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diff --git a/43280.txt b/43280.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 32e9b2f..0000000 --- a/43280.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8570 +0,0 @@ - JEAN BAPTISTE - - - - -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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: Jean Baptiste - A Story of French Canada -Author: J. E. Le Rossignol -Release Date: July 22, 2013 [EBook #43280] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEAN BAPTISTE *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: "ALL DAY THE RIVALS FISHED UP THE STREAM"] - - - - - JEAN BAPTISTE - - A STORY OF FRENCH CANADA - - - BY - - J. E. LE ROSSIGNOL - - Author of "Little Stories of Quebec" - - - - LONDON & TORONTO - J. M. DENT & SONS LTD. - MCMXV - - - - - To - MY MOTHER - - - - - LA RIVE NATALE - - O patrie! o rive natale. - Pleine d'harmonieuses voix! - Chants etranges que la rafale - Nous apporte du fond des bois! - - O souvenirs de la jeunesse, - Frais comme un rayon du printemps! - O fleuve, temoin de l'ivresse - De nos jeunes coeurs de vingt ans! - - O vieilles forets ondoyantes, - Teinte du sang de nos aieux! - O lacs! o plaines odorantes - Dont le parfum s'eleve aux cieux! - - Bords, ou les tombeaux de nos peres - Nous racontent, le temps ancien, - Vous seuls possedez ces voix cheres - Qui font battre un coeur canadien! - - OCTAVE CREMAZIE. - - - - - *CONTENTS* - -CHAP. - - I. The Vocation of Jean Baptiste - II. The Migration - III. The Sorcerer - IV. The Loup Garou - V. Castles in Spain - VI. The Habitant - VII. Her Majesty's Mail - VIII. The City Man - IX. The Loan - X. Blanchette - XI. La Folie - XII. Profit and Loss - XIII. The Return of Pamphile - XIV. The Triumph of Pamphile - XV. The Pastime of Love - XVI. The Temptation of Jean Baptiste - XVII. Vengeance - XVIII. Michel - XIX. Mother Sainte Anne - XX. The Robbery - XXI. Love and War - XXII. The Wilderness - XXIII. The Cure - XXIV. The Relapse - XXV. Treasure Trove - - - - - *JEAN BAPTISTE* - - - - *CHAPTER I* - - *THE VOCATION OF JEAN BAPTISTE* - - -"You may read, Jean," said Mademoiselle Angers; whereupon a breath of -renewed interest passed through the schoolroom, as Jean Baptiste Giroux -rose in his place and began to read, in a clear and resonant voice, the -story of that other Jean Baptiste, his patron saint. - -"Saint John, dwelling alone in the wilderness beyond the Dead Sea, -prepared himself by self discipline and by constant communion with God, -for the wonderful office to which he had been divinely called. The very -appearance of the holy Baptist was of itself a lesson to his countrymen. -His dress was that of the old prophets--a garment of camel's hair -attached to his body by a leathern girdle. His food was such as the -desert afforded--locusts and wild honey. Because of his exalted -sanctity a great multitude came to him from every quarter. Brief and -startling was his final exhortation to them: 'Repent ye, for the Kingdom -of Heaven is at hand.'" - -It was a simple and oft-repeated story, but there was something in the -voice and manner of Jean that compelled attention. All the children -listened; also the teacher; and the visitor, M. Paradis, cure of the -parish, was visibly impressed. He brought his horn-rimmed spectacles -down from the top of his head, set them firmly on the bridge of his -nose, and regarded Jean for some moments without saying a word. - -Jean returned the gaze with a steady, respectful glance; then let his -eyes fall until they were looking at the floor just below the cure's -feet. It was not polite to stare at visitors, but one might look at -their boots. The boots of M. Paradis were covered with dust. He had -walked all the way from the presbytery, two miles or more--that was -evident. - -"Ah, it is you, Jean," said the cure. - -"Oui, Monsieur," said Jean, - -"How old are you, Jean?" - -"Sixteen years, Monsieur." - -"Sixteen years! It seems like yesterday since you were baptized. How -the time goes! Sixteen years, you say? You are no longer a child, -Jean, no indeed. Well, it is high time to decide what we are going to -make of you, certainly. Tell me, Jean; you admire the character of your -patron saint, do you not?" - -"Mais oui, Monsieur." - -"In what respect, my son?" - -"Oh, Monsieur, he was a hero, without fear and without reproach, like -Bayard." - -"Bayard, Jean, what do you know of him?" - -"He also was a hero, Monsieur. Mademoiselle Angers has told us about -him." - -"Without doubt. But Jean, Jean Baptiste, would you not like to be a -hero like your patron saint?" - -"Oui, Monsieur." - -"Forerunner of the true God? Tell me that, Jean." - -"Ah, Monsieur, as to that I do not know." - -"You shall be, Jean, you shall be. Come, Jean, come with me this -instant. We will go to see your parents, that is to say, your mother. -Your father, Jean, was a good man; he rests in God. Pardon us, -Mademoiselle. I fear that we have transgressed. But it is a very -important matter and I wish to speak to Madame Giroux without delay. -Permit us, if you please, to go now. Will you not grant us this favour, -Mademoiselle?" - -"With pleasure, Monsieur le cure," said the teacher. "And I hope that -you will find something suitable for Jean. He is a boy of great force -of character, one who might be very good or very bad." - -"True, Mademoiselle; it is always thus. Adieu, Mademoiselle. Adieu, my -children." - -"Jean," said the cure, as they walked along the winding valley road, "I -have known you for a long time, since you were a very small child; and I -think, yes, I quite think that you have the vocation, the divine call to -the service of God and His Church. Yes, it seems to me that you have -all the marks. See! _Probitas vitae_, innocence of life. I have not -heard of any real wickedness that you have done. Faults, perhaps, like -all boys; transgressions even, but nothing serious; venial sins, merely, -like all mortals. - -"Again, _scientia conveniens_, scholarship. In that you are very strong -for your age, assuredly. Mademoiselle Angers has told me that you are by -far the most promising pupil in the school. Do not be proud, Jean; all -that comes from God. Be glad and humble. - -"Finally, _recta intentio_, sincere desire, pure and holy zeal for the -glory of God, and the salvation of souls. Jean, Jean Baptiste, have you -really these desires, these aspirations? Are you willing to give -yourself to this holy work? Will you renounce the world, the flesh and -the devil, and consecrate yourself to the service of God? Tell me, my -son." - -"My father," said Jean, hesitating and embarrassed, "I wish--I do not -know what I wish. I would do something, I know not what. For the glory -of God? Yes. For the good of man? Ah, yes. At least, for my -relations, the neighbours, the parish. But to be a priest? No, -Monsieur le cure, I cannot." - -"But, Jean, you wish to attain the highest possible, do you not? I am -sure that you do." - -"Mais oui, Monsieur." - -"Good, Jean, that is good. Then you shall be a priest. It is the only -way to the excellence which you desire, unless you would follow the -religious life. But you have no vocation in that direction, as I -think." - -"Monsieur!" - -"Say no more, Jean. It is decided. Do not trouble. Here we are at -your place, and we shall see Madame, your mother. Ah, there she is. -Bonjour, Madame Giroux. We are making an early visit, are we not?" - -"Mais non, Monsieur, you are always welcome. Be so good as to enter. -Your blessing, Monsieur le cure, on us and our poor house. It is a -great honour to have such a visit. Jean, place the armchair for -Monsieur Paradis. Marie, bring a glass of cordial for Monsieur; also -some of the cakes which you made yesterday. Monsieur Paradis, it is a -cordial which I made myself last summer of wild cherries, and it is -excellent for the stomach." - -"Madame, the cordial is a veritable nectar, and the cakes are as the -bread of angels." - -"It is Marie, Monsieur, who made the cakes. She is a treasure, that -girl. I wish that all mothers could have such a daughter in their old -age." - -"You are indeed fortunate, Madame. And you have other -daughters--Marguerite, Sophie, Therese, Agathe--I remember them well." - -"What a memory you have, Monsieur le cure! Yes, five daughters, all -married but this little Marie, and she will be going soon. Thus the -young birds leave us, Monsieur, and begin to build nests of their own." - -"But what a fine family, Madame! Five daughters and six sons." - -"Pardon, Monsieur, seven in all. Little Jean, here, is the baby, the -seventh." - -"The seventh, Madame! That is lucky." - -"Yes, Monsieur, the seventh son of a seventh. His father also was a -seventh son, of a family of Chateau Richer." - -"Madame, that is most extraordinary. It is truly propitious. The -family Giroux, too, of Chateau--a well-known family in that parish, -distinguished, even, of a most honourable history. But the younger -sons, of course, must make their own way. - -"Madame," continued Father Paradis, "this boy, Jean Baptiste, this -seventh son of a seventh, was born, I am sure, to a notable career. -Madame, I have visited the school, where I have heard him read in a -marvellous way, while all the children listened with open mouth, and I -said to myself, 'He should be a priest. I will go at once to obtain the -consent of his good mother, for he shows all the marks of a true -vocation to the ecclesiastical life. It is God who calls him.' Madame, -you are happy in having such a son. I congratulate you, and I ask -permission to send him to the college at Quebec and afterwards to the -Seminary, that he may become a priest in the course of time, after ten -years, perhaps." - -For some moments Madame Giroux was unable to speak. Tears of joy -coursed down her cheeks. Finally she said: - -"This is a great honour, Monsieur le cure, for Jean, for me, for the -whole family. How I wish that his father were alive to hear what you -have said! I have prayed, Monsieur, to the Holy Mother, and I have -asked this, but I have not dared to hope. Now I could sing, even in my -old age, when my voice is gone. But do not fear, Monsieur Paradis, I -will not. But truly, Monsieur, I could sing once, long ago. There was -a time--but what am I saying? Ah, vain, foolish old woman, selfish too, -to talk like that without regard to my poor Jean, who, perhaps, does not -wish to become a priest. It demands a sacrifice to follow such a -vocation. Jean, my son, do you really wish it? Are you content?" - -"If you are content, my mother, I am content." - -Thus it was arranged that Jean Baptiste should prepare for the -priesthood and that he should go to college at Quebec in the month of -September. It was a nine-days' wonder throughout the valley. On the -following Sunday, after Mass, the neighbours stopped on the way home to -congratulate the family Giroux, to ask questions, to criticise, to give -advice. All the equipages in the parish were tied to the fence near the -house, from the two-seated carriage of the rich farmer, Monsieur Tache, -to the ancient haycart of Zotique Bedard, the last inhabitant on the -valley road. - -Not since the funeral of Monsieur Giroux, five years before, had the -family enjoyed such popularity. This time it was Madame Giroux who was -the centre of interest; the mother, blessed among women, whose son had -been chosen by the good God Himself to be His servant and priest. It -was a great occasion. All of the cherry cordial was poured forth, and -when that was gone, a barrel of spruce beer was opened, excellent and -harmless beverage, which was drunk with joy to the health of Madame, of -the young priest that was to be, and of all the members of the family -Giroux. - -Jean Baptiste had his turn on the following day at school, and for -several days he was a personage among his associates. The teacher and -the older pupils treated him with respect, while the younger children -worshipped him like a god. Jean was exalted. He thought it a fine -thing, like Joseph of old, to have the sun, moon and eleven stars bow -down before him. Already he saw himself in the streets of Quebec, a -full-fledged priest, in black hat and cassock, graciously returning the -salutations of the leading citizens as he passed along. Now he was cure -of his native parish, a man of power in the community, to whom all the -inhabitants paid tithes, and before whom they all, from time to time, -confessed their sins. Now he stood at the high altar, clad in gorgeous -vestments, changing the bread and wine into the true body and blood of -the Lord, elevating the Host, while all the people prostrated themselves -before the good God and before his priest, Jean Baptiste Giroux. Truly, -Jean had forgotten, or had never known, that pride goeth before -destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. - -The dominion of Jean over his fellow pupils was not complete. Pamphile -Lareau did not join in the worship of the new divinity, but scoffed at -the whole performance. Pamphile was one of the emancipated. Had he not -often visited his uncle, the cab driver, at Quebec, to whom priests, and -even bishops were very ordinary persons? As for collegians, they were -of no account at all. Had he not seen hundreds, yes, thousands of -collegians, in their blue coats, green caps and sashes, promenading the -streets like girls from a nunnery, two by two, a pair of ecclesiastics -in front and a pair behind? Had he not thrown stones at the precious -saints, and even mud; the nice sticky mud of the Rue Champlain? And what -did they do, the holy ones? They wept, because their new clothes were -stained with mud. Ah, bah! What was a collegian? And what was this -Jean Baptiste, this sprig of divinity, this budding bishop, this little -pope? - -The children were fascinated by the conversation of Pamphile, though -shocked at his levity in making mock of sacred things. He was jealous, -evidently, since Jean could read so much better than he, and was in -every way a better scholar, though nearly two years younger. It was a -pity that Pamphile was so wicked, for he was certainly a fine young man, -tall and handsome. But what would happen if Jean heard him talk? Jean -was no coward, by any means, but of a fiery temper and very strong for -his age. - -While this discussion was going on Jean approached, and Pamphile began -again, more violently than before. - -"There he comes, the angel of whom we have been speaking. You will see, -you others, what I will do to him." - -"Ah, good morning, Monseigneur," said the young scoffer, with mock -humility, bowing low before Jean. "Deign to inform us, if you please, -why a priest wears a tonsure, why he has a bald spot on his head like an -old man." - -At the word "tonsure" the face of Jean Baptiste became suddenly pale. -He had not yet thought of this aspect of his future career. The honour, -the glory of it had appealed to him, but not the sacrifice, the -renunciation. Unconsciously he passed his fingers through his luxuriant -black hair. - -"The tonsure, Pamphile, the tonsure? Truly, I cannot say. I do not -know. I will ask Monsieur Paradis." - -"You do not know, Monsieur the savant, Monseigneur the bishop, great -fool, sacred sheep's head? Then I will tell you, simpleton. One wears -the tonsure for the same reason that one has no beard, that one wears -skirts, because one is no longer a man. Ah, Jean Baptiste Giroux, -Girouette, you don't like that, eh? Ah, young priest! Ah, little saint! -Ah, bah! I despise you. I spit upon you. There!" - -Pamphile in his rage struck Jean in the face with his open hand. - -In this Pamphile made a sad mistake, for Jean, usually of a peaceful -disposition, was a lion when aroused. Forgetting his new dignity and all -his holy aspirations, he flung himself upon his tormentor, seized him by -the throat with both hands and shook him as a dog might shake a rat. -Pamphile, in the fear of death, cried for mercy, and Jean, his anger -giving way to contempt, threw him to the ground and walked away. - -Presently, coming to himself, Jean ran back to Pamphile, helped him to -rise, and said in a voice of great distress: - -"Pamphile, I am a villain. I am sorry for this. You will forgive me, -will you not, Pamphile, my friend?" - -"Forgive you?" said Pamphile, with astonishing composure. "Oh yes, -certainly. Say no more. It was all a mistake, my fault altogether. -_Sacre bleu_! You are no longer a child. One must remember that." - -It was thus that Jean Baptiste made his first enemy. - -At the same time Jean discovered that he had another enemy--himself. -For some days he had smothered his misgivings under his pious desires, -his respect for the priest, his love for his mother, the pride of his -own heart and the force of will that attaches itself to a decision; but -now these misgivings arose with renewed power, and would not be put -down. To be a priest, to wear the soutane, the tonsure, to be separated -from the world, to hear confessions, to stand between God and man--all -this seemed to him terrible and impossible. Better than his fellows he -might be, but he would like to prove his superiority man to man, as in -the struggle with Pamphile, and not by wearing a holy garment and an -affectation of sanctity. And the vocation--what was it after all? -Because he had a strong desire to do some good in the world, must he -separate himself from his fellows? Was there no other way? - -But when Jean thought of Father Paradis, all his doubts seemed to -dissolve like the mist of the valley in the light and warmth of the -rising sun. There was a good man, a noble character. What piety, what -amiability, what wisdom! How useful to the parish, to the world, a -priest like this! To be like Father Paradis--that were an ambition -worthy of any man, sufficient, surely, for a mere boy like himself. - -Thus was Jean Baptiste, like thistle-down, blown about by every breeze, -now rising, now falling, now suspended in mid-air, able neither to rise -to the heavens nor to sink to rest on solid ground. It was a most -unsatisfactory condition, and Jean found no peace for his soul. The -decision that finally came to him is a curious example of the trifles -that frequently determine the course of human life. - -One afternoon, on his way home from school, where Mademoiselle Angers -had been giving him advanced lessons in preparation for college, Jean -was crossing the bridge of logs over the mountain torrent called La -Branche, when he saw a little girl seated on the end of one of the logs, -her feet dangling over the stream. - -"Holloa, there, little red-head!" he called. "You will fall in the river -if you don't take care. It is dangerous." - -The "little red-head" made no reply, but gazed on the stream as though -fascinated by the swirling water. - -"Gabrielle, my little one," persisted Jean, "come away from that place. -Are you not afraid of being drowned?" - -"You know, Jean, you know very well that my hair is not red," said -Gabrielle, looking up with a smile of mischief. - -"Maybe not, Gabrielle. It is yellow, if you like, though it changes -often. But come away at once. You frighten me." - -"And I am not a 'little one' either, for I shall be ten years old -to-morrow." - -"True, Gabrielle, you are a young lady, almost. But do not fall in -there, for the love of God." - -"You are very strong and brave, Jean," said the little imp. - -"It may be so, Gabrielle, but what of that?" - -"You would save me if I fell in the river, would you not?" - -"Gabrielle, you would not be so silly." - -"Oh, I don't know. See me! One--two--three--away!" And Gabrielle was -on the point of jumping into the stream, when Jean caught her, just in -time. - -"Little fool!" he said, pulling her up somewhat roughly and placing her -in safety in the middle of the bridge. "Don't you know that it is -dangerous, that place? See the deep pool and the big stones down there. -It is not at all certain that I could have saved you. Never do that -again. There now, don't cry. Run home to your mother, little one." - -"You are rough, Jean, and cruel. Great beast! Leave me alone. I hate -you." And Gabrielle turned away, weeping and sobbing. - -"But, Gabrielle, what is the matter? What have I done? Poor little -Gabrielle, do not cry. I am indeed a beast. Do not cry, Gabrielle." - -But Gabrielle continued to cry, while Jean tried to console her in his -stupid way. Finally she said, between her sobs: - -"You are going away, Jean. You are going to college. You will be a -priest." - -"Well, and why not, little one?" - -"I, I don't like that at all. Do not be a priest, Jean. Please." - -"But, Gabrielle, it is a great vocation, that. See! I shall be cure of -this parish, perhaps, and I will give you a lovely cross of gold, a -pretty prayer-book and a rosary with beads of real pearls. And I will -pardon all your sins, Gabrielle, if you have any, and not make you do -any penance. Won't that be fine?" - -"No, no, Jean. I don't want any of those things. What good would they -be to me if you were not here?" Whereupon Gabrielle began to cry, more -than ever, and would not stop until Jean promised, half in jest, half in -earnest, that he would never be a priest, never in his life. - -Then Gabrielle's tears disappeared, and she began to dance, and danced -all the way home and into the house, chanting in joyful tones: - -"Jean will not be a priest! Jean will not be a priest! He will stay -with us! He will stay with us! Always! Always!" - -"What is that you say, Gabrielle, mignonne?" said Madame Tache. - -"Jean told me so, truly. He doesn't want to be a priest, any more. And -I, I am so happy." - -"Be still, Gabrielle," said her mother, seriously. "That is too foolish. -Jean will be a priest, of course, a bishop, too, perhaps, some day. Who -can tell?" - -Meanwhile Jean went along the road toward his home with brisker step and -lighter heart than he had known for some days. He saw the blue sky, the -fleecy clouds, the dancing water of the river, the greens and purples of -the mountains, the greens and reds and yellows of the fields. He heard -the sound of the rapids, the song of the birds, the rustling of the -leaves, the joyous chirping of many insects. He took long breaths of -the pure mountain air, faintly scented with the fragrance of sweet-brier -and wild strawberry. The very dust of the road seemed pleasant -underfoot. The joy of living was his once more, and as he went he sang -a song of life and youth, gay and free in the spring-time of the world. - - "Dans les prisons de Nantes, - Dans les prisons de Nantes, - Ya-t-un prisonnier, gai faluron, falurette, - Ya-t-un prisonnier, gai, faluron, donde. - - "Que personn' ne va voir, - Que personn' ne va voir, - Que la fill' du geolier, gai, faluron, falurette, - Que la fill' du geolier, gai, faluron, donde. - - "Elle lui porte a boire, - Elle lui porte a boire, - A boire et a manger, gai, faluron, falurette, - A boire et a manger, gai, faluron, donde." - - -"You sing, Jean," said his mother as she met him at the door. "You have -good news to tell me, have you not? I like to hear you sing, Jean, my -lad." - -"Ah, my mother, I fear that it will not be good news to you, yet I know -that you will understand. My mother, I cannot be a priest, never, -never. I have wished to please you in this, but it is impossible. Do -not be unhappy about it. You will not, will you, dear?" - -"Jean, my son," said the good mother, "I am disappointed, of course, but -that is nothing. If you do not wish it I do not wish it. It is your -happiness that I desire, Jean, my lad, nothing else." - -The same evening Jean made his explanations to Father Paradis. The cure -was sorry, for he had entertained ambitions for the lad, whom he -regarded as a son, but he did not try to make him change his mind. On -the contrary, he said: - -"Jean, an ecclesiastical career without a vocation is terrible. I have -known several of those unhappy priests, and I would not have you among -the number. It is well that you have discovered the mistake before it is -too late." - -As Jean walked homeward in the evening twilight his joyous voice awoke -the echoes of the hills as he sang over and over that fine old song -about the prisoner of Nantes and the gaoler's daughter who set him free. -That gentle maiden, was her name by any chance Gabrielle? Possibly, but -it is not given in the song. Besides, the Gabrielle of whom he was -thinking was only a little girl of ten years, and Jean himself was a -mere boy as yet. But with the passing of the years what changes might -one not see? Be that as it might, one had to sing the song as it was -written: - - "Que Dieu beniss' les filles, - Qui Dieu beniss' les filles, - Surtout cell' du geolier, gai, faluron, falurette, - Surtout cell' du geolier, gai, faluron, donde. - - "Si je retourne a Nantes, - Si je retourne a Nantes, - Oui, je l'epouserai! gai, faluron, falurette, - Oui, je l'epouserai! gai, faluron, donde." - - - - - *CHAPTER II* - - *THE MIGRATION* - - -"What a big fool, that Jean Baptiste Giroux!" said Mere Tabeau, gossip -and wise woman, as she sat on the doorstep of her cabin at the -crossroads, smoking a black pipe and talking volubly to all the -passers-by. - -"What a fool he is to let slip a chance like that! Such chances do not -come every day. _Mon Dieu_, what folly! To be a priest, that is well -worth while; to live in a large, comfortable house, to receive tithes, -to have everything that one could wish, plenty of good bread and butter, -pea soup every day, potatoes, onions--all that. _Sapre_, I should like -that, me. And what does he do? How does he earn his living? He prays -all the time. An easy life, that. If only I could have what I want by -saying prayers! _No, de nom_! I say prayers, too, but what do I get? -Some pieces of black bread, some morsels of fat pork, and this miserable -hut." - -"But that Jean Baptiste, what would he? He would like to be a great -lord, to ride about on a high horse looking at his lands, his houses, -his cattle, his people. Yes, it would be a pleasant life, a desirable -existence. But those are dreams, imaginations, castles in Spain. In -verity he will be a habitant like the rest of us, a cultivator who -follows the plow, who feeds the pigs, who cleans out the stable. Ha! -Ha! It is laughable. Those Giroux were always too proud, too far above -us, too high, too mighty, and the good God did not like it. No, the -good God does not love the proud, and He will bring them down--down to -the dust. Already it has begun, the descent, but not yet finished. -Wait, you will see." - -At this point Mere Tabeau usually relapsed into silence, puffing away at -her pipe until another neighbour came, when she would begin the same -doleful song, with suitable variations. Thus public opinion was formed, -by comment and discussion, until two conclusions were established: -namely, that Jean Baptiste, though a great scholar, was a fool, with -whom the good God would have nothing to do; and that the family Giroux -were justly punished for having held their head too high. - -Certainly Madame Giroux seemed determined to spoil her youngest son. -All the other boys were obliged to work most of the time; but Jean, -excepting in the busy season, had many hours for study, and was allowed -to hunt and fish as much as he pleased. Father Paradis lent him scores -of books from his library--books of theology, philosophy, history, -science, belles-lettres--all of which he devoured with the greatest -avidity. His appetite for books was insatiable, and often, during the -long winter evenings, when the family sat about the big kitchen, the men -smoking, the women knitting and chewing spruce gum, and all, as it -seemed, talking at once, Jean would be seated at the end of the long -deal table, reading by the light of a candle some leather-bound tome of -which the very title was a mystery to the rest of the family. -Naturally, Jean's brothers were sometimes piqued at the special -privileges accorded to him. - -"When is this going to end?" said brother Nicholas, one evening, to the -assembled family. "What are we going to do with this book-worm? Is he -going to be a priest? No. Then why does he want to read all the time? -What is the use of that? For me, I call it foolishness. If he is to be -a habitant let him work all day like the rest of us, and in the evening -let him be sociable. Look at him, the lazy beggar, strong as an ox. -Bah! What is the good of him!" - -Jean made no reply, as became the youngest member of the family, but -looked up from his book with a grim smile as though he would like to -shake his brother Nicholas. But self-defence was unnecessary, for -Madame Giroux took up the cudgels in his behalf. - -"Let him alone, Nicholas," said the mother. "He does not wish to be a -priest? Very well. That is his affair. But if he wants to have an -education, he shall have it. Why not? It will cost nothing, and he -will not need to spend ten years at Quebec. It may be well worth -while--who knows? Perhaps he may become an advocate or a notary, but -even if he remains a cultivator why should he not know something? I -don't know much, myself, but I say that the habitants are too ignorant. -Only the priests have knowledge. Jean, my lad, you shall read as much -as you please, and if your brothers will not study they shall work. -There!" - -Yet Jean sometimes made notable contributions to the support of the -family, for he was both hunter and fisherman, and when he brought in a -bag of hares and grouse or a basket of trout his brothers had no -complaint to make. He shot wild ducks and geese in the autumn, red deer -and caribou in the winter; often he would trap a fox or a sable, and now -and then he secured a wolf or a bear. The skins of these animals -brought good prices at Quebec, and the meat was highly appreciated by -the family and the neighbours as a pleasant change from the regular diet -of fat pork. Certainly, Jean earned his living, and more, but got -little credit because he did not do it in the usual way. - -Thus six or seven years slipped away, while Jean led an existence free -from care, like the grasshopper of the fable that sang all summer and -thought not at all of the evil days that were to come. From the library -of Father Paradis he got a knowledge of books such as few students -obtain in all their years at college and seminary. From his work on the -farm he acquired an extraordinary facility in the use of all the -implements, especially the axe, the best friend of the backwoodsman. -From his hunting and fishing expeditions he obtained a knowledge of -woodcraft equal to that of an Indian, while he learned to know the -beasts and the birds of the forest, the rocks, trees, wild flowers, and -all the objects of Nature, as they are known to few naturalists. The -growth of his body, too, kept pace with the development of his mind, -until he was as fine a specimen of young manhood as one could wish to -see, the like of whom could not be found in ten parishes. Truly, if -education is the development of all the faculties, Jean Baptiste Giroux -was a well-educated young man. - -But, with all his talents, Jean was lacking in one thing, the desire to -conform himself to the expectations of his friends, the will to fit -himself to the scheme of things approved by them, sanctioned by long -usage, hallowed by traditions handed down from father to son through -many generations. He could have done it, but he would not. He had -refused to become a priest, neglected to prepare himself for one of the -other learned professions, and now there was but one career open to -him--that of a habitant--unless, indeed, he left the parish altogether, -as many of his friends had done. In the good old times a young man -followed, as a matter of course, in the footsteps of his father. At the -age of twenty he acquired a piece of forest land--there was always -plenty of that--cleared a few acres, built a log cabin of one or two -rooms, which he could enlarge when necessary, married a young girl of -sixteen or eighteen, and devoted the rest of his life to the chopping of -wood, the growing of hay, oats, and potatoes, and the raising of -live-stock. At the age of sixty he was ancestor of a numerous progeny, -a veritable tribe, destined to possess, in the course of time, a large -part of Canada and a considerable footing in the United States. Thus -the faithful did their duty by God and man, conquered the wilderness, -possessed the land, and established themselves in the very gates of -their enemies. - -In some respects this was an ideal life, but the thought of it did not -appeal to Jean Baptiste. He wished to do something different, he knew -not what. In former times a youth of ambition and enterprise, such as -he, would have turned _voyageur, coureur des bois_. Joining some band -of Indians and trappers he would have plunged into the northern -wilderness to make his way, in a birch canoe, by a chain of rivers and -lakes, with portages short and long, to Lake St. John, Mistassini, -Hudson's Bay, or even the Frozen Ocean. After many years, if he did not -leave his bones in the wilderness, he might return, bronzed and -battered, to his old home. With an Indian wife, perhaps, and money -obtained from the sale of furs and fire-water, he would settle down -among the scenes of his childhood and the friends of his youth to a life -of ease, glorified by the memory of those years of travel and stirring -adventure. - -But times had changed. The Indian and the _voyageur_ had passed away, -and now adventurous youths, when seized with the spirit of the old-time -rovers, would spend a winter or two in the shanties, work for a while in -the coves and lumber-yards of Quebec and Ottawa, whence they drifted -southward and westward to the factories of New England, the lumber camps -of Michigan, the wheat fields of Minnesota, or the gold mines of -California and British Columbia. - -Thus the young men of St. Placide, the relations and friends of Jean -Baptiste, kept going away one by one, always promising to return, but -never coming back to stay. The home circle grew less and less, and the -mother mourned her absent sons. Narcisse, the eldest and the first to -go, was a carpenter in Montreal; Toussaint had taken up land in -Manitoba; Bazile was working in the copper mines of Lake Superior; -Francois was the owner of a cattle ranch in Alberta; and Hilaire, the -last to go, was the farthest away, being employed in the salmon -fisheries of British Columbia. It was a roving generation, descended -from the old vikings and pirates of northern Europe, and the love of -wandering was in the blood. During their early years they would stay at -home, contentedly enough, but sooner or later they would hear the call -and would go forth, with glowing eyes and courageous heart, to explore -new worlds, to conquer other lands. - -"Jean," said brother Nicholas, one day, "I should like to go to the -North-West, to brother Francois, who has found a place for me. Soon I -should have a ranch of my own and a hundred head of cattle--a veritable -fortune, such as one could not get in a lifetime here. But I cannot go." - -"Why not, Nicholas?" said Jean. - -"Why not? _Mon Dieu_, Jean, you know very well. How could I leave the -mother alone, that is to say with you, which is the same thing?" - -"You can leave her with me, Nicholas." - -"Leave her with you, Jean Baptiste? You, scholar, hunter, fisherman, -good-for-nothing--what could you do? _Mille tonnerres_! You shall go -to Francois and I will stay at home. But it is a pity, yes, a thousand -pities. What a chance! _Sacre_! But you shall go, yes, to-morrow. I -will not have you here. Do you understand, idler?" - -"I will not go, Nicholas." - -"What is that you say? You will not go? Refuse a chance like that? -You refuse everything, everything. What obstinacy! The boy is a fool, -an utter fool, beyond all hope. _Nom de cauchon_!" - -"Nicholas," said Jean, earnestly, "listen to me. This talk about going -away--I have heard it before, many times, ever since I can remember -anything. Fall River, Chicago, Manitoba, California--I am tired of -hearing of them. Cotton mills, wheat fields, gold mines, cattle -ranches--don't talk to me of all that. It is all very well to see the -world, but why not try to do something at home? Why should all the -young men go away, the best blood of the parish? Adventure, you say; -enterprise? Why not have some of that here? See, Nicholas, the good -land, the noble forest, the grand mountains, the lovely river! Where in -all the world will you find a place more beautiful, more satisfying, -where you would be more content to live and die? Are there no chances -here, no possibilities? Perhaps not, but I will see, I will try. You -others, all of you, may go, but I will stay. Yes, it is decided. Say -no more, Nicholas, my brother. Fear nothing. Francois will be glad to -see you, and the mother will be safe with me." - -Nicholas was speechless. He had never heard talk like that, either from -Jean Baptiste or any one else. The idea that distant fields were no more -green than those at home was new to him and he could not receive it. -Yet his brother's words inspired confidence, and he felt that he was -going to have his way, as usual. As he well knew, Jean was strong and -capable and always carried through what he began. Nicholas weakened, -and referred the whole question to his mother, knowing well what she -would say. - -"Nicholas," said the mother, "you have a fine chance in the North-West, -and I think that you ought to go. God knows that I would like to keep -you all. But it is the way of life. The young birds leave the nest, -and the mother with the broken heart--after a while she dies. But do -not trouble about me. I am not going to die, no, not for many years. -The good God and the Holy Virgin will watch over me. Go, Nicholas, with -your mother's blessing. You have been a good son to me. There, I am -not crying, not at all. I have still my baby, my little Jean. We shall -not be lonely, shall we, Jean? But I shall never forget you, Nicholas, -never. All the children have a place in my heart, and you, perhaps, -more than the others." - -"But, Jean," said the mother, when they were alone, "why do you wish to -stay here? What can you do in this place, with all your talents, your -education? I do not understand at all. Is it for my sake, or is there -another whom you love? Jean, my lad, is it possible? Not Zephyrine -Boucher, she is too old for you; nor Melanie Couture, she is not pretty -at all; nor Blanchette Laroche--impossible. No, there is no one -suitable in the parish, not one; not even the little Gabrielle Tache, -who is much too young. But wait! The little Gabrielle grows older -every year. