April of that year, before war was declared +in June. + +I had influence with our tribes. The Government offered me a well paid +commission to act as its secret agent. Pastor Storrs and the Williamses, +who had been nurturing a missionary, were smitten with grief to see him +rise and leap into camps and fields, eager for the open world, the +wilderness smell; the council, where the red man's mind, a trembling +balance, could be turned by vivid language; eager, in fact, to live +where history was being made. + +The pastor had clothed me in his mind with ministerial gown and band, +and the martial blood that quickened he counted an Iroquois strain. Yet +so inconsistent is human nature, so given to forms which it calls +creeds, that when I afterwards put on the surplice and read prayers to +my adopted people, he counted it as great a defection as taking to +saddle and spur. We cannot leave the expression of our lives to those +better qualified than we are, however dear they may be. I had to pack my +saddlebags and be gone, loving Longmeadow none the less because I +grieved it, knowing that it would not approve of me more if I stayed and +failed to do my natural part. + +The snuffbox and the missal which had belonged to my family in France I +always carried with me. And very little could be transported on the road +we took. + +John Williams, who came to Longmeadow in deerskins, and paraded his +burnished red poll among the hatted Williamses, abetted me in turning +from the missionary field to the arena of war, and never left me. It was +Skenedonk who served the United States with brawn and endurance, while I +put such policy and color into my harangues as I could command. We +shared our meals, our camps, our beds of leaves together. The life at +Longmeadow had knit me to good use. I could fast or feast, ride or +march, take the buckskins, or the soldier's uniform. + +Of this service I shall write down only what goes to the making of the +story. The Government was pleased to commend it, and it may be found +written in other annals than mine. + +Great latitude was permitted us in our orders. We spent a year in the +north. My skin darkened and toughened under exposure until I said to +Skenedonk, "I am turning an Indian;" and he, jealous of my French blood, +denied it. + +In July we had to thread trails he knew by the lake toward Sandusky. +There was no horse path wide enough for us to ride abreast. Brush +swished along our legs, and green walls shut our view on each side. The +land dipped towards its basin. Buckeye and gigantic chestnut trees, +maple and oak, passed us from rank to rank of endless forest. Skenedonk +rode ahead, watching for every sign and change, as a pilot now watches +the shifting of the current. So we had done all day, and so we were +doing when fading light warned us to camp. + +A voice literally cried out of the wilderness, startling the horses and +ringing among the tree trunks: + +"The spirit of the Lord is upon me, and He hath anointed me to blow the +trumpet in the wilderness, and sound an alarm in the forest; for behold +the tribes of the heathen are round about your doors, and a devouring +flame followeth after them!" + + + + +II + + +"That's Johnny Appleseed," said Skenedonk, turning in his saddle. + +"What is Johnny Appleseed?" + +"He is a man that God has touched," said Skenedonk, using the aboriginal +phrase that signified a man clouded in mind. + +God had hidden him, too. I could see no one. The voice echo still went +off among the trees. + +"Where is he?" + +"Maybe one side, maybe the other." + +"Does he never show himself?" + +"Oh, yes," Skenedonk said. "He goes to all the settlements. I have often +seen him when I was hunting on these grounds. He came to our camp. He +loves to sleep outdoors better than in a cabin." + +"Why does he shout at us like a prophet?" + +"To warn us that Indians are on the warpath." + +"He might have thought we were on the warpath ourselves." + +"Johnny Appleseed knows Shawanoes and Tecumseh's men." + +The trees, lichened on their north sides, massed rank behind rank +without betraying any face in their glooms. The Ohio and Indiana forests +had a nameless quality. They might have been called home-forests, such +invitations issued from them to man seeking a spot of his own. Nor can +I make clear what this invitation was. It produced thoughts different +from those that men were conscious of in the rugged northwest. + +"I think myself," said Skenedonk, as we moved farther from the invisible +voice, "that he is under a vow. But nobody told me that." + +"Why do you think so?" + +"He plants orchards in every fine open spot; or clears the land for +planting where he thinks the soil is right." + +"Don't other men plant orchards?" + +"No. They have not time, or seed. They plant bread. He does nothing but +plant orchards." + +"He must have a great many." + +"They are not for himself. The apples are for any one who may pass by +when they are ripe. He wants to give apples to everybody. Animals often +nibble the bark, or break down his young trees. It takes long for them +to grow. But he keeps on planting." + +"If other men have no seeds to plant, how does he get them?" + +"He makes journeys to the old settlements, where many orchards have +grown, and brings the seeds from ciderpresses. He carries them from +Pennsylvania on his back, in leather bags, a bag for each kind of seed." + +"Doesn't he ever sell them?" + +"Not often. Johnny Appleseed cares nothing for money. I believe he is +under a vow of poverty. No one laughs at him. The tribes on these +grounds would not hurt a hair of his head, not only because God has +touched him, but because he plants apples. I have eaten his apples +myself." + +"Johnny Appleseed!" I repeated, and Skenedonk hastened to tell me: + +"He has another name, but I forget it. He is called Johnny Appleseed." + +The slim and scarcely perceptible tunnel, among trees, piled with fallen +logs and newly sprung growths, let us into a wide clearing as suddenly +as a stream finds its lake. We could not see even the usual cow tracks. +A cabin shedding light from its hearth surprised us in the midst of +stumps. + +The door stood wide. A woman walked back and forth over a puncheon +floor, tending supper. Dogs rushed to meet us, and the playing of +children could be heard. A man, gun in hand, stepped to his door, a +sentinel. He lowered its muzzle, and made us welcome, and helped us put +our horses under shelter with his own. + +It was not often we had a woman's handiwork in corn bread and game to +feed ourselves upon, or a bed covered with homespun sheets. + +I slept as the children slept, until a voice rang in the clearing: + +"The spirit of the Lord is upon me, and He hath anointed me to blow the +trumpet in the wilderness, and sound an alarm in the forest; for behold +the tribes of the heathen are round about your doors, and a devouring +flame followeth after them!" + +Every sleeper in the cabin sat upright or stirred. We said in whispered +chorus: + +"Johnny Appleseed!" + +A tapping, light and regular, on the window, followed. The man was on +the floor in a breath. I heard the mother groping among the children, +and whispering: + +"Don't wake the baby!" + +The fire had died upon the hearth, and they lighted no candle. When +Johnny Appleseed gave his warning cry in the clearing, and his cautious +tap on the window, and was instantly gone to other clearings and other +windows, it meant that the Indians were near. + +Skenedonk and I, used to the night alarm and boots and saddle in a +hurry, put ourselves in readiness to help the family. I groped for +clothing, and shoved small legs and arms into it. The little creatures, +obedient and silent, made no whimper at being roused out of dreams, but +keenly lent themselves to the march. + +We brought the horses, and put the woman and children upon them. The +very dogs understood, and slunk around our legs without giving mouth. +The cabin door was shut after us without noise, closing in what that +family called home; a few pots and pans; patchwork quilts; a +spinning-wheel; some benches; perhaps a child's store of acorn cups and +broken yellow ware in a log corner. In a few hours it might be smoking a +heap of ashes; and the world offered no other place so dear. What we +suffer for is enriched by our suffering until it becomes priceless. + +So far on the frontier was this cabin that no community block-house +stood near enough to give its inmates shelter. They were obliged to go +with us to Fort Stephenson. + +Skenedonk pioneered the all-night struggle on an obscure trail; and he +went astray sometimes, through blackness of woods that roofed out the +stars. We floundered in swales sponging full of dead leaves, and drew +back, scratching ourselves on low-hung foliage. + +By dawn the way became easier and the danger greater. Then we paused and +lifted our rifles if a twig broke near by, or a fox barked, or wind +rushed among leaves as a patter of moccasins might come. Skenedonk and +I, sure of the northern Indians, were making a venture in the west. We +knew nothing of Tecumseh's swift red warriors, except that scarcely a +year had passed since his allies had tomahawked women and children of +the garrison on the sand teach at Chicago. + +Without kindling any fire we stopped once that day to eat, and by good +luck and following the river, reached that Lower Sandusky which was +called Fort Stephenson, about nightfall. + +The place was merely a high stockade with blockhouses at the angles, and +a gate opening toward the river. Within, besides the garrison of a +hundred and sixty men, were various refugees, driven like our family to +the fort. And there, coming heartily from the commandant's quarters to +receive me, was George Croghan, still a boy in appearance, though +intrusted with this dangerous post. His long face had darkened like +mine. We looked each other over with the quick and critical scrutiny of +men who have not met since boyhood, and laughed as we grasped hands. + +"You are as welcome to the inside of this bear-pen," said Major Croghan, +"as you made me to the outside of the one in the wilderness." + +"I hope you'll not give me such another tramp after shelter for the +night as I gave you," I said. + +"The best in Fort Stephenson is yours. But your rest depends on the +enemy. A runner has just come in from the General warning me Proctor and +Tecumsch are turning their attention this way. I'm ordered to evacuate, +for the post is considered too weak to hold." + +"How soon do you march?" + +"I don't march at all. I stay here. I'm going to disobey orders." + +"If you're going to disobey orders, you have good reason for doing so." + +"I have. It was too late to retreat. I'm going to fight. I hear, +Lazarre, you know how to handle Indians in the French way." + +"My dear Croghan, you insinuate the American way may be better." + +"It is, on the western border. It may not be on the northern." + +"Then you would not have advised my attempting the Indians here?" + +"I shouldn't have discouraged it. When I got the secret order, I said: +'Bring the French--bring the missionaries--bring anything that will cut +the comb of Tecumseh!'" + +"The missionaries and the French like being classed with--anything," I +said. + +"We're Americans here," Croghan laughed. "The dauphin may have to fight +in the ditch with the rest of us." + +"The dauphin is an American too, and used to scars, as you know. Can you +give me any news from Green Bay in the Wisconsin country?" + +"I was ordered to Green Bay last year to see if anything could be done +with old Fort Edward Augustus." + +"Does my Holland court-lady live there?" + +"Not now," he answered soberly. "She's dead." + +"That's bad," I said, thinking of lost opportunities. + +"Is pretty Annabel de Chaumont ever coming back from France?" + +"Not now, she's married." + +"That's worse," he sighed. "I was very silly about her when I was a +boy." + +We had our supper in his quarters, and he busied himself until late in +the night with preparations for defense. The whole place was full of +cheer and plenty of game, and swarmed like a little fair with moving +figures. A camp-fire was built at dark in the center of the parade +ground, heaped logs sending their glow as far as the dark pickets. Heads +of families drew towards it while the women were putting their children +to bed; and soldiers off duty lounged there, the front of the body in +light, the back in darkness. + +Cool forest night air flowed over the stockade, swaying smoke this way +and that. As the fire was stirred, and smoke turned to flame, it showed +more and more distinctly what dimness had screened. + +A man rose up on the other side of it, clothed in a coffee sack, in +which holes were cut for his head and arms. His hat was a tin kettle +with the handle sticking out behind like a stiff queue. + +Indifferent to his grotesqueness, he took it off and put it on the +ground beside him, standing ready to command attention. + +He was a small, dark, wiry man, barefooted and barelegged, whose black +eyes sparkled, and whose scanty hair and beard hung down over shoulders +and breast. Some pokes of leather, much scratched, hung bulging from the +rope which girded his coffee sack. From one of these he took a few +unbound leaves, the fragment of a book, spread them open, and began to +read in a chanting, prophetic key, something about the love of the Lord +and the mysteries of angels. His listeners kept their eyes on him, +giving an indulgent ear to spiritual messages that made less demand on +them than the violent earthly ones to which they were accustomed. + +"It's Johnny Appleseed," a man at my side told me, as if the name +explained anything he might do. + +[Illustration: "It's Johnny Appleseed," a man at my side told me] + +When Johnny Appleseed finished reading the leaves he put them back in +his bag, and took his kettle to the well for water. He then brought some +meal from the cook-house and made mush in his hat. + +The others, turning their minds from future mysteries, began to talk +about present danger, when he stood up from his labor to inquire: + +"Is there plenty in the fort for the children to eat?" + +"Plenty, Johnny, plenty," several voices assured him. + +"I can go without supper if the children haven't enough." + +"Eat your supper, Johnny. Major Croghan will give you more if you want +it," said a soldier. + +"And we'll give you jerked Britisher, if you'll wait for it," said +another. + +"Johnny never eats meat," one of the refugees put in. "He thinks it's +sinful to kill critters. All the things in the woods likes him. Once he +got into a holler log to sleep, and some squirrels warned him to move +out, they settled there first; and he done it. I don't allow he'd pick a +flea off his own hide for fear he'd break its legs so it couldn't hop +around and make a living." + +The wilderness prophet sat down quietly to his meal without appearing to +notice what was said about him; and when he had eaten, carried his hat +into the cook-house, where dogs could not get at his remaining +porridge. + +"Now he'll save that for his breakfast," remarked another refugee. +"There's nothing he hates like waste." + +"Talking about squirrels," exclaimed the man at my side, "I believe he +has a pasture for old, broke-down horses somewhere east in the hills. +All the bates he can find he swaps young trees for, and they go off with +him leading them, but he never comes into the settlements on horseback." + +"Does he always go barefoot?" I asked. + +"Sometimes he makes bark sandals. If you give him a pair of shoes he'll +give them away to the first person that can wear them and needs them. +Hunters wrap dried leaves around their leggins to keep the rattlesnakes +out, but Johnny never protects himself at all." + +"No wonder," spoke a soldier. "Any snake'd be discouraged at them +shanks. A seven-year rattler'd break his fang on 'em." + +Johnny came out of the cook-house with an iron poker, and heated it in +the coals. All the men around the fire waited, understanding what he was +about to do, but my own breath drew with a hiss through my teeth as he +laid the red hot iron first on one long cut and then another in his +travel-worn feet. Having cauterized himself effectually, and returned +the poker, he took his place in perfect serenity, without any show of +pain, prepared to accommodate himself to the company. + +Some boys, awake with the bigness of the occasion, sat down near Johnny +Appleseed, and gave him their frank attention. Each boy had his hair cut +straight around below the ears, where his mother had measured it with an +inverted bowl, and freshly trimmed him for life in the fort, and perhaps +for the discomfiture of savages, if he came under the scalping knife. +Open-mouthed or stern-jawed, according to temperament, the young +pioneers listened to stories about Tecumseh, and surmises on the enemy's +march, and the likelihood of a night attack. + +"Tippecanoe was fought at four o'clock in the morning," said a soldier. + +"I was there," spoke out Johnny Appleseed. + +No other man could say as much. All looked at him as he stood on his +cauterized feet, stretching his arms, lean and sun-cured, upward in the +firelight. + +"Angels were there. In rain and darkness I heard them speak and say, 'He +hath cast the lot for them, and His hand hath divided it unto them by +line; they shall possess it forever; from generation to generation shall +they dwell therein. The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad +for them, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose!'" + +"Say, Johnny, what does an angel look like?" piped up one of the boys, +quite in fellowship. + +Johnny Appleseed turned his rapt vision aside and answered: + +"'White robes were given unto every one of them.' There had I laid me +down in peace to sleep, and the Lord made me to dwell in safety. The +camp-fires burned red in the sheltered place, and they who were to +possess the land watched by the campfires. I looked down from my high +place, from my shelter of leaves and my log that the Lord gave me for a +bed, and saw the red camp-fires blink in the darkness. + +"Then was I aware that the heathen crept betwixt me and the camp, +surrounding it as a cloud that lies upon the ground. The rain fell upon +us all, and there was not so much sound as the rustling of grasshoppers +in tall grass. I said they will surprise the camp and slay the sleepers, +not knowing that they who were to possess the land watched every man +with his weapon. But when I would have sounded the trumpet of warning, I +heard a rifle shot, and all the Indians rose up screeching and rushed at +the red fires. + +"Then a sorcerer leaped upon my high place, rattling many deer hoofs, +and calling aloud that his brethren might hear his voice. Light he +promised them for themselves, and darkness for the camp, and he sang his +war song, shouting and rattling the deer hoofs. Also the Indians rattled +deer hoofs, and it was like a giant breathing his last, being shot with +many musket flashes. + +"I saw steam through the darkness, for the fires were drenched and +trampled by the men of the camp, and no longer shone as candles so that +the Indians might see by them to shoot. The sorcerer danced and +shouted, the deer hoofs rattled, and on this side and that men fought +knee to knee and breast to breast. I saw through the wet dawn, and they +who had crept around the camp as a cloud arose as grasshoppers and fled +to the swamp. + +"Then did the sorcerer sit upon his heels, and I beheld he had but one +eye, and he covered it from the light. + +"But the men in the camp shouted with a mighty shouting. And after their +shouting I heard again the voices of angels saying: 'He hath cast the +lot for them, and His hand hath divided it unto them by line; they shall +possess it forever; from generation to generation shall they dwell +therein. The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them, +and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose!'" + +The speaker sat down, and one of the men remarked: + +"So that's the way the battle of Tippecanoe looked to Johnny Appleseed." + +But the smallest boy thoughtfully inquired: + +"Say, Johnny, haven't the Indians any angels?" + +"You'll wish they was with the angels if they ever get you by the hair," +laughed one of the men. + +Soldiers began moving their single cannon, a six-pounder, from one +blockhouse to another. All the men jumped up to help, as at the raising +of a home, and put themselves in the way so ardently that they had to be +ordered back. + +When everybody but ourselves had left the starlit open place, Johnny +Appleseed lay down and stretched his heels to the blaze. A soldier added +another log, and kicked into the flame those fallen away. Though it was +the end of July, Lake Erie cooled the inland forests. + +Sentinels were posted in the blockhouses. Quiet settled on the camp; and +I sat turning many things in my mind besides the impending battle. +Napoleon Bonaparte had made a disastrous campaign in Russia. If I were +yet in France; if the Marquis du Plessy had lived; if I had not gone to +Mittau; if the self I might have been, that always haunts us, stood +ready to take advantage of the turn-- + +Yet the thing which cannot be understood by men reared under old +governments had befallen me. I must have drawn the wilderness into my +blood. Its possibilities held me. If I had stayed in France at twenty, I +should have been a Frenchman. The following years made me an American. +The passion that binds you to a land is no more to be explained than the +fact that many women are beautiful, while only one is vitally +interesting. + +The wilderness mystic was sitting up looking at me. + +"I see two people in you," he said. + +"Only two?" + +"Two separate men." + +"What are their names?" + +"Their names I cannot see." + +"Well, suppose we call them Louis and Lazarre." + +His eyes sparkled. + +"You are a white man," he pronounced. "By that I mean you are not +stained with many vile sins." + +"I hadn't an equal chance with other men. I lost nine years." + +"Mebby," hazarded Johnny Appleseed cautiously, "you are the one +appointed to open and read what is sealed." + +"If you mean to interpret what you read, I'm afraid I am not the one. +Where did you get those leaves?" + +"From a book that I divided up to distribute among the people." + +"Doesn't that destroy the sense?" + +"No. I carry the pages in their order from cabin to cabin." + +He came around the fire with the lightness of an Indian, and gave me his +own fragment to examine. It proved to be from the writings of one +Emanuel Swedenborg. + +With a smile which seemed to lessen the size of his face and concentrate +its expression to a shining point, Johnny Appleseed slid his leather +bags along the rope girdle, and searched them, one after the other. I +thought he wanted me to notice his apple seeds, and inquired how many +kinds he carried. So he showed them in handfuls, brown