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven--mon Dieu, how the -time goes! She must be seventeen years old at the very least. And she -is beautiful, of a good family, with a suitable dowry--no objection, -none whatever. And did she not arrive from Quebec this very morning? -Ah, Jean, you blush. I have found you out. It is for the sake of -Gabrielle that you stay in St. Placide." - -"My dear mother," said Jean, "you are laughing at me. Stay here for the -sake of Gabrielle, that little imp with the red hair and freckles? -Absurd! Besides, I have not seen her for years. She has been at the -convent, I am told, learning music, painting, embroidery--all the -accomplishments. She will be a great lady in the gay world of Quebec, -quite out of my sphere, I assure you. No, my mother, there is no one -whom I love half so much as you. Why do I stay in St. Placide? Truly, I -do not know. For your sake? Certainly, most of all. Is there any -other reason? Possibly. Who knows? All the others go away, and I, I -will not. It is obstinacy, nothing else. There, my mother, I have -confessed. Give me absolution now, and a kiss." - - - - - *CHAPTER III* - - *THE SORCERER* - - -After the departure of brother Nicholas things went on much as before. -It was hardly to be expected that Jean would suddenly change his ways -and settle down to the routine of habitant life after so many years of -idleness. Miracles may be possible, but they seldom happen. Even Mere -Tabeau acknowledged this, and the neighbours fully agreed with her. -This proud young man would come to it in the course of time, but his -spirit must first be broken. And that would happen--poverty would do -it. He who was now promenading the countryside with rod and gun like a -gentleman and a great lord would soon be grubbing in the earth. By and -by his back would be bent and his legs crooked like those of any common -man. - -But Jean shocked the old gossip and the whole parish by employing a -hired man. What sinful extravagance and folly! It was not as in former -times, when one could get an able-bodied man for a shilling a day. Now -one had to pay at least twice as much, while the rascals did barely half -as much work, and demanded the best of everything--white bread, butter, -soup, pork, and even eggs. And they would not sleep in the stable, as -formerly, but wished to have a room in the house, a straw mattress, -blankets, sheets, a candle to light them to bed--all the luxuries of -modern life. But those Giroux people--how could they afford all that? -Surely they were on the road to ruin, on the very brink of it. Presently -they would be in poverty, and the parish would have to support them. -Yes, it was a matter of public concern and somebody ought to interfere. - -Nevertheless, Jean Baptiste kept the hired man, and, while working on -the farm somewhat more than formerly, still found time for hunting and -fishing and the reading of books, while his mother, as though bewitched, -smiled complacently at everything that he did. - -But Jean sank lower still in the estimation of the neighbours, for he -began to keep bad company, the very worst--that of a sorcerer. It came -about in this way. Jean was having a day's fishing, and, although the -trout were rising well, he was not content to stay in one place but kept -moving on up the stream until he found himself, at sunset, standing on a -rocky ledge beside a deep, dark pool, called the _trou du sorcier_. -Precipitous cliffs, crowned with firs and pines, rose on all sides, -enclosing a sort of amphitheatre into which the river plunged in a white -cascade. Striking a granite ledge, the stream swirled around in a great -eddy, a dark whirlpool, on the borders of which lurked giant trout, old -warriors that had broken the tackle of many a luckless angler, wary fish -that must be under the special protection of Satan himself--so often had -they escaped the toils. It was a place of evil repute, little -frequented by anglers. So much the better, as Jean knew, for the man of -courage, and, although he had never taken a large fish in the place, he -was determined to try his luck once more in the famous pool. - -Looking into the deep water at his feet he saw a sight that made his -heart leap to his throat. It was the head of an enormous fish, the -biggest he had ever seen, now pushed out from beneath the rock until he -could see the gills, and the lateral fins, now slowly withdrawn until -only the snout was visible. On tiptoe Jean drew back; with grim haste -attached a new fly; tested the casting-line and the supple rod; and -then, with a dexterous turn of the wrist, launched the fly upon the -foam-flecked surface of the pool, just beyond the hiding-place of the -trout. It floated down stream in full view of the fish, but the ancient -denizen of the pool made no response, nor did any of the lesser fry dare -to rise, but kept at a respectful distance from the king of the river. -Jean made several casts, tried another fly, and another, until he had -gone through his book; then put on a grasshopper; and, finally, -descended to worms, but without avail. - -"_Sacre!_" said Jean to himself. "This is a devil of a trout. What -sort of bait does he want!" - -"I will show you, Jean Baptiste Giroux," said a voice. - -With an involuntary start Jean turned to see who had spoken, and was -surprised to find himself face to face with the redoubtable Michel -Gamache, _dit le Sorcier_. Michel was a man of sixty or seventy years of -age, but tall and very straight, with the frame of an athlete, and the -face of an ascetic, in which ferocity and gentleness were strangely -blended. The high arch of the nose and the straight line of the -overhanging brow made one think of a bird of prey; the shaggy, grizzled -hair and the vice-like jaw gave him the appearance of an ancient wolf; -but there was an expression of friendliness about mouth and eyes that -attracted more than the harsh features repelled. He was bare-headed, -and wore a brown blouse with trousers of the same colour thrust into the -legs of long leathern moccasins, and he carried the usual fisherman's -rod and pannier. - -"I will show you, Jean," he said again, with the shadow of a frown; -"that is to say, after you have done staring at me. You find nothing -extraordinary in my appearance, I hope." - -"No, indeed, Monsieur Gamache. I was a bit startled, that was all. But -there is a trout down there, the biggest I have ever seen, and I cannot -get him to rise. I have tried everything--flies, grasshoppers, -worms--but he will not look at them. Now it is your turn, Monsieur." - -"No, Jean; it is your fish. See, here is something that will fetch him. -Try this." - -Out of his pocket Michel drew a black, worm-like beast about an inch and -a half in length, with jointed body and innumerable legs, and handed it -to Jean. - -Jean's eyes sparkled as he attached the wriggler to a hook, for he knew -it well--the larva of the dragon-fly, deadly bait for all fishes in -streams where they are found. - -"That is very kind of you, Monsieur Gamache. Now we shall see. Here -goes!" - -Scarcely had the bait touched the surface of the pool when there was a -rush and a splash and the big fish started back toward his hiding-place -to enjoy the toothsome morsel he had so cleverly captured. Feeling the -sting of the hook and an unaccustomed pressure on the jaw, he darted out -into the middle of the pool, where he leaped from the water, turned a -somersault in the air and lashed about like a harpooned whale. Then he -plunged to the bottom and zigzagged up stream toward a mass of jagged -rocks through which the water poured like a mill-race. Finding his -progress slow he made another leap in the air, and started down stream, -drawing out yards of line, and then came back with a rush, so that Jean -was hardly able to take in the slack. It was a great struggle, with the -odds in favour of the fish, for the angler's sole weapon was a light rod -and a slender line, and the strain of the strong fish charging to and -fro in the rough water was terrific. But Jean held the tip of his rod -well up and exerted a steady pull to which the fish had to yield in the -end. Slowly, but surely, Jean reeled him in, still tugging and circling -about, but gradually weakening, until he turned feebly on his side, and -his last struggles served only to land him on the rock at the angler's -feet. - -But the game was not yet played to a finish, for just as the fish was -well landed he gave a last flop of the tail and broke the gut above the -shank of the hook. Jean looked on as though paralysed, while his prize -was slipping down the shelving rock into the water. At this point -Michel Gamache ceased to be a neutral spectator, for just as the trout -was slipping away, the old man, with extraordinary agility, pounced upon -it, as a cat upon a mouse, seized it with both hands, and held it up, -flopping and dripping, before the eyes of Jean Baptiste, who, a moment -before, had been plunged in the depths of despair. - -"Ah, Monsieur Gamache!" said Jean, with emotion, "you are a friend, -indeed. But look at that trout. I have never seen the like--thirty -inches at the least, and eight pounds. Yes, eight pounds, or more. -_Mon Dieu_! What a fish! Magnificent! I never thought that such trout -existed outside of _Lac des Neiges_. But look at that tail, those fins, -and those spots--red, blue, yellow. Ah, my good fellow! Ah, cannibal! -You will eat no more of your poor relations, nor frogs, nor mice, nor -grasshoppers. You would not touch the grasshopper, but we found a good -bait for you. Yes, Monsieur Gamache, it was you who did it. Certainly, -you must be a sorcerer, as they say." - -"Sorcerer, Jean Baptiste! You say that to me; you, the son of my old -friend, Toussaint Giroux! He at least knew better than that; he, my -friend, your father. But the times have changed, and the young people -of to-day----" - -"Monsieur Gamache, believe me, I did not mean it like that. It is only -that I am grateful to you for the bait and for saving me the trout. It -was truly miraculous. Yes, that is the word--miraculous." - -"Well, Jean, that is better. You have some of the politeness of your -father, as I see. Ah, he was a valiant man and a good friend." - -"My father?" said Jean, in surprise. "I do not understand. He never -spoke of it." - -"Certainly not. That is what I say. He was a good friend and could -keep a secret." - -"A secret, Monsieur Gamache? That is interesting. But it is getting -late and I must be going home. It was a good day's fishing. My pannier -is full and I have that big one as well. But will you not keep him, -Monsieur? He certainly belongs to you." - -"But no, Jean; it is your fish, and I am glad that I had the honour of -helping to catch him. But do not hurry, my young friend. Sit down a -minute. I will tell you something." - -Somewhat reluctantly, but without any fear of the old man, who was -evidently disposed to be friendly, Jean sat beside him on the rock and -listened to the story of former days before the family Giroux came to -the parish of St. Placide. - -"Your father, Jean, as you know, was a native of the parish of Chateau -Richer, on the other side of those mountains. And I, as you do not -know, lived in the parish of Ste. Famille on the other side of the -Channel, in the Isle of Orleans--the Isle of Sorcerers, as they call it. -It was not an isle of sorcerers at all, but I will tell you what it -was--an isle of smugglers. Yes, smugglers. When the good people of -Chateau, there below, saw those lights on a dark night moving to and fro -on the long marsh, gleaming fitfully, like fireflies, they crossed -themselves, the simpletons, and muttered, 'will-o'-the-wisps,' 'devil's -fire,' 'sorcerers!' Ha! Ha! What foolishness! They were smugglers -with lanterns going to meet a bateau at high tide, carrying casks of -brandy and French wines, packages of tobacco, bales of silk, and all -that. Nobody came near them, you may be sure. Very convenient, the -Isle of Sorcerers, for smugglers, and there were fine hiding-places in -the long marsh and on the side of the hill. Caves? Oh, yes, here and -there. I wonder if I could find them now. Ah, those were days!" - -"But you were no smuggler, Monsieur Gamache, nor my father either. -Impossible." - -"Nothing is impossible, Jean. All good is possible and all bad. We -were smugglers, certainly, for fun at first, and afterwards for profit. -Talk of farming, cultivating the soil--that is a slow way of earning -one's living, not to speak of making a fortune. But free trade, -smuggling, if you like, going out of a dark night in a little boat, -slipping up the river with the tide, landing something on the quays of -the St. Charles, slipping down with the ebb, arriving in the early -morning to see the coming of the dawn, the lifting of the mist and the -first glow of sunrise on the top of Mount Ste. Anne--Jean, it was -glorious. I like to think of it. If only those days could come again!" - -"And dangerous, Monsieur Gamache?" - -"Dangerous? Certainly. That was the glory of it. But when one is found -out one goes to prison, perhaps, or one crosses the mountains to the -parish of St. Placide, where the past may be forgotten." - -"Monsieur Gamache," said Jean, "I can well believe that my father was a -smuggler, for people had different ideas about such things in those -days, and the adventure of that life must have appealed to him, but as -to the profit--that is not quite so credible. He was a poor man when he -came to St. Placide, and the farm he created himself, cut all the trees -with his own axe, dug the ground with a spade, carried hay and oats on -his back up the hills. No, Monsieur, my father did not profit by the -trade of which you speak." - -"That is true, Jean, he did it for fun, for adventure, for the beauty -and glory of it, and he would not touch one _sou_ of the profit. But he -took the punishment, the exile, just the same. Have I not said that he -was a valiant man?" - -These were strange tales that Jean was hearing that night, beside that -weird pool, while the stars came out, and the new moon rose above the -circle of the trees and cast a trembling brightness on the water below. -The sound of the river filled the air as though trying to drown the -voice of Michel Gamache as he told of the lawless exploits of former -days, when Toussaint Giroux and he were young and sowing to the wind. -It was almost sacrilege in Jean to be hearing of such doings, yet he -could not but feel a thrill of pride as he thought of his father, in the -hey-day of life, high-spirited, strong and brave, going into danger with -a smile on his lips and a brightness in his eye, glorying in adventure -for itself alone, and scorning both the reward and the penalty. In his -heart Jean was wishing that he had been there and hoping that like -opportunities might come again. Evidently Michel Gamache was corrupting -the morals of the son as he had formerly corrupted those of the father. -Perhaps he was a sorcerer after all, a servant of Satan, the enemy of -souls. - -"You are late, Jean," said Madame Giroux, as the fisherman finally -arrived at home. "You are very late, and I thought that you would never -come. The river is dangerous in places. You remember Hypolite Picard, -who was drowned last year. He could swim, too, but it is always the -swimmers who take the risks. I wish that you would be more careful. -Well, I am glad that you are safe at home. Sit down, now, and take some -of this hot soup. I will cook a trout for you, if you like. You got -some, of course." - -"But certainly, my mother," said Jean, opening his pannier, "look at -these." - -"Truly you have a lot, about ten dozen, I should say. At Beauport we -could get twenty cents a dozen for them, and at the Champlain market in -Quebec at least five cents more. Two dollars' worth of fish--not a bad -day's work. But what have you there, behind your backs? _Mon Dieu_! -What is that? A salmon, a whale! What a monster! You are a fisherman -indeed! How I wish that your father were here to see that trout! He -caught one once about the same size, but I have never since seen its -equal. That was when we first came to St. Placide, forty years ago. We -were young then. But where did you get it? In some deep hole, no -doubt." - -"Yes, my mother, in the _Trou du Sorcier_." - -"God guard us!" said Madame Giroux, crossing herself. "The _Trou du -Sorcier_, the very place where your father caught that other fish. And -the sorcerer himself, was he there, perhaps, as then?" - -"Yes, my mother, he was there. That is curious, is it not? But he is -no sorcerer, only an old man, most obliging and interesting." - -"The devil is always interesting, Jean, and obliging too, for a time. -But if this man is not a sorcerer he is a thief, certainly, and a miser. -Besides, he never goes to Mass--has not made his Easter confession in -forty years. If he should die suddenly Satan would surely take his -soul. Jean, I am not superstitious, not at all, but I think that we -should send the fish to the cure." - -Thus it happened that Father Paradis had a good dinner on the next day, -which was Friday, and for several days thereafter the good cure and his -housekeeper made their breakfast, dinner and supper of baked trout. - - - - - *CHAPTER IV* - - *THE LOUP GAROU* - - -"_Bon soir_, Jean Baptiste," said Mere Tabeau one evening, as the young -man passed her home on his way to visit his friend Michel Gamache. - -"_Bon soir, Madame_," said Jean, politely, but not stopping, as he -sometimes did, to gossip with the old woman. - -"Not so fast, Jean. Wait a minute. I have something to tell you. Come -here." - -"Another time, Madame Tabeau, if you please. I must hasten this -evening." - -"No time!" cackled the old crone in a shrill, querulous voice. "No time -to talk to a poor old woman; no time for that, oh, no! But time enough -for your friend the sorcerer, that servant of the devil." - -"Madame Tabeau, take care what you say. You speak of Monsieur Gamache, -no doubt. He is old, perhaps, and not at all handsome, but he is no -sorcerer. On the contrary, I think him a good man. In any case, he is -my friend, as you say, and I do not wish to hear you give him evil -names." - -"You do not wish it, your lordship? Very well, I will not say it. He -is a good man, a saint, perhaps, or possibly an angel in disguise. Who -knows? But what species of angel, eh? You are sure? You can tell? -What did the cure say in his sermon last Sunday? I go to Mass, as you -know, every Sunday, to confession also, at least once a year. But what -did the cure say? Satan can deceive the saints even, when he puts on his -best clothes. But not Jean Baptiste Giroux. Oh, no! Nobody could fool -him, not even a woman, certainly not a poor old woman like me." - -Mere Tabeau relapsed into silence, puffing at her black pipe, but -steadily regarding Jean with her fish-like eyes. His curiosity was -aroused. - -"Madame Tabeau," he said, in a conciliating tone, "do not be angry. I -was to blame. You may say what you please. You have something to tell -me, and I will gladly listen." - -"Oh, he will listen; his grandeur will deign to hear what the old woman -has to say. But he will hear nothing." - -"Madame Tabeau, I am a fool, as you have said, in effect, and I believe -everybody. It is quite possible that I may be deceived, as on some -former occasions. But you are a wise woman, Madame, and you know -something. Will you not tell it to me for my advantage? I shall be -grateful, even if you tell me what I do not wish to hear." - -"Well, Jean, that is better. You have some sense left, in spite of your -studies, a little intelligence still, strange to say. Sit down here on -the step; no, not so far away; right here beside me. I will not hurt -you, and the young ladies will not be jealous. Forty years ago they -might have been annoyed, the vixens, but not now. Listen! There is a -story, certainly. You shall hear it, no one else. - -"At that time they did not call me Mere Tabeau. Bonhomme Tabeau, the old -sot, had not yet come on the scene. He was rich, the old miser--that -was why I married him. Yes, and he died, as expected, in the course of -a few years. But can you believe it? The old beast did not leave me -one _sou_, not one sou--that was what I did not expect. All was for -masses for his soul. The old fool! His soul is in the pit, where no -masses can help him. I know theology, me. Masses can pull one out of -purgatory, of course; but from the pit, never. Ah, that was one who got -his deserts. His money goes to the priests, whom he did not love, and -his soul remains with Satan. _Cru-ru-ru de Dieu_!" - -"But it was of your friend the sorcerer that I was speaking. That was -another who had sold himself to the evil one. At what price? Gold and -the love of woman. Was he handsome? By no means. But how strong he -was, how black his hair and his eyes! And how he would look at me and -say: 'Angel, my angel, if you love me, if you love me truly, kiss me on -both cheeks, and on the lips. Again! Once more!' And after that! -_Mon Dieu_, after that his ship came in with the tide and he sailed -away; while I, like a fool, stood on the shore and waved to him until he -was out of sight beyond the point. And then I cried like a baby. Can -you believe it? - -"Did Michel Gamache not come back after the voyage? Ah, yes. When -summer was gone he came back, but not to me. I was expecting him, I who -had given him so much love; but he did not come that evening, nor the -next, nor ever again. Always he was at the house of Bonhomme Duval, the -rich trader, smuggler, thief. The old rascal had a daughter, of course. -Beautiful? Not at all. It was the dowry that Michel desired. For that -he perjured his soul, for the value of a hundred pounds, more or less. -It was all arranged. The wedding was to take place on the first day of -the year. They would begin the year together, those two. And I? They -had no thought for me. Every evening I looked from the window, hoping -that he would come, that he would wish to say good-bye, if nothing more; -but I saw only the bare trees and the dead leaves dancing in the autumn -wind. - -"But listen, my friend. That is not the end of the story. No, only the -beginning. My brother Ovide, do you know him? But how could you? He -has been dead these thirty years. Since that night he was never the -same man." - -"What night, Madame?" said Jean, much interested. - -"Be silent, fool!" said the old hag. "If you interrupt me again you may -tell the story yourself. It was the eve of Christmas, of course, eight -days before the wedding that was to be. The wedding! Ha! Ha! The -sorcerer's wedding! He who had not made his Easter confession in seven -years, he who had sold his soul for gold. His wedding! _Nom de -diable_! - -"'Sister,' said my brother Ovide, 'little sister, never mind; the -wedding will never take place. I will kill him, the traitor.' - -"'Kill him, yes, yes, kill him!' I said. 'But no, that would be too -dangerous, for it is quite possible that he might kill you, Ovide, my -brother. You are strong, I know, but not like him. Think of that neck -of his, those hands, and that jaw, with teeth like a wolf. No, my -brother, you shall not. I would kill him myself, but I fear--I don't -know what I fear.' - -"'Fear nothing, my sister, you shall see.' - -"As I have said, it was still eight days before Christmas. No, two days -only. Christmas was on a Sunday that year, and it is Friday night that -I speak of. I am not likely to forget it, nor the following night -either. Michel used to visit the Duval place every evening at eight -o'clock, returning always before midnight and going across the river to -his home on the Island. The road was marked, as usual, by _balises_, -for the path was always being effaced by the drifting snow. _Mon Dieu_! -How the wind blew across the river, and how it carried the snow -along--the snow that covered everything like a winding-sheet! Yes, and -it would have covered Michel Gamache that night if my brother Ovide had -had his way. - -"Ah, he was a fox, that Ovide. He did not wish to meet Michel face to -face, but to change the _balises_ so that the road led direct to an -air-hole, where the icy water ran along black and silent--that was not -at all dangerous for him. If Michel should fall in the water, that was -not his affair; but if he should try to climb out again, he would be -there to push him down under the ice. Yes, under the ice, to drift, to -roll along with the stream, to have his hair, his eyes, his ears, filled -with slime, to have his bones picked by the eels, to be buried in a heap -of sand and seaweed on some lonely shore--that would be a punishment -indeed for Michel Gamache, liar, traitor, cursed sorcerer. - -"So my brother Ovide hid himself behind one of the branches and waited. -It was nearly midnight; the night was very cold; and Ovide was not at -all comfortable as he crouched behind the little tree. But he warmed -himself now and then from a flask of excellent brandy; soon his spirits -rose, and he was full of courage. Presently he heard a light patter as -of some one running with moccasins on his feet; and immediately there -appeared, not a man, but a gigantic wolf, that stopped at the open -water, and began to howl as though scenting danger. Then he took a leap -into the air, flying over an abyss of twenty feet, lit on the ice on the -other side, and disappeared in the distance, still howling frightfully. - -"My brother Ovide escaped from that place as fast as possible, believing -himself chased by the devil; and when he staggered into the house, his -face pale as the snow, his jaw hanging, his eyes bloodshot and staring, -he was not a courageous object, I assure you. - -"'What is the matter, Ovide,' said I, much frightened. - -"'Lock the door, Celestine; it is following me. Quick, it is there.' - -"'What is it, you fool?' said I. - -"'The _loup garou_, Celestine! Ah! Ah! There it is at the window! -_Mon Dieu_! _Mon Dieu_!' - -"Ovide fell in a heap on the floor, still pointing with trembling finger -at the window, and there I saw, I, Celestine Colomb, the flaming eyes of -some ferocious beast. It was terrifying. 'Jesus-Maria!' I cried, -making the holy sign, and saying all my prayers at once. The apparition -vanished, but I could not forget the fearful eyes, and all night long I -was seeing them in my dreams. - -"On the next day, at half-past two in the afternoon, I put on my best -dress and my French shoes, and went to visit Annette Duval. - -"'Annette,' I said, as politely as possible, 'you do not love me, -perhaps; and I, possibly, do not love you.' - -"'Perhaps not,' said Annette, beginning to cry, 'but I do not hate you, -Celestine. I pray for you, even.' - -"'That is not necessary, Annette,' said I, with scorn. 'I can make my -salvation myself, thank you. I do not love you, as I have said, but I -would not have you marry a sorcerer.' - -"What is that you say? A sorcerer? Michel a sorcerer? Nonsense! If -you had nothing better to say why did you come?' - -"'I came, Annette, to say that Michel is a sorcerer, one who has not -made his Easter confession in seven years, one who has sold his soul to -the devil. Not only so, but he becomes a _loup garou_ every evening at -midnight. My brother Ovide has seen him change into a _loup garou_ only -last night.' - -"'Mademoiselle,' said Annette, becoming very pale, 'be so kind as to go -away.' - -"'Annette,' said I, 'listen to me. Ask him why he leaves you every -evening before midnight. Ask him to stay with you for a few minutes -longer, and you will see.' - -"'Mademoiselle Colomb,' said Annette, rising, 'permit me to show you the -door.' - -"This time I went without a word. It was not necessary to say more. -Annette was troubled, and would certainly ask Michel for an explanation. -And so it turned out. - -"Some time before midnight, Ovide and I--Ovide would not go alone--hid -ourselves in the bushes near the door of Bonhomme Duval, the door which -Annette had shown to me, not once only, but twice. But I was to show -her something; I, Celestine Colomb. Ovide had his gun loaded with a -silver bullet, a bullet which I had made with my own hands--for the -sorcerer, of course. Ovide had a knife also, long and sharp. Michel -does not forget that knife, I think. - -"It lacked but a few minutes of midnight when the door opened and there -stood Michel and Annette on the threshold in the light of the fire. -Annette was angry, as we could see; and Michel, that giant who could -have strangled her with one hand, was trying to pacify her, to explain -what could not be explained. - -"'So,' she said, 'you must go, it seems, although I have prayed you to -stay a few minutes longer, to spend the first moments of Christmas with -me--and you will not.' - -"'Annette, my dear Annette, have I not said that I must go? It is an -important appointment.' - -"'Important? Oh yes, more important than I, of course. I see. You do -not love me. No, it is money that you love, that only.' - -"'Not at all, Annette, it is that I must meet a friend.' - -"'A friend, Michel! What kind of a friend?' - -"'Annette, I cannot tell you. It is a matter of life and death. I must -go. Good-bye, dear. A kiss, a single kiss.' - -"No, no! Never again! Ah, can I believe it? It is true, then, what -Celestine has said. You are a sorcerer, and your friend, your friend, -Michel, is Satan. _Mon Dieu_! _Mon Dieu_!" - -"At this word Michel began to laugh, but presently the laugh became very -strange, more like the cry of a wild animal than the voice of a man; he -began to lose the human shape; his coat became the skin of a beast; his -feet and hands became paws; long ears grew upon his head; the jaw was -thrust forth and the fangs protruded. _Nom de Dieu_! It was a wolf, a -_loup garou_, that, with a ferocious growl, precipitated itself upon -Annette, who fell unconscious on the ground. - -"'Shoot, shoot, Ovide!' I screamed, but Ovide, stupefied by terror, -stood there groaning and muttering. - -"'It is he! It is he! The _loup garou_! Child of the devil! He will -destroy me, body and soul! It is he! It is he! _Mon Dieu_! _Mon -Dieu_!' - -"Hearing this, the wolf left Annette and rushed upon us. Then the -courage of Ovide returned; he seized the gun and aimed a terrible blow -at the head of the beast. But this ferocious animal, evading the blow, -in an instant was at my brother's throat. In another minute Ovide would -have been in Hell. It was I who saved him; I who came to the rescue -with the long knife; I who struck the blow that should have killed the -_loup garou_. By an unlucky chance the blade missed the neck but cut -off half of the ear. It drew blood, of course; the beast changed -instantly into the human form; and there stood the traitor, Michel -Gamache; his face streaming with blood; and there on the snow lay, not -the ear of a wolf, but that of a man. Would you like to see it, Jean -Baptiste? There it is! I keep it with me all the time, as a souvenir. - -"The wedding--did it take place? Certainly not! Annette would have -married the sorcerer in spite of all, but her people would not hear of -it. Now she is 'Sister Sainte Anne' in the Convent of the Ursulines, -where she prays all the time for the soul of the sorcerer. Does she pray -also for her dear friend, Celestine Colomb? As to that, you may ask the -sorcerer. Go! Ask him, too, why he has lost his ear." - -"Good evening, Jean," said Michel Gamache, a little later. "You have -been delayed, but no matter. There remains an hour of twilight and there -will be a clear moon to-night. You have been talking to that she-devil, -Mere Tabeau, I see." - -"_Mon Dieu_! Monsieur Gamache, how do you know that?" said Jean, -astonished. - -"Oh, my friend, I see many things," said the sorcerer, showing his teeth -and uttering a weird laugh. "So you have been making friends with La -Colomb. Fine company for a young man. And did she tell you that I was -a _loup garou_, and that she cut off a piece of my ear--hein?" - -"_Sacre_, Monsieur Gamache, that is just what she said. But I did not -believe a word of it." - -"Oh, believe it if you like, Jean, until I give you another version of -the story. But regard my ear. Does it look as though it had been sliced -with a knife?" - -"No, Monsieur Gamache, not at all. Quite otherwise." - -"Quite otherwise, I assure you," said the sorcerer, with a ferocious -smile. "Listen! she saved the life of that precious brother, Ovide, and -my ear--_sacre tonnerre!