and glistening, +or gummed with the sweet blood of cider. These produced pippins; these +produced russets; these produced luscious harvest apples, that fell in +August bursting with juicy ripeness. Then he showed me another bagful +which were not apple seeds at all, but neutral colored specks moving +with fluid swiftness as he poured them from palm to palm. + +"Do you know what this is?" + +I told him I didn't. + +"It's dogfennel seed." + +I laughed, and asked him what kind of apples it bore. + +Johnny Appleseed smiled at me again. + +"It's a flower. I'm spreading it over the whole of Ohio and Indiana! +It'll come up like the stars for abundance, and fill the land with +rankness, and fever and ague will flee away!" + +"But how about the rankness?" + +"Fever and ague will flee away," he repeated, continuing his search +through the bags. + +He next brought out a parcel, wrapped up carefully in doeskin to protect +it from the appleseeds; and turned foolish in the face, as bits of +ribbon and calico fell out upon his knees. + +"This isn't the one," he said, bundling it up and thrusting it back +again. "The little girls, they like to dress their doll-babies, so I +carry patches for the little girls. Here's what I was looking for." + +It was another doeskin parcel, bound lengthwise and crosswise by thongs. +These Johnny Appleseed reverently loosened, bringing forth a small book +with wooden covers fastened by a padlock. + + + + +III + + +"Where did you get this?" I heard myself asking, a strange voice +sounding far down the throat. + +"From an Indian," the mystic told me quietly. "He said it was bad +medicine to him. He never had any luck in hunting after it fell to his +share, so he was glad to give it to me." + +"Where did he get it?" + +"His tribe took it from some prisoners they killed." + +I was running blindly around in a circle to find relief from the news he +dealt me, when the absurdity of such news overtook me. I stood and +laughed. + +"Who were the prisoners?" + +"I don't know," answered Johnny Appleseed. + +"How do you know the Indians killed them?" + +"The one that gave me this book told me so." + +"There are plenty of padlocked books in the world," I said jauntily. "At +least there must be more than one. How long ago did it happen?" + +"Not very long ago, I think; for the book was clean." + +"Give it to me," I said, as if I cursed him. + +"It's a sacred book," he answered, hesitating. + +"Maybe it's sacred. Let me see." + +"There may be holy mysteries in it, to be read only of him who has the +key." + +"I have a key!" + +I took it out of the snuffbox. Johnny Appleseed fixed his rapt eyes on +the little object in my fingers. + +"Mebby you are the one appointed to open and read what is sealed!" + +"No, I'm not! How could my key fit a padlocked book that belonged to +prisoners killed by the Indians?" + +He held it out to me and I took hold of the padlock. It was a small +steel padlock, and the hole looked dangerously the size of my key. + +"I can't do it!" I said. + +"Let me try," said Johnny Appleseed. + +"No! You might break my key in a strange padlock! Hold it still, Johnny. +Please don't shake it." + +"I'm not shaking it," Johnny Appleseed answered tenderly. + +"There's only one way of proving that my key doesn't fit," I said, and +thrust it in. The ward turned easily, and the padlock came away in my +hand. I dropped it and opened the book. Within the lid a name was +written which I had copied a thousand times--"Eagle Madeleine Marie de +Ferrier." + +Still I did not believe it. Nature protects us in our uttermost losses +by a density through which conviction is slow to penetrate. In some +mysterious way the padlocked book had fallen into strange hands, and +had been carried to America. + +"If Eagle were in America, I should know it. For De Chaumont would know +it, and Skenedonk would find it out." + +I stooped for the padlock, hooked it in place, and locked the book +again. + +"Is the message to you alone?" inquired Johnny Appleseed. + +"Did you ever care for a woman?" I asked him. + +Restless misery came into his eyes, and I noticed for the first time +that he was not an old man; he could not have been above thirty-five. He +made no answer; shifting from one bare foot to the other, his body +settling and losing its Indian lightness. + +"A woman gave me the key to this book. Her name is written inside the +lid. I was to read it if it ever fell into my hands, after a number of +years. Somebody has stolen it, and carried it among the Indians. But +it's mine. Every shilling in my wallet, the clothes off my back you're +welcome to--" + +"I don't want your money or your clothes." + +"But let me give you something in exchange for it." + +"What do I need? I always have as much as I want. This is a serviceable +coat, as good as any man need wish for; and the ravens feed me. And if I +needed anything, could I take it for carrying a message? I carry good +tidings of great joy among the people all the time. This is yours. Put +it in your pocket." + +I hid the padlocked book in the breast of my coat, and seized his wrist +and his hand. + +"Be of good courage, white double-man," said Johnny Appleseed. "The Lord +lift up the light of His countenance upon you, the Lord make His face to +shine upon you and give you peace!" + +He returned to his side of the fire and stretched himself under the +stars, and I went to Croghan's quarters and lay down with my clothes on +in the bunk assigned to me. + +The book which I would have rent open at twenty, I now carried unsealed. +The suspense of it was so sweet, and drew my thoughts from the other +suspense which could not be endured. It was not likely that any person +about Mont-Louis had stolen the book, and wandered so far. Small as the +volume was, the boards indented my breast and made me increasingly +conscious of its presence. I waked in the night and held it. + +Next morning Johnny Appleseed was gone from the fort, unafraid of war, +bent only on carrying the apple of civilization into the wilderness. +Nobody spoke about his absence, for shells began to fall around us. The +British and Indians were in sight; and General Proctor sent a flag of +truce demanding surrender. + +Major Croghan's ensign approached the messenger with a flag in reply. + +The women gathered their children as chickens under shelter. All in the +fort were cheerful, and the men joked with the gush of humor which +danger starts in Americans. I saw then the ready laugh that faced in +its season what was called Indian summer, because the Indian took then +advantage of the last pleasant weather to make raids. Such pioneers +could speak lightly even of powwowing time--the first pleasant February +days, when savages held councils before descending on the settlements. + +Major Croghan and I watched the parley from one of the blockhouses that +bastioned the place. Before it ended a Shawanoe sprang out of a ravine +and snatched the ensign's sword. He gave it back reluctantly, and the +British flag bearer hurried the American within the gates. + +General Proctor regretted that so fine a young man as Major Croghan +should fall into the hands of savages, who were not to be restrained. + +"When this fort is taken," said Croghan on hearing the message, "there +will be nobody left in it to kill." + +British gunboats drawn up on the Sandusky river, and a howitzer on the +shore, opened fire, and cannonaded all day with the poor execution of +long range artillery. The northwestern angle of the fort was their +target. Croghan foresaw that the enemy's intention was to make a breach +and enter there. When night came again, his one six-pounder was moved +with much labor from that angle into the southwest blockhouse, as +noiselessly as possible. He masked the embrasure and had the piece +loaded with a double charge of slugs and grape shot and half a charge of +powder. Perhaps the British thought him unprovided with any heavy +artillery. + +They were busy themselves, bringing three of the ineffectual +six-pounders and the howitzer, under darkness, within two hundred and +fifty yards of the fort; giving a background of woods to their battery. +About dawn we saw what they had been doing. They concentrated on the +northwest angle; and still Croghan replied only with muskets, waiting +for them to storm. + +So it went on all day, the gun-proof blockhouse enduring its +bombardment, and smoke thickening until it filled the stockade as water +fills a well, and settled like fog between us and the enemy. An attack +was made on the southern angle where the cannon was masked. + +"This is nothing but a feint," Croghan said to the younger officers. + +While that corner replied with musketry, he kept a sharp lookout for the +safety of the northwest blockhouse. + +One soldier was brought down the ladder and carried through the murky +pall to the surgeon, who could do nothing for him. Another turned from a +loophole with blood upon him, laughing at his mishap. For the +grotesqueness and inconvenience of a wound are sometimes more swiftly +felt than its pain. He came back presently with his shoulder bandaged +and resumed his place at the loophole. + +The exhilaration of that powder atmosphere and its heat made soldiers +throw off their coats, as if the expanding human body was not to be +confined in wrappings. + +In such twilight of war the twilight of Nature overtook us. Another +feint was made to draw attention from a heavy force of assailants +creeping within twenty paces, under cover of smoke, to surprise the +northwest blockhouse. + +Musketry was directed against them: they hesitated. The commander led a +charge, and himself sprang first into the ditch. We saw the fine fellows +leaping to carry the blockhouse, every man determined to be first in +making a breach. They filled the ditch. + +This was the instant for which Croghan had waited. He opened the +porthole and unmasked his exactly trained cannon. It enfiladed the +assailants, sweeping them at a distance of thirty feet; slugs and +grapeshot hissed, spreading fan rays of death! By the flash of the +re-loaded six-pounder, we saw the trench filled with dead and wounded. + +The besiegers turned. + +Croghan's sweating gunners swabbed and loaded and fired, roaring like +lions. + +The Indians, of whom there were nearly a thousand, were not in the +charge, and when retreat began they went in panic. We could hear calls +and yells, the clatter of arms, and a thumping of the earth; the strain +of men tugging cannon ropes; the swift withdrawal of a routed force. + +Two thousand more Indians approaching under Tecumseh, were turned back +by refugees. + +Croghan remarked, as we listened to the uproar, "Fort Stephenson can +hardly be called untenable against heavy artillery." + +Then arose cries in the ditch, which penetrated to women's ears. Neither +side was able to help the wounded there. But before the rout was +complete, Croghan had water let down in buckets to relieve their thirst, +and ordered a trench cut under the pickets of the stockade. Through this +the poor wretches who were able to crawl came in and surrendered +themselves and had their wounds dressed. + +By three o'clock in the morning not a British uniform glimmered red +through the dawn. The noise of retreat ended. Pistols and muskets +strewed the ground. Even a sailboat was abandoned on the river, holding +military stores and the clothing of officers. + +"They thought General Harrison was coming," laughed Croghan, as he sat +down to an early breakfast, having relieved all the living in the trench +and detailed men to bury the dead. "We have lost one man, and have +another under the surgeon's hands. Now I'm ready to appear before a +court-martial for disobeying orders." + +"You mean you're ready for your immortal page in history." + +"Paragraph," said Croghan; "and the dislike of poor little boys and +girls who will stick their fists in their eyes when they have to learn +it at school." + +Intense manhood ennobled his long, animated face. The President +afterwards made him a lieutenant-colonel, and women and his superior +officers praised him; but he was never more gallant than when he said: + +"My uncle, George Rogers Clark, would have undertaken to hold this fort; +and by heavens, we were bound to try it!" + +The other young officers sat at mess with him, hilarious over the +outcome, picturing General Proctor's state of mind when he learned the +age of his conqueror. + +None of them cared a rap that Daniel Webster was opposing the war in the +House of Representatives at Washington, and declaring that on land it +was a failure. + +A subaltern came to the mess room door, touching his cap and asking to +speak with Major Croghan. + +"The men working outside at the trenches saw a boy come up from the +ravine, sir, and fall every few steps, so they've brought him in." + +"Does he carry a dispatch?" + +"No, sir. He isn't more than nine or ten years old. I think he was a +prisoner." + +"Is he a white boy?" + +"Yes, sir, but he's dressed like an Indian." + +"I think it unlikely the British would allow the Shawanoes to burden +their march with any prisoners." + +"Somebody had him, and I'm afraid he's been shot either during the +action or in the retreat. He was hid in the ravine." + +"Bring him here," said Croghan. + +A boy with blue eyes set wide apart, hair clinging brightly and moistly +to his pallid forehead, and mouth corners turning up in a courageous +smile, entered and stood erect before the officer. He was a well made +little fellow. His tiny buckskin hunting shirt was draped with a sash in +the Indian fashion, showing the curve of his naked hip. Down this a +narrow line of blood was moving. Children of refugees, full of pity, +looked through the open door behind him. + +"Go to him, Shipp," said Croghan, as the boy staggered. But he waved the +ensign back. + +"Who are you, my man?" asked the Major. + +"I believe," he answered, "I am the Marquis de Ferrier." + + + + +IV + + +He pitched forward, and I was quicker than Ensign Shipp. I set him on my +knees, and the surgeon poured a little watered brandy clown his throat. + +"Paul!" I said to him. + +"Stand back," ordered the surgeon, as women followed their children, +crowding the room. + +"Do you know him, Lazarre?" asked Croghan. + +"It's Madame de Ferrier's child." + +"Not the baby I used to see at De Chaumont's? What's he doing at Fort +Stephenson?" + +The women made up my bunk for Paul, and I laid him in it. Each wanted to +take him to her care. The surgeon sent them to the cook-house to brew +messes for him, and stripped the child, finding a bullet wound in his +side. Probing brought nothing out, and I did not ask a single question. +The child should live. There could be no thought of anything else. While +the surgeon dressed and bandaged that small hole like a sucked-in mouth, +I saw the boy sitting on saddle-bags behind me, his arms clipping my +waist, while we threaded bowers of horse paths. I had not known how I +wanted a boy to sit behind me! No wonder pioneer men were so confident +and full of jokes: they had children behind them! + +He was burning with fever. His eyes swam in it as he looked at me. He +could not eat when food was brought to him, but begged for water, and +the surgeon allowed him what the women considered reckless quantities. +Over stockades came the August rustle of the forest. Morning bird voices +succeeded to the cannon's reverberations. + +The surgeon turned everybody out but me, and looked in by times from his +hospital of British wounded. I wiped the boy's forehead and gave him his +medicine, fanning him all day long. He lay in stupor, and the surgeon +said he was going comfortably, and would suffer little. Once in awhile +he turned up the corners of his mouth and smiled at me, as if the opiate +gave him blessed sensations. I asked the surgeon what I should do in the +night if he came out of it and wanted to talk. + +"Let him talk," said the doctor briefly. + +Unlike the night before, this was a night of silence. Everybody slept, +but the sentinels, and the men whose wounds kept them awake; and I was +both a sentinel, and a man whose wounds kept him awake. + +Paul's little hands were scratched; and there was a stone bruise on the +heel he pushed from cover of the blankets. His small body, compact of so +much manliness, was fine and sweet. Though he bore no resemblance to his +mother, it seemed to me that she lay there for me to tend; and the +change was no more an astounding miracle than the change of baby to +boy. + +I had him all that night for my own, putting every other thought out of +mind and absorbing his presence. His forehead and his face lost their +burning heat with the coolness of dawn, which blew our shaded candle, +flowing from miles of fragrant oaks. + +He awoke and looked all around the cabin. I tried to put his opiate into +his mouth; but something restrained me. I held his hand to my cheek. + +"I like you," he spoke out. "Don't you think my mother is pretty?" + +I said I thought his mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. +He curled up his mouth corners and gave me a blue-eyed smile. + +"My father is not pretty. But he is a gentleman of France." + +"Where are they, Paul?" + +He turned a look upon me without answering. + +"Paul," I said brutally, "tell me where your father and mother are." + +He was so far gone that my voice recalled him. He simply knew me as a +voice and a presence that he liked. + +"With poor old Ernestine," he answered. + +"And where is poor old Ernestine?" + +He began to shake as if struck with a chill. I drew the blanket closer. + +"Paul, you must tell me!" + +He shook his head. His mouth worked, and his little breast went into +convulsions. + +He shrieked and threw himself toward me. "My pretty little mother!" + +I held him still in a tight grip. "My darling--don't start your wound!" + +I could have beaten myself, but the surgeon afterwards told me the child +was dying when he came into the fort. About dawn, when men's lives sink +to their lowest ebb with night, his sank away, I smoothed his head and +kissed and quieted him. Once he looked into space with blurred eyes, and +curled up his mouth corners when I am sure he no longer saw me. + +Thus swiftly ended Paul's unaccountable appearance at the fort. It was +like the falling of a slain bird out of the sky at my feet. The women +were tender with his little body. They cried over him as they washed him +for burial. The children went outside the stockade and brought green +boughs and August wild flowers, bearing the early autumn colors of gold +and scarlet. With these they bedded the child in his plank coffin, +unafraid of his waxen sleep. + +Before Croghan went to report to his General, he asked me where we +should bury the little fellow. + +"In the fort, by the southern blockhouse," I answered. "Let Fort +Stephenson be his monument. It will stand here forever. The woods around +it will be trampled by prowling savages, and later on by prowling white +men. Within, nothing will obliterate the place. Give a little fellow a +bed here, who died between two countries, and will never be a citizen of +either." + +"I don't want to make a graveyard of the fort," said Croghan. But he +looked at Paul, bent low over him, and allowed him to be buried near the +southwest angle. + +There the child's bones rest to this day. The town of Fremont in the +commonwealth of Ohio has grown up around them. Young children who climb +the grassy bastion, may walk above his head, never guessing that a +little gentleman of France, who died like a soldier of his wound, lies +deeply cradled there. + +Before throwing myself down in the dead heaviness which results from +continual loss of sleep, I questioned the wounded British soldiers about +Paul. None of them had seen him. Straggling bands of Indians continually +joined their force. Captives were always a possibility in the savage +camp. Paul might have been taken hundreds of miles away. + +But I had the padlocked book, which might tell the whole story. With +desperate haste that could hardly wait to open the lids, I took it out, +wondering at the patience which long self-restraint had bred in me. I +was very tired, and stretched my arms across the pillow where Paul's +head had lain, to rest one instant. But I must have slept. My hand woke +first, and feeling itself empty, grasped at the book. It was gone, and +so was the sun. + +I got a light and searched, thrusting my arm between the bunk and the +log wall. It was not on the floor, or in my breast pocket, or in my +saddle-bags. + +The robbery was unendurable. And I knew the Indian who had done it. He +was the quietest, most stubborn Oneida that ever followed an adopted +white man. Why he had taken the book I could not understand. But I was +entirely certain that he had taken it out of my hand while I slept. He +would not break the padlock and read it, but like a judicious father he +would take care of a possibly unwholesome volume himself. + +I went out and found the bald-headed and well-beloved wretch. He was +sitting with his knees to his chin by the evening log fire. + +"Skenedonk," I said, "I want my book." + +"Children and books make a woman of you," he responded. "You had enough +books at Longmeadow." + +"I want it at once," I repeated. + +"It's sorcery," he answered. + +"It's a letter from Madame de Ferrier, and may tell where she is." + +His fawn eyes were startled, but he continued to hug his knees. + +"Skenedonk, I can't quarrel with you. You were my friend before I could +remember. When you know I am so bound to you, how can you deal me a +deadly hurt?" + +"White woman sorcery is the worst sorcery. You thought I never saw it. +But I did see it. You went after her to Paris. You did not think of +being the king. So you had to come back with nothing. That's what woman +sorcery does. Now you have power with the tribes. The President sees +you are a big man! And she sends a book to you to bewitch you! I knew +she sent the book as soon as I saw it." + +"Do you think she sent Paul?" + +He made no answer. + +"Madame de Ferrier does not know I have the book." + +"You haven't it," said Skenedonk. + +"But you have." + +"If she wrote and sent a letter she expected it would be received." + +"When I said a letter I meant what is called a journal: the writing down +of what happens daily. Johnny Appleseed got the book from an Indian. +That is how it was sent to me." + +"If you read it you will want to drop everything else and go to find +her." + +This was the truth, for I was not under military law. + +"Where is the book?" + +"Down my back," said Skenedonk. + +I felt the loose buckskin. + +"It isn't there." + +"In my front," said Skenedonk. + +I ran my hand over his chest, finding nothing but bone and brawn. + +"There it is," he said, pointing to a curled wisp of board at the edge +of the fire. "I burnt it." + +"Then you've finished me." + +I turned and left him sitting like an image by the fire. + + + + +V + + +Before I left Fort Stephenson, I wrote a letter to Count de Chaumont, +telling him about Paul's death and asking for news of the De Ferriers. +The answer I begged him to send to Sandusky, which the British now +despaired of taking. But although Skenedonk made a long journey for it +twice during the half year, I got no answer. + +The dangerous work of the next few months became like a long debauch. +Awake, we were dodging betwixt hostile tribes, or dealing with those +inclined to peace. Asleep, I was too exhausted to dream. It was a +struggle of the white force of civilization with the red sense of +justice. I wrestled with Algonquin dialects as I had wrestled with +Greek. Ottawas and Chippewas, long friendly to the French, came more +readily than other tribes to agreement with Americans. + +Wherever I went I pushed the quest that was uppermost in my mind, but +without finding any trace of Madame de Ferrier. + +From the measure constantly taken betwixt other men of my time and +myself, this positive knowledge resulted. + +In spite of the fact that many treated me as a prince, I found myself an +average man. I had no military genius. In argument, persuasive, +graceful--even eloquent--were the adjectives applied to me; not sweeping +and powerful. I should have made a jog-trot king, no better than my +uncle of Provence; no worse than my uncle of Artois, who would rather +saw wood than reign a constitutional monarch, and whom the French people +afterward turned out to saw wood. My reign might have been neat; it +would never have been gaudily splendid. As an average man, I could well +hold my own in the world. + +Perry on the lakes, General Jackson in the southwest, Harrison in the +west, and Lawrence on the ocean were pushing the war towards its close; +though as late as spring the national capital was burned by the British, +and a gentleman whom they gaily called "Old Jimmy Madison," temporarily +driven out. But the battle on the little river Thames, in October, +settled matters in the Northwest. + +The next April, after Leipsic, Napoleon Bonaparte was banished to the +island of Elba; and Louis XVIII passed from his latest refuge at +Hartwell House in England, to London; where the Prince Regent honored +him and the whole capital cheered him; and thence to Paris where he was +proclaimed king of France. We heard of it in due course, as ships +brought news. I was serving with the American forces. + +The world is fluid to a boy. He can do and dare anything. But it hardens +around a man and becomes a wall through which he must cut. I felt the +wall close around me. + +In September I was wounded at the battle of Plattsburg on Lake +Champlain. Three men, besides the General and the doctor, and my Oneida, +showed a differing interest in me, while I lay with a gap under my left +arm, in a hospital tent. + +First came Count de Chaumont, his face plowed with lines; no longer the +trim gentleman, youthfully easy, and in his full maturity, that he had +been when I first saw him at close range. + +He sat down on a camp seat by my cot, and I asked him before he could +speak-- + +"Where is Madame de Ferrier?" + +"She's dead," he answered. + +"I don't believe it." + +"You're young. I'm going back to France for a while. France will not be +what it was under the Empire. I'm tired of most things, however, and my +holdings here make me independent of changes there." + +"What reason have you to think that she is dead?" + +"Do you know the Indiana Territory well?" + +"The northern part only." + +"It happened in what was called the Pigeon Roost settlement at the fork +of the White River. The Kickapoos and Winnebagoes did it. There were +about two dozen people in the settlement." + +"I asked how you know these things." + +"I have some of the best Indian runners that ever trod moccasins, and +when I set them to scouting, they generally find what I want;--so I know +a great many things." + +"But Paul--" + +"It's an old custom to adopt children into the tribes. You know your +father, Chief Williams, is descended from a white girl who was a +prisoner. There were about two dozen people in the settlement, men, +women and children. The majority of the children were dashed against +trees. It has been consolation to me to think she did not survive in the +hands of savages." + +The hidden causes which work out results never worked out a result more +improbable. I lay silent, and De Chaumont said, + +"Do you remember the night you disappeared from the Tuileries?" + +"I remember it." + +"You remember we determined not to let the Marquis de Ferrier see +Napoleon. When you went down the corridor with Eagle I thought you were +luring him. But she told us afterward you were threatened with arrest, +and she helped you out of the Tuileries by a private stairway." + +"Did it make any stir in the palace?" + +"No. I saw one man hurrying past us. But nobody heard of the arrest +except Eagle." + +"How did she get out?" + +"Out of what?" + +"The queen's closet." + +"She was in the garden. She said she went down the private stairway to +avoid the gendarme. She must have done it cleverly, for she came in on +the arm of Junot and the matter was not noticed. There stood my +emergency facing me again. You had deserted. What made you imagine you +were threatened with arrest?" + +"Because a gendarme in court dress laid his hand on my shoulder and told +me I was to come with him." + +"Well, you may have drawn the secret police upon you. You had been +cutting a pretty figure. It was probably wise to drop between walls and +get out of France. Do you know why you were arrested?" + +"I think the groundless charge would have been an attack upon Napoleon." + +"You never attacked the emperor!" + +"No. But I had every reason to believe such a charge would be sworn +against me if I ever came to trial." + +"Perhaps that silly dauphin story leaked out in Paris. The emperor does +hate a Bourbon. But I thought you had tricked me. And the old marquis +never took his eyes off the main issue. He gave Eagle his arm, and was +ready to go in and thank the emperor." + +"You had to tell him?" + +"I had to tell him." + +"What did he say?" + +"Not a word. All the blood seemed to be drawn out of his veins, and his +face fell in. Then it burned red hot, and instead of good friend and +benefactor, I saw myself a convict. His big staring blue eyes came out +of a film like an owl's, and shot me through. I believe he saw +everything I ever did in my life, and my intentions about Eagle most +plainly of all. He bowed and wished me good-night, and took her out of +the Tuileries." + +"But you saw him again?" + +"He never let me see him again, or her either. I am certain he forbade +her to communicate with us. They did not go back to Mont-Louis. They +left their hotel in Paris. I wrote imploring him to hold the estates. My +messages were returned. I don't know how he got money enough to +emigrate. But emigrate they did; avoiding Castorland, where the +Saint-Michels, who brought her up, lived in comfort, and might have +comforted her, and where I could have made her life easy. He probably +dragged her through depths of poverty, before they joined a company +bound for the Indiana Territory, where the Pigeon Roost settlement was +planted. I have seen old Saint-Michel work at clearing, and can imagine +the Marquis de Ferrier sweating weakly while he chopped trees. It is a +satisfaction to know they had Ernestine with them. De Ferrier might have +plowed with Eagle," said the count hotly. "He never hesitated to make +use of her." + +While I had been living a monk's studious, well-provided life, was she +toiling in the fields? I groaned aloud. + +De Chaumont dropped his head on his breast. + +"It hurts me more than I care to let anybody but you know, Lazarre. If I +hadn't received that letter I should have avoided you. I wish you had +saved Paul. I would adopt him." + +"I think not, my dear count." + +"Nonsense, boy! I wouldn't let you have him." + +"You have a child." + +"Her husband has her. But let us not pitch and toss words. No use +quarreling over a dead boy. What right have you to Eagle's child?" + +"Not your right of faithful useful friendship. Only my own right." + +"What's that?" + +"Nothing that she ever admitted." + +"I was afraid of you," said De Chaumont, "when you flowered out with old +Du Plessy, like an heir lost in emigration and found again. You were a +startling fellow, dropping on the Faubourg; and anything was possible +under the Empire. You know I never believed the dauphin nonsense, but a +few who remembered, said you looked like the king. You were the king to +her; above mating with the best of the old nobility. She wouldn't have +married you." + +"Did she ever give you reason to think she would marry you?" + +"She never gave me reason to think she would marry anybody. But what's +the use of groaning? There's distraction abroad. I took the trails to +see you, when I heard you were with the troops on Champlain. I shall be +long in France. What can I do for you, my boy?" + +"Nothing, count. You have already done much." + +"She had a foolish interest in you. The dauphin!--Too good to sit at +table with us, you raw savage!--Had to be waited on by old Jean! And she +would have had me serve you, myself!" + +He laughed, and so did I. We held hands, clinging in fellowship. + +"I might not have refused your service; like Marquis de Ferrier." + +The count's face darkened. + +"I'll not abuse him. He's dead." + +"Are you sure he's dead this time, count?" + +"A Kickapoo is carrying his scalp. Trust my runners. They have traced +him so much for me they know the hair on his stubborn head. I must go +where I can have amusement, Lazarre. This country is a young man's +country. I'm getting old. Adieu. You're one of the young men." + +Some changes of light and darkness passed over me, and the great anguish +of my wound increased until there was no rest. However, the next man who +visited me stood forth at the side of the stretcher as Bellenger. I +thought I dreamed him, being light-headed with fever. He was +unaccountably weazened, robbed of juices, and powdering to dust on the +surface. His mustache had grown again, and he carried it over his ears +in the ridiculous manner affected when I saw him in the fog. + +"Where's your potter's wheel?" I inquired. + +"In the woods by Lake George, sire." + +"Do you still find clay that suits you?" + +"Yes, sire." + +"Have you made that vase yet?" + +"No, sire. I succeed in nothing." + +"You succeed in tracking me." + +He swam before my eyes, and I pointed to the surgeon's camp-chair. + +"Not in your presence, sire." + +"Have you lost your real dauphin?" I inquired. + +"I have the honor of standing before the real dauphin." + +"So you swore at Mittau!" + +"I perjured myself." + +"Well, what are you doing now?" + +"Sire, I am a man in failing health. Before the end I have come to tell +you the truth." + +"Do you think you can do it?" + +"Sire"--said Bellenger. + +"Your king is Louis XVIII," I reminded him. + +"He is not my king." + +"Taken your pension away, has he?" + +"I no longer receive anything from that court." + +"And your dauphin?" + +"He was left in Europe." + +"Look here, Bellenger! Why did you treat me so? Dauphin or no dauphin, +what harm was I doing you?" + +"I thought a strong party was behind you. And I knew there had been +double dealing with me. You represented some invisible power tricking +me. I was beside myself, and faced it out in Mittau. I have been used +shamefully, and thrown aside when I am failing. Hiding out in the hills +ruined my health." + +"Let us get to facts, if you have facts. Do you know anything about me, +Bellenger?" + +"Yes, sire." + +"Who am I?" + +"Louis XVII of France." + +"What proof can you give me?" + +"First, sire, permit a man who has been made a wretched tool, to implore +forgiveness of his rightful sovereign, and a little help to reach a +warmer climate before the rigors of a northern winter begin." + +"Bellenger, you are entrancing," I said. "Why did I ever take you +seriously? Ste. Pelagie was a grim joke, and tipping in the river merely +your playfulness. You had better take yourself off now, and keep on +walking until you come to a warmer climate." + +He wrung his hands with a gesture that touched my natural softness to my +enemy. + +"Talk, then. Talk, man. What have you to say?" + +"This, first, sire. That was a splendid dash you made into France!" + +"And what a splendid dash I made out of it again, with a gendarme at my +coat tails, and you behind the gendarme!" + +"But it was the wrong time. If you were there now;--the French people +are so changeable--" + +"I shall never be there again. His Majesty the eighteenth Louis is +welcome. What the blood stirs in me to know is, have I a right to the +throne?" + +"Sire, the truth as I know it, I will tell you. You were the boy taken +from the Temple prison." + +"Who did it?" + +"Agents of the royalist party whose names would mean nothing to you if I +gave them." + +"I was placed in your hands?" + +"You were placed in my hands to be taken to America." + +"I was with you in London, where two royalists who knew me, recognized +me?" + +"The two De Ferriers." + +"Did a woman named Madame Tank see me?" + +Bellenger was startled. + +"You were noticed on the ship by a court-lady of Holland; a very clever +courtier. I had trouble in evading her. She suspected too much, and +asked too many questions; and would have you to play with her baby on +the deck, though at that time you noticed nothing." + +"But where does the idiot come into my story?" + +"Sire, you have been unfortunate, but I have been a victim. When we +landed in New York I went directly and made myself known to the man who +was to act as purveyor of your majesty's pension. He astonished me by +declaring that the dauphin was already there, and had claimed the +pension for that year. The country and the language were unknown to me. +The agent spoke French, it is true, but we hardly understood each other. +I supposed I had nothing to do but present my credentials. Here was +another idiot--I crave your majesty's pardon--" + +"Quite right--at the time, Bellenger." + +--"drawing the annuity intended for the dauphin. I inquired into his +rights. The agent showed me papers like my own. I asked who presented +them. He knew no more of the man than he did of me. I demanded to face +the man. No such person could be found. I demanded to see the idiot. He +was shut in a room and fed by a hired keeper. I sat down and thought +much. Clearly it was not the agent's affair. He followed instructions. +Good! I would follow instructions also. Months would have been required +to ask and receive explanations from the court of Monsieur. He had +assumed the title of Louis XVIII, for the good of the royalist cause, as +if there were no prince. I thought I saw what was expected of me." + +"And what did you see, you unspeakable scoundrel?" + +"I saw that there was a dauphin too many, hopelessly idiotic. But if he +was the one to be guarded, I would guard him." + +"Who was that idiot?" + +"Some unknown pauper. No doubt of that." + +"And what did you do with me?" + +"A chief of the Iroquois Indians can tell you that." + +"This is a clumsy story, Bellenger. Try again." + +"Sire--" + +"If you knew so little of the country, how did you find an Iroquois +chief?" + +"I met him in the woods when he was hunting. I offered to give you to +him, pretending you had the annuity from Europe. Sire, I do not know why +trickery was practiced on me, or who practiced it: why such pains were +taken to mix the clues which led to the dauphin. But afterwards the same +agent had orders to give you two-thirds and me only one-third of the +yearly sum. I thought the court was in straits;--when both Russia and +Spain supported it! I was nothing but a court painter. But when you went +to France, I blocked your way with all the ingenuity I could bring." + +"I would like to ask you, Bellenger, what a man is called who attempts +the life of his king?" + +"Sire, the tricks of royalists pitted us against each other." + +"That's enough, Bellenger. I don't believe a word you say, excepting +that part of your story agreeing with Madame de Ferrier's. Put your hand +under my pillow and find my wallet. Now help yourself, and never let me +see you again." + +He helped himself to everything except a few shillings, weeping because +his necessities were so great. But I told him I was used to being +robbed, and he had done me all the harm he could; so his turn to pluck +me naturally followed. + +Then I softened, as I always do towards the claimant of the other part, +and added that we were on the same footing; I had been a pensioner +myself. + +"Sire, I thank you," said Bellenger, having shaken the wallet and poked +his fingers into the lining where an unheard-of gold piece could have +lodged. + +"It tickles my vanity to be called sire." + +"You are a true prince," said Bellenger. "My life would be well spent if +I could see you restored to your own." + +"So I infer, from the valuable days you have spent trying to bring that +result about." + +"Your majesty is sure of finding support in France." + +"The last king liked to tinker with clocks. Perhaps I like to tinker +with Indians." + +"Sire, it is due to your birth--" + +"Never mind my birth," I said. "I'm busy with my life." + +He bowed himself out of my presence without turning. This tribute to +royalty should have touched me. He took a handsome adieu, and did not +afterward seek further reward for his service. I heard in the course of +years that he died in New Orleans, confessing much regarding myself to +people who cared nothing about it, and thought him crazy. They doubtless +had reason, so erratic was the wanderer whom I had first consciously +seen through Lake George fog. His behavior was no more incredible than +the behavior of other Frenchmen who put a hand to the earlier years of +their prince's life. + +The third to appear at my tent door was Chief Williams, himself. The +surgeon told him outside the tent that it was a dangerous wound. He had +little hope for me, and I had indifferent hope myself, lying in torpor +and finding it an effort to speak. But after several days of effort I +did speak. + +The chief sat beside me, concerned and silent. + +"Father," I said. + +The chief harkened near to my lips. + +"Tell me," I begged, after resting, "who brought me to you." + +His dark sullen face became tender. "It was a Frenchman," he answered. +"I was hunting and met him on the lake with two boys. He offered to give +you to me. We had just lost a son." + +When I had rested again, I asked: + +"Do you know anything else about me?" + +"No." + +The subject was closed between us. And all subjects were closed betwixt +the world and me, for my face turned the other way. The great void of +which we know nothing, but which our faith teaches us to bridge, opened +for me. + + + + +VI + + +But the chief's and Skenedonk's nursing and Indian remedies brought me +face earthward again, reviving the surgeon's hope. + +When blood and life mounted, and my torn side sewed up its gap in a +healthy scar, adding another to my collection, autumn was upon us. From +the hunting lodges on Lake George, and the Williamses of Longmeadow, I +went to the scorched capital of Washington. In the end the Government +helped me with my Indian plan, though when Skenedonk and I pushed out +toward Illinois Territory we had only my pay and a grant of land. Peace +was not formally made until December, but the war ended that summer. + +Man's success in the world is proportioned to the number of forces he +can draw around himself to work with him. I have been able to draw some +forces; though in matters where most people protect themselves, I have a +quality of asinine patience which the French would not have tolerated. + +The Oneidas were ready to follow wherever I led them. And so were many +families of the Iroquois federation. But the Mohawk tribe held back. +However, I felt confident of material for an Indian state when the +foundation should be laid. + +We started lightly equipped upon the horse paths. The long journey by +water and shore brought us in October to the head of Green Bay. We had +seen Lake Michigan, of a light transparent blueness, with fire ripples +chasing from the sunset. And we had rested at noon in plum groves on the +vast prairies, oases of fertile deserts, where pink and white fruit +drops, so ripe that the sun preserves it in its juice. The freshness of +the new world continually flowed around us. We shot deer. Wolves sneaked +upon our trail. We slept with our heels to the campfire, and our heads +on our saddles. Sometimes we built a hunter's shed, open at front and +sloping to ground at back. To find out how the wind blew, we stuck a +finger in our mouths and held it up. The side which became cold first +was the side of the wind. + +Physical life riots in the joy of its revival. I was so glad to be alive +after touching death that I could think of Madame de Ferrier without +pain, and say more confidently--"She is not dead," because resurrection +was working in myself. + +Green Bay or La Baye, as the fur hunters called it, was a little post +almost like a New England village among its elms: one street and a few +outlying houses beside the Fox River. The open world had been our +tavern; or any sod or log hut cast up like a burrow of human prairie +dogs or moles. We did not expect to find a tavern in Green Bay. Yet such +a place was pointed out to us near the Fur Company's block warehouse. It +had no sign post, and the only visible stable was a pen of logs. Though +negro slaves were owned in the Illinois Territory, we saw none when a +red-headed man rushed forth shouting: + +"Sam, you lazy nigger, come here and take the gentleman's horses! Where +is that Sam? Light down, sir, with your Indian, and I will lead your +beasts to the hostler myself." + +In the same way our host provided a supper and bed with armies of +invisible servants. Skenedonk climbed a ladder to the loft with our +saddlebags. + +"Where is that chambermaid?" cried the tavern keeper. + +"Yes, where is she?" said a man who lounged on a bench by the entrance. +"I've heard of her so often I would like to see her myself." + +The landlord, deaf to raillery, bustled about and spread our table in +his public room. + +"Corn bread, hominy, side meat, ven'zin," he shouted in the kitchen. +"Stir yourself, you black rascal, and dish up the gentleman's supper." + +Skenedonk walked boldly to the kitchen door and saw our landlord stewing +and broiling, performing the offices of cook as he had performed those +of stableman. He kept on scolding and harrying the people who should +have been at his command:--"Step around lively, Sam. Tell the gentleman +the black bottle is in the fireplace cupboard if he wants to sharpen his +appetite. Where is that little nigger that picks up chips? Bring me some +more wood from the wood-pile! I'll teach you to go to sleep behind the +door!" + +Our host served us himself, running with sleeves