_--she bit it off!" - - - - - *CHAPTER V* - - *CASTLES IN SPAIN* - - -It was the morning of the twenty-fourth of June, and Jean Baptiste, -having attended Mass in honour of his patron saint, was spending the -rest of the day by the river. The sun was high, and in all open places -the heat was intense, but where Jean lay at ease near the edge of a -cliff there was cool and pleasant shade. At his feet the river roared -through a deep gorge; on the farther side there was a wall of rock with -a fringe of trees; while beyond rose a long range of mountains, -forest-clad to the very top. Above, in the blue, floated light, silvery -clouds, lazily passing from tree-top to tree-top, slowly changing their -form, until they disappeared behind the mountains or melted away in the -depths of the sky. - -On this day Jean was celebrating his twenty-third birthday, and the -completion of his college course. His college had been the forest, and -his book the book of Nature. He had read other books as well; all that -the seminarists had studied, and many more of which they had never -heard; but the knowledge that he valued most was obtained from the -trees, the rocks, the soil, the river, the birds, the beasts, the -fishes, the cycle of the seasons, the changes of the weather, and all -the panorama and procession of Nature that mean so much to the man with -the seeing eye and the understanding heart. The book was always open; -and in the light of Science, with Philosophy his interpreter and -Religion his inspiration, he read many difficult pages and discovered -many secrets. - -To Jean Baptiste the study of the world in which he lived afforded not -merely satisfaction to the natural curiosity of youth, which makes -knowledge desirable for itself alone; but it gave him an insight into -the nature of things, and a power of control which he planned to use, -some day, for a higher end. The savages, by their knowledge of the -wilderness, had made their living there; the habitants, knowing more, -had secured many of the comforts of civilised life; and it was -reasonable to think that a fuller knowledge would yield results -undreamed of by those who never went below the surface of things to the -centre and source of power. - -Since the time when he decided that he would not be a priest, a -religious leader of the conventional type, Jean had become possessed -with the thought that there was another work to which he was called, a -work more material in its character, but none the less for the good of -the parish, the honour of his patron saint and the glory of God. Of -that he had been thinking for many years; for that he had been -preparing; and now the day was at hand and the work about to begin. - -Jean had many plans for the improvement of his little world, not the -least of which was the using of the river itself, an enormous source of -power going to waste in its mad rush through the gorge at his feet. -Looking up stream he could see, not a hundred yards distant, the deep, -still pool where the cataract began; and beyond, on both sides of the -river, a broad expanse of low-lying ground, stretching to the first rise -of hills and forming a perfect site for a dam and an immense lake which -should afford water-power equal to the strength of ten thousand horses. - -With such energy at his command, what could he not do? Carry on -lumbering on a large scale, work the great deposits of iron sand along -the river, manufacture pottery out of the banks of fine clay, run a -tramway to Quebec, light and heat all the houses in the parish with -electricity, supply the people with motive power for machinery of every -kind--all this and more was possible. As he thought of the wonderful -possibilities it seemed to Jean Baptiste that he was a prophet, the -fore-runner of a mighty revolution in this remote valley, where for a -hundred years the habitants had desired nothing else than to walk in -peace and security in the ways of their fathers. - -But it was not possible to leave them in peace. No, the new age was -come. Quebec and Montreal, Lorette and Chaudiere were advancing by -leaps and bounds, and the habitants of St. Placide must arise and join -the procession. Consider that fine river, the St. Ange, rising in a -hundred lakes on the height of land and descending in a thousand -cataracts to its final plunge into the St. Lawrence. Why had the good -God given this gift if not for use, that the people might be more -industrious, more prosperous and more happy in their little corner of -the great and beautiful world? - -True, it would be necessary to have capital for the beginning of any of -these enterprises, and that was the chief hindrance in the way of the -realization of Jean's dreams. He had no property of his own; and his -mother's farm, with houses, barns, cattle, horses and all, was worth -only a few thousand dollars. There were two or three rich habitants in -the parish, like M. Tache and M. Laroche, but would they be willing to -risk their hard-earned wealth in the launching of schemes that must seem -to them visionary and impracticable? There was great wealth among the -merchants and bankers of Quebec, but how the owners of it could be -induced to embark in the enterprise was a problem that Jean, with all -his learning, had not been able to solve. - -He had not yet worked out the financial details, but if only he could -make a beginning, everything else would come in the course of time. "It -is the first step that costs," says the proverb, and Jean was determined -to take that step at any cost. After that he would take the second, the -third and all the other steps, until he arrived at the summit of his -ambition. - -The summit--what was that? When one arrived at the summit of yonder -mountain that seemed to touch the clouds, there was a higher peak -beyond; and when one came to that elevation there was a peak still -higher, until in the end one stood upon the height of land that divides -the waters flowing South into the St. Lawrence from those that go North -and East into the abyss of the Saguenay. Then one could rest, perhaps, -unless one wished to explore and climb other peaks, beyond the Saguenay -and Lake St. John, or in distant lands. But it was not necessary to go -so far, for there was great satisfaction to be had in climbing for the -mere love of the sport, even if one did not reach the top of everything. - -At least, Jean would be a great man in the parish, greater than M. -Tache, as great, almost, as the cure himself, and that was something. -M. Paradis would always be the spiritual power, but Jean would be the -temporal power, like the Pope and the Emperor of former times, and they -would work together in perfect harmony for the good of the parish. Jean -had no desire to be Pope, but Emperor he would be--Emperor of St. -Placide, the Emperor Jean Baptiste. - -Jean laughed at the absurdity of his day-dream--but was it so absurd -after all? What is the world but a collection of empires; and what is -an empire but a number of parishes? Why could not the great man of a -parish be as happy as an emperor, as the lord of a world? If he had -congenial work, free scope for his activities, wealth sufficient for the -simple wants, a good name in the parish, and a few loving friends--what -more could he desire? What more could he ask of the good God? - -Yet there was one thing that he had forgotten, although he had been -thinking of it all the time. When one was building castles in Spain how -could one forget the chatelaine? What was the use of a castle, of -riches, of a great name, with nobody to share one's happiness? It would -be too lonely, too discouraging. Yes, there must be a chatelaine, a -tall, lovely lady with dark-blue eyes and golden hair--no, not just -golden, but of a ruddy tinge like a sunrise cloud, bronze-coloured with -a glint of gold. It would be bound with a fillet of blue and would fall -in wavy iridescent masses down her back. She would be clad in a long -garment of purple velvet with a border of golden braid and a golden -girdle about her waist. - -"But yes," said Jean to himself, "there must be a chatelaine, but what -is her name? _Mon Dieu_, what is her name?" - -"_Mon Dieu_, what is her name? I should very much like to know," said a -laughing voice behind the trees. "Will you not tell me her name, where -you have met her, what she is like, and all that? I am dying to know." - -Startled and speechless, Jean turned suddenly, and from behind the trees -came tripping an apparition the like of which had surely never before -been seen on the banks of the St. Ange. It was tall for a girl, a -lithe, graceful figure clad in fishing costume, with small rubber boots, -a short skirt of brown cotton, a waist and jacket of the same material, -and a jaunty cap set above a mass of reddish-golden hair. There were -dark-blue eyes, almost black, dancing with merriment, a laughing mouth -set with pearly teeth, a dimpled chin and a dainty nose, the least bit -retrousse. The vision carried a light rod in her hand and a pannier -slung across her shoulder. She advanced rapidly, as though expecting a -joyous greeting, but suddenly stopped, poised as though for flight, and -said, with an injured air: - -"So, Jean, you have forgotten me. You don't know your old friends any -more. Well, I will leave you; I will go down to the river and catch -another fish. Good-bye, Monsieur the Hermit, I leave you to your -meditations." - -"Don't go, Gabrielle!" exclaimed Jean, quite alarmed. "I know you very -well, although I have seen you only once or twice in seven years. But -how you have changed! You are much better looking than formerly." - -"Oh, thank you, Monsieur Giroux. From you that is a compliment indeed. -What an ugly little beast I must have been!" - -"No, Gabrielle, not at all. On the contrary, you were always charming, -but now you are enchanting, of a beauty altogether----" - -"Stop, stop, Jean. That is enough. I am not used to such talk. At the -convent it is not permitted, and when one sees the young men of Quebec, -which is not often, they do not dare. What would the Mother Superior -say, or Sister Ste. Marthe? No, you must not. You are impertinent, -yes, impertinent, I say." - -"No, Gabrielle, not that; only an old friend. But tell me, how many -fish have you caught?" - -"Three, Jean, three beauties. Look!" - -As Jean bent down to look into the open basket, it was not of the trout -that he was thinking, but of the lovely fisherwoman by his side, whose -golden head was so close to his own, and whose rosy cheek he would so -much like to kiss. Yes, he would like to take her in his arms and -bestow a kiss upon those laughing lips and those dancing eyes. -Truly--and the thought came to him like a flash of lightning--this was -the chatelaine of his castle in Spain, the golden lady of his dreams. - -"Well," said Gabrielle, with a provoking smile that made an alluring -dimple in her cheek, "have you lost your tongue, or is it another -meditation that you have begun, Monsieur the Hermit? But tell me what -you think of my fish? I caught them myself--will you believe it?--and -with this fly. See! Queen of the Waters." - -"Queen of the Waters," repeated Jean. "What a lovely creature! A sort -of water nymph, with golden hair, blue eyes like the sky, a brown dress -and rubber boots. _Mon Dieu_! What boots for a water nymph!" - -Gabrielle shut the basket with a snap. - -"Stupid!" she said. "I will not talk to you. You have lost your head." - -"Yes, Gabrielle, that is it. Lost, absolutely, and my heart as well." - -"Your heart, Jean, that is interesting. I did not know that you had a -heart. And you have lost it? What a pity! Who has found it, I wonder? -Who has it? What is her name? _Mon Dieu_, what is her name?" - -"Gabrielle!" - -"Well, go on, confess. It will do you good. You need it." - -"True," said Jean, very seriously. "That is just what I have done, and -to you. Her name, it is Gabrielle. Do you, can you understand?" - -Gabrielle grew pale. - -"That will do, Jean. That goes too far. I will not allow jests of that -sort. Good-bye. I must go home now to cook these trout for dinner." - -"But it is no jest--far from it. I love you, Gabrielle, to distraction; -more than I can tell. Could you not----?" - -"No, Monsieur Giroux, I could not. And I beg of you never to speak to -me like that again." - -"But why, Gabrielle, what reason?" - -"Do you wish to know, Monsieur Giroux? Do you really wish to know?" - -"Yes, certainly, Mademoiselle Tache." - -"Then you shall have it. Do you know what the neighbours say, what my -father says, what I say? It is that you are a good-for-nothing, Jean -Baptiste Giroux. Do you understand? A good-for-nothing! There, I have -said it, and it is true." - -"Is that all, Gabrielle?" said Jean, in a steady voice. - -"All?" exclaimed Gabrielle, turning on him in a blaze of anger. "All? -_Mon Dieu_! It is enough, I should think." - -With that she went away up the path, carrying her head very high, never -once looking back to see the effect of this last crushing blow. - -But, strange to say, Jean did not seem to be crushed. - -"Well, that was brave of me," he said to himself. "I did not think I -could do it. I am rejected, of course, and in despair. -'Good-for-nothing!' That is bad, but it is a defect that may be -corrected. If that were all! Ah, if that were all! But what a vision -of loveliness! What spirit! What courage! Gabrielle! Name of an -Angel! Now at last I know her name. It is she, no other." - - - - - *CHAPTER VI* - - *THE HABITANT* - - -After what had happened Jean could not ask Monsieur Tache for help in -his great enterprise. He therefore applied to Monsieur Laroche, the -only other rich man in the parish, and was received with scorn. - -"So," said Bonhomme Laroche, "you wish to build a dam across the St. -Ange, to inundate the best land on your mother's farm, to make a pond -for ducks. A great work, truly! And I am to lend you a small sum of -money--ten thousand dollars, only. Why not ask for a hundred thousand? -That would be nothing at all for me--a mere bagatelle. We are rich, we -habitants of St. Placide, men of high finance, millionaires, and we love -to encourage hare-brained enthusiasts by small loans. And on what -security? A dam of logs that the first spring flood will take away. You -are a fool, a dam fool. Ha! Ha! Yes, a dam fool. My little joke, you -see. - -"But, Jean, do not go, do not be angry at my little pleasantry. I have -yet a piece of advice which I will give you for nothing, although it -will be worth much to you if you have the sense to take it. Listen! -You have a good farm; that is to say, your mother has it, which is the -same thing, since all your brothers and sisters, the whole tribe, have -gone away. Go home, Jean, to the farm; raise hay, potatoes, cattle, -pigs, chickens--all that. Be an honest cultivator, like your fathers -for many generations. It was good enough for them; it will be good -enough for you. You will wish to make some improvements, no doubt--a -new barn, a stable, a house, possibly. Good! I might be able to lend -you a small sum, a thousand dollars, perhaps, or even two thousand, if -necessary. The rate of interest? What is that between friends? We will -arrange all that. - -"Now, Jean," and here the old man assumed a confidential air, "to be a -good habitant one must have a good wife. Do not blush, my lad, it is -only a matter of business. Without that no habitant can succeed. One's -marriage should help one along, should it not? Assuredly. That goes -without saying. Well, there is my daughter Blanchette, for example. I -do not say that she is very young, nor more beautiful than others, but -how capable, how accomplished! And she will have a dowry, of course, -something generous, you may be sure. All the other children are well -provided for, and I am not yet a pauper, no indeed. There. I have said -it. Consider it well, at your leisure. There is no haste to decide. I -will see your mother and all can be arranged without embarrassment. _Au -revoir_, Jean. Come to see us when you can." - -Jean did not like the advice of Bonhomme Laroche, but part of it, at -least, he was obliged to take, for there was no alternative, and at -sunrise on the following day he was in the fields with the hired man, -dexterously swinging a long scythe and laying low great swathes of -timothy and red clover. He was in perfect physical condition, with -every nerve and muscle surging with energy, so that the work did not -tire him, but only served to release the pent-up emotion of his soul. -For the soul of Jean Baptiste was full of wrath, and as he gripped the -handles of the scythe and swung the keen blade through the grass with a -venomous hiss, he seemed to be cutting down an army of enemies and -mercilessly trampling them underfoot. - -The neighbours, those ignorant, spiteful people with their vicious -gossip--how he despised them all! They hated to see a person rise above -them in the slightest degree, and were always reaching out envious hands -to pull him down. They wanted to make a habitant of him? Well, a -habitant he would be, and beat them at their own game. Of what good was -all his education if he could not use it in the growing of potatoes and -the raising of pigs? Yes, pigs. The neighbours were well satisfied -with a yearling hog that weighed a hundred and fifty pounds, when it -might as well be two hundred pounds or three hundred even. It was a -question of breed and care, as it was with cattle, horses, sheep, fowl, -and every other animal on the farm. As to chickens, for example, they -laid eggs in plenty all summer, at fifteen cents a dozen, but laid none -at all in winter when the price rose to sixty cents and more. Why such -stupidity? A question of management, merely, of knowledge and attention -to business. In fact, the more Jean thought of habitant life the -greater seemed the possibilities of improvement in every direction. -Besides, it was a life not to be despised, that of a successful -cultivator, the happiest, most independent man on earth. - -Certainly the advice of Bonhomme Laroche was not to be despised. But -borrow money from the old miser he would not, nor marry his daughter -Blanchette if she were as beautiful as an angel from Heaven. The dowry? -Did the old miser think that he could buy the hearts, the souls of men? -Who would barter love for gold? Who would give that which was beyond -all price for all the land, the barns, the cattle of the parish--of the -world? Yet there were those who would gladly make such an exchange, the -poor, deluded fools. - -As to Gabrielle, that was different. There was a girl of a beauty most -rare, with her tall, lithe figure, her springing step, her dainty little -head with its wealth of golden hair, those laughing eyes like the depths -of the sky, that tantalizing, alluring smile. It was as though an angel -had descended to earth to show to mortal man the perfection of beauty of -the heavenly world. But what pride, what scorn, what contempt! And how -unfair, how cruel! Not a thought of justice, not a word of excuse, no -chance to explain. Mademoiselle Tache was too far above Jean Baptiste -Giroux. In what way? In intellect? By no means. In education? Not at -all. In manners? Far from it. In wealth? Ah, that was it, the pride -of purse, the base contempt for all merit that had not the stamp of -gold. "Good-for-nothing! _Sacree petite vierge!_" - -But wait--a year, two years, three at most--and he would show the little -vixen whom it was that she had attacked with an insult so contemptible, -so injurious. Then, when she would be only too glad to receive the -attentions of the chief man in the parish, he would turn away and devote -himself to another. But what other? Blanchette Laroche? Not for a -thousand dowries. Who then? Well, there would be time enough to arrange -that little detail. There were still good fish in the sea, though -scarce and very wary. But in any case it would be necessary to humble -the pride of that scornful beauty. "Good-for-nothing! _Sacres milles -tonnerres!_" - -Jean was certainly in an unhappy state of mind. Of all the neighbours -he could not think of one who was his friend. Not Mere Tabeau, -certainly; that old witch with the bleared eyes and the yellow teeth. -She liked to talk with him now and then, but only to spit out venom. -Not Michel Gamache, who was not to be trusted, a sorcerer, and no friend -of man. Not Father Paradis, even; that good old priest who had been for -so many years his teacher, his Mentor. Not even he, for he was -disappointed in Jean because he had not taken up some useful work. Even -his mother had lost faith in him. Had he not seen her looking at him -with wistful, sorrowful eyes, because he was not fulfilling the promise -of his early years? She also was against him, and he would have to -fight the battle alone. Give it up? No, with the help of God and Saint -Jean he would do battle to the very end, and would show them all what it -was to fight and to win. - -Thus Jean, as he toiled in the field, under the hot sun, poured forth -all the bitterness of his soul, until the bitterness was gone, the wrath -evaporated, and the strong man began to rejoice once more in the work of -his hands. At high noon he sat down in the shade of a moss-covered -rock, beside a bubbling spring, and ate the dinner that his mother had -provided with gladness of heart. Never had bread and butter tasted so -sweet, with fresh eggs, tasty sausage, and the jam of wild strawberries -that the good mother had made with her own hands. It was an excellent -meal, nourishing to body and soul; and when, after an hour's rest in the -cool shade, Jean resumed his work, refreshed and strengthened, the -troubles that had come into his life took their proper place in the -order and scheme of things, not as incurable evils but as obstacles to -be overcome by unswerving determination and persistent effort. - -So Jean wrought hard all through the long day, doing the work of two -men; and when, after sunset, he hung his scythe in the crook of a tree -and began to climb the long hill toward home, he had put his troubles -behind his back, and set his face toward the future with strong courage -and a spirit of charity toward all mankind. - -The life of a habitant, he thought, was not all hardship. There was -work, to be sure, plenty of it; but what was that to a strong man? -There was little money to be had, but one had all the necessaries of -life and some of the luxuries as well. At night, how one could sleep, -and in the morning how one arose with a rested body and a cheerful -heart! - -The neighbours? They were true friends, after all, kind-hearted, -well-meaning, with all their little gossip, and their advice was good, -excellent. One must have a footing in the world, else how could one -accomplish anything? One must take the first step before one takes the -second. One must humble oneself in the day of small things, and bide -one's time, if one was to be ready when the great opportunity came which -only a man of experience could seize and control. Sooner or later he -would win, for the dice were loaded in his favour; but win or lose it -was a great thing to live and to bear a part in the interesting and -wonderful world, where every morning was a new day and every evening a -new surprise. - - - - - *CHAPTER VII* - - *HER MAJESTY'S MAIL* - - -"Ah, there you are at last," said Madame Giroux, who was lighting the -lamp for the evening meal as Jean entered. "You have worked hard -to-day, my son. At this rate the hay will soon be cut, will it not? -But sit down and take your soup, while I tell you something. - -"You knew, of course, that Tom Sullivan was likely to lose the mail -contract. Well, he has lost it, or will lose it very soon, as you will -see from this paper which Monsieur Laroche has given me. It is whisky -again, it seems. As Monsieur Laroche says, the good Canadians can drink -in moderation, but the Irish do not know when to stop. For me, I would -have them all stop before they begin. What a waste of good money! And -to lose the mail contract as well--what folly! But listen: - - - "'MAIL CONTRACT. - -"'Sealed applications addressed to the Minister of Posts will be -received at Ottawa up to noon of Wednesday, the first of July, 1899, for -carrying Her Majesty's Mails under the conditions of a contract covering -a term of four years, twice a week, going and returning, between Quebec -and St. Placide, to commence on the fifteenth of July following.' - - -"There, Jean, what do you think of that?" - -"It is an opportunity," said Jean, "and I will make application at once; -but I wish that it had not been suggested by Bonhomme Laroche." - -"Why not, Jean? He is a rich man, and has influence with the -Government. He will help you, I am sure, if you ask him to do so." - -"I will not ask him, my mother, but I think that I shall win just the -same. The Irish have had the contract for some years, and it is our -turn now. Tom received a hundred dollars, did he not? One dollar for a -drive of thirty miles, regardless of the weather. The Government is not -liberal, certainly; but there will be passengers to carry now and then, -and I can take butter and eggs to market in Quebec, where I shall -receive better prices than at Beauport. Oh, I can see a clear profit of -two hundred dollars a year, at the very least. My mother, we shall soon -be as rich as Bonhomme Laroche, the old miser. Yes, I will apply -to-morrow morning. There will be other applicants, no doubt." - -"Yes, Jean. Tom's cousin, Paddy Brady, will try for it, to keep it in -the family, you see." - -"That begins to be interesting," said Jean, with a smile. "A little -conflict of races, it seems. The Irish settlement will be up in arms." - -"Yes, Jean, and I am afraid of Tom Sullivan. He is big and strong and -has a terrible temper, I am told. He might do you harm, Jean." - -"Do not fear, my mother. We have a good understanding, Tom and I, for -we have had some little affairs already, you see. No, there is no -danger at all. Well, in three weeks I shall be carrying Her Majesty's -Mails. That is not the summit of my ambition, by any means, but it is a -step. Who can tell to what it may lead?" - -On the very next day Jean sent his application to headquarters in -Ottawa, and in about ten days received official notice of his -appointment. At the same time Tom Sullivan and Paddy Brady heard the -news, and their expressions of rage can better be imagined than -described. They exhausted the resources of the English language in -cursing Jean Baptiste and all his ancestors, and uttered imprecations in -the old Erse tongue that were fearsome to hear. The bystanders were -alarmed, and came to Jean to urge him to surrender the contract if he -wished to save his life. - -But Jean was not to be deterred from his purpose by any threats, and -before dawn on the fifteenth of July he took the road for Quebec in his -spring cart, with the light mail-bag under the seat and a supply of -butter and eggs for the Champlain market. He was in high spirits, for -all his work was going well, and he was making a fair start along the -road to success. The years of preparation were over, and he was -beginning to carry out his plans, to realize his dreams. The time of -deliberation was at an end; the time for action had begun. - -The morning was dark, but as Jean drove along the road the sky -brightened, the stars went out one by one, and a rosy glow appeared in -the East, chasing the shadows down the mountain-side, until the whole -valley was filled with the clear light of day. As he reached the summit -of the last hill he saw the sun rise over the mountains of Notre Dame. -It touched all the circle of the hills with a tinge of gold, gleamed on -the tin roofs and spires of Quebec, illuminated the slopes of Beauport, -the Isle of Orleans and the cliffs of Levis, while the great river shone -like burnished silver, and the ships, with their white sails, moved up -stream with the rising tide. The heart of Jean Baptiste rose to greet -the rising sun; his soul exulted in the glorious view; and his strong -voice broke into song as he descended the long slope that led to the -historic Beauport Road. - - "A Saint-Malo beau port de mer, - A Saint-Malo, beau port de mer, - Trois gros navir's sout arrives. - Nous irons sur l'eau - Nous y prom' promener - Nous irons jouer dans l'ile. - - "Trois gros navir's sont arrives, - Trois gros navir's sont arrives, - Charges d'avoin', charges de bled. - Nous irons sur l'eau - Nous y prom' promener, - Nous irons jouer dans l'ile. - - -Jean sang the dear, foolish old song to the very end, and sang it again -and again until he came to the main road and joined the stream of -vehicles of every description that were carrying hay and grain, butter -and eggs, potatoes and onions, strawberries and currants, and all the -produce of the Cote de Beaupre to the markets of Quebec. He was not -well known in those parts, but had a cheerful greeting for all as he -passed, and by the time he reached the bridge over the St. Charles it -was known to half of the inhabitants of Beauport and many people from -the more distant parishes that there was a new mail carrier from St. -Placide, a gay, dare-devil of a fellow, a reckless driver, but withal a -young man whom it was a pleasure to meet along the way, so debonair, so -joyous, a good fellow in every sense of the word. There were those, -even, who knew his name, who remembered his father, pronounced him a -chip of the old block, and prophesied for him a brilliant career if he -did not break his neck before he got well started on the road to fame -and fortune. - -In the afternoon, as Jean was returning by the same road, he was not so -cheerful, and he did not sing, for the day had not fulfilled the promise -of the morning hours. Soon after he crossed the toll bridge his horse -cast a shoe, and he was obliged to return to a blacksmith's shop in the -city, where he spent an hour of his time and a considerable part of his -day's wages. Besides, he had to pay another toll at the bridge, which -was irritating. A little later, as he was driving along at a rapid -pace, trying to make up for lost time, a wheel came off the cart, and he -narrowly escaped a bad fall. There was another hour's delay, and further -expense. - -Jean's reflections, as he toiled up the long, sandy hill toward the -mountains, were anything but agreeable. He had given a whole day's work -for nothing and less than nothing. He would arrive late with the mail, -receive a reprimand from the postmaster, and hear the sneering remarks -of the impatient neighbours. Worst of all, he had been outwitted by Tom -and Paddy, for there could be little doubt that both accidents had been -brought about by some trickery of theirs, and it was impossible to tell -what they would do next. Certainly, there was less profit in the -contract than he had thought, and little prospect of improvement; but -give it up because of opposition he would not, not if all the Sullivans -and Bradys of the Irish settlement were to set upon him. - -The sun was sinking behind the mountain as Jean reached the summit of -the long hill, and it was almost dark when he came to the "Forks," about -a mile from the first house. The main road led direct to St. Placide, -about five miles away, while the road to the left went up over the -mountain in the direction of Lake Beauport, and reached St. Placide by a -route circuitous and difficult, especially after dark. Jean's horse was -accustomed to the main road, but stopped at the "Forks," and then -quickly turned to climb the hill on the left. - -"_Sacre fou de cheval_," said Jean, with a laugh, "where are you going? -You are not hungry, then. You don't want to get home before midnight. -There now, come about. It was a mistake. This way, old fellow. _Marche -donc!_" - -The horse came about, though unwillingly, but just as he had begun to -trot along in response to a sharp cut of the whip, Jean heard a voice -that seemed to come from some one standing directly in front of him: - -"Take the other road!" - -"Who's there?" said Jean, looking to see who could be on the lonely road -so late in the evening, but was surprised to find that nobody was in -sight, while the horse began to rear and to back in sheer terror, and -nearly upset the cart. - -"There now, there now, old fool," said Jean, in a reassuring voice. -"You thought you heard something, did you? But nothing is there. -Gently, now. It is nothing. Go on, then. We could go by the mountain, -to be sure, but when should we arrive? No, my friend, we must take the -usual way. Go along, now, softly, if you like, but go along. There is -nothing to fear. Go along." - -Jean drove on, in some little trepidation, it must be confessed, and was -not a little relieved when he heard the familiar sound of chopping, some -distance ahead. Turning a corner he saw, about a hundred yards away, a -man in the act of felling a large tree. - -"Holloa, there!" he called. "Don't fell that tree. It will block the -road. Don't fell it, I say! Ah, you idiot, you did it. Now, stupid, -will you tell me how I shall get home." - -"You can walk, damn you!" said Tom Sullivan, for it was he; and beside -him stood his cousin, Paddy Brady, also with an axe in his hand. - -"Oh, it is you, Tom," said Jean, with a friendly smile. "You are cutting -some firewood, I see. Will you please take it out of the way as soon as -possible." - -"Take it away yourself, you damned Frenchman," said Tom, with a sneer. -"What business have you coming along at this time o' night? A fine mail -driver you are. You should have been at the office two hours ago. By -the powers, it'll take you two hours more to get there on shank's mare. -Ha! Ha! The new driver will be late, and it's not long he'll be -carrying Her Majesty's Mail. Her Majesty'll be getting rid of him damn -quick, I be thinking." - -"Tom," said Jean, in a conciliatory but firm tone, "will you take that -timber away, or will you not?" - -"I will not," said Tom, defiantly. - -"Then, Tom," said Jean, getting out of the cart and advancing -deliberately, "will you lend me your axe for a minute?" - -"Lend you my axe, you damned thief!" roared Tom, with a volley of -curses. "I'll lend it to you. Yes! Take that!" - -At the word Tom aimed a blow at Jean that would have split his head -open, but that he, stepping nimbly aside, let the axe swing harmlessly -by, and before Tom could recover, closed with him, wrenched the weapon -from his hands and flung him violently to the ground. - -"Help, Paddy, help!" yelled Tom. "Kill him, Paddy! For the love of -God, kill him, I say!" - -But Paddy had no stomach for a fight, and stood aside with mingled -amazement and admiration as Jean, turning his back on both his enemies, -began to cut the branches of the tree, close to the bark, with great -rapidity, until finally he cut away the top and only the bare trunk -remained to block the way. - -"Now, Paddy," said Jean, throwing down the axe, "if you will help me -we'll throw this log out of the way. There, take hold of that end. Now, -Paddy, heave!" - -Paddy put forth all his strength, but could not lift the end of the log, -while Jean lifted his end about three feet, and then let it drop. - -"What's the matter, Paddy? Why don't you lift?" - -"Cut it in two and I'll lift my end," said Paddy. "Why, man, it weighs a -ton at the very least." - -"A ton, Paddy, is that all? We can lift it, then. Come--another try." - -"Not for me," said Paddy, standing back. "I know what I can do." - -"Well," said Jean, "you surprise me, Paddy Brady. I am disappointed in -you. But the log must go. Saint Jean to my aid. Watch me, Paddy." - -With that Jean bent down, his arms between his knees, his fingers -gripping the log like a vice, and as he rose the log rose, slowly, -steadily, until Jean stood erect holding the great trunk in his iron -grip. Taking a long breath he put forth a mighty effort and lifted the -log by the strength of his arms alone, inch by inch, until it reached -the height of a man and rested for a moment on his shoulder. Then, -taking hold lower down, Jean raised the log with ease until it stood -upright, when, with a slight push, he sent it crashing down the cliff to -the rocks below. - -"My God!" said Paddy, with a gasp. "What a lift! I feel as though all -my bones were cracked. Jean Baptiste, my bully boy, it's the strong man -of the world you are. Give me your hand, man alive. From now on I'm -your friend, and it's sorry I am for what has happened. Forgive me, -Jean, and Tom too. He meant you no harm." - -"Say nothing, Paddy," said Jean, with a smile. "I am well content to -have a friend like you. But your cousin--I fear that I have hurt him. -Tom, my friend, I was too rough and I am sorry. Forgive me." - -Tom Sullivan made no reply, but glared at his enemy like a wounded bear. - -"Tom," persisted Jean, "will you not let me drive you home? As to the -contract, you shall have it. I will give it up." - -"Give it up, you damned thief? Yes, when I kill you. Forgive you? -Yes, when you are in Hell!" - -"But, Tom----" - -"The curse o' Crummle on you!" snarled Tom, turning his face away in -bitterness of soul. - - - - - *CHAPTER VIII* - - *THE CITY MAN* - - -It was a midsummer evening soon after Jean's first experience as -mail-carrier, when he drove up to the house with a passenger, the first -of a long procession of summer tourists that were to be the beginnings -of prosperity to St. Placide. - -"_Dieu merci!_" said the City Man, as the spring cart stopped at the -Giroux door. "God be thanked that we are here at last! Let us descend. -Ah, but I have cramps in my legs. What a drive! Four hours over those -infernal roads, up and down those everlasting hills. But in the end we -arrive; as the evening shadows fall we come to our destination. Behold -a house in the wilderness. Regard the light in the window. See, the -door opens and Madame the hostess appears on the threshold. Are we -invited to enter?" - -"Certainly," said Jean. "Come in, Monsieur. Let me present you to my -mother, Monsieur, who will take care of you while I put my horse in the -stable. My mother, this is Monsieur Trudel, a gentleman from Quebec who -wishes to have a day's fishing in the St. Ange." - -"Come in, Monsieur," said Madame Giroux, with a smile of welcome. "It -is but a poor house, but we will give you of our best. See, you were -expected, and the supper is on the table. Take a place, Monsieur; we -will serve you immediately." - -"With great pleasure, Madame. Ah, how good it is to have arrived -somewhere! This is not the Hotel St. Louis, to be sure, nor even the -Chien d'Or, but it is a comfortable habitant home, very proper in every -way, as one sees. What a fine, solid old table! How cosy those rag -carpets! How gay the blue china on the dresser--genuine willow pattern, -too! How cheery that bright fire! It was getting cold outside. Ah, -Madame, you bring me soup--puree of green peas. This is soup indeed. -What flavour! What genial warmth! Madame, it goes to my heart. Never -have I tasted anything so appetising, so nourishing, so consoling. -Believe me, it is not in Quebec that one eats such soup." - -"Monsieur," said Madame Giroux, beaming upon the stranger. "I am -pleased to know that you like the soup. Now try a little of the ragout, -if you please. You will find it tasty, I hope." - -"Madame, you will not need to ask me twice, I assure you. Such a ragout -after such a soup! I have no words. I am silenced. I can only ask for -more of that ragout, and then a little more. Madame Giroux, this is the -place I have been dreaming about all the year, all through the long -winter, and now for two days I escape from the heat and dust of the -city, and here I am--in Paradise. Here I would stay for the rest of my -life. Ah, how I love the peace, the solitude of this place, where one -has such an appetite and where one is regaled with such delicacies! -Some more ragout? Ah, no, Madame, it is enough. Never do I eat to the -point of surfeit. Wild strawberries and cream, you say? Yes, I accept -willingly. And a cup of hot tea? Certainly. And after that my pipe, -with your permission. Truly, I am content. It is a good world, is it -not?" - -"But yes, Monsieur, it is the world of the good God." - -"Ah! I had not thought of that. On the contrary, I have often thought -it the world of the devil. Back there in the city it is surely so, but -in these mountains it may be that the good God still resides. Who can -tell? At least, there are good people here. That son of yours, -Madame--he is a brave lad, and quite intelligent. He is no stupid -habitant, not he. Quite different from the others--one sees that. He -has studied, even, has he not, Madame?" - -"But yes, Monsieur, he has studied, very much. We were going to make a -priest of him, but he would not. It was a pity, was it not?" - -"A pity? Yes, a pity that you ever thought of it. To make a priest of -Hector! To put a soutane on Achilles! To make him sit in a little box -while young ladies come to confess their sins, their most grievous sins! -Ha! Ha! No, that is not for him. For others, perhaps, but for him -work and war and love. That is his vocation. But there he comes. Look -at him. Have you ever seen a more perfect model of a man; a true Greek -of the heroic age?" - -"Well, my friend, you are coming to supper at last, and you have an -appetite like a wolf. I also had an appetite, but it is gone, because -of a certain soup of green peas and a certain ragout, besides other -dainties. But do not fear, I have left something for you. Fall to, my -brave one. Enjoy the good things of life. Meanwhile I will show you my -tackle, the apparatus with which I shall catch your trout. Look, my -brave habitant, have you ever seen a collection like this?" - -The City Man thereupon unrolled his kit, and displayed before the -astonished eyes of Madame Giroux and Jean the most complete assemblage -of fishing tackle ever seen in St. Placide. There were lance-wood rods -of the finest stock, with delicate tips so slender that one would think -they could not hold a minnow, and yet so tough that, in the hands of a -skilful angler, they might draw in a salmon, though not without a long -struggle. There were reels of gun-metal and oxidized silver, thin lines -of the finest silk, casting-lines of gut and horse-hair, and a book of -choice flies of every kind, from the modest March Brown and the plain -Grey Hackle to the handsome Silver Doctor and the gaudy Jock Scott. - -"_Mon Dieu_, Monsieur," said Jean, "you have all that is necessary, -certainly. There is not a trout in the St. Ange that will be able to -resist you." - -"That is what I think," said the City Man, with a confident smile. "We -shall catch fish to-morrow, you may be sure. And here is a little -steelyard for weighing the big ones. It goes up to five pounds. We -shall not take a trout bigger than that in this stream." - -"I think not," said Jean. "It is very seldom that so large a fish is -caught. If we get one of two pounds we shall do well. In former times -there were plenty of big trout, and there are some left, but it is not -easy to catch them. It demands skill and patience." - -"If that is all," said the City Man, "we shall get them. You will see, -my brave Jean. Look, for example, at this little book, a record of my -achievements for the past four years. See! Stoneham, June 17th, 1895, -54 trout; June 18th, 55; June 19th, 68, of which the smallest was 8 -inches in length and the largest, 16 inches. Again, Metabetchouan, Lac -St. Jean, June 10th, 1896, 33 ouananiche, running from 1 to 5 pounds. -Once more, Restigouche, July 5th, 1897, two salmon of 15 pounds each, -one of 19 pounds, and one of 25 pounds. I could go on, but that is -enough to show you that I have caught fish in my day, thousands of -trout, hundreds of salmon, besides black bass innumerable, pike, too, -and maskinonge, that tiger of the Canadian rivers. Yes, I claim to be -an angler, a faithful disciple of the good Sir Isaac. - -"You smile, my rural friend? Well, to-morrow I will show you. You will -take your bamboo pole, your clothes line and your fat worms, while I -will take one of my light rods, a thin silk line, a delicate cast, and -those flies, as many as may be necessary, and at the end of the day we -shall see. Yes, we shall see, my little demigod, my Ajax of the parish. -If I do not take two trout for every one of yours, and the biggest fish -of the day, I will give you my best rod and my book of flies, and I will -eat my boots by way of penance. What do you say? Shall we have a -contest for the championship of the St. Ange?" - -"Willingly," said Jean, "but with your permission I will not use the -bamboo pole of which you speak, nor the fat worms. I also have a liking -for fly-fishing, and I should like to enter the contest on equal terms. -If you win, Monsieur, which is more than likely, I shall be glad to have -you take as the spoils of war the arms of the vanquished. But as for -eating boots, you will excuse me, Monsieur, if I have no appetite for -that." - -"_Mon Dieu_, Monsieur Jean de St. Placide de St. Ange, but you have the -true spirit of the olden time. And he fishes with a fly; the little -habitant of the mountains uses the weapons of chivalry. Good! We shall -have a tourney for trout, for glory, for the love of ladies. And I will -overthrow you, so to speak, carry away your sword, your spear, your coat -of mail, and put your name in my little book. Ha! ha! It will be sport -indeed, and war--yes, war to the death. - -"But meanwhile, my good Jean, we are the best of friends, are we not? -You do not mind my innocent persiflage, I am sure. It is but the -effervescence of spirits too long confined in the narrow conventions of -city life, a little bubbling over of froth on the top of good liquor. -Were it not for that I should burst, I think, at the heart. Ah, the -blessed country! What relief, what freedom, what recreation! But it -occurs to me that a good sleep would be the best preparation for the -struggle of the coming day. Is it not so, Jean? Madame, with your -permission I will take my candle. Madame, I retire. I bid you -good-night. Until four o'clock, Jean, my dear enemy." - -At four o'clock Jean aroused the City Man from a dreamless sleep; at -half-past four they had breakfast; and an hour later they were setting -up their rods by the St. Ange, at a place where the river was broad and -a strong man could ford the stream. - -"This is where I usually begin," said Jean, "for it is a good place to -cross. If you will take the other side you will find good fishing." - -"No doubt," said the City Man, "the fishing must be good over there -since few men could cross that current. But I will take no advantage, -my friend. You shall cross and I will fish on this side." - -"But no, Monsieur, you do not know the stream, as I do. Pass over, if -you please." - -"Not at all, Jean, I will not. But wait. Let us toss a coin. Heads, -you go across, tails, I go." - -"Tails," said Jean. - -"It is tails, Jean, so you have your way, after all. Well, here goes, my -brave one. I will take the other side according to the hazard, and meet -you somewhere above, later in the day. _Au revoir_, Jean." - -"_Au revoir_, Monsieur, and good luck to you." - -The City Man waded into the stream, and when he reached the middle, -standing in three feet of swift water, he made a dexterous cast and -immediately hooked a fine, half-pound trout. After a brief struggle he -brought the fish to hand, and held it up with a shout of triumph. - -"There, Jean," he called, above the noise of the water. "First blood! -Begin, my brave one, you have no time to lose. Begin, begin." - -Thus the contest began, and all day the rivals fished up the stream, -trying their best to outdo each other both in numbers and size. The day -was perfect, with alternating sun and shade, and a light breeze that -raised a ripple on the pools, and in both pools and rapids the hungry -trout rose eagerly to the fly. Jean passed quickly along, contenting -himself with taking one or two fish in every good place, while the City -Man patiently whipped every foot of the stream. In some pools he took -four or five trout, and there was not a likely place where he did not -catch at least one fish. - -Soon Jean was far ahead, but the City Man paid no attention to him. -Enjoying the solitude, the sound of the water, the voice of the breeze, -the delicious mountain air, he took keen delight in examining with a -practised eye every pool and riffle, every possible lurking-place for -the agile, wary trout. In this swift water he would take an eight-inch -fish, behind that rock in mid-stream he would hook a ten-inch trout that -would fight like a veteran; in that deep pool beneath the shade of an -overhanging pine he might hope to take a trout weighing at least a -pound, with a chance of capturing a big fish, the prize of the day. - -It was glorious sport, the best that the City Man had ever known, and it -had for him an added zest in the thought of the contest with his rustic -adversary, the triumph that would be his, and the trophy that he was -going to win. It was not a very fine rod, that of Jean Baptiste, but it -would be an interesting memento of his visit to St. Placide, and a -further proof of his claim to the title of champion angler of the -Province. So the City Man went on fishing all the day, never once -relaxing his efforts, not even stopping to eat the good luncheon that -Madame Giroux had provided. The morning passed; the afternoon wore -away; while the City Man's pannier was gradually filled, until there was -not room for another trout. Then he noticed that the sun was sinking, -and the shadows creeping down the mountainside. - -"_Mon Dieu,_" he said to himself, "I had no idea that it was so late. -And we must be at least four miles from the house. How heavy that -pannier! A good catch, certainly. But where is my poor Jean Baptiste? -I have not seen him since the early morning. Ah, there he is on the -other side, sitting on a big rock and smoking his pipe as though at -peace with himself and all the world. He has given up the contest, that -is clear. Well, the poor devil must have some consolation. But I -wonder how long he has been there." - -"_Hola_, Jean! _Hola_, there! Can one cross at this place?" - -"Yes, Monsieur," called Jean. "This is the best ford on the river. -Come right over. The water is not at all deep." - -"Well, my brave one," said the City Man, as he stepped out of the water. -"Well, my noble angler, and did you catch some fish? Did they take -worms to-day?" - -"You forget, Monsieur, that we were to fish with flies." - -"Oh, yes, very true. And you have done it? It was hard work, was it -not? It demands skill, as you have discovered. But do not be -discouraged. Cheer up. You will learn in the course of time. A young -man of your intelligence can learn anything. Come now, how many did you -take?" - -"I have not counted them, Monsieur," said Jean, "but I see that you have -made a good catch, a very good catch." - -"A good catch? Well, I may say so," said the City Man, a little -nettled. "It is the catch of my life. See! I will pour them out on the -pebbles. Yes, a nice pile of trout. Let us count them. -One--two--three ... seventy-two--seventy-three--seventy-four--all good -fish--and this two-pounder makes seventy-five. A good day's work. Yes, -Jean, there are trout in this river, but it takes skill to catch them. -It is all in a little turn of the wrist. I will teach you. But show -your fish. If you have thirty-eight trout, I lose." - -"Well," said Jean, with a smile, getting his pannier from the cool shade -of the rock, "I think that I have at least thirty-eight. Let us see. -One--two--three--four ... thirty-seven--thirty-eight--thirty-nine ... -seventy-four--seventy-five--seventy-six ... -eighty-eight--eighty-nine--ninety. There, Monsieur, that is not -bad--ninety good trout; and this one, the brother of yours; and this -other, the grandfather of both. There, that is all." - -The City Man was speechless. He gasped in astonishment, grew pale for a -moment, then red in the face; but presently, as he gazed on the -wonderful catch, his equanimity returned, and with it a glow of -enthusiasm for the angler who had shown a prowess so unexpected, so -utterly admirable. Turning to Jean with an air of new and profound -respect, he said: - -"Monsieur Giroux, I salute you as the most perfect angler of the -Province. More than that, I say, I, Gaspard Trudel, that there is not -your equal in the whole of Canada. Accept, I beg of you, this rod of -mine. It was a trophy, and I have used it with pride, but now it will -be in more worthy hands. Monsieur Giroux, once more I salute you." - -Two days later, as Jean was driving Monsieur Trudel back to the city, -they talked much of the future industrial development of St. Placide. -Monsieur Trudel was a man of vision, and entered with enthusiasm into -Jean's plans and ambitions, declaring that an angler of such eminence -could attain the same distinction in other fields of effort and would -succeed in anything that he might undertake. But the sportsman was also -an astute lawyer and man of affairs, and wisely counselled Jean to make -haste slowly, step by step, overcoming minor obstacles as they were -encountered and gaining strength and experience by which he should -remove mountains in the course of time. Meanwhile, there was the farm -to manage, the mail contract to fulfil, and if bed and board could be -provided for sportsmen such as he, it would be easy to find many tired -men from the city who would gladly spend their holidays in such a -paradise. So it was Monsieur Trudel who, for good or ill, first -suggested to Jean the exploitation of the summer tourist. - - - - - *CHAPTER IX* - - *THE LOAN* - - -"If I am not mistaken," said Monsieur Trembly, the notary, with a shrewd -smile, "it is, in effect, a hotel that you would be building at St. -Placide, a house of twelve rooms, by far the largest in the parish. -Your good friend Monsieur Trudel has told me all about it. A great -sportsman, he. A good advocate, of course, a Q.C., in line for the -bench, and all that, but a sportsman above all, and an angler, the most -skilful in the Province. He has discovered St. Placide, it seems, and -would like you to build a hotel for himself and his brother anglers. Not -a bad idea. But it will cost money to build a place like that--as much -as five thousand dollars, perhaps." - -"No, Monsieur Trembly," said Jean, with assurance, "not half of that -sum. The logs I will cut myself, during the winter; in the spring the -neighbours will help me to raise the frame; for a couple of months we -shall need carpenters, and then, before the end of June, at the -beginning of the tourist season, the house will be completed at a cost -of less than two thousand dollars, including furniture. Certainly, two -thousand dollars will be more than sufficient." - -"Well," said the notary, "we can obtain the money, I think. A certain -client of mine will let us have it. If not, Monsieur Trudel will advance -the amount, or I will do so myself, if necessary. The enterprise is -most promising, certainly, and you have other plans, I am told. You -will build a dam, a mill, a factory, in the course of time. It may be -that you are running some risk, but if all goes well you will be a rich -man, and at the same time a benefactor to the whole parish. That is -what I call true success, Monsieur Giroux." - -"And the security will be ample. It is your mother's farm that you -would hypothecate, a good property, indeed, one hundred acres of arable -land, a hundred of pasture, two hundred of forest--a fief of the -Seminary, subject to the usual dues, which are a mere bagatelle. It is a -fine property, not very saleable, perhaps, in these times, but should -fetch five thousand dollars, possibly six, at a forced sale. Yes, -certainly, you shall have the money--two thousand dollars for three -years, interest at eight per cent., payable half-yearly. I will have -the papers drawn at once. Come again in a few days, Monsieur Giroux, -and all will be arranged." - -Jean was not altogether happy about mortgaging his mother's farm, but -the projects which he had in mind could be realized in no other way. -Since the visit of the City Man there had been a constant stream of -visitors, chiefly fishermen; and when, at the close of the season, he -cast up his accounts, he discovered a profit of a hundred dollars from -this source alone, besides the allowance from the Government and the -enhanced revenue from farm produce sold in the Quebec markets. It was a -veritable mine of wealth that he had discovered, and a vista of -unlimited possibilities opened before him. - -At first there would be the new house of twelve rooms, providing -accommodation for twenty or thirty guests; but presently the building -would be enlarged; cottages for whole families would be built; there -would be grassy courts for tennis and croquet, horses for riding and -driving, canoes for the river, guides for excursions to distant lakes -and streams, and even provision for the winter, when stalwart hunters -would come to chase moose and caribou. The valley of the St. Ange, too -long neglected, with its beautiful mountains, grand forests, clear air, -and pure water, its hunting and fishing, would become one of the most -celebrated resorts in the Province, frequented by rich citizens of -Quebec and Montreal, wealthy English tourists, and American -millionaires. Jean himself, the originator of the movement, would be -the first to share in the profits, but the influx of tourists would -bring prosperity to the whole parish and lay the foundations for still -greater things in the years to come. - -But the neighbours, for whose benefit the great work was to be done, did -not look upon it with kindly eyes. On the contrary, they were filled -with envy, and their gossip about the doings of Jean Baptiste was far -from charitable. That a young man should aspire to become a priest was -in the order of nature, an ambition to be respected and encouraged. As -such, he would be an honour to the family and a credit to the parish; -but that he should attempt to set up a new industry, to forsake the -traditions of the fathers, to walk in untrodden paths, was an innovation -unheard of and most disquieting, a defiance of sacred custom, a -rebellion, indeed, against religion and the Holy Church. - -Moreover, the effects of such changes upon the morals of the people, -especially the young, would be sad indeed. One had but to consider the -ways of city people to see that they were frivolous in their behaviour, -light in their conversation and worldly in their dress. Their influence -was altogether bad, as could be seen in places like Malbaie and Cacouna, -where the young maidens, even, once so industrious and pious, were -filling their minds with the foolish notions of the city. No longer -would they wear the modest costumes of their mothers and grandmothers, -but were imitating the dress of high society, made, it was said, -according to fashions devised by men tailors in the great and wicked -city of Paris. Once the summer tourists established themselves in St. -Placide, the simplicity and contentment of former days would be gone; -religion and virtue would be no more; and the young people would enter -the mad race for wealth, fashion, and all the follies and vanities of -the world. - -Besides, the tourist business was not profitable after all. More -revenue was taken in, to be sure, but one's expenses increased in still -greater degree, and in the end one stood face to face with ruin and -bankruptcy. Such would be the fate of Jean Baptiste and of all who were -carried away by his plausible schemes. No, he must not be allowed to -ruin the people, to corrupt their morals, to endanger their immortal -souls. Something should be done; some one should interfere, to put Jean -Baptiste in his proper place or to drive him away from the parish. - -The good neighbours did not at first see the matter in that light, but -when it was brought to their notice by certain malicious spirits, they -were not slow to recognize the danger of the proposed innovations and to -condemn unheard one whom they did not understand. Even the best friends -of Jean Baptiste were somewhat influenced by this talk, and their minds -were poisoned by the insidious gossip. - -Gabrielle, also, within the sacred precincts of the Ursuline Convent, -heard rumours of the doings of Jean Baptiste. There was no other girl -from St. Placide at the convent, but Adele Couture of L'Ange Gardien was -there, who now and then received letters from her cousin and bosom -friend Melanie Couture, containing not only fragments of gossip about -Jean, but whole pages of news, telling of all his doings during the past -summer, of the great house that he was going to build, and the -innovations that he was about to introduce into the once peaceful and -happy parish. So busy was he with his work in the woods, where he was -preparing logs for his new house, that one scarcely caught a glimpse of -him except on Wednesdays and Saturdays, when he carried the mail; but on -those occasions he would always smile and bow and give a cheerful -good-day to any of the neighbours whom he might see as he passed along. -Certainly, he seemed to be in high spirits, well pleased with himself -and all the world, as a young man of such gifts might well be, with all -the world at his feet, not excepting the girls of the parish, not one of -whom would say him nay. But it was impossible to discover that Jean -showed preference for any, unless it were Blanchette Laroche, that old -creature with the speckled face, twenty-six years of age at the very -least, but of an amiable temper, of great capacity as a housekeeper, and -with the expectation of an ample dowry. Not that Jean had ever paid her -any special attention, beyond what might be expected of a good -neighbour, but there were signs that showed how the wind blew, and -developments might be expected at any time. - -All this and more Adele read to her friend Gabrielle, and together they -talked and laughed about the backwoods hero as young girls do who are -fancy free and who take pleasure in idealizing a common man by making of -him a hero in disguise, riding forth to do battle for the two-fold prize -of glory and his lady's love. But, strange to say, Gabrielle did not -tell her friend that Jean was other than a former schoolfellow and -casual acquaintance; nor did she give the watchful Adele the slightest -cause to suspect that her "habitant," "mail-driver," and "inn-keeper" -was more often in her thoughts than a certain brave officer of -artillery, or a certain young teller in the Banque Nationale. - -But the rumours that came to Gabrielle were disquieting, and interfered -with her studies in art and literature more than she would have dared to -confess, even to herself. She was happy in the convent, in the -companionship of her fellow-pupils and under the direction of the -sweet-faced sisters; she loved the Mother Superior and applied herself -with devotion to her religious duties; but her thoughts often wandered -to St. Placide, where one who had loved her long was proving by manly -deeds his right to claim that she should love him in return. - -She did not love him, no, not yet; but it was pleasant to think of that -young man, her hero and knight, girding on his armour, taking a noble -part in the battle of life, overcoming all obstacles, casting down all -enemies, making a place in the world and an honourable name--and all for -her. Poor Jean! He had been faithful for a long time and deserved some -little encouragement, some slight reward. Gabrielle blushed as she -thought of that, and wished that she had not been so cruel to Jean when -last they met. It would be necessary to atone, but when and how? - -Gabrielle was sure of Jean's devotion, and yet there were times when she -thought him altogether too gay and debonair in the absence of his -lady-love, too free with his smiles, too ready to greet the young women -of the parish as he drove by, too confident altogether, considering the -slight encouragement that he had received. It almost seemed as though -he had never loved her with his whole heart, else why was he not more -cast down and why so easily consoled? But to whom could he go for -consolation? Surely not to Blanchette Laroche. That would be too -absurd. Doubtless, it was in his work that Jean found consolation, -because it brought him nearer to his heart's desire. But Blanchette was -clever and capable, a perfect housekeeper, a charming companion--if one -could forget her face. Yet there was a strange sweetness about that -face. Yes, it might be well to return to St. Placide for the Christmas -vacation, just to be at home again for a little while, to get a glimpse -of the old friends, and to have a little change from the monotony of -convent life. - -It was a glorious winter morning, on the Sunday after Gabrielle's -return; and although she might have driven to church in the family -berline, she preferred to walk, and started early, that she might fully -enjoy the beauty of the winter landscape, breathe the clear, cold -mountain air, and feel the life blood tingling in all her veins. As she -came near the cottage of Mere Tabeau she quickened her pace, thinking to -escape notice, but the old crone, like a spider, was lying in wait, and -came forth just as Gabrielle, with face averted, was passing by. - -"Wait a minute, Gabrielle--Mademoiselle Tache," she called. "Can you -not wait, my dear? I, too, am going to Mass, although you may think it -strange. Yes, I go to Mass every Sunday, and to confession too, when -necessary. There are often little sins, you know. But how fast you -walk, Gabrielle--Mademoiselle! A little slower, if you please. I like -the company of the young and beautiful. They do not like my company, -perhaps, those proud ones, those rich ones with the fine moccasins and -the expensive furs, because they forget, the gay creatures, that one day -they too may be old and poor and lame. Yes, and they don't know that -misfortune may come to them at any time, and very soon--yes, indeed." - -"_Mon Dieu_, Madame Tabeau!" said Gabrielle, a little frightened, "I did -not intend to walk so fast. It is the frosty air, Madame, that makes the -feet move. But I shall be glad to walk more slowly, for the pleasure of -your company." - -"The pleasure of my company! Ha! Ha! _Sacree petite vierge_! That -was well said. A lie, of course, but pleasing to hear, for all that. -You have learned manners, it would seem, at the convent. The Ursuline -ladies are nothing if not polite. I knew one of them myself, long ago, -who could stab you to the heart and smile sweetly all the time. And she -lives still, the assassin! Ah, serpent! What a pleasure it would be to -crush thee in the dust!" - -"But, Madame----" - -"Yes, my dear. Yes, Mademoiselle Gabrielle. I forgot that you were -there. Strange words for the ears of innocence. Strange tales for a -Sunday morning on the way to Mass. Yes, let us change the subject. Let -us talk of something more interesting--of Jean Baptiste Giroux, for -example." - -At this shaft Gabrielle flushed a little, almost imperceptibly, but -said, with an assumption of indifference: - -"Why of him, Madame Tabeau? I am not at all interested." - -"She is not interested, the young lady, not at all. Why then does she -blush, and why does her voice tremble at the mention of his name? Not -interested, Mademoiselle Innocent? Then you do not dislike him, of -course?" - -"No, Madame Tabeau. It is a fine morning, is it not? How beautiful the -snow and the blue shadows of the trees!" - -"Yes, yes, of course. But why, I wonder, does Jean Baptiste spend every -day in the woods, cutting down trees, making logs of every size, shaping -them for the frame of a great house, hauling them to a certain place? -Why all this preparation, Gabrielle, my dear?" - -"How should I know, Madame Tabeau? He does not tell me of his plans." - -"No? Not even that he borrowed two thousand dollars for the hotel that -he is to build as soon as the snow is gone? He did not borrow it, then, -from Monsieur your father?" - -"Certainly not, Madame, I do not wish to discuss the question. What -Monsieur Giroux does is nothing to me." - -"Nothing to you? Of course not. Then he did not get the money from -Monsieur Tache. And there are but two rich men in the parish. Ah, now -we have it. From Monsieur Laroche, of course. That is what I thought -at the first. Now all is clear, clear as day. A young man of -marriageable age wishes to advance himself in the world; the daughter of -a rich habitant is not unwilling; the good, wise young man proposes an -alliance; secures the money and a housekeeper at the same time; kills -two birds with one stone. Ha! Ha! The good, wise young man of -marriageable age! - -"He is a deep thinker, Jean Baptiste, a young man of prudence, -foresight, strategy--all that. Yes, for such a house one must have a -housekeeper, a cook and a maid of all work. See! He secures them all -at one stroke. A stroke of genius, that. No matter that she is no -beauty, that her face has been spoiled by the small-pox. She is capable, -good-tempered, affectionate, and has an ample dowry--the best in the -parish. What more could one desire? That explains those visits to the -house of Bonhomme Laroche. Yes, it explains everything. The wedding -will be in June, no doubt, before the beginning of the tourist season. -It will be a great affair, with a feast and a grand dance. You will -dance at the wedding, Mademoiselle Tache, will you not?" - -Gabrielle's face was as white as the snow. - -"Madame Tabeau," she said, scarcely maintaining her composure, "I have -to say to you that these are vile lies which you are telling about Jean -Baptiste. He may be foolish, as they say, but he is incapable of such -baseness. Madame, this conversation is distasteful to me. Pass on, if -you please, or stay behind. I wish to be alone." - -The vicious old woman, abashed before the loyal courage of Gabrielle, -turned aside, muttering maledictions, and went to visit one of her -cronies in the village, to learn the most recent gossip, and to tell of -the significant discoveries she had made on the way to Church. - -As for Gabrielle, she entered the Church alone, and as she knelt before -the image of the Mother of God her body was shaken with sobs, and she -could scarcely whisper the prayers that for two thousand years have -brought consolation and courage to so many souls. But as the young girl -prayed the peace of God descended into her soul; and when the -congregation assembled and the service began, her voice, calm and clear, -arose with theirs in humble confession, wistful supplication and joyous -praise. - -When the sacrifice of the Mass was over and the congregation had -dispersed, Gabrielle remained kneeling for a long time, striving to -forget the world, to fix her attention upon the Cross, to think only of -her divine Redeemer. But this she could not do, for the thought of Jean -filled her mind and heart; and she felt, with mingled pride and shame, -that she loved him more than aught else in the world, and that the -Kingdom of Heaven was as nothing to her compared with the kingdom of -earthly love. - -And Jean loved her in return. Had he not told her so? Yes, but she had -sent him away in anger, and now it was another that he loved. -Impossible! No, for who could tell what love might do? Yet his first -love she would always have. Always! And this also was possible, in all -the chance and caprice of love, that he might come back to her, -penitent, asking forgiveness. It would not be hard to forgive Jean, if -only he would come; but what if it were too late, and the day of love -were gone forever? - -Ah, that lovely morning so long ago, when she did not love, or loved all -the world, and no one had taken her love away! The pity, the cruelty of -it! The moment love was found enshrined in the heart, that moment it -was snatched away. The bright vision appeared, was gone, and would not -return. Oh, it could not be, must not be, not even if it were the will -of God. No, she could not give him up, would not. She would fight for -him against all the world--to the death. Ah, Lord Jesus! It was He who -had gone to the death for the world, for her. What sin, what mortal sin -to love mortal man more than the Redeemer of the world! And the -sacrifice--was it not the law of life and death, of time and eternity? - -Gabrielle was rebellious no more, but bowed her head in humiliation and -sorrow, with chastened spirit and sincere repentance repeating the -morning prayer: - -"Holy Virgin, Mother of God, my mother and my friend, I place myself -under your protection and implore your pity. Be, O Mother of Kindness, -my refuge in my need, my consolation in my troubles, and my advocate -with your dear Son, all the days of my life, and especially in the hour -of death. - -"Angel of Heaven, my faithful and charitable guide, obtain for me the -grace to be so docile and teachable that my footsteps may never stray -from the way of the commandments of my God. - -"Yes, my God, I love you with all my heart, with all my soul, with all -my spirit, with all my power, and I promise to love my neighbour as -myself for the love of you." - -When Gabrielle left the Church and came out again into the clear light -of day, the agony and struggle of the past hour seemed like an evil -dream. The snow was as white and pure as ever, the sky as blue, and the -bright sunlight streamed all about like a radiance from God. She took -long breaths of the delicious, frosty air that went tingling through her -veins like wine, and along the crisp surface of road she went tripping -on light moccasined feet, while her eyes shone and her face glowed with -the joy of living. What could it be that had troubled her so? Who was -that old witch with the evil eye that had put such thoughts into her -head? Jean was hers, without a doubt. He was not one to change or be -discouraged because of a girl's saucy words. When he was ready he would -ask, and take no refusal. But if not, what matter? There were -others--a certain young officer of the Garrison, for example. Jean was -not indispensable, by any means. Blanchette might have him at any time. -No, not Blanchette, but any other girl in the parish--Suzette Gagnon, -for example, with her coal-black hair, her pale complexion, her green -eyes, and no dowry at all. Yes, Suzette it should be, for punishment. - -As Gabrielle was disposing of her lover in this summary way, she became -aware of footsteps behind her, and in a moment a tall, stalwart form was -walking by her side, and she knew, without looking, that it was Jean -himself, aggressive as ever and very much the master of his own destiny. - -"Good morning, Gabrielle," he said, as if they had always been the best -of friends. "Is it permitted that one walk along with you for a -distance?" - -"The road is free, Monsieur Giroux, and you have overtaken me. You walk -too fast." - -"Oh, no, Gabrielle, but I am glad that you walk so slowly. Of what were -you thinking, I wonder?" - -Gabrielle blushed at the too pointed question, but laughed at her own -confusion. - -"There is an inquisitive man, I must say; and a conceited man too. -Perhaps he believes that I was thinking of him." - -"Ah! if you only were, Gabrielle! For me, I certainly was thinking of -you. I saw you in Church, and heard you too. _Mon Dieu_, but you sing -like an angel." - -"Monsieur Giroux," said Gabrielle, reprovingly, "you should go to Church -to pray, to worship, and not to look at the neighbours." - -"The neighbours, Gabrielle--were they there? I saw but one. And I -worship, I pray--this is what I pray: 'God give me the beautiful angel -whom I adore!'" - -"Jean!" said Gabrielle, with a radiant smile, "you must not talk like -that--it is wicked. But tell me what is it that you do in the woods -every day. Why all this industry, I wonder? Why is the mighty hunter -not on the hills chasing the moose, the caribou, the bear?" - -"Gabrielle, the bear sleeps all winter, and I have been asleep for many -years. Now, I am awaking, and I begin to see the opportunities of life. -I see and seize them as they come along. First I become habitant, then -mail driver, then I build a house for tourists, and after that--well, -after that we shall see. Gabrielle, it is not true that I am a -good-for-nothing. Say that it is not true." - -"Jean, my friend, forgive me. I did not mean it, as you know. You are -a hero, my hero, since the day when you saved me from the river. You -remember, do you not? But walk on the other side of the road, if you -please. I have only one question to ask, one little question. Jean -Baptiste, why did you borrow the money from Bonhomme Laroche? Answer -me--quick, quick! Oh, _Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!