turned back to admonish +an imaginary cook. His tap-room was the fireplace cupboard, and it was +visited while we ate our supper, by men in elkskin trousers, and caps +and hooded capotes of blue cloth. These Canadians mixed their own drink, +and made a cross-mark on the inside of the cupboard door, using a system +of bookkeeping evidently agreed upon between themselves and the +landlord. He shouted for the lazy barkeeper, who answered nothing out of +nothingness. + +Nightfall was very clear and fair in this Northwestern territory. A man +felt nearer to the sunset. The region took hold upon me: particularly +when one who was neither a warehouseman nor a Canadian fur hunter, +hurried in and took me by the hand. + +"I am Pierre Grignon," he said. + +Indeed, if he had held his fiddle, and tuned it upon an arm not quite so +stout, I should have known without being told that he was the man who +had played in the Saint-Michel cabin while Annabel de Chaumont climbed +the chimney. + +We sat and talked until the light faded. The landlord brought a candle, +and yelled up the loft, where Skenedonk had already stretched himself in +his blanket, as he loved to do: + +"Chambermaid, light up!" + +"You drive your slaves too hard, landlord," said Pierre Grignon. + +"You'd think I hadn't any, Mr. Grignon; for they're never in the way +when they're wanted." + +"One industrious man you certainly have." + +"Yes, Sam is a good fellow; but I'll have to go out and wake him up and +make him rub the horses down." + +"Never mind," said Pierre Grignon. "I'm going to take these travelers +home with me." + +"Now I know how a tavern ought to be kept," said the landlord. "But +what's the use of my keeping one if Pierre Grignon carries off all the +guests?" + +"He is my old friend," I told the landlord. + +"He's old friend to everybody that comes to Green Bay. I'll never get so +much as a sign painted to hang in front of the Palace Tavern." + +I gave him twice his charges and he said: + +"What a loss it was to enterprise in the Bay when Pierre Grignon came +here and built for the whole United States!" + +The Grignon house, whether built for the whole United States or not, was +the largest in Green Bay. Its lawn sloped down to the Fox River. It was +a huge square of oak timbers, with a detached kitchen, sheltered by +giant elms. To this day it stands defying time with its darkening frame +like some massive rock, the fan windows in the gables keeping guard +north and south. + +A hall divided the house through the center, and here Madame Grignon +welcomed me as if I were a long-expected guest, for this was her custom; +and as soon as she clearly remembered me, led me into a drawing-room +where a stately old lady sat making lace. + +This was the grandmother of the house. Such a house would have been +incomplete without a grandmother at the hearth. + +The furniture of this hall or family room had been brought from +Montreal; spindle chairs and a pier table of mahogany; a Turkey carpet, +laid smoothly on the polished floor to be spurned aside by young dancers +there; some impossible sea pictures, with patron saints in the clouds +over mariners; an immense stuffed sofa, with an arm dividing it across +the center;--the very place for those head-to-head conversations with +young men which the girls of the house called "twosing." It was, in +fact, the favorite "twosing" spot of Green Bay. + +Stools there were for children, and armchairs for old people were not +lacking. The small yellow spinning wheel of Madame Ursule, as I found +afterwards Madame Grignon was commonly called, stood ready to revolve +its golden disk wherever she sat. + +The servants were Pawnee Indians, moving about their duties almost with +stealth. + +The little Grignon daughter who had stood lost in wonder at the dancing +of Annabel de Chaumont, was now a turner of heads herself, all flaxen +white, and contrasting with the darkness of Katarina Tank. Katarina was +taken home to the Grignon's after her mother's death. Both girls had +been educated in Montreal. + +The seigniorial state in which Pierre Grignon lived became at once +evident. I found it was the custom during Advent for all the villagers +to meet in his house and sing hymns. On Christmas day his tables were +loaded for everybody who came. If any one died, he was brought to Pierre +Grignon's for prayer, and after his burial, the mourners went back to +Pierre Grignon's for supper. Pierre Grignon and his wife were god-father +and god-mother to most of the children born at La Baye. If a child was +left without father and mother, Pierre Grignon's house became its asylum +until a home could be found for it. The few American officers stationed +at the old stockade, nearly every evening met the beauties of Green Bay +at Pierre Grignon's, and if he did not fiddle for them he led Madame in +the dancing. The grandmother herself sometimes took her stick and +stepped through a measure to please the young people. Laughter and the +joy of life filled the house every waking hour of the twenty-four. +Funerals were never horrible there. Instead, they seemed the mystic +beginning of better things. + +"Poor Madame Tank! She would have been so much more comfortable in her +death if she had relieved her mind," Madame Ursule said, the first +evening, as we sat in a pause of the dancing. "She used to speak of you +often, for seeing you made a great impression upon her, and she never +let us forget you. I am sure she knew more about you than she ever told +me. 'I have an important disclosure to make,' she says. 'Come around me, +I want all of you to hear it!' Then she fell back and died without +telling it." + +A touch of mystery was not lacking to the house. Several times I saw the +tail of a gray gown disappear through an open door. Some woman half +entered and drew back. + +"It's Madeleine Jordan," an inmate told me each time. "She avoids +strangers." + +I asked if Madeleine Jordan was a relative. + +"Oh, no," Madame Ursule replied; "but the family who brought her here, +went back to Canada, and of course they left her with us." + +Of course Madeleine Jordan, or anybody else who lacked a roof, would be +left with the Grignons; but in that house a hermit seemed out of place, +and I said so to Madame Ursule. + +"Poor child!" she responded. "I think she likes the bustle and noise. +She is not a hermit. What difference can it make to her whether people +are around her or not?" + +The subject of Madeleine Jordan was no doubt beyond a man's handling. I +had other matters to think about, and directly plunged into them. First +the Menominees and Winnebagoes must be assembled in council. They held +all the desirable land. + +"We don't like your Indian scheme in Green Bay," said Pierre Grignon. +"But if the tribes here are willing to sell their lands, other settlers +can't prevent it." + +He went with me to meet the savages on the opposite side of the Fox near +the stockade. There the talking and eating lasted two days. At the end +of that time I had a footing for our Iroquois in the Wisconsin portion +of the Illinois Territory; and the savages who granted it danced a war +dance in our honor. Every brave shook over his head the scalps he had +taken. I saw one cap of soft long brown hair. + +"Eh!" said Pierre Grignon, sitting beside me. "Their dirty trophies make +you ghastly! Do your eastern tribes never dance war dances?" + +After the land was secured its boundaries had to be set. Then my own +grant demanded attention; and last, I was anxious to put my castle on it +before snow flew. Many of those late autumn nights Skenedonk and I spent +camping. The outdoor life was a joy to me. Our land lay up the Fox River +and away from the bay. But more than one stormy evening, when we came +back to the bay for supplies, I plunged into the rolling water and swam +breasting the waves. It is good to be hardy, and sane, and to take part +in the visible world, whether you are great and have your heart's desire +or not. + +When we had laid the foundation of the Indian settlement, I built my +house with the help of skilled men. It was a spacious one of hewn logs, +chinked with cat-and-clay plaster, showing its white ribs on the hill +above the Fox. In time I meant to cover the ribs with perennial vines. +There was a spring near the porches. The woods banked me on the rear, +and an elm spread its colossal umbrella over the roof. Fertile fields +stretched at my left, and on my right a deep ravine lined with white +birches, carried a stream to the Fox. + +From my stronghold to the river was a long descent. The broadening and +narrowing channel could be seen for miles. A bushy island, beloved of +wild ducks, parted the water, lying as Moses hid in osiers, amidst tall +growths of wild oats. Lily pads stretched their pavements in the oats. +Beyond were rolling banks, and beyond those, wooded hills rising terrace +over terrace to the dawn. Many a sunrise was to come to me over those +hills. Oaks and pines and sumach gathered to my doorway. + +In my mind I saw the garden we afterward created; with many fruit trees, +beds, and winding walks, trellised seats, squares of flaming tulips, +phlox, hollyhocks, roses. It should reach down into the ravine, where +humid ferns and rocks met plants that love darkling ground. Yet it +should not be too dark. I would lop boughs rather than have a growing +thing spindle as if rooted in Ste. Pelagie!--and no man who loves trees +can do that without feeling the knife at his heart. What is long +developing is precious like the immortal part of us. + +The stoicism that comes of endurance has something of death in it. I +prepared a home without thought of putting any wife therein. I had grown +used to being alone, with the exception of Skenedonk's taciturn company. +The house was for castle and resting place after labor. I took +satisfaction in the rude furniture we made for it. In after years it +became filled with rich gifts from the other side of the world, and +books that have gladdened my heart. Yet in its virginhood, before pain +or joy or achievement had entered there, before spade struck the ground +which was to send up food, my holding on the earth's surface made me +feel prince of a principality. + +The men hewed a slab settle, and stationed it before the hearth, a thing +of beauty in its rough and lichen-tinted barks, though you may not +believe it. My floors I would have smooth and neatly joined, of hard +woods which give forth a shining for wear and polish. Stools I had, +easily made, and one large round of a tree for my table, like an Eastern +tabouret. + +Before the river closed and winter shut in, Skenedonk and I went back to +Green Bay. I did not know how to form my household, and had it in mind +to consult Madame Ursule. Pawnees could be had: and many French +landholders in the territory owned black slaves. Pierre Grignon himself +kept one little negro like a monkey among the stately Indians. + +Dealing with acres, and with people wild as flocks, would have been +worth while if nothing had resulted except our welcome back to Pierre +Grignon's open house. The grandmother hobbled on her stick across the +floor to give me her hand. Madame Ursule reproached me with delaying, +and Pierre said it was high time to seek winter quarters. The girls +recounted harvest reels and even weddings, with dances following, which +I had lost while away from the center of festivity. + +The little negro carried my saddlebags to the guest room. Skenedonk was +to sleep on the floor. Abundant preparations for the evening meal were +going forward in the kitchen. As I mounted the stairway at Madame +Ursule's direction, I heard a tinkle of china, her very best, which +adorned racks and dressers. It was being set forth on the mahogany +board. + +The upper floor of Pierre Grignon's house was divided by a hall similar +to the one below. I ran upstairs and halted. + +Standing with her back to the fading light which came through one fan +window at the hall end, was a woman's figure in a gray dress. I gripped +the rail. + +My first thought was: "How shall I tell her about Paul?" My next was: +"What is the matter with her?" + +She rippled from head to foot in the shiver of rapture peculiar to her, +and stretched her arms to me crying: + +"Paul! Paul!" + + + + +VII + + +"Oh, Madame!" I said, bewildered, and sick as from a stab. It was no +comfort that the high lady who scarcely allowed me to kiss her hand +before we parted, clung around my neck. She trembled against me. + +"Have you come back to your mother, Paul?" + +"Eagle!" I pleaded. "Don't you know me? You surely know Lazarre!" + +She kissed me, pulling my head down in her arms, the velvet mouth like a +baby's, and looked straight into my eyes. + +"Madame, try to understand! I am Louis! If you forget Lazarre, try to +remember Louis!" + +She heard with attention, and smiled. The pressure of my arms spoke to +her. A man's passion addressed itself to a little child. All other +barriers which had stood between us were nothing to this. I held her, +and she could never be mine. She was not ill in body; the contours of +her upturned face were round and softened with much smiling. But +mind-sickness robbed me of her in the moment of finding her. + +"She can't be insane!" I said aloud. "Oh, God, anything but that! She +was not a woman that could be so wrecked." + +Like a fool I questioned, and tried to get some explanation. + +Eagle smoothed my arm, nested her hand in my neck. + +"My little boy! He has grown to be a man--while his mother has grown +down to be a child! Do you know what I am now, Paul?" + +I choked a sob in my throat and told her I did not. + +"I am your Cloud-Mother. I live in a cloud. Do you love me while I am in +the cloud?" + +I told her I loved her with all my strength, in the cloud or out of it. + +"Will you take care of me as I used to take care of you?" + +I swore to the Almighty that she should be my future care. + +"I need you so! I have watched for you in the woods and on the water, +Paul! You have been long coming back to me." + +I heard Madame Ursule mounting the stairs to see if my room was in +order. + +Who could understand the relation in which Eagle and I now stood, and +the claim she made upon me? She clung to my arm when I took it away. I +led her by the hand. Even this sight caused Madame Ursule a shock at the +head of the stairs. + +"M's'r Williams!" + +My hostess paused and looked at us. + +"Did she come to you of her own accord?" + +"Yes, madame." + +"I never knew her to notice a stranger before." + +"Madame, do you know who this is?" + +"Madeleine Jordan." + +"It is the Marquise de Ferrier." + +"The Marquise de Ferrier?" + +"Yes, madame." + +"Did you know her?" + +"I have known her ever since I can remember." + +"The Marquise de Ferrier! But, M's'r Williams, did she know you?" + +"She knows me," I asserted. "But not as myself. I am sure she knows me! +But she confuses me with the child she lost! I cannot explain to you, +madame, how positive I am that she recognizes me; any more than I can +explain why she will call me Paul. I think I ought to tell you, so you +will see the position in which I am placed, that this lady is the lady I +once hoped to marry." + +"Saints have pity, M's'r Williams!" + +"I want to ask you some questions." + +"Bring her down to the fire. Come, dear child," said Madame Ursule, +coaxing Eagle. "Nobody is there. The bedrooms can never be so warm as +the log fire; and this is a bitter evening." + +The family room was unlighted by candles, as often happened. For such an +illumination in the chimney must have quenched any paler glare. We had a +few moments of brief privacy from the swarming life which constantly +passed in and out. + +I placed Eagle by the fire and she sat there obediently, while I talked +to Madame Ursule apart. + +"Was her mind in this state when she came to you?" + +"She was even a little wilder than she is now. The girls have been a +benefit to her." + +"They were not afraid of her?" + +"Who could be afraid of the dear child? She is a lady--that's plain. Ah, +M's'r Williams, what she must have gone through!" + +"Yet see how happy she looks!" + +"She always seemed happy enough. She would come to this house. So when +the Jordans went to Canada, Pierre and I both said, 'Let her stay.'" + +"Who were the Jordans?" + +"The only family that escaped with their lives from the massacre when +she lost her family. Madame Jordan told me the whole story. They had +friends among the Winnebagoes who protected them." + +"Did they give her their name?" + +"No, the people in La Baye did that. We knew she had another name. But I +think it very likely her title was not used in the settlement where they +lived. Titles are no help in pioneering." + +"Did they call her Madeleine?" + +"She calls herself Madeleine." + +"How long has she been with your family?" + +"Nearly a year." + +"Did the Jordans tell you when this change came over her?" + +"Yes. It was during the attack when her child was taken from her. She +saw other children killed. The Indians were afraid of her. They respect +demented people; not a bit of harm was done to her. They let her alone, +and the Jordans took care of her." + +The daughter and adopted daughter of the house came in with a rush of +outdoor air, and seeing Eagle first, ran to kiss her on the cheek one +after the other. + +"Madeleine has come down!" said Marie. + +"I thought we should coax her in here sometime," said Katarina. + +Between them, standing slim and tall, their equal in height, she was yet +like a little sister. Though their faces were unlined, hers held a +divine youth. + +To see her stricken with mind-sickness, and the two girls who had done +neither good nor evil, existing like plants in sunshine, healthy and +sound, seemed an iniquitous contrast. + +If ever woman was made for living and dying in one ancestral home, she +was that woman. Yet she stood on the border of civilization, without a +foothold to call her own. If ever woman was made for one knightly love +which would set her in high places, she was that woman. Yet here she +stood, her very name lost, no man so humble as to do her reverence. + +"Paul has come," Eagle told Katarina and Marie. Holding their hands, she +walked between them toward me, and bade them notice my height. "I am +his Cloud-Mother," she said. "How droll it is that parents grow down +little, while their children grow up big!" + +Madame Ursule shook her head pitifully. But the girls really saw the +droll side and laughed with my Cloud-Mother. + +Separated from me by an impassable barrier, she touched me more deeply +than when I sued her most. The undulating ripple which was her peculiar +expression of joy was more than I could bear. I left the room and was +flinging myself from the house to walk in the chill wind; but she caught +me. + +"I will be good!" pleaded my Cloud-Mother, her face in my breast. + +Her son who had grown up big, while she grew down little, went back to +the family room with her. + +My Cloud-Mother sat beside me at table, and insisted on cutting up my +food for me. While I tried to eat, she asked Marie and Katarina and +Pierre Grignon and Madame Ursule to notice how well I behaved. The +tender hearted host wiped his eyes. + +I understood why she had kept such hold upon me through years of +separateness. A nameless personal charm, which must be a gift of the +spirit, survived all wreck and change. It drew me, and must draw me +forever, whether she knew me again or not. One meets and wakes you to +vivid life in an immortal hour. Thousands could not do it through +eternity. + +The river piled hillocks of water in a strong north wind, and no officer +crossed from the stockade. Neither did any neighbor leave his own fire. +It seldom happened that the Grignons were left with inmates alone. Eagle +sat by me and watched the blaze streaming up the chimney. + +If she was not a unit in the family group and had no part there, they +were most kind to her. + +"Take care!" the grandmother cried with swift forethought when Marie and +Katarina marshaled in a hopping object from the kitchen. "It might +frighten Madeleine." + +Pierre Grignon stopped in the middle of a bear hunt. Eagle was not +frightened. She clapped her hands. + +"This is a pouched turkey!" Marie announced, leaning against the wall, +while Katarina chased the fowl. It was the little negro, his arms and +feet thrust into the legs of a pair of Pierre Grignon's trousers, and +the capacious open top fastened upon his back. Doubled over, he waddled +and hopped as well as he could. A feather duster was stuck in for a +tail, and his woolly head gave him the uncanny look of a black harpy. To +see him was to shed tears of laughter. The pouched turkey enjoyed being +a pouched turkey. He strutted and gobbled, and ran at the girls; tried +to pick up corn from the floor with his thick lips, tumbling down and +rolling over in the effort; for a pouched turkey has no wings with which +to balance himself. So much hilarity in the family room drew the Pawnee +servants. I saw their small dark eyes in a mere line of open door, +gazing solemnly. + +When the turkey was relieved from his pouching and sent to bed, Pierre +Grignon took his violin. The girls answered with jigs that ended a reel, +when couples left the general figure to jig it off. + +When Eagle had watched them awhile she started up, spread her skirts in +a sweeping courtesy, and began to dance a gavotte. The fiddler changed +his tune, and the girls rested and watched her. Alternately swift and +languid, with the changes of the movement, she saluted backward to the +floor, or spun on the tips of rapid feet. I had seen her dance many +times, but never with such abandon of joy. + +Our singular relationship was established in the house, where +hospitality made room and apology for all human weakness. + +Nobody of that region, except the infirm, stayed indoors to shiver by a +fire. Eagle and the girls in their warm capotes breasted with me the +coldest winter days. She was as happy as they were; her cheeks tingled +as pink as theirs. Sometimes I thought her eyes must answer me with her +old self-command; their bright grayness was so natural. + +I believed if her delusions were humored, they would unwind from her +like the cloud which she felt them to be. The family had long fallen +into the habit of treating her as a child, playing some imaginary +character. She seemed less demented than walking in a dream, her +faculties asleep. It was somnambulism rather than madness. She had not +the expression of insane people, the shifty eyes, the cunning and +perverseness, the animal and torpid presence. + +If I called her Madame de Ferrier instead of my Cloud-Mother, a strained +and puzzled look replaced her usual satisfaction. I did not often use +the name, nor did I try to make her repeat my own. It was my daily +effort to fall in with her happiness, for if she saw any anxiety she was +quick to plead: + +"Don't you like me any more, Paul? Are you tired of me, because I am a +Cloud-Mother?" + +"No," I would answer. "Lazarre will never be tired of you." + +"Do you think I am growing smaller? Will you love me if I shrink to a +baby?" + +"I will love you." + +"I used to love you when you were so tiny, Paul, before you knew how to +love me back. If I forget how"--she clutched the lapels of my +coat--"will you leave me then?" + +"Eagle, say this: 'Lazarre cannot leave me.'" + +"Lazarre cannot leave me." + +I heard her repeating this at her sewing. She boasted to Marie +Grignon--"Lazarre cannot leave me!