_ he did it!" - -"But, Gabrielle, I do not understand." - -"Monsieur Giroux," said Gabrielle, her eyes flaming with indignation, -"do not lie to me. You understand very well. Please to step out of the -way." - -"Gabrielle, my dear Gabrielle, it was a mistake, a blunder. I can -explain." - -"Will Monsieur Giroux step out of the way, or shall I call my father?" - -"_Sacre!_" said Jean, in a burst of anger, turning his back on -Gabrielle, and striding rapidly down the hill, exploding imprecations as -he went. "_Sacre tonnerre_! Fool of a woman! Little fool! But what a -dear little fool! What perversity, what unreason! But what dear -perversity, what charming unreason! Angel of Heaven! Give her up? Ah, -not yet, not for that. I will win her--I swear it. This also I will -accomplish with the help of God and Saint Jean Baptiste." - - - - - *CHAPTER X* - - *BLANCHETTE* - - -"_Bonjour_, Jean Baptiste," said Bonhomme Laroche, one spring morning, -approaching the place where Jean was working on the frame of his new -house, now almost ready for the raising. "The work moves along, I see." - -"_Bonjour_, Monsieur Laroche," said Jean, as pleasantly as possible, -wishing to be polite to the old man. "Yes, the work is well along. -Next week we shall have the raising, and in ten weeks more all will be -finished." - -"Very good, Jean, very good indeed. And how is the money holding out? -Two thousand dollars is not a great sum for a work of such magnitude." - -"I have not touched it, Monsieur Laroche. That is for the carpenters, -for furniture, for horses, carts, and the like. Never fear, Monsieur. -It will be more than sufficient." - -"You have not touched it yet? What economy! And you pay interest all -the time, merely to make sure of the loan. What prudence, what -foresight! Well, money is not so easy to get in St. Placide, where all -the people are poor, but in Quebec there are rich men, bankers, -capitalists. Ha! Ha! So one gets a loan of two thousand dollars in -Quebec, and one pays interest to a poor habitant of St. Placide--as an -act of charity, merely. _Mon Dieu_, it is to laugh." - -"Monsieur Laroche," said Jean, with some asperity, "it was a trick that -you played on me, and I do not appreciate the humour of it. I had no -idea that Monsieur Trembly was an agent of yours. But you have your -security, and as to the money, I do not intend to give it back to you at -present." - -"Do not think of it, my friend. The money is yours for the time, so -long as you pay the interest when due--eight per cent., payable -half-yearly. And do not be grateful, either. It was not for gratitude -that I made the loan, but for a first mortgage on one of the best farms -in the parish. I should like well to add that farm to mine. What a -fine block I should have--an estate of some magnitude! Be careful to -pay the interest on the day, my friend. - -"But do not let us quarrel, Jean. Perhaps you may be my son-in-law some -day--who knows? Stranger things have happened in this strange world. -And I do not hesitate to tell you that it would please me well. As to -Blanchette, she would make no objection. It is a dutiful child, that. -I say to her: 'Marry Jean Baptiste, my daughter,' and she replies: 'I -cannot disobey you, my dear father, although I have no special fancy for -the young man.' Jean, my lad, would it not be a good arrangement?" - -"Monsieur Laroche," said Jean, earnestly, "you are pleased to be -facetious, but I have to tell you that I do not like your proposals, -which would be as distasteful to Mademoiselle Blanchette as to myself. -I am not thinking of marriage for the present, but when I do it will not -be for land, nor houses, nor the loan of two thousand dollars. Your -interest, Monsieur Laroche you shall have upon the day; and when the -principal is due I will pay you with the greatest pleasure." - -"Oh, my dear Jean, not so fiery, if you please. No offence was -intended--only the proposal of an honourable alliance, honourable and -advantageous. The Laroches are of a good family, my friend, respectable -cultivators for ten generations. Blanchette will not take offence, I am -sure, and why should you? No, Jean, let us be good neighbours, as -always. As to the interest, do not be too particular. What is that -between friends? You may even need the accommodation of a further loan. -That also we can arrange. We are old neighbours, you know. I had a -high regard for your good father, and I have always looked upon you as a -promising young man, a youth who will go far, with the backing of -friends and money. Such things are not to be despised." - -"Monsieur Laroche," said Jean, somewhat ashamed of his hasty words, "you -mean well, I am sure, and I thank you. Forgive my impatience. I dare -say that I did not understand." - -"Say no more, Jean. We understand each other pretty well, after all. -You are a young man of ideas, and I also have some ideas, strange to -say. We might exchange views, might we not, to our mutual advantage? We -must have a talk, many talks. Come to see me, Jean, this very evening. -We shall have a good dinner and a good talk. Blanchette will be there, -of course, but do not fear--she will not bite you." - -Jean could not well refuse the proffered courtesy of the old fox, and -thus it came about that he paid his second visit to the Maison Laroche, -and at dinner found himself seated at the hospitable board with the old -man and Blanchette, surprisingly contented and hugely entertained by the -conversation of the shrewd old miser and his clever daughter. - -"And so, Monsieur Jean Baptiste Giroux," said Blanchette, with a smile -of amusement, "you are the young man whom my father wishes me to marry, -are you not?" - -"Mademoiselle," stammered Jean, taken aback, "Monsieur your father is -very kind, I am sure." - -"Not at all, Jean my lad," broke in Bonhomme Laroche, rubbing his hands -in delight. "It is what I have always wished. A young man of your -talents is not so easy to find in these days. In my day it was -different. Then there were tall, handsome youths in plenty, and -beautiful girls as well. Your mother, Blanchette, was the most -beautiful of all. Ah, those were days! But now, my friend, it seems to -me that you are the only youth in the parish who compares with those of -former times. Is it not so, Blanchette?" - -"It may well be, my father, although I have no memory of that time. -Truly, Monsieur Giroux, I am still quite young--on the sunny side of -thirty, I assure you. Your mother will tell you that I have the -advantage of you by only a year and a day. But without flattery I will -say that you compare very well with the other young men of the parish, -even those who have gone away. Pamphile was tall and strong, but he had -not your intelligence. Monsieur Giroux, Jean, I have a mind to accept -you." - -"You do me too much honour, Mademoiselle," murmured Jean, much -embarrassed, and wondering how he was going to escape from a situation -so difficult. - -"Not so fast, Jean, not so fast. Look before you leap, my friend. I am -not beautiful, as you see." - -"Mademoiselle," said Jean, insincerely, "it is the beauty of the spirit -that counts." - -"You do not mean that, Jean, and yet I like to hear you say it. -Moreover, it is more true than you think. I have read; I have travelled; -I have thought much upon the vanities of the world. Oh, yes, I have -cultivated the graces of the spirit to make up for my lack in other -respects. And I was beautiful once, before the smallpox. Can you -believe it?" - -"She is beautiful still, Jean," broke in the old man. "For me, I find -her just the same, the very image of her mother." - -"Ah, my good father, if all the young men were like you I should not die -an old maid." - -"You shall not, Blanchette, you shall not. Notice, Jean Baptiste, only -notice what a fine housekeeper she is. Look at the table, the chairs, -the windows, the curtains, the stove, even, how proper they are; and the -floor--one could eat off it. And what a cook! Confess, Jean, that you -have never tasted roast chicken better than that which you are now -eating." - -"It is true, Monsieur," said Jean, with enthusiasm. "The chicken is -perfect, of a tenderness unequalled, of a flavour incomparable." - -"But wait," continued the old man, with an air of mystery. "There is -better still to come. Blanchette, the dessert. We will surprise our -guest. Madame Giroux is a famous cook, but not in the same class with -you, my dear." - -"There, my father, you have said enough," laughed Blanchette, stopping -his mouth with her open palm. "Be still, now, or you will frighten -Monsieur Giroux, and he will never come again. Never mind him, Jean; he -is only a foolish old man who is blinded by love. You could not be thus -blinded, could you, my friend?" - -"But the dessert, Blanchette, the dessert. I will say no more if only -you will bring it in, instantly." - -"Ah, I had forgotten," said Blanchette, going to the cupboard and -bringing thence an immense plate of _croquignoles_ of all sizes and -shapes, delicately powdered with white sugar. - -"There, Messieurs; there is the _tour de force_. If you have not eaten -too much chicken, perhaps you will enjoy the _croquignoles_. And I have -a little bottle of currant wine, too, to finish. Monsieur Giroux, I -drink to our better acquaintance." - -"And I," said Jean, quite disarmed by the kindness of those whom he had -thought to be his enemies, "to your health, Mademoiselle Blanchette! To -yours, Monsieur Laroche! Permit me to say that I have never tasted -currant wine so delicious, and that the _croquignoles_ are beyond all -praise." - -"They are not so bad, Jean, and I am glad that you like them. As you -see, my friend, I have made a study of human nature, and I know how to -please men by good food and drink--and a little flattery." - -"Well, Mademoiselle, you succeed marvellously, I must confess." - -"Yes, Jean; but, as you may have observed, I have this time omitted the -flattery." - -"Mademoiselle, it is lucky for me that you have omitted something, else -I should have surrendered without the honours of war." - -"That would not do at all, Jean. He who gives to me his hand gives his -heart also, and must be able to say, with a certain king: 'All is lost -save honour.' Could you say that?" - -"Mademoiselle, what shall I say? You are a sorceress, I think." - -"But no, Jean, only one who observes. It is like walking through the -forest where there are signs that one may read if one has eyes to see. -And there are little birds, too, that tell one things. But tell me; how -does your house advance? It will soon be finished, will it not?" - -"Very soon, Mademoiselle--in ten weeks, or less." - -"Good. I am delighted to hear it. See, I will give you a toast, -neighbour Jean. To your health, to the health of all whom you love. To -your success in everything--everything. Do you understand?" - -"Yes, Blanchette, I understand, and I thank you." - -"What are you saying, you two?" said the old man. "Why all this -mysterious talk? For me, I do not understand at all. Yet you have your -secrets, I suppose." - -"Naturally," said Blanchette, smiling. "We have at least one great -secret. Shall I tell him, Jean? Shall I tell you, my father? As to -this Jean Baptiste, I like him very much, and we are going to be the -best of friends, but I will not marry him. Say nothing--I will not." - -The old man stared at his daughter for some moments in mingled anger and -amazement; but presently, his reason getting the better of his rage, he -replied, in the tone of an indulgent parent to a wayward child: - -"There, Blanchette, my dear, no one is asking you to marry anybody. -What have I done? I have merely asked the young man to dine with us, to -eat of our roast chicken and _croquignoles_, to see what a fine -housekeeper you are, to perceive how happy one can be in a home of one's -own--that is all. Do not trouble yourself. You shall marry or not, -just as you please. Yes, you shall stay with your old father, little -one, until the very end. But after that it will be lonely for you, will -it not?" - -"My good father," said Blanchette, gently caressing his grizzled hair, -"do not talk like that. You are still a young man, as any one can see, -and I shall be with you for many years. Let us not consider a future so -remote. But in the worst case there is always the convent for old maids -like me." - -"The convent? Holy Virgin! What would you do in a convent, Blanchette, -with your beauty, your accomplishments? Cut off your long hair, hide -your lovely face behind a black veil, pray at midnight on the cold -stones? No, no, Mignonne. Leave that to the old, the ugly, the -disappointed. For you the fireside, a loving husband, beautiful -children, the management of the house--all that makes life worth while. -Besides, you are not pious enough for the religious life. You have no -vocation. No, it is not for you." - -"My father," said Blanchette, "have you finished at last? Monsieur -Giroux wishes to go, I think. _Au revoir_, Monsieur Jean. It has been a -great pleasure to have seen you. Come again soon. Good neighbours -should meet often, should they not?" - -"Yes, Jean," assented the old man, "Come often--every day if you like. -I shall be glad to see you. As for Blanchette, never mind what she -says. Women are changeable, as you know. But if not, if not, Jean -Baptiste Giroux, take care; keep out of my way; for I will crush you -like a snake." - -Jean laughed. "Do not trouble yourself, Monsieur Laroche; I shall be -safe enough, never fear. But I thank you for your hospitality; and you, -Mademoiselle Blanchette, for all that and for your good wishes as well." - -As Jean took the road toward his own home the night was dark, with -lowering clouds on the hills, and a chill April wind blew from patches -of unmelted snow. He was stumbling along, uncertain of the way, when a -beam of light shone out from a lamp set in the window of the Maison -Laroche. - -"It is Blanchette," said Jean to himself, "and the light which she -throws on the path will guide me for some distance yet. One can take a -good many steps on a dark night, if one sees a friendly gleam in a -window here and there." - - - - - *CHAPTER XI* - - *LA FOLIE* - - -"Is it possible?" said Father Paradis to Jean Baptiste on a fine -afternoon in June. "Can it be that your great house is finished and -ready for the tourists so early in the season? It is incredible, -marvellous, but there it stands, and one must believe one's own eyes, I -suppose. Truly, Jean, my son, you have accomplished a great work." - -"Yes, Monsieur," said Jean, with a glow of pride. "It is finished at -last, thank God, and I am well content. But will you not come in to see -the place, Monsieur le cure?" - -"Yes, indeed," said the cure, "I must see it all, from cellar to attic, -for you are as a son to me and I am interested in everything that you -do. Let us begin with the cellar, the foundation of things." - -"This way, Monsieur le cure. It is not far underground, as you see, and -the windows are large, for the sake of light and air. But it is always -cool in summer and sufficiently warm in winter, and dry as well. Here -is our dairy. There is the cream separator, of which we are very proud, -and there is the churn, of an improved pattern. It is not much work, in -these days, to take care of the milk of a dozen cows." - -"But where, Jean, are the potatoes, turnips, onions, and all that? In -my day we used to keep them in the cellar; and the ham, the bacon, the -sausages, the dried apples and the tobacco we used to hang to the beams -of the kitchen, where they were well smoked and dried, you may be sure. -Yes, and well covered with dust and flies. But now all that is changed, -no doubt. This scientific housekeeping is truly wonderful." - -"Yes," said Jean, with a smile, "we have now different arrangements. -Vegetables are excellent, in their place, but they do not improve the -flavour of the butter; so we keep them in another part of the cellar, -well isolated, as you will see." - -Father Paradis was greatly interested in exploring every part of the -cellar, but when he ascended to the first floor he was much impressed by -the spacious living-room, large enough, it seemed, to hold all the -people of the parish. He admired the long table, with its massive legs, -the substantial chairs, the great box-stove, a three-decker, the -handsome dresser, with its rows of blue and white crockery; but most of -all the great copper kettle that stood upon the stove and occupied fully -half of the lower oven. - -"_Mon Dieu_, Jean!" he exclaimed. "Where did you get that kettle? -Solid copper, as I live, and polished like a mirror. Truly, it is a -treasure. They do not make such kettles now-a-days. An heirloom, no -doubt." - -"I am glad that you like it," said Jean, "for you are a judge of such -things. The first Giroux brought it from Normandy in the days of -Frontenac. Yes, it is an historic relic, I am told." - -"No doubt, Jean, no doubt. The Giroux were notables in their day. My -great-grandmother was of that family, and I am proud of it. We are -cousins, you see. But that kettle--what changes it has seen! How many -generations have come and gone since first it hung above the -hearth-stone of the family Giroux! Think, my son, how much it has -contributed to the happiness of all these generations. What potatoes, -what soup, what ragout, what _compote_ of strawberries, raspberries, -currants, what cherry cordial, what good things of every description -have been prepared in that kettle! Times and customs change, but the -old copper kettle goes on for ever. Ah, Jean, if I had served my -generation like that I should not have lived in vain. Permit me to bless -the ancient heir-loom and to wish that it may serve the family Giroux -for many generations to come. There, my friend, was not that a good -sermon upon a kettle?" - -"Truly, Monsieur Paradis, you are a poet, who sees in the common things -of life a meaning hidden to the vulgar eye. I shall love the old kettle -more than ever after what you have said. But let us go up to the second -floor, Monsieur, and after that to the roof. From that point one gets a -view that is well worth the climb." - -"What a view!" exclaimed Father Paradis, as he stood at last on the -railed terrace that crowned the roof. "Your house, Jean, is very fine, -one of the grandest that I have seen, but this panorama is magnificent, -superb. How lovely the river, there below, winding through the valley -like a thread of silver! How beautiful the cultivated fields, the rich -meadows, the upland pastures, the peaceful homes beside the pleasant -country road! How far-away everything looks, and how the lines and -colours blend in the mellow evening light! How wonderful the forest -surrounding all, and the mountains rising peak beyond peak to the very -sky! The shadows cover the lower hills, but the high summits still glow -in the last radiance of the setting sun. And those clouds that float -far above in the blue ether, what robes of glory they wear, like angels -doing homage before Him that sitteth upon the throne! Jean, Jean! It -is the work of the good God. 'All thy works shall praise thee, O God, -and thy saints shall bless thee!'" - -Jean made no reply, and for a long time the two friends stood there in -silence, the old man with the frail body and the silver hair, and the -tall, strong, dark-haired man in all the pride and confidence of youth, -their eyes filled with the glory of the sunset and their hearts with the -beauty of the world. Presently the brightness faded from the -mountain-top, the gold and crimson from the sky, and a white mist, -stealing up the valley, covered everything as with a shroud. Father -Paradis shuddered, as at the approach of death. - -"There, Jean," he said with a sigh, "the day is done, dead, one might -say. A blaze of light, a moment of brightness, and then the shadow. -Ah, my son, 'thus passeth away the glory of the world!'" - -"But, my father," said the young man, "to-morrow will be a new day, and -meanwhile we shall have the moon and the stars. It is the first quarter -of the moon now, and you will see her, a thin crescent over the western -hill, when the mist has passed. There, look! How beautiful! -Encouraging, is it not, to see the light again, though it be only a -reflection? The sun, at least, is not extinguished, my father." - -"No, Jean, that is true; yet I had almost forgotten it, I who should -always hear the voice of God. Ah, my son, why did you not become a -priest? How gladly would I have seen you stand in my place, between the -living God and dying men! Jean, I think, as I have always thought, that -you have a vocation and a message." - -"It may be so," said Jean, after a pause. "But what is the vocation? -What is the message? Not that which you think, my father, not at all. -Look! I have seen my people, the habitants, toiling from morning to -night, summer and winter, from year to year, like their fathers for many -generations, and for what reward? Food and clothes and shelter, the -bare necessaries of life, and all of the poorest kind. It is a living, -perhaps, but it is not to live; and I say--it is my message, if you -like--that for all their toil there should be more reward. The young -men, my old playmates, say the same, and go away, to the States, to the -North-West, and leave this land, this good land, to the old people and -those without ambition, without enterprise. Monsieur Paradis, it is not -well; it is not right. Some must go, no doubt, for the desire to wander -is in the blood, but there should be place for those who would be glad -to stay. Yes, here in St. Placide, in these beautiful mountains, by -that lovely river. See, how it shines down there, in the light of the -moon. It is a river to love, is it not, my father?" - -"Jean," said the old man, in a sorrowful voice, "you also are an orator, -a poet. There was a time when I, too, could talk like that. The -enthusiasm of youth, how fine it is! But with age comes wisdom, born of -experience. Now I know that poverty, which you deplore, is a good, and -not an evil; and that wealth, which you desire for all, is a snare, a -delusion. The poor are close to God, but the rich are often far from -Him. It is the last thing that I would desire for the people of St. -Placide, that they should increase in riches, for they would forget God. -Yes, Jean, the good God loves the poor, and they cling to Him as their -only hope. Our divine Saviour Himself was one of the very poor, and it -is well to be like Him." - -"Monsieur Paradis," said Jean, earnestly, "will you permit me to confess -to you, not as to a priest, but as to an old and dear friend? I -confess, my father, with sorrow but without repentance, that I disagree -with you profoundly, absolutely. The Lord Jesus was poor, as you have -said, but He had friends among the rich, who gave Him food and shelter, -and, at the last, provided Him a tomb. No, my father, poverty in itself -is not a good but an evil, one of the worst, and the cause of many -others. Poverty, disease, ignorance, vice, crime--they all go together -very often, yes, generally. It is not among the very rich, perhaps, -that one finds the best citizens, but certainly not among the very poor. -It is not great riches that I demand for the habitants of St. Placide, -but better food and shelter, more suitable clothes, education, books, -newspapers, art, science, amusement. At last we are awaking from our -mediaeval slumber. Civilization we must have, through the Church, if -possible, but if not we must look elsewhere for the guidance, the -leadership that we need. There, Monsieur, I have said more than I -should, perhaps, but it was from the heart." - -"Ah, Jean," said the old priest, with a sigh, "you have gone far. I had -no idea that you were thinking such things during all the years since I -first noticed you at the parish school. Education, civilization, -prosperity--what can they do for us? It is not by prosperity, -so-called, that you can make the people willing to stay on the land, to -endure the hardships of habitant life. It is poverty, aided by -religion, that can accomplish this miracle. Jean, you are too far -advanced for St. Placide. Education, which you glorify, has unfitted you -for our simple life, and that which you plan, with all the enthusiasm -and ignorance of youth, can only end in failure and disaster. The -revolutionist can do nothing here. Jean, my son, I had high hopes for -you, but now I fear that you have not only strayed from the ways of the -fathers, but that you have become alienated from the Holy Church, that -you have forsaken God. It is some weeks since you have assisted at the -Mass, and you have not come to confession for a long time. My son, -there is to be a retreat of three days, beginning to-morrow, in honour -of the Precious Blood. Will you not come with us, to meditate, to pray? -You are busy, I know, but three days are not long compared with -eternity, and the affairs of this life are trivial, after all. Say that -you will come, Jean, my son." - -"I cannot, Monsieur, for I have engagements that I must not break. -Later I will come, for I am still a true son of the Church, and I have -faith in God. But I have also faith in man, and believe----" - -"Have faith in God, Jean. The heart of man is not to be trusted. Look -to God, my son." - -"I will," said Jean, with humility, "and for that reason I ask the -blessing of God, and yours, my father, upon me and my poor house. Your -blessing, Father Paradis. You cannot deny me." - -"Jean," said the old man, "I fear for you; yet I know that you desire to -do good, and I wish that you may have peace in your soul. 'Except the -Lord build the house they labour in vain that build it.' May God bless -you, my son, and may the work of your hands be established and be for -the glory of God. Amen!" - -Thus Father Paradis blessed the new house, although with misgivings, but -many of the neighbours bore Jean no good will and freely expressed their -disapproval of the hazardous and presumptuous undertaking. They came to -the house-warming, as a matter of course, ate and drank of the abundant -refreshments provided by Jean and his good mother, enjoyed the dance on -the great kitchen floor, and then went home to criticize and prophesy -evil. Even the best friends of the family allowed themselves to gossip -on the subject, and did not disdain to stop at the crossroads to hear -the latest news from Mere Tabeau, and her spicy comments thereon. - -"Certainly, I was there," said she to one of the passers-by. "I was -invited with the rest, of course. They do not love me, those Giroux, but -they would not offer me an open insult. They would not dare. And I -went, of course, to show my appreciation of the courtesy. I understand -the art of politeness, as you know. - -"What did I see? Why, Monsieur Gagnon, you were there yourself. I saw -what you saw, my friend. For example, I saw a certain neighbour of mine -drink fifteen cups of spruce beer and consume an equal number of -_croquignoles_, one to each cup of beer, the right proportion, exactly. -No, my good neighbour, I did not say it was you, but if the cap fits---- - -"What did I think of it all? Well, I have my thoughts, naturally. -Shall I tell you, or are you in a hurry to go to market? No, for you -have started an hour earlier than usual. Well, if you have patience to -listen to an old woman, I will tell you. As to the affair of last -evening, it was pleasant for the neighbours to be thus entertained. The -money of Bonhomme Laroche was well spent. The Giroux will pay later, in -the course of time; yes, sooner than you think, perhaps. - -"The house? Oh, it is wonderful, by far the finest in the parish. -Indeed, there is not the like in all Beauport. Only in the great city -of Quebec can one see hotels like that. Twelve rooms! _Mon Dieu_! -Where are all the people who will occupy them? How long will they stay? -How much will they pay? These are important questions, as you can see. -Figure to yourself. If there were twenty tourists in the house for two -months, that is, for the whole summer, and if the foolish people paid as -much as four dollars a week, a great sum for these parts, that would be -only a little more than six hundred dollars. There is no great fortune -in that. A considerable sum in the gross, but the net revenue will be -very small. When you have taken interest on the loan, the cost of food, -the wages of Pauline La Chance, the hired girl, and all the other -expenses, what will be left to pay for the work of Madame Giroux and -Jean himself, not to mention a thousand little items, of no account in -themselves but great in the aggregate. Oh, I know arithmetic, I assure -you, as well as many other things. It is useful, at times, to be able -to count. Figures, at least, do not lie. - -"What will happen? That is not hard to tell. Even you, Monsieur Gagnon, -could look into the future on those terms. When the expenses exceed the -income, what takes place? One pays out all one's ready money, one -borrows, sells a cow, a horse, a piece of land. But there comes an end -to all that, and then the notice at the Church door, the sale, the -farewell, the departure, the talk for a while, and after that all is -forgotten. They are gone. Whither? Who knows? Who cares? Only old -gossips like me remember. Only good friends like me know or care. - -"The house has no name as yet. Well, I will give it one. I will call -it _La Folie Giroux_. As you have heard, fools build houses, but wise -men live in them. It is Bonhomme Laroche who is the wise man in this -case. But it may be that Jean Baptiste will become wise. Who can tell? -Bonhomme Laroche has a daughter, you know. - -"But I must stop, neighbour Gagnon, or you will think that I must be -paid for my talk. But I am only a poor old woman who likes to see the -neighbours as they pass. It is my only pastime. And the good -neighbours are very kind to me. Only yesterday Bonhomme Bedard gave me -a fine bag of flour, enough to last for three months. He is not a rich -man, by any means, but very generous. If only I had a few potatoes, -now. Oh, no, Monsieur Gagnon, it is too charitable of you. A whole -sack! It is too much. If you had given me a dozen of those fine trout -it would have been enough. Those too? Monsieur Gagnon, God will -prosper you. _Au revoir_, my dear friend. Good luck to you." - -When Jean Baptiste heard that Mere Tabeau had given his new house a -name, he laughed and said that she was very kind to save him the -trouble, that all men were fools and all the works of man monuments of -folly. So he painted the name in large black letters above the door--LA -FOLIE. Most of the neighbours took it as a joke, but some shook their -heads in dismay and crossed themselves repeatedly as they passed by. It -was unlucky, they said, to give a bad name to a house or a child. One -should invoke the protection of Heaven, rather, of the Holy Virgin or of -one of the saints. As to the old witch, Mere Tabeau, one should have -nothing to do with her, for she was in league with Satan. - - - - - *CHAPTER XII* - - *PROFIT AND LOSS* - - -The summer tourist, more than other men, is a confirmed egoist. -Sincerely believing himself the centre of the universe and the chief end -of all creation, he views with satisfaction the successful efforts of -men and things to minister unto him. Hotels and boarding-houses exist -for him; for him horses and carriages of every kind, with their obliging -drivers, move to and fro; for him spring chickens cheerfully die; for -him the sun shines by day, the moon by night, and the Aurora shimmers in -the northern sky. How good God is to the summer tourist! - -But there is the point of view of another egoist, the pious habitant of -Murray Bay, Cacouna, Tadoussac, and all the other watering-places below -Quebec. The good God loves the faithful. He sends rain in summer, snow -in winter, and all the changes of weather in their season. He sends the -birds of the air--the partridge, the wild duck and the brant. He sends -the fishes of the great river--the eel, the sturgeon and the salmon; the -trout, also, of the smaller lakes and rivers. He provides game in the -forest--the red deer, the caribou, the moose, and all fur-bearing -animals. He gives the strawberry, the raspberry, the blueberry, spruce -gum, balsam, sarsaparilla and gold-thread. All these the good God -provides, but, best of all, he sends the summer tourist to pour the -wealth of the city into the lap of the habitant. Truly, it would be -ungrateful and impious not to make the most of such an opportunity, not -to exploit and cultivate in the most approved way that most profitable -of crops--the summer tourist. - -Jean Baptiste was a habitant by ten generations of thrifty ancestors, -and could see, as well as any man, the possibilities of the summer -tourist. He loved the genial egoist for his own sake, but more for the -golden harvest that he should yield. For him he had built the great -house; for him he had provided bed and board, horses and vehicles, -canoes and guides, both indoor and outdoor games--all at great cost and -no little risk--but to what end? Surely not for the good of the tourist -alone, but that he might lay deep and broad the foundations of his own -fortune, that he might begin and carry on the great works of which he -dreamed by night and day. - -Was it a vocation, as Father Paradis had said, and had he a message to -deliver? Yes, there was a call, both loud and clear, and a message had -been given him--to proclaim the gospel of the new era, to be the -forerunner of the economic salvation of his people. A voice, he was, in -the wilderness, crying: "Prepare ye the way of the Lord!"--along the -valley, by the river, over the mountain, to make the crooked ways -straight, the rough places plain, to overcome every obstacle, every -stumbling-block, until all men should get a vision of the future that -was theirs, and rise up and possess the land. "It is my work," said Jean -to himself. "It is also the work of God." - -Jean was a prophet, like his great patron saint, a dreamer, one who had -heard the voice of God in the silence of the wilderness, and was going -forth to declare the vision and proclaim the word to those who had eyes -to see and ears to hear. The great idea filled his mind, and he -believed himself devoted heart and soul to the cause which he had -espoused, for the good of man and the glory of God. Yet as he looked -into the depths of his own heart, as one gazing into a crystal, he saw -there another image enshrined, and he began to doubt and to wonder -whether he were the servant of a divine ideal or the slave of an -alluring earthly love. Was it possible that he had not yet seen the -vision that compels, had not yet heard the silence that takes control? - -Jean freely admitted to himself that he loved Gabrielle. Who could help -it? Who would not admire that lithe, graceful figure, with the -springing step and free toss of the head, like a wild deer of the -forest? Who would not rejoice to see that glorious hair? Who could -gaze unmoved upon that lovely face and form? Who would not desire to -take her to his arms--his very own? But how proud and cold at times! -How those blue eyes could glitter like steel! How those laughing, -tantalizing lips could curve in bitter scorn! How that beautiful -creature, with all the charms of woman since the days of Eve, could with -every glance, every tone, every gesture flaunt the flag of no-surrender! -The challenge must be accepted; the defiance could not be endured. - -More than that--in all Jean's work, in all his thoughts and plans -Gabrielle was a part. When he crossed the little bridge over La -Branche--it was there that he first noticed Gabrielle's reddish-golden -hair. When he was by the river--it was there that he had met her -tripping over the stones in her short skirt and high boots, with rod and -creel, a fisher-maiden whom more than fish might fear. When he passed -through the woods, he saw her sitting under the trees amid patches of -golden sunshine. When he was in church, she was kneeling there in -prayer; and when he gazed at the high altar it was a glorified vision of -Gabrielle that he saw, and not the Mother of God. When he thought of -his great house, Gabrielle was there; on the day of triumph she would be -his wife, his queen; and if ever misfortune came, he would go forth -joyously to face the world, if only she were by his side. - -Yet Jean believed that Gabrielle was not first in his heart. His work, -his vocation, commanded obedience above all. War first; then love. -Achievement, victory; then the crown and the reward. True, she might -not consent to take the second place in his scheme of life. Women were -by nature jealous, unreasonable, demanding more than man could give. She -might be angry when she discovered the order of precedence. Poor little -Gabrielle! She might go to a nunnery, even, as many young girls did -when they could not have their own way, or when they saw the vanity of -the world. That would be a pity. No, he would never allow that. What -were the stone walls of a convent compared with the power of love? But -she might love another man. Ah, that was different. Where was that -other who dared to raise his eyes to Gabrielle? Where? Who? - -At the very thought Jean's eyes flashed beneath his lowered eyebrows; -his jaw set; his hands clenched; and his figure rose to its full height, -bending forward with such menace as would have given pause to any rival -who dared to contend for the prize of love with Jean Baptiste Giroux. - -But it was only a girl that met him at the turn of the road, a girl with -waving hair and laughing eyes--the girl of his dreams. - -"Mon Dieu, Jean!" said Gabrielle, in a tantalizing voice, before he had -time to speak. "How fierce you look! I am almost afraid to be walking -here alone, on the king's highway. Is the thought of me so terrifying? -I am quite harmless, I assure you. Or are you thinking of the last time -we met, when I was so cross? I was provoked, you know, but I have got -over it. It is hard to be cross with you, Jean." - -"Is it?" said Jean, simply. "I thought it was quite easy, much too -easy, in fact." - -"Ah, stupid!" said Gabrielle, with a laugh. "All men are stupid, I -think, and you more than others. How is it that you are so dull, Jean?" - -"Gabrielle," said Jean, meditatively, "am I really dull? I did not know -it. At school I was thought rather clever. As for books----" - -"Ah, bah!" said Gabrielle, with scorn. "Talk to me of books--what does -one learn from them? Mere stupidities, that is all." - -"But," persisted Jean, "there are other things that I can do, where the -stupidity of which you speak does not show itself so much. For -example----" - -"For example!" said Gabrielle, in a mocking voice. "For example! Tell -me, do!" - -"I forget," said Jean. - -"Ha! Ha!" laughed Gabrielle, in glee. "What did I say? He forgets, -the silly one, forgets all his reading, spelling, arithmetic, his Latin -and Greek and Hebrew--all his knowledge. Well, let me remind you, Jean, -that you are one of those paragons who can do everything. Not only have -you all the knowledge of the world, but you have facilities which mere -scholars do not possess. You hunt, you fish, you trap--like an Indian. -You run like a deer, jump like a grasshopper, swim like a fish, fly like -a bird, almost. Oh, I am sure that you could fly, if you tried. Try -once; please do, just for my sake. But to forget all that, and more! -How did you succeed in forgetting so much, Jean, my friend?" - -"It was when I saw you, Gabrielle." - -"Me!" gasped Gabrielle. "What have I done?" - -"Nothing, Gabrielle. Yes, everything; for you have stolen my heart." - -"Your heart, Jean? Impossible! That is what does not exist. A great -strong body? Yes. A brain? Certainly. Capacity of every kind? Oh, -yes. But a heart? Do not deceive yourself. You have no heart to lose. -No, no! Do not touch me! Do not dare! But answer! Is it not as I have -said?" - -"It may be so, Gabrielle; but when will you marry me, dear?" - -"What is that you say? Marry you? Oh, no; I could not." - -"Why not, Gabrielle? Why not, little one?" - -"Oh, there are many, many reasons. In the first place, I do not love -you, Jean." - -"That is because you will not let yourself love me, Gabrielle." - -"Again, Jean, you do not love me." - -"How do you know, Gabrielle?" - -"You have never told me." - -"Gabrielle, listen to me----" - -"No, no; I will not. You would deceive me with your talk, great Jesuit -that you are. Let me speak. I say that you love no one, Jean Baptiste -Giroux. It is your great house that you love, your horses and cattle, -your barns, your precious tourists. There is your treasure; there is -your heart, Jean Baptiste." - -"Oh, Gabrielle, what are those things compared with you? They are -nothing, nothing." - -"Jean, my friend, I like to hear you say that. Say it again, Jean." - -"Gabrielle, what are houses, barns, lands, and all that, compared with -my love for you? I love you, dear; and if I value those things it is -for your sake. They are all for you. I lay them at your feet, and -myself as well." - -"Do you mean it? Do you really mean what you say?" - -"Yes, Gabrielle." - -"Well, Jean, I will take you at your word. That house of yours--I hate -it. Those tourists, those people who walk about staring at everybody--I -detest them. How could you bring them here to spoil the peace and joy -of our lovely valley, to change our ancestral ways, to turn everything -upside down? But we will send them away, back to Quebec, to Montreal, -to Pittsburg, never to return, and everything will be as before. Yes, -they shall go home, and the house we will dedicate to another purpose." - -"Gabrielle," said Jean, earnestly, "why did you not tell me this -before--a year ago? Now it is too late." - -"Too late? Why, then, if you love me as you say!" - -"Because I have embarked on this enterprise after much thought and long -deliberation. I have put into it my strength of body and brain, my -property, my life, my honour--and it is too late to turn back. The ship -is laden, the anchor weighed, and we have put out to sea with a fair -wind. Return to harbour? By no means. You do not ask it, Gabrielle." - -"There," said Gabrielle, with a sob, "what did I tell you? You do not -love me. It is yourself that you love, Jean, and all those stupid plans -of yours." - -"But no, Gabrielle, all are for you, as the means to the end. How can -one have the end without the means?" - -"Oh, I could tell you very well, but I will not. It is easy to see that -you have made up your mind. Well, there is another who has a mind of -her own. Adieu, Monsieur. Here our paths divide. Take the broad, -dusty road, if you like. For me, I take this little path through the -woods--alone. No, you shall not." - -"Gabrielle, this is most unfair, cruel, heartless." - -"It may be so, but I know another who is cruel, who has no heart--it is -Monseigneur Jean Baptiste Giroux." - -With this she went away through the woods, humming a song about a gay, -inconstant lover, quite different from Jean Baptiste: - - "Papillon, tu es volage! - Tu ressembl' a mon amant. - L'amour est un badinage, - L'amour est un passe-temps, - Quand j'ai mon amant - J'ai le coeur content." - - - - - *CHAPTER XIII* - - *THE RETURN OF PAMPHILE* - - -"Ah, there is mine host of La Folie," said Mere Tabeau, in a loud voice, -as Jean, in a brown study, dead to the world, was passing her place on -his way home. - -"Jean, Jean Baptiste!" she called, but still he gave no heed. - -"Monsieur Jean, Monsieur Jean Baptiste, Monsieur Giroux, Monseigneur! -Why the deuce does not his lordship stop? I must run after him, I see." - -The old woman, with surprising agility, ran after Jean, plucked him by -the sleeve, and immediately resumed her cringing attitude, leaning -heavily upon her staff. - -"There he goes," she whined. "His lordship does not see his old -friends, does not hear them, even, when they speak." - -"Oh, pardon me, Madame Tabeau," said Jean, politely. "I was seeing -nothing, hearing nothing. Of late I have become absent-minded, I -think." - -"Quite natural," said Mere Tabeau. "The very young are absent-minded, -and the very old, but also those who are immersed in affairs and those -who are in love. They are most absorbing, those affairs of the heart. -I remember well my last case, now many years ago. Some day I will tell -you the story. Perhaps you could listen to it now." - -"But no, Madame, I am in haste this evening. Another time, if you -please. You had something else to say, had you not?" - -"Not at all, Monseigneur. The poor old woman has nothing to -say--nothing. Another time, when his lordship has a few minutes to -spare for such trifles--his own affairs, moreover--I will wait upon -him." - -"Oh, Madame, do not be angry. I will listen, to be sure, all the -afternoon, if I can be of service to you." - -"Service to yourself, my friend. But no matter. I accept your -apologies. I am well disposed, as you will see, and I wish to help you -out of your troubles." - -"My troubles?" said Jean, with a puzzled frown. "I do not understand. -You speak in mysterious language, it seems. All of us have our little -troubles, I suppose." - -"Monsieur does not understand--will not, rather. Mysterious? Not at -all. Does not everybody know that Monsieur Giroux would effect an -alliance with one of the most prominent families in the parish? Is it -possible that he has not yet heard what is common report?" - -"Madame Tabeau, if that is all I had better go. I am really very busy." - -"But, but, Monsieur, these affairs can be arranged, no matter how -complicated, involved, entangled. I have charms, herbs, love potions, -and all that, and there are other means still more efficacious. -Besides, my charges are very moderate, a little commission, a mere -bagatelle when compared with a dowry so magnificent, a connection so -advantageous. If Mademoiselle----" - -"Madame, that will do. The neighbours may gossip, if they please, but I -will not. Allow me to leave you at this time." - -"Go then, stupid! _Sacree tete de mouton_! The fool will not listen. -Well, he will suffer, he will pay; and I will offer my services to some -one else. His lordship is not the only eligible young man in the parish -of St. Placide." - -"If that is all, Madame, I bid you good evening." - -"No, there is something else. My friend, do not mind the ravings of an -old woman, an old, old woman, poor and infirm. Old people like to talk, -as you know, and say more than they should, at times. But it is their -only pleasure. When one talks to a good listener like yourself one -forgets. It is good to forget, Jean, to extinguish the fires of memory, -if only for a moment. It is like a cup of cold water to a soul in -purgatory." - -"Madame." - -"Yes, yes, I know. You are sorry for me, but not as I am sorry for -myself. When I think of what I might have been and what I am, I could -cry--and curse. But let us change the subject. You remember my nephew, -Pamphile Lareau, do you not? A playmate of yours, I believe, some years -ago." - -"Remember Pamphile? Certainly. But I did not know that he was your -nephew." - -"You do not know everything, Jean, wise as you are. Pamphile is my -nephew, as I have said, although I have never seen him. His mother -thought herself more respectable than I. Can you believe it? After her -death I came to St. Placide. For what purpose? Ah, that is my affair. -You do not know that either, Monsieur the scholar. There is a lot of -useful information that you do not obtain from books, I assure you. But -Pamphile is coming to see me this very day. Do you see that little -cloud of dust down the road? It is he, I am sure. Wait a moment and -you will see him." - -"That will be interesting," said Jean. "He has changed much, no doubt, -in all these years." - -"No doubt. He also has become a great lord, evidently. See, he comes -in great style, in a carriage, all the way from Quebec. It will cost at -least five dollars, that equipage, for so long a drive. Where the deuce -did my nephew get all that money? He never sent me any of it. He will -give some to his poor old aunt before he leaves, let us hope. There, he -arrives. _Dieu_, what a dash! What grandeur! Speak to him, Jean, I -cannot." - -"_Bonjour_, Madame. _Bonjour_, Monsieur," said an imposing personage, -as the carriage pulled up suddenly in a cloud of dust. "It is here, is -it not, that Madame Tabeau lives? They told me, there below, that I -should find the place at the crossroads." - -"It is here, Monsieur," said Madame Tabeau, quite humbly. "If Monsieur -will be so kind as to alight." - -"With the greatest pleasure, Madame. How good it is to come to the end -of a drive of four hours! Yes, four hours and ten minutes, by the -watch. It is now four o'clock, is it not, Monsieur?" - -"By the sun I should call it six o'clock, at least," said Jean. "You -see, Monsieur the stranger, that we do not carry gold watches in St. -Placide." - -"No, to be sure. I had forgotten. A primitive place, truly. Is it -possible that I spent my early years in St. Placide? But six o'clock? -Surely not. Ah, I have it. Ha! Ha! How curious! It is that I have -not set my watch since I left Elko, and there is a difference of two -hours--or is it three?" - -"Two hours," said Jean, with confidence. "You have mountain time there, -I believe, and here we have eastern time. Yes, two hours." - -The stranger's eyes narrowed as he looked sharply at Jean. - -"Eh, what? You know that? What the deuce? Who is this? The little -priest, as I live! Monseigneur! And as learned as ever, always wishing -to teach one something, always casting away pearls of knowledge. Well -met, my ancient friend, after all these years. This is too much -pleasure. Your hand, my brave one, for the sake of old times." - -The stranger extended a long, slender hand that closed about Jean's -fingers like a vice of steel; but Jean understood the trick of the thumb -as well as he, and it was Pamphile's hand that was the first to relax. - -"Enough, enough, my brave one. It is the same Jean Baptiste that I see -and feel. _Dieu_, but you have a loving clasp of the hand. It brings -tears to the eyes. Well, my friend the cabby, you seem impatient. What -can I do for you?" - -"My fare, if you please, Monsieur--the little five dollars that we spoke -of." - -"Ah, yes, assuredly," said Pamphile, drawing out of his pocket a roll of -bills, not one of a lower denomination than twenty dollars. "You can -change American money, no doubt." - -"Certainly, Monsieur. Anything less than twenty dollars." - -"Not twenty dollars, cabby? What a country! We are not in Nevada, -evidently. Well, my friend, this is unfortunate. What are we to do?" - -"I will take the twenty dollars, Monsieur." - -"You will take it all, my friend? How good of you! _Sacre_! I have a -mind to give it to you as a reward of merit. It is seldom that one -meets a cabby so obliging, so resourceful. You will go far, my Jehu. -Yes, I am thinking of giving you the twenty dollars. Do you still feel -that you could accept it?" - -"No, no, Monsieur," broke in Mere Tabeau. "_Mon Dieu_, what would you -do? Give him twenty dollars? Two dollars and fifty cents would have -been quite enough if only you had made a bargain. What can we do? Let -us think. I could perhaps find the money. Yes, Monsieur Giroux, I have -a little store laid by, even I, for my funeral. Wait a moment. I will -get it at once." - -In her excitement Mere Tabeau forgot both rheumatism and stick, as one -who had been cured at the shrine of Bonne Ste. Anne, ran into the house -and presently returned with a little leathern bag, out of which she -counted silver and copper coins until the cabby had a handful of small -change equal to the amount of his fare. - -"That is a bad penny, Madame," said the cabby, returning a much-worn -coin. - -"But no, it is perfectly good, perfectly good," said the old woman, -angrily. "It goes, I tell you. I received it, did I not? Well, you -shall take it in your turn, and if you don't like it you may pass it on. -No, not another _sou_. You are a shark, a robber!" - -"Let him have another, Madame," drawled Pamphile with a grand air. -"Give him his five dollars in full and a quarter for drink. The -twenty-dollar bill? Oh, it is back in my pocket. To-morrow we will -arrange all that. And you are Madame Tabeau, no doubt, the aunt whom I -have never seen until this blessed moment. Well, my aunt, it is a -pleasure to meet you. But where is the little priest who was here a -moment since?" - -"He is gone, Monsieur Lareau. His lordship has marched away. He would -not wait the pleasure of any man. Rich habitants, notaries, priests, -bishops, American millionaires--they are all the same to him. It is a -great lord, that. One cannot but admire him for his strength, his -capacity, but I should like, I should like to slap him in the face." - -"And I," drawled Pamphile, "I should like to meet him in Elko, Nevada, -in the middle of the street, at twenty paces, or forty, even. Cric! -Crac! Jean Baptiste falls in the dust, and there is one monseigneur -less in the world. But that would not do in St. Placide, perhaps." - -"For the love of God, Monsieur, do not speak so loud. Come into the -house, if you please, where we can talk. Enter, Monsieur. It is not a -palace, nor is it a hovel, altogether. See, all is very proper--the -dining-room and kitchen in one, the sleeping apartment of Monsieur over -there in the corner, and my own little boudoir in the attic. No, -Monsieur, do not fear to be alone with an old woman like me. There was -a time--but let us not speak of it. It is past, the golden age, and now -there is nothing but rheumatism, broken bones, and the hobble to the -grave. - -"But before that one may have some pleasure still. One may gossip with -the neighbours as they pass, frighten the women and the children, tell a -few lies now and then, and, best of all, one may have revenge. Yes, -life is worth living yet. We will live for that, you and I. You also -have your little scores to pay, it would seem. How glad I am that you -have come! What luck! But how did it happen that you left Nevada, -Monsieur my nephew?" - -"Oh, a little unpleasantness," said Pamphile, evasively. "One cannot -stay always in the same place. One outlives one's usefulness. So it -occurred to me that I might visit the scenes of my childhood, and when -your letter came I decided to take a change and a rest, for the good of -my health." - -"And a little adventure as well," said Mere Tabeau, significantly. "A -little expedition in search of gold, perhaps." - -"Possibly," said Pamphile, with a smile, "if it could easily be done and -without danger." - -"Monsieur my nephew, listen to me. Directly east from this spot, -through the forest and beyond the mountain, ten miles as the crow flies -but twenty by the road, lies the village of Chateau Richer, where I was -born many years ago--yes, more than sixty years. It was there that I -passed my early years, and when I arrived at the age of love I was there -still, in my little house by the shore, where I could see the bateaux -pass up the river with the rising tide and pass down again with the ebb. - -"Did the sailors stop sometimes on the way? Possibly. At least the -smugglers came to see my brother Ovide. They were brave people, those -smugglers, and rich as well. There were two who had a great treasure, -obtained from the trade, in part, but chiefly from a wreck. They were -wreckers too, of course. When the good God sends a storm, when a ship -runs on the rocks, when all on board are drowned, does not the wreck -belong to those who find it? Assuredly. So Michel Gamache and -Toussaint Giroux found the wreck and the treasure on Anticosti, there -below. They burned the wreck, brought the treasure home to the island, -and hid it in a cave in the side of the hill by the long marsh. - -"How do I know? Did I not see it on that night when Michel rowed me -across the river at high tide when the moon was full. What a night it -was! How bright the moon shone in the sky and in the still water -beneath! How the grass rustled under the keel of the boat as we ran up -into the little cove! I can hear it still. How dark it was in that -cave, but how the gold coins glistened! Yes, gold coins, Napoleons, -sovereigns, hundreds of them, in an iron box. Heavy? I could not lift -it. Of what value? How should I know? Ten, twenty, thirty thousand -pounds, perhaps. Oh, a great treasure. See, there is one of those -coins, a love token which he gave me, he, Michel Gamache, and which I -keep until the day of reckoning. I have a grudge against him? Yes, a -little grudge, a slight affair of the heart which I have nourished for -some forty years, for which I would kill him if I could be sure that he -would go to the place of eternal fire." - -"Well, my aunt," said Pamphile, with a yawn, "it is a fine story, but to -what purpose? Was it to tell me this that you brought me from Elko?" - -"But no, my nephew. Do you not know that Michel Gamache lives in this -parish?" - -"No." - -"And the treasure, I tell you, those Napoleons and sovereigns, all that -gold, is here in St. Placide, in the same iron box, of a weight more -than you could lift, my strong nephew. No, you could do it, with some -assistance, and that is why I have asked you to come. Eh, Pamphile, -would not an adventure like this be as good as gambling in Nevada? Not -so amusing, perhaps, but quite as profitable." - -"Quite so, my aunt. And where, if I may ask, is this wonderful treasure -to be found?" - -"All in good time, my nephew, when everything is arranged. You will -help me, will you not? We will divide the spoils. You shall have -two-thirds of the treasure. I shall have the rest, and my revenge. Are -the terms satisfactory?" - -"More than satisfactory, my dear aunt. And the little priest, what of -him?" - -"Oh, that will explain itself. You will get even with him very soon, -never fear. It is my little secret for the present. Yes, a fine little -secret. It will reveal itself before long. If not, I will tell you." - -"My aunt," said Pamphile, impatiently, "I don't give a hoot for your -little secret. Keep it to yourself as long as you like, but give me -something to eat." - -"Well! well! Such are men--always eating. Nothing can satisfy them, -neither gold, nor love, nor revenge--only meat, potatoes, soup and all -that. Well, my nephew, I was expecting you, and presently we shall have -a little repast together--soup of peas, fried trout, strawberries, -cream, tea. How will that do? Ah, Pamphile, what a fine, tall man you -are! What arms, shoulders, legs! More than a match for that Jean -Baptiste, surely." - -"No, my aunt; he is a giant, that little priest. My fingers tingle -still from that grip of his. No, but I shall punish him all the same. -There are other ways." - -"Ha! Ha!" cackled the old crone, in glee. "There are other ways. Yes, -indeed. Ah, my little secret, my dear little secret." - - - - - *CHAPTER XIV* - - *THE TRIUMPH OF PAMPHILE* - - -It was on a Saturday evening that Pamphile arrived in St. Placide, and -before Mass on the following morning all the parish knew that the exile -had returned, not in poverty and rags, like the prodigal son, but with -fine clothes on his back, money in his pocket, and driving in a carriage -like a great lord. Some of the neighbours had merely heard of his -arrival; others had seen him as he drove by; while a very few, highly -favoured, had actually spoken to him; but on the way to Mass all the -details were pieced together, the knowledge of each became the common -property of all, and a story of adventure and romance was woven that -grew more wonderful and variegated with the telling. - -The youth had left the parish eight years before without a _sou_. -Zotique Bedard himself had taken him down to Beauport as an act of -charity; and Elzear Buchon, the grocer's boy, had taken him the rest of -the way to Quebec. From that place he had made his way, by walking, by -getting a lift now and then, by riding in and under freight cars, to -Chicago, and finally to the Far West, where for many years he had -wandered about from one mining camp to another seeking for gold, now -finding a glittering vein that promised a fortune, now losing all at a -single blast. At last he had found it, a mine of fabulous riches, and -now he was a capitalist, a millionaire, living on rents and royalties, -travelling for pleasure all over the world, yet coming back, like a good -patriot, to the home of his ancestors. - -As to his wealth there could be no doubt whatever. One had but to look -at the fine frock coat of grey cloth, the embroidered waistcoat, the -striped trousers, the shiny buttoned shoes, and the jaunty grey hat of -soft felt with the silken cord and tassel. Such style St. Placide had -never seen before, and Quebec, even, could not approach it. The -housewives marvelled at the whiteness of his shirt-bosom; the young men -talked of the glittering diamond stud and the gold watch with its -wonderful hunting-case and the little gong within that chimed the hours; -while the young ladies raved over his drooping moustache and the black, -glossy mane that came down almost to his shoulders. - -Altogether, the verdict was highly favourable. Pamphile was a desirable -young man, a credit to the parish. What a pity that he had not come -back to stay! But it was not to be expected that he could be content to -settle down in St. Placide, he who had travelled over the world and had -attained such eminence among his fellow-men. No, but it might well be -that he had returned to seek a bride among the fair maidens of the -parish. Riches might be acquired abroad, but more loving companions, -more faithful wives or better housekeepers than the Canadian girls were -not to be found in foreign lands. Vive la Canadienne! - -True, Pamphile had not left behind a perfect reputation when he went -away, but one should not be too severe in judging the pranks and -peccadilloes of youth. The worst boys often become the best men. In -fact, some of the most respectable habitants had been sad rogues in -their younger days. No, a boy without capacity for evil had little -capacity for good. It is not enough to be good; one must be good for -something. - -Of the relatives of Pamphile little was known. His mother had been the -sister of Mere Tabeau, but was now dead. His father had been a -lumberman on the Gatineau, but was drowned on the drive. Of the dead -one should say nothing but good. The family was by no means -distinguished, but that was all the more to the credit of Pamphile, who -had been able to rise so far above them. And Mere Tabeau? Well, after -all she was a harmless creature, despite her bitter tongue. Certainly, -she had a gift of language truly remarkable. If only she had a silk -dress, a black cloak, and a bonnet tied with ribbons under her chin, she -would look quite respectable. Indeed, the wives of some of the -habitants had a loud voice and an offensive manner. One must not be -unjust to people merely because they are poor. - -So the neighbours, as they drove to Church, praised the achievements of -Pamphile and said many charitable things of Mere Tabeau. More than one -stopped at the cabin to invite the old woman and her distinguished -nephew to drive to Church with them. The first to come was Bonhomme -Gagnon, who, after some delay, captured the lion and the lioness and -bore them away in triumph. It was indeed a triumph for Bonhomme Gagnon, -and fully repaid him for the gifts of trout, game, berries, potatoes, -black puddings and what not, the blackmail extorted for years by Mere -Tabeau because of a slight indiscretion in the days of his youth. Even -Madame Gagnon, who cordially hated the old woman, condescended to sit -with her in the back seat for the pleasure of escorting the American -millionaire and mining king to church. - -It was a great day for Pamphile. Seated beside the eminently -respectable cultivator, Bonhomme Gagnon, he found himself at the head of -a long procession of neighbours, assembled, it would seem, to do him -honour. He thoroughly enjoyed the attention he was receiving, he who had -been so unimportant in his younger days that the neighbours could hardly -remember his faults, much less his good points, such as they were. But -now the insignificant past was obliterated, the way of virtue and honour -lay before him, and the rising sun of popular favour shone upon him. -The heart of Pamphile expanded in the genial warmth of the morning sun, -and he chatted in a very friendly way with the worthy habitant by his -side. - -"Well, Monsieur Gagnon," he said, in a tone of appreciation, "this is -without doubt a very fine day." - -The good habitant beamed upon Pamphile. - -"I am delighted to hear you say so, Monsieur Lareau. You find our -weather pleasant? That is good. Yes, we have fine weather at times, -not like that of the West, of course, but still quite satisfactory. -Good for the hay, certainly." - -"Ah, Monsieur Gagnon, my friend, not only is the day very fine, but the -scenery, I will say, is charming. Not like that of Nevada, but equally -pleasing in its way." - -"Can it be?" exclaimed Bonhomme Gagnon, delighted. "It is a pleasure to -hear you say so, Monsieur. The weather and the scenery--both equal to -Nevada in their way. But that is gratifying. Do you hear that, Marie? -The gentleman has seen the world, and he knows. What a wonderful thing -is travel! To go to Beauport, that is interesting; to visit Quebec, -that is very fine; but to sail up to Montreal, to explore the sources of -the great river, to see Chicago, Nevada and all that--what a privilege! -Ah, Monsieur Lareau, I envy you." - -"Yes, it is interesting," said Pamphile, reflectively. "But it is -interesting, also, to return. St. Placide has changed much in the past -eight years. Those good neighbours back there have an air of -prosperity. Almost every one has a covered buggy. Formerly they had -carts only, and many walked to Church, five, six, seven miles, even. -Yes, St. Placide must be a pretty good place." - -"Not so bad, Monsieur Lareau," said Bonhomme Gagnon, with pride. "There -are no