--Paul taught me that." + +My Cloud-Mother asked me to tell her the stories she used to tell me. +She had forgotten them. + +"I am the child now," she would say. "Tell me the stories." + +I repeated mythical tribe legends, gathered from Skenedonk on our long +rides, making them as eloquent as I could. She listened, holding her +breath, or sighing with contentment. + +If any one in the household smiled when she led me about by the hand, +there was a tear behind the smile. + +She kept herself in perfection, bestowing unceasing care upon her dress, +which was always gray. + +"I have to wear gray; I am in a cloud," she had said to the family. + +"We have used fine gray stuff brought from Holland, and wools that +Mother Ursule got from Montreal," Katarina told me. "The Pawnees dye +with vegetable colors. But they cannot make the pale gray she loves." + +Eagle watched me with maternal care. If a hair dropped on my collar she +brushed it away, and smoothed and settled my cravat. The touch of my +Cloud-Mother, familiar and tender, like the touch of a wife, charged +through me with torture, because she was herself so unconscious of it. + +Before I had been in the house a week she made a little pair of trousers +a span long, and gave them to me. Marie and Katarina turned their faces +to laugh. My Cloud-Mother held the garment up for their inspection, and +was not at all sensitive to the giggles it provoked. + +"I made over an old pair of his father's," she said. + +The discarded breeches used by the pouched turkey had been devoted to +her whim. Every stitch was neatly set. I praised her beautiful +needlework, and she said she would make me a coat. + +Skenedonk was not often in the house. He took to the winter hunting and +snow-shoeing with vigor. Whenever he came indoors I used to see him +watching Madame de Ferrier with saturnine wistfulness. She paid no +attention to him. He would stand gazing at her while she sewed; being +privileged as an educated Indian and my attendant, to enter the family +room where the Pawnees came only to serve. They had the ample kitchen +and its log fire to themselves. I wondered what was working in +Skenedonk's mind, and if he repented calling one so buffeted, a +sorceress. + +Kindly ridicule excited by the incongruous things she did, passed over +without touching her. She was enveloped in a cloud, a thick case +guarding overtaxed mind and body, and shutting them in its pellucid +chrysalis. The Almighty arms were resting her on a mountain of vision. +She had forgot how to weep. She was remembering how to laugh. + +The more I thought about it the less endurable it became to have her +dependent upon the Grignons. My business affairs with Pierre Grignon +made it possible to transfer her obligations to my account. The +hospitable man and his wife objected, but when they saw how I took it to +heart, gave me my way. I told them I wished her to be regarded as my +wife, for I should never have another; and while it might remain +impossible for her to marry me, on my part I was bound to her. + +"You are young, M's'r Williams," said Madame Ursule. "You have a long +life before you. A man wants comfort in his house. And if he makes +wealth, he needs a hand that knows how to distribute and how to save. +She could never go to your home as she is." + +"I know it, madame." + +"You will change your mind about a wife." + +"Madame, I have not changed my mind since I first wanted her. It is not +a mind that changes." + +"Well, that's unusual. Young men are often fickle. You never made +proposals for her?" + +"I did, madame, after her husband died." + +"But she was still a wife--the wife of an old man--in the Pigeon Roost +settlement." + +"Her father married her to a cousin nearly as old as himself, when she +was a child. Her husband was reported dead while he was in hiding. She +herself thought, and so did her friends, that he was dead." + +"I see. Eh! these girls married to old men! Madame Jordan told me +Madeleine's husband was very fretful. He kept himself like silk, and +scarcely let the wind blow upon him for fear of injuring his health. +When other men were out toiling at the clearings, he sat in his house to +avoid getting chills and fever in the sun. It was well for her that she +had a faithful servant. Madeleine and the servant kept the family with +their garden and corn field. They never tasted wild meat unless the +other settlers brought them venison. Madame Jordan said they always +returned a present of herbs and vegetables from their garden. It grew +for them better than any other garden in the settlement. Once the old +man did go out with a hunting party, and got lost. The men searched for +him three days, and found him curled up in a hollow tree, waiting to be +brought in. They carried him home on a litter and he popped his head +into the door and said: 'Here I am, child! You can't kill me!'" + +"What did Madame de Ferrier say?" + +"Nothing. She made a child of him, as if he were her son. He was in his +second childhood, no doubt. And Madame Jordan said she appeared to hold +herself accountable for the losses and crosses that made him so fretful. +The children of the emigration were brought up to hardship, and accepted +everything as their elders could not do." + +"I thought the Marquis de Ferrier a courteous gentleman." + +"Did you ever see him?" + +"Twice only." + +"He used to tell his wife he intended to live a hundred years. And I +suppose he would have done it, if he had not been tomahawked and +scalped. 'You'll never get De Chaumont,' he used to say to her. 'I'll +see that he never gets you!' I remember the name very well, because it +was the name of that pretty creature who danced for us in the cabin on +Lake George." + +"De Chaumont was her father," I said. "He would have married Madame de +Ferrier, and restored her estate, if she had accepted him, and the +marquis had not come back." + +"Saints have pity!" said Madame Ursule. "And the poor old man must make +everybody and himself so uncomfortable!" + +"But how could he help living?" + +"True enough. God's times are not ours. But see what he has made of +her!" + +I thought of my Cloud-Mother walking enclosed from the world upon a +height of changeless youth. She could not feel another shock. She was +past both ambition and poverty. If she had ever felt the sweet anguish +of love--Oh! she must have understood when she kissed me and said: "I +will come to you sometime!"--the anguish--the hoping, waiting, +expecting, receiving nothing, all were gone by. Even mother cares no +longer touched her. Paul was grown. She could not be made anything that +was base. Unseen forces had worked with her and would work with her +still. + +"You told me," I said to Madame Ursule, "the Indians were afraid of her +when they burned the settlement. Was the change so sudden?" + +"Madame Jordan's story was like this: It happened in broad daylight. Two +men went into the woods hunting bee trees. The Indians caught and killed +them within two miles of the clearing--some of those very Winnebagoes +you treated with for your land. It was a sunshiny day in September. You +could hear the poultry crowing, and the children playing in the +dooryards. Madeleine's little Paul was never far away from her. The +Indians rushed in with yells and finished the settlement in a few +minutes. Madame Jordan and her family were protected, but she saw +children dashed against trees, and her neighbors struck down and scalped +before she could plead for them. And little good pleading would have +done. An Indian seized Paul. His father and the old servant lay dead +across the doorstep. His mother would not let him go. The Indian dragged +her on her knees and struck her on the head. Madame Jordan ran out at +the risk of being scalped herself, and got the poor girl into her cabin. +The Indian came back for Madeleine's scalp. Madeleine did not see him. +She never seemed to notice anybody again. She stood up quivering the +whole length of her body, and laughed in his face. It was dreadful to +hear her above the cries of the children. The Indian went away like a +scared hound. And none of the others would touch her." + +After I heard this story I was thankful every day that Eagle could not +remember; that natural happiness had its way with her elastic body. + +Madame Ursule told me the family learned to give her liberty. She rowed +alone upon the river, and went where she pleased. The men in La Baye +would step aside for her. Strangers disturbed her by bringing the +consciousness of something unusual. + +Once I surprised Marie and Katarina sitting close to the fire at +twilight, talking about lovers. Eagle was near them on a stool. + +"That girl," exclaimed Katarina, speaking of the absent with strong +disapproval, "is one of the kind that will let another girl take her +sweetheart and then sit around and look injured! Now if she could get +him from me she might have him! But she'd have to get him first!" + +Eagle listened in the attitude of a young sister, giving me to +understand by a look that wisdom flowed, and she was learning. + +We rose one morning to find the world buried in snow. The river was +frozen and its channel padded thick. As for the bay, stretches of snow +fields, with dark pools and broken gray ridges met ice at the end of the +world. + +It was so cold that paper stuck to the fingers like feathers, and the +nails tingled with frost. The white earth creaked under foot, and when a +sled went by the snow cried out in shrill long resistance, a spirit +complaining of being trampled. Explosions came from the river, and elm +limbs and timbers of the house startled us. White fur clothed the inner +key holes. Tree trunks were black as ink against a background of snow. +The oaks alone kept their dried foliage, which rattled like many +skeletons, instead of rustling in its faded redness, because there was +no life in it. + +But the colder it grew the higher Grignon's log fires mounted. And when +channels were cut in the snow both along the ridge above Green Bay, and +across country in every direction, French trains moved out with jangling +bells, and maids and men uttered voice sounds which spread as by miracle +on the diffusing air from horizon to horizon. You could hear the +officers speaking across the river; and dogs were like to shake the sky +down with their barking. Echoes from the smallest noises were born in +that magnified, glaring world. + +The whole festive winter spun past. Marie and Katarina brought young men +to the peaks of hope in the "twosing" seat, and plunged them down to +despair, quite in the American fashion. Christmas and New Year's days +were great festivals, when the settlement ate and drank at Pierre +Grignon's expense, and made him glad as if he fathered the whole post. +Madame Grignon spun and looked to the house. And a thousand changes +passed over the landscape. But in all that time no one could see any +change in my Cloud-Mother. She sewed like a child. She laughed, and +danced gavottes. She trod the snow, or muffled in robes, with Madame +Ursule and the girls, flew over it in a French train; a sliding box with +two or three horses hitched tandem. Every evening I sat by her side at +the fire, while she made little coats and trousers for me. But +remembrance never came into her eyes. The cloud stood round about her as +it did when I first tried to penetrate it. + +My own dim days were often in mind. I tried to recall sensations. But I +had lived a purely physical life. Her blunders of judgment and delusion +of bodily shrinking were no part of my experience. The thinking self in +me had been paralyzed. While the thinking self in her was alive, in a +cloud. Both of us were memoryless, excepting her recollection of Paul. + +After March sent the ice out of river and bay, spring came with a rush +as it comes in the north. Perhaps many days it was silently rising from +tree roots. In February we used to say:--"This air is like spring." But +after such bold speech the arctic region descended upon us again, and we +were snowed in to the ears. Yet when the end of March unlocked us, it +seemed we must wait for the month of Mary to give us soft air and blue +water. Then suddenly it was spring, and every living soul knew it. Life +revived with passion. Longings which you had forgotten came and took you +by the throat, saying, "You shall no longer be satisfied with negative +peace. Rouse, and live!" Then flitting, exquisite, purple flaws struck +across milk-opal water in the bay. Fishing boats lifted themselves in +mirage, sailing lightly above the water; and islands sat high, with a +cushion of air under them. + +The girls manifested increasing interest in what they called the Pigeon +Roost settlement affair. Madame Ursule had no doubt told them what I +said. They pitied my Cloud-Mother and me with the condescending pity of +the very young, and unguardedly talked where they could be heard. + +"Oh, she'll come to her senses some time, and he'll marry her of +course," was the conclusion they invariably reached; for the thing must +turn out well to meet their approval. How could they foresee what was to +happen to people whose lives held such contrasts? + +"Father Pierre says he's nearly twenty-eight; I call him an old +bachelor," declared Katarina; "and she was a married woman. They are +really very old to be in love." + +"You don't know what you'll do when you are old," said Marie. + +"Ah, I dread it," groaned Katarina. + +"So do I." + +"But there is grandmother. She doesn't mind it. And beaux never trouble +her now." + +"No," sighed the other. "Beaux never trouble her now." + +Those spring days I was wild with restlessness. Life revived to dare +things. We heard afterwards that about that time the meteor rushed once +more across France. Napoleon landed at a Mediterranean port, gathering +force as he marched, swept Louis XVIII away like a cobweb in his path, +and moved on to Waterloo. The greatest Frenchman that ever lived fell +ultimately as low as St. Helena, and the Bourbons sat again upon the +throne. But the changes of which I knew nothing affected me in the +Illinois Territory. + +Sometimes I waked at night and sat up in bed, hot with indignation at +the injustice done me, which I could never prove, which I did not care +to combat, yet which unreasonably waked the fighting spirit in me. Our +natures toss and change, expand or contract, influenced by invisible +powers we know not why. + +One April night I sat up in the veiled light made by a clouded moon. +Rain points multiplied themselves on the window glass; I heard their +sting. The impulse to go out and ride the wind, or pick the river up and +empty it all at once into the bay, or tear Eagle out of the cloud, or go +to France and proclaim myself with myself for follower; and other feats +of like nature, being particularly strong in me, I struck the pillow +beside me with my fist. Something bounced from it on the floor with a +clack like wood. I stretched downward from one of Madame Ursule's thick +feather beds, and picked up what brought me to my feet. Without letting +go of it I lighted my candle. It was the padlocked book which Skenedonk +said he had burned. + +And there the scoundrel lay at the other side of the room, wrapped in +his blanket from head to foot, mummied by sleep. I wanted to take him by +the scalp lock and drag him around on the floor. + +He had carried it with him, or secreted it somewhere, month after month. +I could imagine how the state of the writer worked on his Indian mind. +He repented, and was not able to face me, but felt obliged to restore +what he had withheld. So waiting until I slept, he brought forth the +padlocked book and laid it on the pillow beside my head; thus beseeching +pardon, and intimating that the subject was closed between us. + +I got my key, and then a fit of shivering seized me. I put the candle +stand beside the pillow and lay wrapped in bedding, clenching the small +chilly padlock and sharp-cornered boards. Remembering the change which +had come upon the life recorded in it, I hesitated. Remembering how it +had eluded me before, I opened it. + +The few entries were made without date. The first pages were torn out, +crumpled, and smoothed and pasted to place again. Rose petals and +violets and some bright poppy leaves, crushed inside its lids, slid down +upon the bedcover. + + + + +VIII + + +The padlocked book--In this book I am going to write you, Louis, a +letter which will never be delivered; because I shall burn it when it is +finished. Yet that will not prevent my tantalizing you about it. To the +padlocked book I can say what I want to say. To you I must say what is +expedient. + +That is a foolish woman who does violence to love by inordinate loving. +Yet first I will tell you that I sink to sleep saying, "He loves me!" +and rise to the surface saying, "He loves me!" and sink again saying, +"He loves me!" all night long. + +The days when I see you are real days, finished and perfect, and this is +the best of them all. God forever bless in paradise your mother for +bearing you. If you never had come to the world I should not have waked +to life myself. And why this is I cannot tell. The first time I ever saw +your tawny head and tawny eyes, though you did not notice me, I said, +"Whether he is the king or not would make no difference." Because I knew +you were more than the king to me. + +Sire, you told me once you could not understand why people took kindly +to you. There is in you a gentle dignity and manhood, most royal. As you +come into a room you cast your eyes about unfearing. Your head and +shoulders are erect. You are like a lion in suppleness and tawny color, +which influences me against my will. You inspire Confidence. Even girls +like Annabel, who feel merely at their finger ends, and are as well +satisfied with one husband as another, know you to be solid man, not the +mere image of a man. Besides these traits there is a power going out +from you that takes hold of people invisibly. My father told me there +was a man at the court of your father who could put others to sleep by a +waving of his hands. I am not comparing you to this charlatan; yet when +you touch my hand a strange current runs through me. + +When we were in Paris I used to dress myself every morning like a +priestess going to serve in a temple. And what was it for? To worship +one dear head for half an hour perhaps. + +You robbed me of the sight of you for two months. + + * * * * * + +Sophie Saint-Michel told me to beware of loving a man. To-day he says, +"I love you! I need you! I shall go to the devil without you!" To-morrow +he turns to his affairs. In six months he says, "I was a fool!" Next +year he says, "Who was it that drove me wild for a time last year? What +was her name?" + + * * * * * + +Is love a game where men and women try to outwit each other, and man +boasts, "She loves me"--not "I love her"? + +You are two persons. Lazarre belongs to me. He follows, he thinks about +me. He used to slip past my windows at Lake George, and cast his eyes up +at the panes. But Louis is my sovereign. He sees and thinks and acts +without me, and his lot is apart from mine. + + * * * * * + +We are in a ship going to the side of the world where you are. Except +that we are going towards you, it is like being pushed off a cliff. All +my faith in the appearances of things is at an end. I have been juggled +with. I have misjudged. + +I could have insisted that we hold Mont-Louis as tenants. The count is +our friend. It is not a strong man's fault that a weak man is weak and +unfortunate. Yet seeing Cousin Philippe wince, I could not put the daily +humiliation upon him. He is like my father come back, broken, helpless. +And Paul and I, who are young, must take care of him where he will be +least humbled. + +I was over-pampered in Mont-Louis and Paris. I like easy living, +carriages, long-tailed gowns, jewels, trained servants, music, and +spectacles on the stage; a park and wide lands all my own; seclusion +from people who do not interest me; idleness in enjoyment. + +I am the devil of vanity. Annabel has not half the points I have. When +the men are around her I laugh to think I shall be fine and firm as a +statue when she is a mass of wrinkles and a wisp of fuzz. When she is a +mass of wrinkles and a wisp of fuzz she will be riper and tenderer +inside. But will the men see that? No. They will be off after a fresher +Annabel. So much for men. On the other hand, I had but a few months of +luxury, and may count on the hardness that comes of endurance; for I was +an exile from childhood. There is strength in doing the right thing. If +there were no God, if Christ had never died on the cross, I should have +to do the right thing because it is right. + +Why should we lay up grievances against one another? They must +disappear, and they only burn our hearts. + +Sometimes I put my arms around Ernestine, and rest her old head against +me. She revolts. People incline to doubt the superiority of a person who +will associate with them. But the closer our poverty rubs us the more +Ernestine insists upon class differences. + +There should be a colossal mother going about the world to turn men over +her lap and give them the slipper. They pine for it. + +Am I helping forward the general good, or am I only suffering Nature's +punishment? + +A woman can fasten the bonds of habit on a man, giving him food from her +table, hourly strengthening his care for her. By merely putting herself +before him every day she makes him think of her. What chance has an +exiled woman against the fearful odds of daily life? + +Yet sometimes I think I can wait a thousand years. In sun and snow, in +wind and dust, a woman waits. If she stretched her hand and said "Come," +who could despise her so much as she would despise herself? + +What is so cruel as a man? Hour after hour, day after day, year after +year, he presses the iron spike of silence in. + +Coward!--to let me suffer such anguish! + +Is it because I kissed you? That was the highest act of my life! I +groped down the black stairs of the Tuileries blinded by light. Why are +the natural things called wrong, and the unnatural ones just? + +Is it because I said I would come to you sometime? This is what I meant: +that it should give me no jealous pang to think of another woman's head +on your breast; that there is a wedlock which appearances cannot touch. + +No, I never would--I never would seek you; though sometimes the horror +of doing without you turns into reproach. What is he doing? He may need +me--and I am letting his life slip away. Am I cheating us both of what +could have harmed no one? + +It is not that usage is broken off. + +Yet if you were to come, I would punish you for coming! + +Fine heroic days I tell myself we are marching to meet each other. If +the day has been particularly hard, I say, "Perhaps I have carried his +load too, and he marches lighter." + +You have faults, no doubt, but the only one I could not pardon would be +your saying, "I repent!" + +The instinct to conceal defeat and pain is so strong in me that I would +have my heart cut out rather than own it ached. Yet many women carry all +before them by a little judicious whining and rebellion. + +I never believe in your unfaith. If you brought a wife and showed her to +me I should be sorry for her, and still not believe in your unfaith. + +Louis, I have been falling down flat and crawling the ground. Now I am +up again. It didn't hurt. + +It is the old German fairy story. Every day gold must be spun out of +straw. How big the pile of straw looks every morning, and how little the +handful of gold every night! + +This prairie in the Indiana Territory that I dreaded as a black gulf, is +a grassy valley. + +I love the garden; and I love to hoe the Indian corn. It springs so +clean from the sod, and is a miracle of growth. After the stalks are +around my knees, they are soon around my shoulders. The broad leaves +have a fragrance, and the silk is sweet as violets. + +We wash our clothes in the river. Women who hoe corn, dig in a garden, +and wash clothes, earn the wholesome bread of life. + +To-day Paul brought the first bluebells of spring, and put them in water +for me. They were buds; and when they bloomed out he said, "God has +blessed these flowers." + +We have to nurse the sick. The goodness of these pioneer women is +unfailing. It is like the great and kind friendship of the Du Chaumonts. +They help me take care of Cousin Philippe. + +Paul meditated to-day, "I don't want to hurt the Father's feelings. I +don't want to say He was greedy and made a better place for Himself in +heaven than He made for us down here. Is it nicer just because He is +there?" + +His prayer: "God bless my father and mother and Ernestine. God keep my +father and mother and Ernestine. And keep my mother with me day and +night, dressed and undressed! God keep together all that love each +other." + +When he is a man I am going to tell him, and say: "But I have built my +house, not wrecked it, I have been yours, not love's." + +He tells me such stories as this: "Once upon a time there was such a +loving angel came down. And they ran a string through his stomach and +hung him on the wall. He never whined a bit." + +The people in this country, which is called free, are nearly all bound. +Those who lack money as we do cannot go where they please, or live as +they would live. Is that freedom? + + * * * * * + +On a cool autumn night, when the fire crackles, the ten children of the +settlement, fighting or agreeing, come running from their houses like +hens. We sit on the floor in front of the hearth, and I suffer the +often-repeated martyrdom of the "Fire Pig." This tale, invented once as +fast as I could talk, I have been doomed to repeat until I dread the +shades of evening. + +The children bunch their heads together; their lips part, as soon as I +begin to say: + +Do you see that glowing spot in the heart of the coals? That is the +house of the Fire Pig. One day the Fire Pig found he had no more corn, +and he was very hungry. So he jumped out of his house and ran down the +road till he came to a farmer's field. + +"Good morning, Mr. Farmer," said the little pig. "Have you any corn for +me to-day?" + +"Why, who are you?" said the farmer. + +"I'm a little Fire Pig." + +"No, I haven't any corn for a Fire Pig." + +The pig ran on till he came to another farmer's field. + +"Good morning, Mr. Farmer, have you any corn for me to-day?" + +"Who are you?" said the farmer. + +"Oh, I'm the little Fire Pig." + +"I don't know," said the farmer. "I would give you a great bagful if you +could kill the snake which comes every night and steals my cattle." + +The pig thought, "How can I kill that snake?" but he was so hungry he +knew he should starve without corn, so he said he would try. The farmer +told him to go down in the field, where the snake came gliding at night +with its head reared high in air. The pig went down in the meadow, and +the first creature he saw was a sheep. + +"Baa!" said the sheep. That was its way of saying "How do you do?" "Who +are you?" + +"I'm the little Fire Pig." + +"What are you doing here?" + +"I've come to kill the great snake that eats the farmer's cattle." + +"I'm very glad," said the sheep, "for it takes my lambs. How are you +going to kill it?" + +"I don't know," said the pig; "can't you help me?" + +"I'll give you some of my wool." + +The pig thanked the sheep, and went a little farther and met a horse. +"He-ee-ee!" said the horse. That was his way of saying "How do you do?" +"Who are you?" + +"I am the little Fire Pig." + +"What are you doing here?" + +"I've come to kill the great snake that eats the farmer's cattle." + +"I'm glad of that," said the horse; "for it steals my colts. How are you +going to do it?" + +"I don't know," said the pig. "Can't you help me?" + +"I'll give you some of the long hairs from my tail," said the horse. + +The pig took them and thanked the horse. And when he went a little +farther he met a cow. + +"Moo!" said the cow. That was her way of saying "How do you do?" "Who +are you?" + +"I'm the little Fire Pig." + +"What are you doing here?" + +"I've come to kill the great snake that eats the farmer's cattle." + +"I am glad of that, for it steals my calves. How are you going to do +it?" + +"I don't know. Can't you help me?" + +"I'll give you one of my sharp horns," said the cow. + +So the pig took it and thanked her. Then he spun and he twisted, and he +spun and he twisted, and made a strong woolen cord of the sheep's wool. +And he wove and he braided, and he wove and he braided, and made a +cunning snare of the horse's tail. And he whetted and sharpened, and he +whetted and sharpened, and made a keen dart of the cow's horn. + +--Now when the little pig has all his materials ready, and sees the +great snake come gliding, gliding--I turn the situation over to the +children. What did he do with the rope, the snare and the horn? They +work it out each in his own way. There is a mighty wrangling all around +the hearth. + +One day is never really like another, though it seems so. + +Perhaps being used to the sight of the Iroquois at Lake George, makes it +impossible for me to imagine what the settlers dread, and that is an +attack. We are shut around by forests. In primitive life so much time +and strength go to the getting of food that we can think of little else. + +It is as bad to slave at work as to slave at pleasure. But God may +forgive what people cannot help. + +There is a very old woman among the settlers whom they call Granny. We +often sit together. She cannot get a gourd edge betwixt her nose and +chin when she drinks, and has forgotten she ever had teeth. She does not +expect much; but there is one right she contends for, and that is the +right of ironing her cap by stretching it over her knee. When I have +lived in this settlement long enough, my nose and chin may come +together, and I shall forget my teeth. But this much I will exact of +fate. My cap shall be ironed. I will not--I will not iron it by +stretching it over my knee! + +Count du Chaumont would be angry if he saw me learning to weave, for +instance. You would not be angry. That makes a difference between you +as men which I feel but cannot explain. + +We speak English with our neighbors. Paul, who is to be an American, +must learn his language well. I have taught him to read and write. I +have taught him the history of his family and of his father's country. +His head is as high as my breast. When will my head be as high as his +breast? + +Skenedonk loves you as a young superior brother. I have often wondered +what he thought about when he went quietly around at your heels. You +told me he had killed and scalped, and in spite of education, was as +ready to kill and scalp again as any white man is for war. + +I dread him like a toad, and wish him to keep on his side of the walk. +He is always with you, and no doubt silently urges, "Come back to the +wigwams that nourished you!" + +Am I mistaken? Are we moving farther and farther apart instead of +approaching each other? Oh, Louis, does this road lead to nothing? + +I am glad I gave you that key. It was given thoughtlessly, when I was in +a bubble of joy. But if you have kept it, it speaks to you every day. + +Sophie Saint-Michel told me man sometimes piles all his tokens in a +retrospective heap, and says, "Who the deuce gave me this or that?" + +Sophie's father used to be so enraged at his wife and daughter because +he could not restore their lost comforts. But this is really a better +disposition than a mean subservience to misfortune. + +The children love to have me dance gavottes for them. Some of their +mothers consider it levity. Still they feel the need of a little levity +themselves. + +We had a great festival when the wild roses were fully in bloom. The +prairie is called a mile square, and wherever a plow has not struck, +acres of wild roses grow. They hedge us from the woods like a parapet +edging a court. These volunteers are very thorny, bearing tender claws +to protect themselves with. But I am nimble with my scissors. + +We took the Jordan oxen, a meek pair that have broken sod for the +colony, and twined them with garlands of wild roses. Around and around +their horns, and around and around their bodies the long ropes were +wound, their master standing by with his goad. That we wound also, and +covered his hat with roses. The huge oxen swayed aside, looking ashamed +of themselves. And when their tails were ornamented with a bunch at the +tip, they switched these pathetically. Still even an ox loves festivity, +whether he owns to it or not. We made a procession, child behind child, +each bearing on his head all the roses he could carry, the two oxen +walking tandem, led by their master in front. Everybody came out and +laughed. It was a beautiful sight, and cheered us, though we gave it no +name except the Procession of Roses. + +Often when I open my eyes at dawn I hear music far off that makes my +heart swell. It is the waking dream of a king marching with drums and +bugles. While I am dressing I hum, "Oh, Richard, O my king!" + +Louis! Louis! Louis! + +I cannot--I cannot keep it down! How can I hold still that righteousness +may be done through me, when I love--love--love--when I clench my fists +and walk on my knees-- + +I am a wicked woman! What is all this sweet pretense of duty! It covers +the hypocrite that loves--that starves--that cries, My king!--my king! + +Strike me!--drive me within bounds! This long repression--years, years +of waiting--for what?--for more waiting!--it is driving me mad! + +You have the key. + +I have nothing! + + + + +IX + + +My God! What had she seen in me to love? I sat up and held the book +against my bosom. Its cry out of her past filled the world from horizon +to horizon. The ox that she had wreathed in roses would have heard it +through her silence. But the brutal, slow Bourbon had gone his way, +turning his stupid head from side to side, leaving her to perish. + +Punctuated by years, bursting from eternities of suppression, it brought +an accumulated force that swept the soul out of my body. + +All that had not been written in the book was as easily read as what was +set down. I saw the monotony of her life, and her gilding of its +rudeness, the pastimes she thought out for children; I saw her nursing +the helplessness which leaned upon her, and turning aside the contempt +of pioneer women who passionately admired strong men. I saw her eyes +waiting on the distant laggard who stupidly pursued his own affairs +until it was too late to protect her. I read the entries over and over. +When day broke it seemed to me the morning after my own death, such +knowing and experiencing had passed through me. I could not see her +again until I had command of myself. + +So I dressed and went silently down stairs. The Pawnees were stirring +in the kitchen. I got some bread and meat from them, and also some grain +for the horse; then mounted and rode to the river. + +The ferryman lived near the old stockade. Some time always passed after +he saw the signals before the deliberate Frenchman responded. I led my +horse upon the unwieldly craft propelled by two huge oars, which the +ferryman managed, running from one to another according to the swing of +the current. It was broad day when we reached the other shore; one of +those days, gray overhead, when moisture breaks upward through the +ground, instead of descending. Many light clouds flitted under the +grayness. The grass showed with a kind of green blush through its old +brown fleece. + +I saw the first sailing vessel of spring coming to anchor, from the +straits of the great lakes. Once I would have hailed that vessel as +possible bearer of news. Now it could bring me nothing of any +importance. + +The trail along the Fox river led over rolling land, dipping into coves +and rising over hills. The Fox, steel blue in the shade, becomes tawny +as its namesake when its fur of rough waves is combed to redness in the +sunlight. Under grayness, with a soft wind blowing, the Fox showed his +blue coat. + +The prospect was so large, with a ridge running along in the distance, +and open country spreading away on the other side, that I often turned +in my saddle and looked back over the half-wooded trail. I thought I saw +a figure walking a long way behind me, and being alone, tried to +discern what it was. But under that gray sky nothing was sharply +defined. I rode on thinking of the book in the breast of my coat. + +It was certain I was not to marry. And being without breakfast and +unstimulated by the sky, I began to think also what unstable material I +had taken in hand when I undertook to work with Indians. Instinctively I +knew then what a young southern statesman named Jefferson Davis whom I +first met as a commandant of the fort at Green Bay--afterwards told me +in Washington: "No commonwealth in a republic will stand with interests +apart from the federated whole." White men, who have exclaimed from the +beginning against the injustice done the red man, and who keep on +pitying and exterminating him, made a federated whole with interests +apart from his. + +Again when I looked back I saw the figure, but it was afoot, and I soon +lost it in a cove. + +My house had been left undisturbed by hunters and Indians through the +winter. I tied the horse to a gallery post and unfastened the door. A +pile of refuse timbers offered wood for a fire, and I carried in several +loads of it, and lighted the virgin chimney. Then I brought water from +the spring and ate breakfast, sitting before the fire and thinking a +little wearily and bitterly of my prospect in life. + +Having fed my horse, I covered the fire, leaving a good store of fuel by +the hearth, and rode away toward the Menominee and Winnebago lands. + +The day was a hard one, and when I came back towards nightfall I was +glad to stop with the officers of the stockade and share their mess. + +"You looked fagged," said one of them. + +"The horse paths are heavy," I answered, "and I have been as far as the +Indian lands." + +I had been as far as that remote time when Eagle was not a Cloud-Mother. +To cross the river and see her smiling in meaningless happiness seemed +more than I could do. + +Yet she might notice my absence. We had been housed together ever since +she had discovered me. Our walks and rides, our fireside talks and +evening diversions were never separate. At Pierre Grignon's the family +flocked in companies. When the padlocked book sent me out of the house I +forgot that she was used to my presence and might be disturbed by an +absence no one could explain. + +"The first sailing vessel is in from the straits," said the lieutenant. + +"Yes, I saw her come to anchor as I rode out this morning." + +"She brought a passenger." + +"Anybody of importance?" + +"At first blush, no. At second blush, yes." + +"Why 'no' at first blush?" + +"Because he is only a priest." + +"Only a priest, haughty officer! Are civilians and churchmen dirt under +army feet?" + +The lieutenant grinned. + +"When you see a missionary priest landing to confess a lot of +Canadians, he doesn't seem quite so important, as a prelate from Ghent, +for instance." + +"Is this passenger a prelate from Ghent?" + +"That is where the second blush comes in. He is." + +"How do you know?" + +"I saw him, and talked with him." + +"What is he doing in Green Bay?" + +"Looking at the country. He was inquiring for you." + +"For me!" + +"Yes." + +"What could a prelate from Ghent want with me?" + +"Says he wants to make inquiries about the native tribes." + +"Oh! Did you recommend me as an expert in native tribes?" + +"Naturally. But not until he asked if you were here." + +"He mentioned my name?" + +"Yes. He wanted to see you. You'll not have to step out of your way to +gratify him." + +"From that I infer there is a new face at Pierre Grignon's." + +"Your inference is correct. The Grignons always lodge the priests, and a +great man like this one will be certainly quartered with them." + +"What is he like?" + +"A smooth and easy gentleman." + +"In a cassock?" + +"Tell a poor post lieutenant what a cassock is." + +"The long-skirted black coat reaching to the heels." + +"Our missionary priests don't wear it here. He has the bands and broad +hat and general appearance of a priest, but his coat isn't very long." + +"Then he has laid aside the cassock while traveling through this +country." + +The prelate from Ghent, no doubt a common priest, that the lieutenant +undertook to dignify, slipped directly out of my mind. + +Madame Ursule was waiting for me, on the gallery with fluted pillars at +the front of the house. + +"M's'r Williams, where is Madeleine?" + +Her anxiety vibrated through the darkness. + +"Isn't she here, madame?" + +"She has not been seen to-day." + +We stood in silence, then began to speak together. + +"But, madame--" + +"M's'r Williams--" + +"I went away early--" + +"When I heard from the Pawnees that you had gone off on horseback so +early I thought it possible you might have taken her with you." + +"Madame, how could I do that?" + +"Of course you wouldn't have done that. But we can't find her. We've +inquired all over La Baye. She left the house when no one saw her. She +was never out after nightfall before." + +"But, madame, she must be here!" + +"Oh, m's'r, my hope was that you knew where she is--she has followed you +about so! The poor child may be at the bottom of the river!" + +"She can't be at the bottom of the river!" I retorted. + +The girls ran out. They were dressed for a dance, and drew gauzy scarfs +around their anxious faces. The house had been searched from ground to +attic more than once. They were sure she must be hiding from them. + +I remembered the figure that appeared to me on the trail. My heart +stopped. I could not humiliate my Cloud-Mother by placing her before +them in the act of tracking me like a dog. I could not tell any one +about it, but asked for Skenedonk. + +The Indian had been out on the river in a canoe. He came silently, and +stood near me. The book was between us. I had it in the breast of my +coat, and he had it on his conscience. + +"Bring out your horse and get me a fresh one," I said. + +"Where shall I find one?" + +"Pierre will give you one of ours," said Madame Ursule. "But you must +eat." + +"I had my supper with the officers of the fort, madame. I would have +made a briefer stay if I had known what had happened on this side of the +river." + +"I forgot to tell you, M's'r Williams, there is an abbe here from +Europe. He asked for you." + +"I cannot see him to-night." + +Skenedonk drew near me to speak, but I was impatient of any delay. We +went into the house, and Madame Ursule said she would bring a blanket +and some food to strap behind my saddle. The girls helped her. There was +a hush through the jolly house. The master bustled out of the family +room. I saw behind him, standing as he had stood at Mittau, a priest of +fine and sweet presence, waiting for Pierre Grignon to speak the words +of introduction. + +"It is like seeing France again!" exclaimed the master of the house. +"Abbe Edgeworth, this is M's'r Williams." + +"Monsieur," said the abbe to me with perfect courtesy, "believe me, I am +glad to see you." + +"Monsieur," I answered, giving him as brief notice as he had given me in +Mittau, yet without rancor;--there was no room in me for that. "You have +unerringly found the best house in the Illinois Territory, and I leave +you to the enjoyment of it." + +"You are leaving the house, monsieur?" + +"I find I am obliged to make a short journey." + +"I have made a long one, monsieur. It may be best to tell you that I +come charged with a message for you." + +I thought of Madame d'Angouleme. The sister who had been mine for a few +minutes, and from whom this priest had cast me out, declaring that God +had smitten the pretender when my eclipse laid me at his +feet--remembered me in her second exile, perhaps believed in me still. +Women put wonderful restraints upon themselves. + +Abbe Edgeworth and I looked steadily at each other. + +"I hope Madame d'Angouleme is well?" + +"She is well, and is still the comforter of his Majesty's misfortune." + +"Monsieur the Abbe, a message would need to be very urgent to be +listened to to-night. I will give you audience in the morning, or when I +return." + +We both bowed again. I took Pierre Grignon into the hall for counsel. + +In the end he rode with me, for we concluded to send Skenedonk with a +party along the east shore. + +Though searching for the lost is an experience old as the world, its +poignancy was new to me. I saw Eagle tangled in the wild oats of the +river. I saw her treacherously dealt with by Indians who called +themselves at peace. I saw her wandering out and out, mile beyond mile, +to undwelt-in places, and the tender mercy of wolves. + +We crossed the ferry and took to the trail, Pierre Grignon talking +cheerfully. + +"Nothing has happened to her, M's'r Williams," he insisted. "No Indian +about La Baye would hurt her, and the child is not so crazy as to hurt +herself." + +It was a starless night, muffled overhead as the day had been, but +without rain or mist. He had a lantern hanging at his saddle bow, ready +to light. In the open lands we rode side by side, but through growths +along the Fox first one and then the other led the way. + +We found my door unfastened. I remembered for the first time I had not +locked it. Some one had been in the house. A low fire burned in the +chimney. We stirred it and lighted the lantern. Footprints not our own +had dried white upon the smooth dark floor. + +They pointed to the fireplace and out again. They had been made by a +woman's feet. + +We descended the hill to the river, and tossed our light through every +bush, the lantern blinking in the wind. We explored the ravine, the +light stealing over white birches that glistened like alabaster. It was +no use to call her name. She might be hidden behind a rock laughing at +us. We had to surprise her to recover her. Skenedonk would have traced +her where we lost the trail. + +When we went back to the house, dejected with physical weariness, I +unstrapped the blanket and the food which Madame Ursule had sent, and +brought them to Pierre Grignon. He threw the blanket on the settee, laid +out bread and meat on the table, and ate, both of us blaming ourselves +for sending the Indian on the other side of the river. + +We traced the hard route which I had followed the day before, and +reached Green Bay about dawn. Pierre Grignon went to bed exhausted. I +had some breakfast and waited for Skenedonk. He had not returned, but +had sent one man back to say there was no clue. The meal was like a +passover eaten in haste. I could not wait, but set out again, with a +pillion which I had carried uselessly in the night strapped again upon +the horse for her seat, in case I found her; and leaving word for the +Oneida to follow. + +I had forgotten there was such a person as Abbe Edgeworth, when he led a +horse upon the ferry boat. + +"You ride early as well as late. May I join you?" + +"I ride on a search which cannot interest you, monsieur." + +"You are mistaken. I understand what has disturbed the house, and I want +to ride with you." + +"It will be hard for a horseman accustomed to avenues." + +"It will suit me perfectly." + +It did not suit me at all, but he took my coldness with entire courtesy. + +"Have you breakfasted, monsieur?" + +"I had my usual slice of bread and cup of water before rising," he +answered. + +Again I led on the weary trail to my house. Abbe Edgeworth galloped +well, keeping beside me where there was room, or riding behind where +there was not. The air blew soft, and great shadow clouds ran in an +upper current across the deepest blueness I had seen in many a day. The +sun showed beyond rows of hills. + +I bethought myself to ask the priest if he knew anything about Count de +Chaumont. He answered very simply and directly that he did; that I might +remember Count de Chaumont was mentioned in Mittau. The count, he said, +according to common report, had retired with his daughter and his +son-in-law to Blois, where he was vigorously rebuilding his ruined +chateau of Chaumont. + +If my mind had been upon the priest, I should have wondered what he came +for. He did not press his message. + +"The court is again in exile?" I said, when we could ride abreast. + +"At Ghent." + +"Bellenger visited me last September. He was without a dauphin." + +"We could supply the deficiency," Abbe Edgeworth pleasantly replied. + +"With the boy he left in Europe?" + +"Oh, dear no. With royal dukes. You observed his majesty could not +pension a helpless idiot without encouraging dauphins. These dauphins +are thicker than blackberries. The dauphin myth has become so common +that whenever we see a beggar approaching, we say, 'There comes another +dauphin.' One of them is a fellow who calls himself the Duke of +Richemont. He has followers who believe absolutely in him. Somebody, +seeing him asleep, declared it was the face of the dead king!" + +I felt stung, remembering the Marquis du Plessy's words. + +"Oh, yes, yes," said Abbe Edgeworth. "He has visions too. Half memories, +when the face of his mother comes back to him!" + +"What about his scars?" I asked hardily. + +"Scars! yes, I am told he has the proper stigmata of the dauphin. He was +taken out of the Temple prison; a dying boy being substituted for him +there. We all know the dauphin's physician died suddenly; some say he +was poisoned; and a new physician attended the boy who died in the +Temple. Of course the priest who received the child's confession should +have known a dauphin when he saw one. But that's neither here nor there. +We lived then in surprising times." + +"Madame d'Angouleme would recognize him as her brother if she saw him?" +I suggested. + +"I think she is not so open to tokens as at one time. Women's hearts are +tender. The Duchess d'Angouleme could never be convinced that her +brother died." + +"But others, including her uncle, were convinced?" + +"The Duke of Richemont was not. What do you yourself think, Monsieur +Williams?" + +"I think that the man who is out is an infinite joke. He tickles the +whole world. People have a right to laugh at a man who cannot prove he +is what he says he is. The difference between a pretender and a usurper +is the difference between the top of the hill and the bottom." + +The morning sun showed the white mortar ribs of my homestead clean and +fair betwixt hewed logs; and brightened the inside of the entrance or +hall room. For I saw the door stood open. It had been left unfastened +but not ajar. Somebody was in the house. + +I told Abbe Edgeworth we would dismount and tie our horses a little +distance away. And I asked him to wait outside and let me enter alone. + +He obligingly sauntered on the hill overlooking the Fox; I stepped upon +the gallery and looked in. + +The sweep of a gray dress showed in front of the settle. Eagle was +there. I stood still. + +She had put on more wood. Fire crackled in the chimney. I saw, and +seemed to have known all night, that she had taken pieces of unbroken +bread and meat left by Pierre Grignon on my table; that her shoes were +cleaned and drying in front of the fire; that she must have carried her +dress above contact with the soft ground. + +When I asked Abbe Edgeworth not to come in, her dread of strangers +influenced me less than a desire to protect her from his eyes, haggard +and draggled as she probably was. The instinct which made her keep her +body like a temple had not failed under the strong excitement that drove +her out. Whether she slept under a bush, or not at all, or took to the +house after Pierre Grignon and I left it, she was resting quietly on the +settle before the fireplace, without a stain of mud upon her. + +I could see nothing but the foot of her dress. Had any change passed +over her face? Or had the undisturbed smile of my Cloud-Mother followed +me on the road? + +Perhaps the cloud had thickened. Perhaps thunders and lightnings moved +within it. Sane people sometimes turn wild after being lost, running +from their friends, and fighting against being restrained and brought +home. + +The gray dress in front of my hearth I could not see without a heaving +of the breast. + + + + +X. + + +How a man's life is drawn, turned, shaped, by a woman! He may deny it. +He may swagger and lie about it. Heredity, ambition, lust, noble +aspirations, weak self-indulgence, power, failure, success, have their +turns with him. But the woman he desires above all others, whose breast +is his true home, makes him, mars him. + +Had she cast herself on the settle exhausted and ill after exposure? +Should I find her muttering and helpless? Worse than all, had the night +made her forget that she was a Cloud-Mother? + +I drew my breath with an audible sound in the throat. Her dress stirred. +She leaned around the edge of the settle. + +Eagle de Ferrier, not my Cloud-Mother, looked at me. Her features were +pinched from exposure, but flooded themselves instantly with a blush. +She snatched her shoes from the hearth and drew them on. + +I was taken with such a trembling that I held to a gallery post. + +Suppose this glimpse of herself had been given to me only to be +withdrawn! I was afraid to speak, and waited. + +She stood up facing me. + +"Louis!" + +"Madame!" + +"What is the matter, sire?" + +"Nothing, madame, nothing." + +"Where is Paul?" + +I did not know what to do, and looked at her completely helpless; for if +I told her Paul was dead, she might relapse; and evasions must be +temporary. + +"The Indian took him," she cried. + +"But the Indian didn't kill him, Eagle." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because Paul came to me." + +"He came to you? Where?" + +"At Fort Stephenson." + +"Where is my child?" + +"He is at Fort Stephenson." + +"Bring him to me!" + +"I can't bring him, Eagle." + +"Then let me go to him." + +I did not know what to say to her. + +"And there were Cousin Philippe and Ernestine lying across the step. I +have been thinking all night. Do you understand it?" + +"Yes, I understand it, Eagle." + +By the time I had come into the house her mind leaped forward in +comprehension. The blanket she had held on her shoulders fell around her +feet. It was a striped gay Indian blanket. + +"You were attacked, and the settlement was burned." + +"But whose house is this?" + +"This is my house." + +"Did you bring me to your house?" + +"I wasn't there." + +"No, I remember. You were not there. I saw you the last time at the +Tuileries." + +"When did you come to yourself, madame?" + +"I have been sick, haven't I? But I have been sitting by this fire +nearly all night, trying to understand. I knew I was alone, because +Cousin Philippe and Ernestine--I want Paul!" + +I looked at the floor, and must have appeared miserable. She passed her +hands back over her forehead many times as if brushing something away. +"If he died, tell me." + +"I held him, Eagle." + +"They didn't kill him?" + +"No." + +"Or scalp him?" + +"The knife never touched him." + +"But--" + +"It was in battle." + +"My child died in battle? How long have I been ill?" + +"More than a year, Eagle." + +"And he died in battle?" + +"He had a wound in his side. He was brought into the fort, and I took +care of him." + +She burst out weeping, and laughed and wept, the tears running down her +face and wetting her bosom. + +"My boy! My little son! You held him! He died like a man!" + +I put her on the settle, and all the cloud left her in that tempest of +rain. Afterwards I wiped her face with my handkerchief and she sat erect +and still. + +A noise of many birds came from the ravine, and winged bodies darted +past the door uttering the cries of spring. Abbe Edgeworth sauntered by +and she saw him, and was startled. + +"Who is that?" + +"A priest." + +"When did he come?" + +"He rode here with me this morning." + +"Louis," she asked, leaning back, "who took care of me?" + +"You have been with the Grignons since you came to the Illinois +Territory." + +"Am I in the Illinois Territory?" + +"Yes, I found you with the Grignons." + +"They must be kind people!" + +"They are; the earth's salt." + +"But who brought me to the Illinois Territory?" + +"A family named Jordan." + +"The Indians didn't kill them?" + +"No." + +"Why wasn't I killed?" + +"The Indians regarded you with superstition." + +"What have I said and done?" + +"Nothing, madame, that need give you any uneasiness." + +"But what did I say?" she insisted. + +"You thought you were a Cloud-Mother." + +"A Cloud-Mother!" She was astonished and asked, "What is a +Cloud-Mother?" + +"You thought I was Paul, and you were my Cloud-Mother." + +"Did I say such a foolish thing as that?" + +"Don't call it foolish, madame." + +"I hope you will forget it." + +"I don't want to forget it." + +"But why are you in Illinois Territory, sire?" + +"I came to find land for the Iroquois. I intend to make a state with the +tribe." + +"But what of France?" + +"Oh, France is over supplied with men who want to make a state of her. +Louis XVIII has been on the throne eleven months, and was recently +chased off by Napoleon. + +"Louis XVIII on the throne? Did true loyalists suffer that?" + +"Evidently." + +"Sire, what became of Napoleon?" + +"He was beaten by the allies and sent to Elba. Louis XVIII was brought +in with processions. But in about eleven months Napoleon made a dash +across France--" + +"Tell me slowly. You say I have been ill more than a year. I know +nothing of what has happened." + +"Napoleon escaped from Elba, made a dash across France, and incidentally +swept the Bourbon off the throne. The last news from Europe shows him +gathering armies to meet the allies." + +"Oh, sire, you should have been there!" + +"Abbe Edgeworth suggests that France is well supplied with dauphins +also. Turning off dauphins has been a pastime at court." + +"Abbe Edgeworth? You do not mean the priest you saw at Mittau? + +"Confessor and almoner to his majesty. The same man." + +"Is he here?" + +"You saw him pass the door." + +"Why has he come to America?" + +"I have not inquired." + +"Why is he here with you?" + +"Because it pleases him, not me." + +"He brings you some message?" + +"So he says." + +"What is it?" + +"I have not had time to ask." + +She stood up. As she became more herself and the spirit rushed forward +in her face, I saw how her beauty had ripened. Hoeing corn and washing +in the river does not coarsen well-born women. I knew I should feel the +sweetness of her presence stinging through me and following me wherever +I went in the world. + +"Call the priest in, sire. I am afraid I have hindered the interview." + +"I did not meet him with my arms open, madame." + +"But you would have heard what he had to say, if I had not been in your +house. Why am I in your house?" + +"You came here." + +"Was I wandering about by myself?" + +"Yes, madame." + +"I thought I must have been walking. When I came to myself I was so +tired, and my shoes were muddy. If you want to see the priest I will go +into another room." + +"No, I will bring him in and let him give his message in your presence." + +When Abbe Edgeworth was presented to her, he slightly raised his +eyebrows, but expressed no astonishment at meeting her lucid eyes. Nor +did I explain--"God has given her back her senses in a night." + +The position in which she found herself was trying. She made him a grave +courtesy. My house might have been the chateau in which she was born, so +undisturbed was her manner. Her night wandering and mind-sickness were +simply put behind us in the past, with her having taken refuge in my +house, as matters which need not concern Abbe Edgeworth. He did not +concern himself with them, but bent before her as if he had no doubt of +her sanity. + +I asked her to resume her place on the settle. There was a stool for the +abbe and one for myself. We could see the river glinting in its valley, +and the windrows of heights beyond it. A wild bee darted into the room, +droning, and out again, the sun upon its back. + +"Monsieur," I said to Abbe Edgeworth, "I am ready now to hear the +message which you mentioned to me last night." + +"If madame will pardon me," he answered, "I will ask you to take me +where we can confer alone." + +"It is not necessary, monsieur. Madame de Ferrier knows my whole story." + +But the priest moved his shoulders. + +"I followed you in this remote place, monsieur, that we might talk +together without interruption, unembarrassed by any witness." + +Madame de Ferrier rose. I put her into her seat again with authority. + +"It is my wish, madame, to have at least one witness with Abbe Edgeworth +and myself." + +"I hope," he protested, "that madame will believe there can be no +objection to her presence. I am simply following instructions. I was +instructed to deliver my message in private." + +"Monsieur," Eagle answered, "I would gladly withdraw to another room." + +"I forbid it, madame," I said to her. + +"Very well," yielded Abbe Edgeworth. + +He took a folded paper from his bosom, and spoke to me with startling +sharpness. + +"You think I should address you as Monseigneur, as the dauphin of France +should be addressed?" + +"I do not press my rights. If I did, monsieur the abbe, you would not +have the right to sit in my presence." + +"Suppose we humor your fancy. I will address you as Monseigneur. Let us +even go a little farther and assume that you are known to be the dauphin +of France by witnesses who have never lost track of you. In that case, +Monseigneur, would you put your name to a paper resigning all claim upon +the throne?" + +"Is this your message?" + +"We have not yet come to the message." + +"Let us first come to the dauphin. When dauphins are as plentiful as +blackberries in France and the court never sees a beggar appear without +exclaiming: 'Here comes another dauphin!'--why, may I ask, is Abbe +Edgeworth sent so far to seek one?" + +He smiled. + +"We are supposing that Monseigneur, in whose presence I have the honor +to be, is the true dauphin." + +"That being the case, how are we to account for the true dauphin's +reception at Mittau?" + +"The gross stupidity and many blunders of agents that the court was +obliged to employ, need hardly be assumed." + +"Poor Bellenger! He has to take abuse from both sides in order that we +may be polite to each other." + +"As Monseigneur suggests, we will not go into that matter." + +Eagle sat as erect as a statue and as white. + +I felt an instant's anxiety. Yet she had herself entirely at command. + +"We have now arrived at the paper, I trust," said the priest. + +"The message?" + +"Oh, no. The paper in which you resign all claim to the throne of +France, and which may give you the price of a principality in this +country." + +"I do not sign any such paper." + +"Not at all?" + +"Not at all." + +"You are determined to hold to your rights?" + +"I am determined not to part with my rights." + +"Inducements large enough might be offered." He paused suggestively. + +"The only man in France," I said, "empowered to treat for abdication of +the throne at present, is Napoleon Bonaparte. Did you bring a message +from him?" + +Abbe Edgeworth winced, but laughed. + +"Napoleon Bonaparte will not last. All Europe is against him. I see we +have arrived at the message." + +He rose and handed me the paper he held in his hand. I rose and received +it, and read it standing. + +It was one brief line:-- + + "Louis: You are recalled. + Marie-Therese." + +The blood must have rushed over my face. I had a submerged feeling, +looking out of it at the priest. + +"Well, Monseigneur?" + +"It is like her heavenly goodness." + +"Do you see nothing but her heavenly goodness in it?" + +"This is the message?" + +"It is a message I crossed the ocean to bring." + +"With the consent of her uncle?" + +"Madame d'Angouleme never expresses a wish contrary to the wishes of his +majesty." + +"We are then to suppose that Louis XVIII offers me, through you, +monsieur, the opportunity to sign away my rights, and failing that, the +opportunity of taking them?" + +"Supposing you are Monseigneur the dauphin, we will let our supposition +run as far as this." + +I saw distinctly the position of Louis XVIII. Marquis du Plessy had told +me he was a mass of superstition. No doubt he had behaved, as Bellenger +said, for the good of the royalist cause. But the sanction of heaven was +not on his behavior. Bonaparte was let loose on him like the dragon from +the pit. And Frenchmen, after yawning eleven months or so in the king's +august face, threw up their hats for the dragon. In his second exile the +inner shadow and the shadow of age combined against him. He had tasted +royalty. It was not as good as he had once thought. Beside him always, +he saw the face of Marie-Therese. She never forgot the hushed mystery of +her brother. Her silence and obedience to the crown, her loyalty to +juggling and evasion, were more powerful than resistance. + +A young man, brought suddenly before the jaded nation and proclaimed at +an opportune moment, might be a successful toy. The sore old king would +oil more than the royalist cause, and the blessing of heaven would +descend on one who restored the veritable dauphin. + +I never have seen the most stupid man doubt his power to ride if +somebody hoists him into the saddle. + +"Let us go farther with our suppositions," I said. "Suppose I decline?" + +I heard Madame de Ferrier gasp. + +The priest raised his eyebrows. + +"In that case you will be quite willing to give me a signed paper +declaring your reasons." + +"I sign no paper." + +"Let me suggest that Monseigneur is not consistent. He neither resigns +his supposed rights nor will he exercise them." + +"I will neither resign them nor exercise them." + +"This is virtually resigning them." + +"The abbe will pardon me for saying it is not. My rights are mine, +whether I use them or not." + +"Monseigneur understands that opportunity is a visitor that comes but +once." + +"I understand that the most extraordinary thing has happened to-day that +will ever go unrecorded in history. One Bourbon offers to give away a +throne he has lost and another Bourbon refuses it." + +"You may well say it will go unrecorded in history. Excepting this +lady,"--the abbe bowed toward Eagle,--"there is no witness." + +"Wise precautions have been taken," I agreed. "This scrap of paper may +mean anything or nothing." + +"You decline?" he repeated. + +"I think France is done with the Bourbons, monsieur the abbe. A fine +spectacle they have made of themselves, cooling their heels all over +Europe, waiting for Napoleon's shoes! Will I go sneaking and trembling +to range myself among impotent kings and wrangle over a country that +wants none of us? No, I never will! I see where my father slipped. I see +where the eighteenth Louis slipped. I am a man tenacious beyond belief. +You cannot loose my grip when I take hold. But I never have taken hold, +I never will take hold--of my native country, struggling as she is to +throw off hereditary rule!" + +"You are an American!" said Abbe Edgeworth contemptuously. + +"If France called to me out of need, I would fight for her. A lifetime +of peaceful years I would toss away in a minute to die in one achieving +battle for her. But she neither calls me nor needs me. A king is not +simply an appearance--a continuation of hereditary rights!" + +"Your position is incredible," said the priest. + +"I do not belittle the prospect you open before me. I see the practical +difficulties, but I see well the magnificence beyond them." + +"Then why do you hesitate?" + +"I don't hesitate. A man is contemptible who stands shivering and +longing outside of what he dare not attempt. I would dare if I longed. +But I don't long." + +"Monseigneur believes there will be complications?" + +"I know my own obstinacy. A man who tried to work me with strings behind +a throne, would think he was struck by lightning." + +"Sire," Madame de Ferrier spoke out, "this is the hour of your life. +Take your kingdom." + +"I should have to take it, madame, if I got it. My uncle of Provence has +nothing to give me. He merely says--'My dear dauphin, if Europe knocks +Napoleon down, will you kindly take hold of a crank which is too heavy +for me, and turn it for the good of the Bourbons? We may thus keep the +royal machine in the family!'" + +"You have given no adequate reason for declining this offer," said the +priest. + +"I will give no reason. I simply decline." + +"Is this the explanation that I shall make to Madame d'Angouleme? Think +of the tender sister who says--'Louis, you are recalled!" + +"I do think of her. God bless her!" + +"Must I tell her that Monseigneur planted his feet like one of these +wild cattle, and wheeled, and fled from the contemplation of a throne?" + +"You will dress it up in your own felicitous way, monsieur." + +"What do you wish me to say?" + +"That I decline. I have not pressed the embarrassing question of why I +was not recalled long ago. I reserve to myself the privilege of +declining without saying why I decline." + +"He must be made to change his mind, monsieur!" Madame de Ferrier +exclaimed. + +"I am not a man that changes his mind every time the clock strikes." + +I took the padlocked book out of my breast and laid it upon the table. I +looked at the priest, not at her. The padlocked book seemed to have no +more to do with the conversation, than a hat or a pair of gloves. + +I saw, as one sees from the side of the eye, the scarlet rush of blood +and the snow-white rush of pallor which covered her one after the other. +The moment was too strenuous. I could not spare her. She had to bear it +with me. + +She set her clenched hands on her knees. + +"Sire!" + +I faced her. The coldest look I ever saw in her gray eyes repelled me, +as she deliberately said-- + +"You are not such a fool!" + +I stared back as coldly and sternly, and deliberately answered-- + +"I am--just--such a fool!" + +"Consider how any person who might be to blame for your decision, would +despise you for it afterwards!" + +"A boy in the first flush of his youth," Abbe Edgeworth said, his fine +jaws squared with a grin, "might throw away a kingdom for some woman who +took his fancy, and whom he could not have perhaps, unless he did throw +his kingdom away. And after he had done it he would hate the woman. But +a young man in his strength doesn't do such things!" + +"A king who hasn't spirit to be a king!" Madame de Ferrier mocked. + +I mercilessly faced her down. + +"What is there about me? Sum me up. I am robbed on every side by any one +who cares to fleece me. Whenever I am about to accomplish anything I +fall down as if knocked on the head!" + +She rose from her seat. + +"You let yourself be robbed because you are princely! You have plainly +left behind you every weakness of your childhood. Look at him in his +strength, Monsieur Abbe! He has sucked in the vigor of a new country! +The failing power of an old line of kings is renewed in him! You could +not have nourished such a dauphin for France in your exiled court! +Burying in the American soil has developed what you see for +yourself--the king!" + +"He is a handsome man," Abbe Edgeworth quietly admitted. + +"Oh, let his beauty alone! Look at his manhood--his kinghood!" + +"Of what use is his kinghood if he will not exercise it?" + +"He must!" + +She turned upon me fiercely. + +"Have you no ambition?" + +"Yes, madame. But there are several kinds of ambition, as there are +several kinds of success. You have to knock people down with each kind, +if you want it acknowledged. As I told you awhile ago, I am tenacious +beyond belief, and shall succeed in what I undertake." + +"What are you undertaking?" + +"I am not undertaking to mount a throne." + +"I cannot believe it! Where is there a man who would turn from what is +offered you? Consider the life before you in this country. Compare it +with the life you are throwing away." She joined her hands. "Sire, the +men of my house who fought for the kings of yours, plead through me that +you will take your inheritance." + +I kept my eyes on Abbe Edgeworth. He considered the padlocked book as an +object directly in his line of vision. Its wooden covers and small metal +padlock attracted the secondary attention we bestow on trifles when we +are at great issues. + +I answered her, + +"The men of your house--and the women of your house, madame--cannot +dictate what kings of my house should do in this day." + +"Well as you appear to know him, madame," said Abbe Edgeworth, "and +loyally as you urge him, your efforts are wasted." + +She next accused me-- + +"You hesitate on account of the Indians!" + +"If there were no Indians in America, I should do just as I am doing." + +"All men," the abbe noted, "hold in contempt a man who will not grasp +power when he can." + +"Why should I grasp power? I have it in myself. I am using it." + +"Using it to ruin yourself!" she cried. + +"Monseigneur!" The abbe rose. We stood eye to eye. "I was at the side of +the king your father upon the scaffold. My hand held to his lips the +crucifix of our Lord Jesus Christ. In his death no word of bitterness +escaped him. True son of St. Louis, he supremely loved France. Upon you +he laid injunction to leave to God alone the punishment of regicides, +and to devote your life to the welfare of all Frenchmen. Monseigneur! +are you deaf to this call of sacred duty? The voice of your father from +the scaffold, in this hour when the fortunes of your house are lowest, +bids you take your rightful place and rid your people of the usurper who +grinds France and Europe into the blood-stained earth!" + +I wheeled and walked across the floor from Abbe Edgeworth, and turned +again and faced him. + +"Monsieur, you have put a dart through me. If anything in the universe +could move me from my position, what you have said would do it. But my +father's blood cries through me to-day--'Shall the son of Louis XVI be +forced down the unwilling throats of his countrymen by foreign +bayonets?--Russians--Germans--English!--Shall the dauphin of France be +hoisted to place by the alien?'--My father would forbid it! . . . You +appeal to my family love. I bear about with me everywhere the pictured +faces of my family. The father whose name you invoke, is always close to +my heart. That royal duchess, whom you are privileged to see daily, +monsieur, and I--never--is so dear and sacred to me that I think of her +with a prayer. . . . But my life is here. . . . Monsieur, in this new +world, no man can say to me--'Come,' or 'Go.' I am as free as the Indian. +But the pretender to the throne of France, the puppet of Russia, of +England, of the enemies of my country,--a slave to policy and intrigue--a +chained wanderer about Europe--O my God! to be such a pretender--gasping +for air--for light--as I gasped in Ste. Pelagie!--O let me be a free +man--a free man!" + +The old churchman whispered over and over-- + +"My royal son!" + +My arms dropped relaxed. + +There was another reason. I did not give it. I would not give it. + +We heard the spring wind following the river channel--and a far faint +call that I knew so well--the triangular wild flock in the upper air, +flying north. + +"Honk! honk!" It was the jubilant cry of freedom! + +"Madame," said Abbe Edgeworth, resting his head on his hands, "I have +seen many stubborn Bourbons, but he is the most obstinate of them all. +We do not make as much impression on him as that little padlocked book." + +Her terrified eyes darted at him--and hid their panic. + +"Monsieur Abbe," she exclaimed piercingly, "tell him no woman will love +him for throwing away a kingdom!" + +The priest began once more. + +"You will not resign your rights?" + +"No." + +"You will not exercise them?" + +"No." + +"If I postpone my departure from to-day until to-morrow, or next week, +or next month, is there any possibility of your reconsidering this +decision?" + +"No." + +"Monseigneur, must I leave you with this answer?" + +"Your staying cannot alter it, Monsieur Abbe." + +"You understand this ends all overtures from France?" + +"I understand." + +"Is there nothing that you would ask?" + +"I would ask Madame d'Angouleme to remember me." + +[Illustration: "Louis! You are a king! You are a king!"] + +He came forward like a courtier, lifted my hand to his lips, and kissed +it. + +"With your permission, Monseigneur, I will now retire and ride slowly +back along the river until you overtake me. I should like to have some +time for solitary thought." + +"You have my permission, Monsieur Abbe." + +He bowed to Madame de Ferrier, and so moving to the door, he bowed again +to me, and took his leave. + +His horse's impatient start, and his remonstrance as he mounted, came +plainly to our ears. The regular beat of hoofs upon the sward followed; +then an alternating tap-tap of horse's feet diminished down the trail. + +Eagle and I avoided looking at each other. + +A bird inquired through the door with inquisitive chirp, and was away. + +Volcanoes, and whirlwinds, fire, and all force, held themselves +condensed and quiescent in the still room. + +I moved first, laying Marie-Therese's message on the padlocked book. +Standing with folded arms I faced Eagle, and she as stonily faced me. It +was a stare of unspeakable love that counts a thousand years as a day. + +She shuddered from head to foot. Thus a soul might ripple in passing +from its body. + +"I am not worth a kingdom!" her voice wailed through the room. + +I opened my arms and took her. Volcanoes and whirlwinds, fire, and all +force, were under our feet. We trod them breast to breast. + +She held my head between her hands. The tears streamed down her face. + +"Louis!--you are a king!--you are a king!" + + +THE END. + + + + +A LIST OF RECENT FICTION OF THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY + + + + +WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS IN FLOWER + +Over one-quarter of a million copies have been sold of this great +historical love-story of Princess Mary Tudor, sister of Henry VIII. +Price, $1.50 + +ASK YOUR BOOKSELLER FOR IT + + + + +A VIVACIOUS ROMANCE OF REVOLUTIONARY DAYS + +ALICE _of_ OLD VINCENNES + +By MAURICE THOMPSON + +_The Atlanta Constitution says_: + +"Mr. Thompson, whose delightful writings in prose and verse have made +his reputation national, has achieved his master stroke of genius in +this historical novel of revolutionary days in the West." + +_The Denver Daily News says_: + +"There are three great chapters of fiction: Scott's tournament on Ashby +field, General Wallace's chariot race, and now Maurice Thompson's duel +scene and the raising of Alice's flag over old Fort Vincennes." + +_The Chicago Times-Herald says_: + +"More original than 'Richard Carvel,' more cohesive than 'To Have and To +Hold,' more vital than 'Janice Meredith,' such is Maurice Thompson's +superb American romance, 'Alice of Old Vincennes.' It is, in addition, +more artistic and spontaneous than any of its rivals." + +12mo, with five illustrations and a frontispiece in color, all drawn by +Mr. F.C. Yohn + +Price, $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +"A NOVEL THAT'S WORTH WHILE" + +_The_ REDEMPTION _of_ DAVID CORSON + +By CHARLES FREDERIC GOSS + +A Mid-century American Novel of Intense Power and Interest + +_The Interior says:_ + +"This is a book that is worth while. Though it tells of weakness and +wickedness, of love and license, of revenge and remorse in an intensely +interesting way, yet it is above all else a clean and pure story. No one +can read it and honestly ask 'what's the use.'" + +_Newell Dwight Hillis, Pastor of Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, says:_ + +"'The Redemption of David Corson' strikes a strong, healthy, buoyant +note.'" + +_Dr. F.W. Gunsaulus, President Armour Institute, says:_ + +"Mr. Goss writes with the truthfulness of light. He has told a story in +which the fact of sin is illuminated with the utmost truthfulness and +the fact of redemption is portrayed with extraordinary power. There are +lines of greatness in the book which I shall never forget." + +_President M.W. Stryker, Hamilton College, says:_ + +"It is a victory in writing for one whose head seems at last to have +matched his big human heart. There is ten times as much of reality in it +as there is in 'David Harum,' which does not value lightly that +admirable charcoal sketch." + +Price, $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +"AS CRISP AND CLEAN CUT AS A NEW MINTAGE." + +THE PUPPET CROWN + +BY HAROLD MACGRATH + +A princess rarely beautiful; a duchess magnificent and heartless; a +villain revengeful and courageous; a hero youthful, humorous, fearless +and truly American;--such are the principal characters of this +delightful story.--_Syracuse Post-Standard_. + +Harold MacGrath has attained the highest point achievable in recent +fiction. We have the climax of romance and adventure in "The Puppet +Crown."--_The Philadelphia North American_. + +Superior to most of the great successes.--_St. Paul Pioneer Press_. + +"The Puppet Crown" is a profusion of cleverness.--_Baltimore American_. + +Challenges comparison with authors whose names have become +immortal--_Chicago American_. + +Latest entry in the list of winners.--_Cleveland World_. + +With illustrations by R. Martine Reay + +12mo. Price, $1.50. + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +FULL _of_ INCIDENT, ACTION & COLOR + +LIKE ANOTHER HELEN + +By GEORGE HORTON + +Mr. Horton's powerful romance stands in a new field and brings an almost +unknown world in reality before the reader--the world of conflict +between Greek and Turk. + +The island of Crete seems real and genuine after reading this book; not +a mere spot on the map. The tragic and pathetic troubles of this people +are told with sympathetic force. + +Mr. Horton employs a vivid style that keeps the interest alive and many +passages are filled with delicate poetic feeling. + +Things happen and the story moves. The characters are well conceived and +are human and convincing. Beyond question Mr. Horton's fine story is +destined to take high rank among the books of the day. + +With illustrations by C.M. Relyea + +12mo, Cloth bound + +Price, $1.50 + +_The Chicago Times-Herald says:_ + +"Here are chapters that are Stephen Crane plus sympathy; chapters of +illuminated description fragrant with the atmosphere of art." + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +ANOTHER SUCCESSFUL HISTORICAL NOVEL + +THE BLACK WOLF'S BREED + +By HARRIS DICKSON + +_From the Boston Globe:_ + +"A vigorous tale of France in the old and new world during the reign of +Louis XIV." + +_From the Philadelphia Press:_ + +"As delightfully seductive as certain mint-flavored beverages they make +down South." + +_From the Los Angeles Herald:_ + +"The sword-play is great, even finer than the pictures in 'To Have and +To Hold.'" + +_From the San Francisco Chronicle:_ + +"As fine a piece of sustained adventure as has appeared in recent +fiction." + +_From the St. Louis Globe-Democrat:_ + +"There is action, vivid description and intensely dramatic situations." + +_From the Indianapolis News:_ + +"So full of tender love-making, of gallant fighting, that one regrets +it's no longer." + +Illustrated by C.M. Relyea. Price $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +A FINE STORY OF THE COWBOY AT HIS BEST + +WITH HOOPS _of_ STEEL + +By FLORENCE FINCH KELLY + + "The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, + Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel" + + * * * * * + +_From the San Francisco Chronicle:_ + +"Western men and women will read it because it paints faithfully the +life which they know so well, and because it gives us three big, manly +fellows, fine types of the cowboy at his best. Eastern readers will be +attracted by its splendid realism." + +_From Julian Hawthorne:_ + +"For my own part, I finished it all in one day, and dreamt it over again +that night. And I am an old hand, heaven knows" + +_From the Denver Times:_ + +"Mrs. Kelly's character stands out from the background of the New +Mexican plains, desert and mountain with all the distinctness of a +Remington sketch." + +With six illustrations, in color, by Dan Smith + +Price, $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +A NOVEL OF EARLY NEW YORK + +PATROON VAN VOLKENBERG + +By HENRY THEW STEPHENSON + + * * * * * + +_From the New York Press:_ + +"Many will compare 'Patroon Van Volkenberg,' with its dash, style and +virility, with 'Richard Carvel,' and in that respect they will be right, +as one would compare the strong, sturdy and spreading elm with a slender +sapling." + + +The action of this stirring story begins when New York was a little city +of less than 5,000 inhabitants. + +The Governor has forbidden the port to the free traders or pirate ships, +which sailed boldly under their own flag; while the Patroon and his +merchant colleagues not only traded openly with the buccaneers, but +owned and managed such illicit craft. The story of the clash of these +conflicting interests and the resulting exciting happenings is +absorbing. + +The atmosphere of the tale is fresh in fiction, the plot is stirring and +well knit, and the author is possessed of the ability to write forceful, +fragrant English. + + +_From the Brooklyn Standard-Union:_ + +"The tale is one of vibrant quality. It can not be read at a leisurely +pace. It bears the reader through piratical seas and buccaneering +adventures, through storm and stress of many sorts, but it lands him +safely, and leads him to peace." + +12mo, + +Illustrated in color by C.M. Relyea + +Price, $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +A STORY OF THE MORGAN RAID, DURING THE WAR _of the_ REBELLION + +THE LEGIONARIES + +By HENRY SCOTT CLARK + + * * * * * + +_The Memphis Commercial-appeal says:_ + +"The backbone of the story is Morgan's great raid--one of the most +romantic and reckless pieces of adventure ever attempted in the history +of the world. Mr. Clark's description of the Ride of the Three Thousand +is a piece of literature that deserves to live; and is as fine in its +way as the chariot race from 'Ben Hur.'" + +_The Cincinnati Commercial-Tribune says:_ + +"'The Legionaries' is pervaded with what seems to be the true spirit of +artistic impartiality. The author is simply a narrator. He stands aside, +regarding with equal eye all the issues involved and the scales dip not +in his hands. To sum up, the first romance of the new day on the Ohio is +an eminently readable one--a good yarn well spun." + +_The Rochester Herald says:_ + +"The appearance of a new novel in the West marks an epoch in fiction +relating to the war between the sections for the preservation of the +Union. 'The Legionaries' is a remarkable book, and we can scarcely +credit the assurance that it is the work of a new writer." + +12mo, illustrated Price, $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +THE STORY OF AN AMERICAN CRUCIFIXION + +THE PENITENTES + +By LOUIS HOW + +_The Chicago Record says:_ + +"To describe the customs of this band of intensely religious people, to +retain all the color and picturesqueness of the original scene without +excess, was the difficult task which Mr. How has done well." + +_The Brooklyn Eagle says:_ + +"The author has been fortunate enough to unearth a colossal American +tragedy." + +_The Chicago Tribune says:_ + +"'The Penitentes' abounds in dramatic possibilities. It is full of +action, warm color and variety. The denouement at the little church of +San Rafael, when the soldiers surprise the Penitentes at mass in the +early dawn of their fete day, will appeal strongly to the dramatizer." + +_The Interior says:_ + +"Mr. How has done a truly remarkable piece of work . . . any hand, +however practiced, might well be proud of the marvelously good +descriptions, the dramatic, highly unusual story, the able +characterizations." + +12mo, Cloth, Ornamental + +Price, $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +THE SUBTLE SPIRIT OF THE SEA + +SWEEPERS OF THE SEA + +The Story of a Strange Navy + +By CLAUDE H. WETMORE + + * * * * * + +_From the St. Louis Mirror:_ + +"The recital of the deeds of the 'Sweepers of the Sea' is a breathless +one. The romance is heightened by the realism of the technique of naval +warfare, by the sureness and voluminosity of nautical knowledge." + +_From the Buffalo Review:_ + +"It rivals Stevenson in its ingenuity of plot and dramatic interest." + +_From the Albany Journal:_ + +"There rings the exultant note of tossing billows and a crashing ship." + +_From the Minneapolis Times:_ + +"Mr. Wetmore has the genius of Jules Verne and can make the improbable +seem the actual. In fact, 'Sweepers of the Sea' comes into the class of +important fiction, and as such will be received and read by a +discriminating public." + +Illustrated Price, $1.50 + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +A STORY TOLD BY A REAL STORYTELLER + +A SON OF AUSTERITY + +By GEORGE KNIGHT + + * * * * * + +Mr. Knight has created a real atmosphere for his men and women to +breathe, and his men and women take deep breaths. They are alive, they +are human, they are real. + +He has a delightful story to tell and knows how to tell it. It is a +story of human life, of possible people in possible situations, living +out their little span of life in that state in which it has pleased God +to call them. + +The reader realizes at once that Mr. Knight is a man who served his +seven years of apprenticeship before opening a shop on his own account. + +The deftness and charm of his literary style, combined with the +absorbing interest of the story, can not but prove a delight to every +reader. + +With a frontispiece by Harrison Fisher + +12mo, Cloth. Price, $1.50 + +_The Liverpool Mercury says:_ + +"This is a book far removed from the ordinary mass of featureless +fiction. There is no gainsaying the strength of characterization and the +command of English language." + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + + +VIGOROUS, ELEMENTAL, DRAMATIC + +A HEART OF FLAME + +The story of a Master Passion + +BY CHARLES FLEMING EMBREE + +Author of "A Dream of a Throne." + + * * * * * + +The men and women in this story are children of the soil. Their strength +is in their nearness to nature. Their minds are vigorous, their bodies +powerful, their passions elemental, their courage sublime. They are +loyal in friendship, persistent in enmity, determined in purpose. + +The story is a story of great wrongs and of supreme love. It is done in +black and white, with few strokes, but they are masterly. The shadows at +the back are sombre but the value of contrast is appreciated for the +vivid high light in the foreground. + +It is a work of art--powerful, convincing and abiding. Powerful, because +true to life; convincing, for it has the saving touch of humor; and +abiding because love, like "A Heart of Flame," prevails in the end. + +With illustrations by Dan Smith + +12mo. cloth. Price, $1.50. + +The Bowen-Merrill Company, _Indianapolis_ + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAZARRE*** + + +******* This file should be named 15108.txt or 15108.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/1/0/15108 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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