millionaires in our parish, but neither are there any paupers. -Yes, we have our cows and pigs, our horses and spring-carts, our houses -and barns, and our money in the bank. It is the dairy business, you -know, that has made the change of which you speak. I myself, for -example, have my little five hundred dollars laid away." - -"That is interesting," said Pamphile, with a keen glance at the simple -habitant. "Very interesting indeed. And you are contented I am sure, as -though you owned a gold mine." - -"Contented? Yes. No. A gold mine? _Mon Dieu_, if I had that I should -be a prince. Marie, do not talk all the time. Listen to Monsieur -Lareau, who will tell us, perhaps, about the gold of Nevada. Tell us, -Monsieur, if you please. Is it true that one finds a mine, now and -then, with more than a million dollars in gold, pure gold?" - -"Certainly, Monsieur Gagnon. Have I not seen with my own eyes that -great mine, the Comstock, whence they have taken millions and millions -of gold and silver, besides lead, copper, and many other metals of great -value? Ah, that was a mine! Yes, there is gold in Nevada--quantities -of it. Come with me, Monsieur Gagnon, on my return, and I will show -you. My own little mine, for example, would be worth a visit. I could -show you places on the wall of the tunnel where you could pick off -pieces of gold as large as a pea--yes, as large as a marble. Native -gold, pure, twenty dollars to the ounce." - -"Monsieur Lareau, I will go with you. Marie, say nothing. Too old? -Not at all. I was sixty last month, but what of that? I am strong -still, as an ox. The farm? You will see to that. She is a most capable -manager, Monsieur Lareau. Danger, you say? Indians? Highway robbers? -I had not thought of that. I am no fighter, me, and I have no desire to -lose my scalp. There is not much hair left, but I need it all. Tell -us, Monsieur Lareau--is there really danger?" - -"Oh, yes, a little danger, of course, enough to make life interesting, -but we do not think of that. I carry a revolver, of course, and robbers -do not often attack one who can hit a nail on the head at fifty yards. -Yes, it demands a keen eye and a steady hand, such as one seldom has at -the age of sixty. No, Monsieur Gagnon, perhaps you had better stay in -St. Placide. But it is a pity, a great pity. A man with a little -capital, like yourself, could make a fortune in a little while." - -"But could not one send one's money?" inquired Bonhomme Gagnon, with -great eagerness. "Could one not send it by a good friend like yourself, -an old compatriot and neighbour? Marie, is it not the thing to do, to -send that five hundred dollars by Monsieur Lareau, and to receive, say, -half of the profits? A species of partnership, that. If only you -would, Monsieur." - -"No, no, Monsieur Gagnon, I could not. Five hundred dollars is a small -sum in Nevada. In the mining of gold one requires ten times as much, -and after that there may be need of more. No, let us not speak of it. -It would not be worth while." - -"But Monsieur Lareau," persisted the old man, now afire with the gold -fever, "behold the neighbours back there, each with his little store in -the bank, or in some other safe place, his two hundred, five hundred, -one thousand dollars, even. Then there is that rich Bonhomme Laroche, -to whom a thousand dollars is nothing; and Monsieur Tache, who is a -lumber king, almost. Do not refuse us, Monsieur Lareau. Consider, if -you please. We might easily raise as much as ten thousand dollars. -That would be sufficient, would it not, to buy a little gold mine?" - -"Monsieur Gagnon," said Pamphile, with an air of great sincerity, "I ask -you to observe that I did not make the proposal, and that I advise you -once more to be content with your little three per cent. in the Bank of -Quebec. Still, if you insist, and if Madame approves, we may consider -the matter. If you do not change your mind, come to see me during the -week, and we will talk. Those who begin an enterprise like this, the -promoters we call them, always have a certain advantage over the others -whom we take into the company. We are on the ground floor, you know, at -the beginning of things, and the others we take in above. Yourself, -Monsieur Gagnon, to whom the idea first occurred, would have the -precedence; then I; and after us the others in their turn. But as I -have said, there is always the chance of loss. Yet the profits are -alluring, and the search for gold, it draws one on. But let us not -speak of it any more at present. Here we are at the church. What a -crowd of people! Let us descend, Monsieur and Madame. Let us descend, -my aunt. Yes, Monsieur Gagnon, we shall be charmed to drive back with -you after Mass." - -During the service, Pamphile and his aunt, who occupied a place well -toward the front, were the centre of all eyes; and it is to be suspected -that the thoughts, also, of the people were centred, not upon the -worship of the good God, but upon the handsome stranger who was -assisting at the service with a devotion that might have put even the -churchwardens to shame. What would the neighbours have thought if they -had known the thoughts of the pious stranger at the most solemn part of -the office, when the priest was elevating the Host, and all the people -bowed in awe and adoration? He was thinking of the last time that he had -assisted at the holy sacrifice, when Jean Baptiste and he were acolytes, -both eager to have the honour of ringing the little bell. It was -Pamphile's turn on this occasion, but Jean twisted the bell out of his -hand and robbed him of his sacred right. After this, as the acolytes -knelt with folded hands behind the priest, Pamphile had said, through -his clenched teeth: "For this I will kill you one day, Jean Baptiste -Giroux." - -Now, after many years, as the little bell announced the elevation of the -Bon Dieu, Saviour of the world, Pamphile repeated with hate in his soul -the same words: "For that I will kill you, Jean Baptiste Giroux." - -After Mass the neighbours flocked about Pamphile: those who had known -him to take him by the hand, to welcome him back to the parish, and to -remind him of old times: those who had not known him to look at the -distinguished stranger, to listen to his talk, and to have the honour of -an introduction. With a grand and gracious manner he received them all. - -"Yes, yes, Monsieur Bedard, I know you very well. And you, Monsieur -Picard. And you, Monsieur Plamondon. What a pleasure! Too young to -remember? Not at all. I was already eighteen years old when I left St. -Placide, now eight years ago. There, Madame Pouliot, you have my age -exactly, but I am not sensitive on that point. Old enough to be -settling down, you think? Yes, I was thinking of that myself. And what -of the little Delima whom I used to see at school? Married? I am sorry -to hear it--desolated. Ah, Madame Poisson, is it you? Charmed, I am -sure. Monsieur and Madame Gosselin, too. Remember you? Certainly. Mon -Dieu, how everything comes back to me! Have I not seen you passing -along to church and to market in your spring carts, or in carts without -springs? But now you drive in covered carriages in great style. What -grandeur! What magnificence! How glad I am to see that everybody -prospers, thanks to the good God! - -"As for me, I am doing passably well, Monsieur Lebel, much better than -in those days. Did I really drive to Quebec in the cart of Elzear -Buchon? Yes, certainly, and I shall not forget that good butcher's boy. -I was not rich at that time, no indeed. The little money left by my -good father had all been spent, excepting a small sum in the bank at -Quebec. Did I arrive in Nevada by means of freight cars? Oh, no, -Monsieur Trembly, I was not reduced to that. After Quebec all was easy. -Expensive living out there, Madame Trembly? Well, you might think so. -Bread, twenty cents the loaf; butter, fifty cents the pound; eggs, a -dollar the dozen, and so on. If you could get such prices at Beauport -you would soon be rich, would you not? But you are already rich enough, -as I see. In my days the ladies did not wear those fashionable hats, -those French shoes, nor those fine cloaks trimmed with lace and braid, -so _chic_, so becoming. Creations of Paris, are they not, Madame? - -"Is there gold in Nevada? Yes, Joseph, my friend, plenty of it, if you -know where to find it. Does everybody become rich out there? No, I -will not say that, but it is a good place for young men, if they have -good health and some intelligence, if they work hard, if they do not -drink nor gamble, nor keep loose company, nor steal horses, nor jump -claims, nor look for trouble in any other way. Yes, Joseph, it is a -good place for those who have luck, for those who survive. - -"It would be a fine place for that son of yours, Madame Barbeau, that -Napoleon with whom I used to play. What? Here? Is this my little -Napoleon? _Mon Dieu_, how you have grown! What changes come while one -is away! You must be twenty-four at the very least. Still with papa -and mama? All the rest gone away? Well, somebody must stay behind to -take care of the farm, the cows, the pigs. It is amusing, feeding pigs. -What appetites they have, what sweet voices, what gratitude! And how -they love to be scratched! Ha! Ha! The pleasures of country life! -Nothing like that in Nevada. - -"You would return with me, Napoleon? Well, old man, that will not be -hard to arrange. I am going back, of course, yet since yesterday I have -had other thoughts. I have allowed myself to dream. Yes, Madame, I am -still unmarried, an old bachelor, almost. There, the cat is out of the -bag. The young ladies of Nevada do not suit me exactly. They have -their merits, no doubt, but as to the figure, as to the complexion, as -to the temper, as to the accomplishments of the housekeeper, they are -not in the same class, I will say, with the young ladies of Quebec, of -Beauport, of St. Placide. But tell me, Napoleon, who is that -fine-looking man over there in the carriage, he with the grey hair? -Monsieur Tache? Ah, I thought so. And that glorious blonde? -Mademoiselle Gabrielle? Gabrielle? I do not seem to remember. Ah, I -have it. The little friend of Jean Baptiste. There, the events unfold, -the secrets are revealed. It is fate, without a doubt. Napoleon, old -man, present me. _Au revoir_, Monsieur, Madame, my friends." - -"Monsieur Tache," said Napoleon Barbeau, as he and Pamphile, hat in -hand, approached the carriage; "Monsieur and Mademoiselle, I have the -honour to present to you an old schoolfellow, Monsieur Pamphile Lareau, -of Elko, Nevada." - -"Much pleased, I am sure," said Monsieur Tache. "I remember you, I -think, on account of some boyish prank of former days. But what of -that? The follies of that age are gone. Come to see us, Monsieur -Lareau, during the week." - -"I will come to-morrow, Monsieur Tache, with your permission and that of -Mademoiselle." - -Monsieur Tache smiled. "To-morrow if you wish, Monsieur the stranger. -We shall be glad to see you. _Au revoir_, Monsieur." - -A little later, as Pamphile drove past the Giroux place, he saw Jean -Baptiste in the yard unharnessing his horse. - -"_Hola_, Jean Baptiste! _Hola_, little priest!" he called, in a tone of -elation. - -Jean raised his hat and smiled as the buggy drove by. In that smile -Bonhomme and Madame Gagnon observed only the friendly greeting of a good -neighbour; Mere Tabeau perceived the good-humoured toleration of a -superior being; but Pamphile saw the confidence of a declared enemy and -the menace of a threat half-revealed. - -"It is chilly at present," he murmured. "The sun has gone behind a -cloud. Or was it the manner of Jean Baptiste--a little frigid, -perhaps?" - -"Did you think so?" said Bonhomme Gagnon. "It was a very friendly -salutation, I thought. Strange that we did not see him at the church." - -"He was there," said Pamphile. "I saw him approaching the carriage of -Monsieur Tache as Napoleon and I came up, but immediately he turned -away." - -"We were all looking at you, Monsieur," said Bonhomme Gagnon. "Jean -Baptiste is with us all the time, as you know. Yet he also is a fine -young man. Some say that he is much interested in Mademoiselle Tache; -others say that it is Mademoiselle Laroche whom he favours. Who knows? -He confides in nobody. But take care that you do not get in his way, -Monsieur Lareau. It would be too dangerous. He is fierce, at times, -they say, and strong as a bear." - -"Let him keep out of my way, then," said Pamphile, with a snarl, "for I -am not accustomed to step aside for any man. I have lived too long in -the West for that. I, too, might be dangerous, my good friend." - -Bonhomme Gagnon made no reply, but surreptitiously crossed himself and -muttered a prayer for protection against murder and sudden death. - - - - - *CHAPTER XV* - - *THE PASTIME OF LOVE* - - -Gabrielle was much offended at the behaviour of Jean Baptiste, not -because he had refused to make the sacrifice which she had demanded, but -because he had taken her at her word and had not insisted that she -change her mind. If he had given up his great enterprise at her bidding -she would have loved him less, or not at all. The knight who shunned -the battle because of his lady's tears could never receive the prize of -love. But after the battle, or during the intermissions of the -conflict, he might at least come to see whether she could not smile -through her tears. It was not necessary to choose between love and war -when a brave man might have both for the asking. - -Gabrielle wondered whether all men were as obstinate and as stupid as -Jean Baptiste. For his stupidity she could pity him; for his obstinacy -she could love him--almost. What an absurd person he was--how foolish, -how blind! Who else would have chosen the hot, dusty road, when he -might have taken the quiet, wood-land path, a lover's walk, by her side? -Since that afternoon he had been busy, so busy that he had found no time -for friendship, no time for love, while the summer was slipping away and -the golden days passing, never to return. When the day of love was -gone, Jean would regret that he had trampled underfoot the precious -jewels of the heart, the true values of life, in his blind pursuit of -wealth and worldly success, vanities that could not satisfy the soul. - -Besides, the success for which he was working might never come. Jean -was a visionary person, a dreamer, a builder of cloud-castles. -Presently they would fade away, those golden fancies, leaving nothing -but a colourless, empty world, a desert, an aching desolation. Then, in -the cold night of adversity, he would seek for love, but should not find -it; he would ask, but should not receive; he would knock, but no door -would be opened. Yes, he should be well punished for all his sins, and -should spend many days in purgatory, without benefit of indulgence or -intercession. After a time, perhaps, there would be forgiveness and -reconciliation, but not until the whole debt, principal and interest, -had been paid in full. - -So Jean was going to fail. Who had said so? How could that be? -Consider that tall, powerful frame, those broad shoulders, the massive -head, the determined mouth and chin, the piercing eyes, the air of -confidence and cheerful assurance that carried all before him. No, it -was not in Jean Baptiste to fail. That which he began he would carry -through to the end, in spite of everything. Every obstacle he would -overcome; every enemy he would trample upon; every hindrance he would -cast aside--yes, even the loving arms that would embrace him, the tender -heart that would be his alone. And after all, when success had arrived, -with riches, honour, power, and the crown of noble achievement, he would -throw it all at the feet of another--at the feet of Blanchette Laroche. - -And why Blanchette? Because she was not proud; because she did not ask -much, and would be satisfied with little. He had only to call, to -beckon, and she would follow him like a lamb--yes, like a poodle dog. So -there was a way--the way of humility. That was what Jean -demanded--submission, the surrender of the will, the abasement of the -spirit. It was too much. Never should he have that--never! - -On the contrary, it was Jean who should make the surrender. There was a -man capable of a great passion, a passion not yet awakened, slumbering -in the depths of his soul. For him love was a gentle emotion which he -could subdue and forget at any time, a pastime which was never allowed -to interfere with the more serious affairs of life. But what would he -be when stirred to the depths of his being by a tempest of love? What -would he do when the master passion was aroused and assumed control? -Forget himself? Surely. Forget his plans, his ambitions, his cruel -pride. Yes, he would forget all but love, and be willing to sacrifice -all for love. And demand all? That also. And if he gave all and -demanded all, who could resist, who could refuse? Not Gabrielle Tache. -Would she go with this man to the end of the world? Yes, to the end of -the world. - -"Gabrielle, Gabrielle! Where are you, Mignonne? Where are you, -Gabrielle?" - -"Here, Mama," answered Gabrielle from the corner of the garden where she -was sitting in the shade of an old apple-tree. - -"Oh, there you are, day-dreaming, no doubt, while I have been looking -for you high and low. And where are those flowers that you were to cut -for the table an hour ago--yes, two hours? What have you been doing all -this time? A fine wife you will make for an honest habitant. Eh, -_Mignonne_?" - -"No honest habitant for me," said Gabrielle, laughing gaily. "I should -much prefer one of those brave officers of the Garrison." - -"For shame, Gabrielle! A red-coat and a heretic." - -"A red-coat, yes. I love red-coats, so bright, so gay. A heretic? Not -at all. A good Catholic from the Highlands of Scotland, a brave, -handsome soldier." - -"Gabrielle, do not think of him. He is not for you. Presently his -regiment will be transferred and he will go away to make new conquests. -Oh, I know them of old, those gay soldiers. They come, they conquer, -and they march away, leaving broken hearts. Do not think of him, -Gabrielle." - -"One must think of something, Mama. Who shall it be? Hormidas Vincent, -perhaps? Or Isidore Bouchette? On the whole, I prefer Isidore--he has -such glossy hair, so neatly parted in the middle, such adorable curls -and such funny little silver rings in his ears. He has travelled, that -one, in many parishes. I love peddlers--they have so many curious tales -to tell, and so many that they do not tell. Such an air of mystery----" - -"Gabrielle, be still. For mercy's sake stop your chatter. Do you know -who is coming up the road?" - -"Who, Mama, who? A young man? Isidore? What bliss!" - -"Be tranquil, my dear, it is not Isidore." - -"Who then? I am dying to know." - -"It is monsieur the millionaire of Nevada." - -"That snake!" - -"Gabrielle, you are dreadful. Do not talk like that. It is a fine young -man of an interesting type. His dress and manners are a little unusual, -perhaps, but he is tall and handsome, with an air of melancholy quite -engaging--like an artist or poet, I should say. And he is rich. Yes, a -distinguished-looking young man, a personage. See, there he comes. Do -not be rude to him, Gabrielle." - -Gabrielle had no thought of being rude to Pamphile. On the contrary, she -did her best to amuse him while her mother was preparing the dinner and -her father was still in the hayfield. They played croquet on the lawn, -walked about in the garden, sat on the green bench of the verandah -looking out on the river and the mountains, and all the while they -talked of this and that, of the scenery, the parish, the neighbours, the -tourists, of Beauport, Quebec and Montreal, of Chicago and the Far West, -of Nevada and the gold mines, of travel and adventure, of politics even, -and religion. Pamphile was nothing if not interesting, for he had -travelled much with his eyes open, was by nature of a ready wit and -tongue, and knew how to tell of what he had seen and had not seen with a -realistic abandon that was well-nigh irresistible. - -At first Gabrielle could hardly conceal her aversion for Pamphile, who -was, she felt, some evil genius of the underworld; but presently she -forgot his outlandish dress, his gaudy jewellery, his long hair and his -unctuous suavity, and saw only the tall, handsome, mysterious stranger -who had descended upon the secluded valley from the great, unknown world -beyond the mountains. It was a pleasure to hear him talk in an intimate -way of people and things, to watch his animated gestures and changing -expression, to wonder what had brought him to St. Placide and how long -he would be able to stay. - -Pamphile was a born story-teller, and, like most of his tribe, his talk -was chiefly of himself. He was the centre of every incident, the hero -of every adventure. He spoke of the river and the great lakes, of mighty -cities, of distinguished men, of the buffalo of the plains, of Indians -and bandits, of lofty mountains and precipitous canons, of cattle -ranches and mining camps, of gamblers and shooting affrays; and always -it was Pamphile who had been wise and generous, strong and brave, who -had encountered all dangers, overcome all difficulties, and who had -arrived at last at the summit of his ambition and was now enjoying a -well-earned rest in the peaceful valley before plunging once more into -the tumult and struggle of the outer world. - -Gabrielle listened as one entranced, gazing in wonder at the mobile yet -inscrutable face of Pamphile. Here certainly was a new type of man, -such as she had not seen in St. Placide nor in Quebec, and certainly not -within the walls of the Ursulines. She tried to imagine him in the garb -of a priest, reading his breviary, hearing confession, giving -consolation. Absurd! And how would he look in the uniform of the -Garrison Artillery? Very funny, to be sure. He would certainly need to -have his hair cut. What a pity he had not lived in the time of the -Grand Monarch as an officer in a regiment of cavaliers--the Carignan -Regiment, for example? There he would have been almost at home. But -what a figure he would cut in the costume of a habitant! Ridiculous! -No, Pamphile was a citizen of another world. In the West he was -doubtless a great man, not at all out of place, and it was not fair to -judge him by the standards of St. Placide. Why demand that he be -exactly like other people? He was different. Not bad, only different. - -"Gabrielle," said Madame Tache, after Pamphile had gone away, "you were -right in your opinion of that man, after all. He is a species of -serpent, as you said." - -"Why, Mama!" exclaimed Gabrielle, "He is a fine young man, of an -interesting type. His dress and manners are a little unusual, perhaps, -but he is tall and handsome, with an air----" - -"Be silent, Gabrielle. I have changed my mind since I have been able to -observe him more closely. It is not his clothes, altogether, nor even -his hair, nor that drooping moustache, but a certain expression of I -know not what, an indefinable suggestion of evil. How glad I am that he -has gone!" - -"But, Mama, you were quite polite to him, and Papa, too, seemed to find -him interesting." - -"Naturally, one is polite to a guest. And he is interesting, far too -interesting. He is fascinating, almost, like a serpent. Your father, -of course, was glad to hear about the mines of Nevada. I hope he will -not send any money there. No, Gabrielle, that man is not to be trusted, -and I will not have him come again." - -"But, Mama, he is to come to play a game of croquet to-morrow -afternoon." - -"Gabrielle, did you invite him?" - -"No, Mama. Yes. That is, he asked if he might come; and I, what could -I say?" - -"That is a pity, my daughter. You should have spoken to me. What shall -we do? We do not want to offend him. There, I have it. You shall go -down to Quebec in the morning, and we will send a message of explanation -to Monsieur Lareau. Mother Sainte Anne will be glad to see you." - -"Oh, Mama, not that!" cried Gabrielle, with tears in her eyes. "Do not -make me leave St. Placide just now, the lovely hills, the green fields, -the leafy trees, the cool air. This is not the time to go to the city, -so hot, so dusty. That little dark cell will be like a furnace, a -veritable purgatory. No, Mama, you do not mean it. Do not send me away. -It would be too cruel." - -"Gabrielle, I am surprised at you. Usually you are glad to run down to -Quebec for a few days, and Mother Sainte Anne is always kind. Nonsense, -my dear child; you are too silly. You shall go, of course, and in a few -days, possibly, you may return. We shall see." - -"Well," said Gabrielle, with a sigh of resignation, "I will go, if you -wish. You know best, Mama. As for that man from the West, he is -nothing to me. Do you think that I should run away with him? Oh, it is -to laugh. But he amuses me with his talk, I confess, like the -quack-doctor whom we saw at the fair in Quebec. Could you not let me -stay another day, one little day? One little afternoon's amusement, one -little game of croquet--what is that? We must not offend people without -reason, as you have said, even a man from the wild and woolly West. Say -yes, Mama." - -"Yes, yes, Gabrielle, if you will only stop your chatter. You make a -person deaf. But remember--only one day, and you are not to see that -young man after to-morrow. Do not say when you will return. That will -remain undecided for the present." - -"Mama, you are lovely. You are a saint, an angel, a bird of paradise. -And I, too, am a species of bird, but very tame, I assure you. Do not -worry about me. I will not fly away, but only flutter about for a few -hours, and then hop meekly into the cage. It is a nice cage, and Mother -Sainte Anne is a dear soul. I have often thought that I could be happy -in that holy place for the rest of my life. Those who leave the world, -and give themselves, body and soul, to the good God, find rest and peace -on the bosom of infinite love, and the devotion which they give is -returned to them a thousand-fold. Those are the words of Mother Sainte -Anne herself. Oh, Mama, do not cry. You are not going to lose me. I -have my moments of devotion, but they do not last long. I am too fond -of you, of all my dear friends, of this brave world, and the glories of -the religious life seem dim and far away. No, I have no vocation. -There, dear, console yourself. Good-night. Sleep well." - -It is a pleasant game, croquet, not only because it affords moderate -exercise and demands a sufficient degree of skill, but also because it -permits of frequent pauses, when the players may converse about the -condition of the lawn, the position of balls and wickets, the ethics of -various plays, the state of the weather, and what not, while they walk -about on the soft grass, or rest, it may be, on rustic benches in the -shade of trees. It is a game for lovers in the springtime of life, -where there is no rivalry and where both may win. But when a third party -comes there is a sudden change, the spirit of rivalry enters, and the -innocent game becomes a form of war, a phase of the age-long struggle of -life and death. - -"Ah!" exclaimed Gabrielle, as Pamphile made a long hit, "that was a fine -stroke. You play well, Monsieur Lareau, better than any one in our -parish; that is, better than all but one." - -"But one, you say, Mademoiselle Tache?" said Pamphile, affecting an air -of indifference. "And who is that, if I may dare to ask?" - -"Oh," said Gabrielle, wishing to recall her words, "perhaps I am -mistaken, for it is a long time since I have seen him play, but I was -thinking of our neighbour, Monsieur Giroux." - -"He?" said Pamphile, with a sneer. "The youth who was to have been a -priest? Yes, I remember him. He must be a man by this time. Strange -that he is still here among the stay-at-homes. Did he not dare to -venture out into the world, where he might meet with men?" - -"Monsieur Lareau," said Gabrielle, seriously, "it is evident that you do -not know Monsieur Giroux, or you would not speak thus. He is very brave -and very determined, and it is for that reason that he will not leave -St. Placide." - -"Oh, I can well understand, Mademoiselle," said Pamphile, with a knowing -smile. "While there are such attractions here it is no wonder that he -cannot tear himself away. For me, I also should like to stay in St. -Placide. Tell me to stay, Mademoiselle." - -Gabrielle blushed furiously. - -"Monsieur Lareau, you take liberties. As for Monsieur Giroux, I know -nothing of his affairs, but it is said that he has plans for the -improvement of the parish, for the exploitation of the forest, the -waterpower and all that." - -"Plans?" drawled Pamphile. "Designs? Intentions? Well, I also have -plans, and I hope that the former candidate for holy orders will not -interfere with them. So he plays croquet, it seems. A noble game, -truly! I hope that he excels in other games demanding not less of -skill, but more of intellect, of courage." - -"He does," replied Gabrielle, now enlisted in defence of the local hero, -"he knows how to play tennis, too, better than any of the tourists; and -draughts and chess, like a master. He throws the hammer--oh, an -enormous distance--and he can run like a deer, and leap like--like--a -grasshopper." - -"A grasshopper? Name of an insect! Ha! Ha! That is good. What a -marvel, that priest that was to be! The sum of all the talents! But -permit me to ask, Mademoiselle the defender, if the excellent youth -knows how to shoot with the revolver, or with the rifle." - -Gabrielle hesitated. - -"Why do you ask, Monsieur Lareau?" - -"Because," said Pamphile, between his teeth, "in the Far West that is -the first thing that one thinks of, and the last." - -Gabrielle grew pale. - -"Monsieur Lareau," she begged, "please forget what I have said. I did -not mean to offend you. Monsieur Giroux is nothing to me, but when you -speak contemptuously of one of the neighbours, I wish, naturally, to -defend him as much as possible. So please forgive me, Monsieur. It was -discourteous in me, I know." - -"Say no more, Mademoiselle Tache; it is I who have offended. I was -perceiving a rival, that was all. If Jean Baptiste is not that he is my -dear old schoolfellow, of whom I have often thought during my long years -of exile. I should like to meet him again, for the sake of old times." - -"That could be arranged," said Gabrielle, with animation. "But no, -alas, I shall not be here, for I am going away to-morrow, to Quebec." - -Pamphile was aghast. - -"To-morrow! And I had promised myself the pleasure of another game of -croquet. Not to-morrow, Mademoiselle--the day after to-morrow, let us -say." - -"It is not I who decides these affairs, Monsieur, but my mother; and she -is inflexible." - -"Ah, cruel parent! Yes, I see, I see. Because I am not an eligible -_parti_. Cruel parent! But surely Mademoiselle will return." - -"Oh, yes, certainly. St. Placide is my home to which I return -frequently. Before the end of the summer, no doubt." - -"The end of the summer! Alas, long before that time I shall be on my -way to Nevada, never to return. But will Mademoiselle be so kind as to -tell me where she will be staying at Quebec!" - -"Certainly, Monsieur," said Gabrielle, pathetically. "At the Convent of -the Ursulines." - -"A convent! _Mon Dieu_! Not to take the veil, I hope." - -"Oh no," laughed Gabrielle, "not that, although I have sometimes thought -of it. No, only to stay a while to receive a little more instruction in -music, painting, embroidery, and all that. To finish, to be finished, -you know." - -"Yes, I know," sighed Pamphile. "It is I who am finished. But such is -life. Mademoiselle Tache, you cannot imagine what a pleasure it has -been----" - -"Yes, and for me also," said Gabrielle, with a sad little smile. "It is -such a pleasure to meet strangers, people who are different, you know. -No, I shall not forget you. But there is Mama calling me. I must go. -Good-bye, Monsieur Lareau. Good luck." - -"But Mademoiselle, I have something else to say." - -"I cannot wait, Monsieur. Some one is coming." - -"Mademoiselle, it is of great importance, a matter of life and death, -concerning our friend Monsieur Giroux, something which I must tell to -you, and you alone. Well, if you will not, it is all the same to me. -Adieu, Mademoiselle. Much pleased, I am sure." - -"But, Monsieur Lareau, can you not write?" - -"Absolutely impossible. To-morrow morning at sunrise I shall be back -there in the forest where the path crosses the little stream, and I -shall wait ten minutes." - -"Monsieur, this is too much. I have the honour to bid you good -evening." - -"Good evening, Mademoiselle, and many thanks for all your kindness. And -I shall be there at the time appointed." - -On the following morning, as the sun rose above the hill, peeping -through the thick foliage he perceived Pamphile Lareau reclining upon a -mossy bank beside the little brook that flowed through a shady glen to -join the main river about half a league below. His broad-brimmed hat -lay on the ground beside him, his long black mane fell on his neck and -shoulders, and he was twisting the ends of his moustache as he smiled -expectantly--a smile that was not good to see. In the clear morning -light there was no illusion of romance or chivalry about Pamphile. The -glamour of the evening twilight was gone, and he appeared as he was, a -beast of prey, a panther ready to spring upon the passer-by. Suddenly he -became aware of a presence, and glancing up he saw Gabrielle, pale and -beautiful as the morning, looking at him with awakened and startled -eyes. He saw no change in her, but smiled exultantly as he slowly rose -and held out his arms. - -"A fine morning, Gabrielle." - -Gabrielle drew back. - -"You presume, Monsieur Lareau," she said, coldly. "You presume upon a -too slight acquaintance. But no matter. Will you have the kindness to -give me your message?" - -"Oh, time enough for that. The day is young. Let us talk a little. Let -us look at the trees, listen to the birds, watch the clear stream as it -flows along. Let us enjoy the beauty of the morning, the charm and -seclusion of the woods. No? What?" - -"I have no time for that," said Gabrielle, impatiently flicking her boot -with the riding-whip which she carried in her hand. "If you please, -Monsieur Lareau, give me the message." - -"Message? There is no message," said Pamphile, with a leer. "That was -understood, was it not? It was only to say good-bye." - -"No message?" - -"No. That is to say, yes. A moment, Mademoiselle. Come back, for the -love of God. It is here, the message, the letter. Allow me to hand it -to you. It will explain everything. There, I have you, little bird. Do -not wriggle so. A kiss. One only. No? Then I take it--thus and thus. -Ah! _Sacree diable de femme_! _Sacre_!" - -Pamphile's note of triumph ended in a scream of rage and pain, for -Gabrielle, wrenching herself free from his grasp, turned on him with -flaming face and blazing eyes, and with the raw hide whip struck him -twice across the face. Immediately she fled up the path, calling loudly -for help. - -"Jean! Jean! To me! To me! Ah, _Mon Dieu_! Jean! Jean!" - -With sublime faith in the hour of danger Gabrielle was demanding a -miracle; and lo! her cry was answered, for it was Jean himself who came -running down the path in time to catch her in his arms as she was on the -point of falling to the ground. - -"Gabrielle, what is it? What is the matter, dear? Ah, I see. The -whip--give it to me. So it is you--thief, dog! Stand there! A fine -face you have. There, take that--and that! Shoot, would you? Drop it! -Good. Take two more! There! And there! It is a wonder I do not kill -you. Go!" - -Pamphile slunk away like a whipped cur, but with murder in his heart. -Jean watched him until he disappeared in the forest, and then turned -slowly, as one in pain. - -"Gabrielle!" - -But Gabrielle was gone. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVI* - - *THE TEMPTATION OF JEAN BAPTISTE* - - -"Jean! Jean! To me! To me!" - -The cry seemed but an echo in the recesses of the woods, yet Jean could -not rid himself of the feeling that Gabrielle was still in danger and in -need of help. The same vague sense of danger had come to him a little -while before, as he stood on the doorstep of his house, smoking his -pipe, watching the sunrise, and planning the day's work, and had brought -him running along the road to the Tache place and thence down the -woodland path to meet her whom he loved best and him whom he most hated. -They had met; the danger was past; and now it seemed to Jean that he was -totally indifferent to Pamphile and that he hated Gabrielle more than -any other being in all the world. Answer her cry for help? Never -again! - -"Jean! Jean!" - -The call was fainter now, with a note of reproach and the suggestion of -a sob, but Jean gave no heed. He only stood there, his heart full of -jealousy and anger, thinking evil thoughts. A strange meeting, surely, -on that lonely path at such an hour. A coincidence? Hardly. -Pre-arranged? Doubtless. To what end? Who can understand the heart of -a woman? To meet a stranger by accident on a Sunday morning, after -Mass, to have one visit and another, a game of croquet, and then----. -Love at first sight, it would seem, and after that a rapid career, a -swift descent into the depths. Inconceivable? Yes. Impossible? -Nothing is impossible. Even the holy angels could fall from Heaven, and -the Son of God might have bowed down to Satan. - -But the whip? Jean held it up in his clenched hand, a short but heavy -raw-hide with a knotted tail and loaded head, a dangerous weapon in -strong and determined hands. She had come alone, but not unprotected. -And those marks on the face of Pamphile? Inflicted by the selfsame -whip, evidently. By whose hand? The hand of Gabrielle. Jean's heart -gave a leap at the thought, and he almost smiled. She had struck -Pamphile twice with the knotted tail, and if Jean had not come to the -rescue she would have turned at bay and felled her assailant to the -ground with the leaden head. Brave Gabrielle! A girl of spirit, that, -a girl worthy of any man. - -How then could she be ensnared by that spider, be fascinated by that -serpent? But she had broken the spider's net; she had escaped the wiles -of the serpent. A lover's quarrel? Only lovers quarrel; the indifferent -never. But do they strike each other with a whip? No, thank God, -Gabrielle did not love Pamphile. Impossible. As for the rest, what -matter? Strange, certainly, that meeting in the woods, but not more -strange than his own arrival in the nick of time. The world itself is -strange, and the combinations, the possibilities, infinite. All is -strange, mysterious, improbable. Nothing can be explained. One must -have faith in one's friends, in oneself, in God. No; she cared nothing -for that reptile. A passing fancy, perhaps, but even that was -over--else why the blow, the flight, the cry for help? On whom does one -call in the hour of danger? On one's friends, first of all, and then, -in the last extremity, on God. - -"Jean! Jean!" - -A low voice seemed to call to him from the hill, a voice as of one in -tears. - -Jean awoke from his reverie, and ran up the path. - -"Gabrielle!" he called. "I am coming, dear. No danger. I am here. -Gabrielle! Gabrielle! where are you?" - -The voice of Jean awoke the echoes of the hills, but there was no other -reply. On he ran with fear in his heart, peering into the woods on -either side, and calling incessantly, until he reached the place where -the path left the forest, and he could see the home of Gabrielle -nestling in a hollow in the midst of green fields, with its white walls, -its spacious verandah, its black roof with dormer windows, and its -massive stone chimney from which a wisp of yellow smoke rose in the -morning air. It was a picture of comfort and security; and, as Jean -looked upon the peaceful scene, he assured himself that his fears were -groundless and that all was well. - -There was, however, a slight commotion about the place, such as one -might expect to see on a market day or on the departure of some member -of the family for a visit to the city. A large valise lay on the -verandah, and at intervals Madame Tache or a maid appeared with a parcel -or two, a parasol, a cloak, a basket. Monsieur Tache and one of the men -hurried to the barn; presently the great doors were flung open and a -prancing pair of bays came out with a carriage, as though the family -were going to Mass, to a wedding, or some other notable celebration. -Jean could hear the wheels crunch on the gravel as they drove around to -the front steps, where the valise and the parcels were put on in front -with the driver, while Madame Tache and Gabrielle came out of the house -all ready to depart. - -It was Gabrielle herself, dressed all in white, like a bride, a white -cloak on her shoulders and a white hat with a single white plume above -her golden hair. Jean could not see her face in the distance, but she -seemed loth to go, for she ran hither and thither saying good-bye to -everybody, even to the chickens and geese, patted Boule, the dog, on the -head with a lingering caress, and then threw her arms about her father's -neck, sobbing bitterly. - -Jean turned away with tears in his eyes, and when he looked again the -bays were prancing along the road, strong and proud, as though carrying -a queen and a princess to a wedding feast. Never was princess more -beautiful and more sad, for she had the air of one who was forsaking all -that she held most dear, and going away never to return. As she passed -near the place where Jean was standing she looked up once with an -appealing glance, but made no sign of recognition or farewell. It was -as if she did not see him, but was looking beyond into the depths of the -woods. As the carriage came to the turn of the road Gabrielle turned -and waved her handkerchief toward her old home. Perhaps Jean was -included in the farewell. At any rate, he waved back, and as the -carriage disappeared from sight he thought he caught a flutter of white -meant for him alone. - -Jean took a long breath, and then another, to keep down the tide of -emotion that was surging up from the depths of his soul. Then, pulling -himself together with a mighty effort, he sprang over the fence and -strode down the road toward his own home at a terrific pace, as though -to escape as fast as possible from the place where he had seen the -vanishing of all his hopes. For Jean did not deceive himself; he -understood it all; could see it all, as in a vision. Gabrielle, that -angel in the white robes, was leaving St. Placide--for ever. She was -going to a wedding--her own--in the chapel of the Ursulines, before a -congregation of black-robed sisters. She would be a bride--the bride of -Christ. They would cut off her golden hair, dress her in black from -head to foot, and make her say infinite prayers by night and day on the -cold, stone floor. Did Christ demand that? - -"I do not believe that He will have that," said Jean, aloud. "But if -so, I protest. It is not just. By Heaven, it is not! Ah, why did I -not answer at the first call? Why did I not follow? Fool that I was! -Yes, fool, fool!" - -"Not so fast, Jean Baptiste," said a voice directly in front of him. -"Stop! You are running me down! Stop, I say! There you have done it! -_Sacre diable_! Fool! Yes, fool, fool!" - -Jean stopped at last in his mad career, looked about in a dazed manner, -and saw a little old man picking himself up from the dusty road, while -filling the air with curses. - -"Why, Monsieur Laroche, is it you? What is the matter? You fell down? -I ran over you? Surely not. Mon Dieu, Monsieur, if I did I am sorry. -Forgive me, I beg of you. It was an accident, I assure you. I was not -thinking; that is to say, I was thinking of something else. There, -Monsieur, allow me to brush off the dust, and to hand you your hat. Oh, -but I am sorry. What can I say?" - -"Nothing!" said the old man, with a vicious snap of the jaws. "Say -nothing! Don't speak to me! I will get even with you. Yes, I will -punish you for this, Monsieur the Proprietor, Monseigneur the -Millionaire that is to be. Yes, I will show you." - -"Well, Monsieur Laroche, if you feel like that I can do no more. -Good-day, Monsieur." - -"Not so fast, Jean Baptiste Giroux," said the old man, with malicious -deliberation. "Not so fast, my enterprising friend. Remember, if you -please, the little payment that is coming to me, the half-yearly -interest that will be due next week." - -"Well, what of it?" said Jean. - -"You will pay it," said the money-lender, with a leer, "on the very -day." - -"Of course," said Jean, with contempt. "Is that all you wished to say?" - -"Yes. No," said the old man, taken by surprise, for he had expected -Jean to ask for an extension. "You will pay it when due--on the very -day? Well, I like that. It pleases me. It is not often that one finds -a young man of such a talent for affairs, of such promptitude. It is a -good sign, Jean Baptiste. You will succeed, no doubt, if you have good -luck. Yes, a promising young man. If only I had a partner like you, a -son-in-law. What? It could be arranged, could it not? The little -daughter has refused, of course, but might change her mind. Who can -tell? Women are variable, as you know. What do you say, Jean, my -lad--shall we have a try?" - -"Monsieur Laroche," said Jean, earnestly, "I have the greatest respect -for Mademoiselle Blanchette, and I would not for the world have you -persuade her to change her mind. These marriages of convenience are -generally unsuitable and often terrible. It is a dreadful -thing--marriage without love." - -Bonhomme Laroche laughed aloud. - -"Jean Baptiste Giroux, you talk like a fool. Marriage of convenience? -And why not? The union of two good farms, with buildings, implements, -cattle, horses, and all that, appears to me very convenient and -suitable. Moreover, on one side a fine hotel, on the other an ample -dowry--what better could you desire? Marriage without love? It is to -laugh. Go home, Jean; regard yourself in the glass, and consider. Six -feet in your stockings, straight as a tamarack, broad shouldered, strong -as an ox, a great chief, a leader of men. What girl could not love a -man like you? They have eyes, those creatures, you may believe. And my -Blanchette--what beauty, what good temper, what capacity! Jean, my lad, -it is all right; it will go, it is a match made, I will say, in Heaven. -Yes, say nothing; it is to be." - -Jean was speechless, for the little old man, pouring forth a torrent of -words, fairly danced with excitement and finally flung his arms about -the young man's neck in token of complete reconciliation. - -"Jean, Jean, my son. It will arrange itself. Say nothing. I will not -hear. Go. That little payment--forget about it. What is that among -friends; yes, relations. There, not a word. All is forgotten. Go -home, I say, for the present. Adieu! Adieu!" - -It was still early in the morning, for Jean had been away from home -scarcely an hour--an hour that seemed an immeasurable time, during which -he had seen his past life unroll before him like a writing in a foreign -language, dark and meaningless. During that time he had seen his -ideals, his plans, his dream-castles melt away into nothing, and all his -future become a blank. The sun was still shining, the clouds still -floating in the sky, the grass still green, the birds still singing, the -air still fragrant with the odours of pine and balsam, of crushed -strawberries and new-mown hay--but not for him. The world to him seemed -colourless, odourless, silent as the tomb, because the light and joy had -gone out of his life when a young girl with blue eyes and golden hair -had passed down the road clad all in white as a bride adorned for her -husband. She had vanished at the turn of the road, and immediately the -world was changed. - -The glory of the world had departed; the beauty was gone; love had flown -away; and life was no longer worth while. Even the great house, the -work of his hands, his castle and seat of pride, was like a broken toy, -a thing to be thrown aside. It had ceased to interest him, but still -the force of habit led him thither. He pressed the latch, and entered -the great kitchen where his good mother was preparing breakfast. - -"Good morning, Jean," she said, looking up with a smile, which -immediately changed to a look of alarm, "Oh, Jean, what is it? What is -the matter? Where have you been? What is it, Jean, my son?" - -"It is nothing, my mother," he said, with a fugitive smile. "Nothing at -all. That is, I am a little tired, perhaps." - -"Tired? A great man like you, and at this time of the day! Six o'clock -on a fine summer morning--and tired! Very strange, that. No, Jean, you -are putting me off. What is it, then? Tell me, my son." - -"It is Bonhomme Laroche, my mother." - -"That old miser. What does he want?" - -"His money." - -"His money? We have not had it six months, and the loan was for three -years." - -"It is the interest that he wants, my mother, the half-yearly interest." - -"Well, that is not much, a matter of sixty dollars or so. We will pay -him." - -"Yes, we will pay him, of course, but we shall not have much left." - -"Nonsense, Jean! We shall have still a nice little deposit in the bank; -the tourists owe us a good sum; and to-morrow we shall send butter and -eggs to the market--five dollars worth at the very least. No, there is -no cause for worry. The business is going well. It will come out all -right, with the help of the good God. Have courage, my son. The time -of sowing will soon be over, and you will see the golden harvest, the -fruit of all your planning, your work. If that is all--no!" - -"He wishes to buy a husband for his daughter." - -"For his daughter--for Blanchette? Yes, I know. All the rest are -married--long ago. Only the little Blanchette is left. Not so very -little now, nor so very young. Let us see--ten, twenty, twenty-five, -yes, twenty-six years this summer. I remember well--fourteen years -after we came to the parish. They were sufficiently poor then, those -Laroches, poor and not at all proud. But they are not so very proud -even now, although quite rich. And the little Blanchette was pretty, -too, before the smallpox. A clever girl, and excellent housekeeper, a -manager from the bottom, a worker, too. No, it is not a bad suggestion, -not at all. - -"Yes, she would be a fine partner for one who owns a hotel. No fear of -failure after that. All anxiety gone, all concern for the future. The -dowry would be considerable. She would have that fine farm, with -cattle, horses, pigs, sheep, implements, furniture, linen, and all that, -not to speak of money in the bank. Bonhomme Laroche has explained it to -me many times. A strange man, that. A miser, true, but a just miser. -He will have his money always, to the last _sou_, but no more. I hope -that we may be able to pay him all, when due. There are great risks in -an enterprise like this, and great responsibilities. The alliance would -settle everything, remove all difficulties, dispel all clouds. Think of -it, Jean. The two farms united--a veritable estate, a seigniory, -almost. Ah, my son, if your father were alive, how pleased he would -be!" - -"My father," said Jean, thinking aloud, "would he have sold himself in -this way, I wonder?" - -"Your father, Jean, would be pleased to see your prosperity, as I have -said, but for himself he did not regard such things. They had no power -over him. He did not know the value of money, that man. For him truth, -honour, a good name, were the true values, more precious than rubies, -more desirable than all the gold of the world. And love? Yes, love -above all. He also could have married an heiress, the daughter of a rich -merchant, a ship-owner. Beautiful she was, I must confess, beautiful -and accomplished. Yet he preferred me, me. I never knew why. Ah, _Mon -Dieu_, what devotion! Did he ever regret it? He never said so. On the -contrary, he assured me many times---- And I, did I regret the poverty, -the work, the long years? No, it was my glory. And you, Jean, my son, -are like him, and I know what you will do. Yes, and you are right, both -of you. Land, cattle, money, are very fine, all right in their place, -but in comparison with love they do not count for much. Ah, selfish old -woman that I am to wish you to give up so much for the sake of a dowry. -Jean, my son, you shall not, you could not." - -"No, my mother, it would be impossible." - -"Well, let us say no more about it. Let us think of something else. -There are still good fish in the sea, although they are often hard to -catch. That little Gabrielle, for example, the most beautiful girl, -they say, in all the parishes. Even in Quebec, there is not her equal. -They are rare, you know, blondes of that type, with hair like a sunset -cloud, not red, not gold, but something of both, and changing with the -light. And such a complexion, such a lovely face, and a smile that -touches the heart. A sufficiently good temper, also, not meek, but -high-spirited, polite and altogether charming. An ample dowry, too, -which is not to be despised when all the rest is there. It contributes -to independence and harmony. - -"A most independent young lady, not easily caught, I should say, but a -prize for any fisherman. I have heard of several young men who have -aspirations--a brave young officer of the Artillery, for one. They are -dangerous rivals, those young soldiers, with their fine clothes, their -noble bearing, their self-confidence. I remember them well. They are -irresistible, almost. And Gabrielle is no ordinary habitant girl, but -one who would be at home in any society, high or low. She will fly away -some day, I fear. I don't like to think of that, for the parish will be -different without her. Yes, very different. - -"But, Jean, what is the matter? Where are you going? Sit down again, -please. Your breakfast is just ready. See, I have something that you -like, a nice piece of ham, some eggs, and the most delicious pancakes." - -"Thank you, dear," said Jean, wearily, "but I have no appetite this -morning." - -"No appetite? That is serious. What is wrong? Work to do? Nonsense! -How can one work if one does not eat? Do not go, my son. At least, -come back soon, soon. There, I have driven him away. Talkative old -woman! Stupid old creature! My poor Jean!" - - - - - *CHAPTER XVII* - - *VENGEANCE* - - -The brief summers are warm in St. Placide--how else could the crops of -hay, oats, and potatoes come to maturity?--but usually the nights are -cool, that the habitants, who have toiled many hours in the hot sun, may -enjoy refreshing sleep and be ready at the point of dawn for the work of -another day. But now and then, in the dog days, there comes a -blistering day, followed by a hot and sultry night, when tired people -lie awake for hours, longing in vain for rest. - -The night following the departure of Gabrielle was such a night as this, -and Jean Baptiste, finding the heat of his attic insupportable, went out -on the railed terrace that crowned the roof, and lay down under the -stars. There was not a breath of air, and no sound to be heard but the -steady murmur of the river in the valley below. The beasts that prowl -by night made no noise; the bats flitted silently to and fro; now and -then an owl passed like a shadow; here and there the lamp of a firefly -glimmered and went out; and the stars twinkled wearily as though they -would fain close their eyes in sleep. - -Jean did not sleep, but lay thinking of his past life, his ambitions and -struggles, his hopes and fears, his successes and failures, as though -trying to strike a balance of profit and loss that should give value to -his life or show how empty it was of all worth and meaning. He had -always assumed that life was worth living--but why? In God's name, why? - -To know, to understand? He had read much in printed books and in the -book of nature; he had tried to think, to guess, to imagine the answer -to the riddle of existence, but with what result? All was mystery, -shrouded in darkness, silent, speechless, with only a twinkling light -here and there to lead--or mislead. To know? That could not be the end -of life, for what could one know? Nothing. - -To love? Ah, there was something to fill the heart with joy--and pain. -When one finds a human being so beautiful that one would gaze on her for -ever, so sympathetic that in her company one has an enduring sense of -harmony and peace, so dear that one would fain be with her until the end -of time and afterwards in the eternal world--when one finds such -perfection of loveliness, surely it is the perfection of existence to -love and to be loved. Yes, but if one were not loved. If in the early -morning she went away, of her own free will, to be the bride of another, -what could one do with that consuming love but tear it from the heart, -that one might give oneself heart and soul to the work of life? - -The work of life? There at last was something for the strong hand and -brain, something to occupy the thought, to drive out the spirit of -despair, to fill the life with action, to cause one to forget the -mystery of existence and the shipwreck of love. To work, to build, to -create, to find the expression of oneself in the work of one's hands, -and, finally, like God, to pronounce it good--there was achievement to -satisfy the soul. If only the works of man, like the works of God, -could last for ever! Yet even these would pass away. Out of the -darkness of primeval chaos all had come; back to chaos and darkness all -would go. Yes, even the works of God. And God Himself? What was He -but the creator of a vain show, the spirit of deceit and futility? It is -written that He repented that He had made Man. What wonder? - -Jean Baptiste, as he lay there in the gloom of night, was wandering, in -thought, away from the realities of daily life, far from the trodden -paths, beyond all landmarks, into the confused and misty regions where -no reason dwells, but doubt, madness, and fell despair, and where there -is a downward path that plunges the lost soul into the abyss. - -From these evil dreams he was awakened by the rumbling of thunder, and -the falling of great drops of rain from a black cloud that passed, like -a curtain, across the sky. Flashes of lightning lit up the valley, -showing the trees of the forest bending before the wind, while here and -there a broken trunk stood erect with naked limbs from which the -branches had been torn by the fury of the gale. Presently the storm -arrived, shaking the house to its foundations; the rain came down in -torrents; and from the inky sky there fell lurid forks of lightning -followed by crashing thunder, the sound of falling trees, and the cries -of terrified beasts and men. It was a terrific, a sublime spectacle, a -display of power before which the timid soul cowers and shrinks and -seeks a place of refuge, a hole wherein to creep, if by any chance it -may escape the vengeance of the awful power against which it cannot -contend. Not so Jean Baptiste, who enjoyed the refreshing bath of rain -and the brilliant display of colour, and to whom thunder claps were -reassuring, since he knew that he who hears the thunder has not yet been -touched by the lightning. But suddenly there appeared a great blaze of -violet light, with a little crackling noise, and for Jean Baptiste the -show was ended. The bolt of God had fallen upon La Folie, and the -master of the house was very close to death. - -Immediately after this, as it seemed to Jean--it was more than an -hour--he felt himself roughly shaken, and heard a voice calling, as from -a great distance. - -"Wake up! Wake up, Jean! _Mon Dieu_, will he never hear? Wake up, I -say. We must get down out of this." - -"Get down?" said Jean, drowsily, without opening his eyes. "Get down? -But no, it is comfortable here. Let me alone, please. I am sleepy, -sleepy." - -"There, you are all right, I see," said the voice, louder now. "But get -up, quick, quick! Get up, or I will throw you down. _Sacre fou_! Take -that!" - -"Don't kick me," said Jean. Then, opening his eyes, he stared at his -assailant. - -"Oh, it is you, Pamphile, and you kick me? Well, I don't wonder. Do it -again, my friend, and after that I will throw you off the roof. But how -black your face is! And where is your hair? _Mon Dieu_! What has -happened?" - -"Happened? _Sacre bleu_! Your house is on fire. I tell you. Fire! -Fire! Get up, you cursed idiot, and save yourself. For the last -time--get up!" - -As Jean rose to his feet black volumes of smoke were rolling up from the -stairway, and he could hear the roar of flames below. He started down -the stairs. - -"Not there, you fool!" yelled Pamphile. "I passed that way two minutes -ago, and see me now. This way! We can slip down the roof on this side -and then jump to the ground. Are you ready?" - -"Yes," said Jean, slowly, "and I am sorry that I struck you with the -whip. It would have been better----" - -"Shut up!" said Pamphile, savagely. "You shall pay for that, oh yes. -But at present we must save ourselves. _Dieu_, but it is hot! This -way. The roof will hold, I think. Prepare to jump in a moment. No, -that will not be necessary--they have placed a ladder. There is some -intelligence left, I see. Steady, now. Slowly. No danger. There, you -are on earth again. _Par Dieu_! It was a close shave. The roof has -fallen in. Madame, I have the honour to present to you Monseigneur de -la Folie, the biggest damn fool in St. Placide--yes, in all Canada." - -"Listen to that," said one of the neighbours, who had hastened to the -scene at the first alarm. "That is what I have always said. Jean -Baptiste was a big fool to build a house like that--yes, a damn fool, as -Monsieur the millionaire has said. It is a brave man, that millionaire. -And Madame is glad to see her son again." - -"Yes," said Bonhomme Gagnon, with an air of importance, "it was I, you -see, who was the first to arrive. Already the house was in flames. The -people were safe--that is to say, all but Jean, who sleeps in the attic. -Madame was distracted, frantic. 'Where is Jean? Oh, where is Jean?' -she screamed. 'Jean, my Jean! He will be burned to death.' She rushed -to the door, going to run upstairs through all the smoke and flame. -'No, no, Madame,' I said, 'you cannot. Wait a minute, Jean will waken, -no doubt, in a moment. If not, I will go myself.' But she would not -listen. - -"Then comes along Monsieur Pamphile, his face white as a sheet, but all -marked with red stripes as though some one had struck him with a lash. -What was the cause of that, I wonder? 'Stop, Madame!' he cried. 'I -will find the little priest. I will bring him down to you.' He did not -go in by the door--that was impossible--but climbed up to one of the -windows of the second floor, and went in. 'There is a good man gone to -his death,' said I to myself. But presently he appeared on the roof, as -you have seen. It was lucky I thought of the ladder, was it not? It was -I who said: 'Bring the ladder.' You heard me, Damase." - -"Yes," said Damase Gosselin, with a smile; "you were saving the life of -a tourist, I think." - -"Naturally," said Bonhomme Gagnon, with some asperity, "I was assisting -everybody." - -"And meanwhile," continued Damase, "the millionaire from Nevada ascends -to the rescue of Jean Baptiste. It is a hero, that millionaire. But -where is he? Disappeared, vanished! That is the way with heroes. They -are modest people. One never hears them blow their own horn." - -"That is true," said Bonhomme Gagnon, nodding his head vigorously. "The -brave are always humble. That is the way with me, for example. I never -like to talk of myself, for fear somebody will laugh at me. It is -enough to have a good conscience, no matter what people think. But I -will tell you, in confidence, that it was I who first saw the fire, who -gave the alarm. Without me no Pamphile, no Jean Baptiste descending by -the ladder." - -The neighbours crowded about Bonhomme Gagnon, who went on, -impressively:-- - -"Yes, I heard the clap of thunder, of course. Who could sleep on such a -night? 'There,' I said, 'something was struck. La Folie, perhaps, -standing alone on the hill, with no lightning-rods.' I went to look, -but could see nothing. At the next flash there was La Folie, the same -as ever. It was only a tree, I thought. Soon the rain ceased, and I sat -on the steps smoking my pipe, and looking at the clouds as they cleared -away. I thought to myself: 'La Folie will get it sooner or later. The -good God does not love a man like Jean Baptiste, so proud, so ambitious, -so avaricious, one who would change everything, overturn everything--an -atheist, almost. Yes, the good God will punish him some day.' It was -prophetic, that thought of mine, for after a while I saw a bright light -in one of the windows at La Folie, and then a great blaze that lit up -the whole house. I made a jump, you may be sure, called Marie, -Francois, Isidore, Suzette--all the family. 'Fire! Fire!' I called, and -ran as fast as I could up the hill. _Dieu_, but it was an excitement." - -"What a pity that you cannot run fast, Monsieur Gagnon!" said Damase. -"If you had arrived sooner you might have saved Jean yourself." - -"Very true," said Bonhomme Gagnon, "and I would have done it, you may be -sure, but for those tourists. When I arrived they were descending from -the windows, some in night-gowns, some with trousers on; and one, that -Englishman over there, with all his clothes, an eye-glass even. 'Here, -my man,' he said, 'if you will bring me a ladder I will step out of -this, for it is deuced hot.' I was carrying the ladder when Madame -appeared wringing her hands, and then came Pamphile, as you know." - -"The Englishman offered to pay you well, no doubt," suggested Damase. - -"Yes. No. That is to say, he mentioned a certain sum, but I could not -think of it. I was saving life, you see, human life, which is of more -value than money. Afterwards, if he had felt that his life was worth -five or ten dollars, I might have been persuaded---- But I could do -nothing for him. Madame wanted the ladder for her son, who, naturally, -seemed of great importance to her, and I placed it by the roof, just in -time." - -"Monsieur Gagnon," said Damase, emphatically, "you also are a hero, that -is evident. What a pity that such heroes cannot receive a substantial -reward--five dollars, at least, for every life that they save! The life -of that Englishman must be worth at least that amount. Let us ask him -for it, Monsieur Gagnon." - -"No, no!" spluttered Bonhomme Gagnon. "I would not for the world. He -has lost his eye-glass, and is in a bad temper." - -"True," said Damase, "and when you took the ladder away he was in a fine -rage. It was a pleasure to see him. His bath-tub also was consumed, -and his sponge. But the good God let him off easy compared with poor -Jean. But tell us, Monsieur Gagnon, is it true Jean has said that the -good God did not cause the fire? Is he really an atheist, as they say?" - -"Not so loud, Damase," whispered Bonhomme Gagnon. "He might hear you. -See him over there as he watches his fine house burn to ashes. He is -angry, as you may imagine. He has lost money--more than the farm is -worth. Insurance? None at all. He was a fool, as Pamphile has said, -one with too much confidence in himself and too little in the good God. -An atheist? Very likely. Who else would want to build an hotel in St. -Placide, to bring tourists to our peaceful parish, to introduce strange -fashions, to corrupt the youth, to overturn everything? And he wishes -to make a dam across the St. Ange, to build a factory, to create a city. -Yes, he would change all the old ways, the good customs, the holy -religion, even. An atheist? Very likely. But the good God was against -him, as we have seen, and Jean Baptiste is finished. He will be a -habitant, like the rest of us, or he will leave the parish. Well, let -him go. We were here before he was born, and shall be all right after -he is gone. St. Placide has no need of Jean Baptiste." - -The mind of Bonhomme Gagnon had been poisoned against Jean by his -association with Pamphile and Mere Tabeau, and the rest of the -neighbours were strangely ready to think ill of him and to believe that -he had been justly punished for his pride and presumption. He had wished -to set himself upon an eminence far above the neighbours, and had tried -to make himself a great lord, a species of pope, in the parish of St. -Placide; but the good God, seeing that he held his head so high, had -brought him down and humbled him in the dust. His great house was a -heap of ashes; his plans were shattered, his prospects ruined; and he -who had thought himself the perfection of all the virtues, the sum of -all the talents, was finding by bitter experience that he was only a -common man. Every man must learn this lesson, sooner or later, that his -pride may be broken, his spirit chastened, that he may be able to bear -the yoke, to walk side by side with his fellows and to walk humbly -before his God. Thus the neighbours, by a strange mixture of piety and -hypocrisy, conspired to humble one who had dared to raise his head above -them, and deified the envy and malice of their own hearts. - -Mere Tabeau was at the fire, to see and hear everything; but on this -occasion, strange to say, she kept in the background, and had little to -say beyond assenting, with nods and knowing looks, to all that was said -in disparagement of Jean Baptiste. Before the fire was quite burned -out, and before the neighbours had dispersed, she slipped away to her -little hut, where she found Pamphile seated before a cracked mirror, -carefully trimming, by the light of a candle, the remains of his once -flowing mane of glossy black hair. - -"Eh, my nephew," she cackled. "Eh, Monsieur the millionaire, Monsieur -the hero, you have been singed a little, I see. What a pity!" - -"Yes," drawled Pamphile, "it is a great loss to me. That chevelure was -part of my capital, you see--useful in my business, you understand. It -was part of the make-up, my dear aunt, like the white tie and the -diamond. It was to me what the silk hat is to the advocate, the tonsure -to the priest, the biretta to the cardinal, the tiara to the pope. I -was in good company, my dear aunt, but now I am shorn of my strength, a -common man." - -"Nom de nom!" ejaculated Mere Tabeau. "You are a devil to talk like -that at such a time. You will be joking when you are going to the -gallows." - -"Without doubt, my dear aunt. Life itself is a joke; and death is the -best joke of all. The only trouble is to see the point of it, whether -it is man, God, or the devil who is fooled. For me, I think it is the -devil who is the butt, and I laugh at him. Ha! Ha! Foolish old devil! -We make him think that we belong to him, and in the end we die in the -odour of sanctity. Ha! Ha! What a joke! You see it, my lovely aunt?" - -"_Sacre!_" said Mere Tabeau. "_Sacre!_" - -"If that is all you have to say I think that I will go to bed," drawled -Pamphile, with a yawn. - -"No, no, my nephew, let us talk a while. Such a night of adventure we -have not had for many a year, not since the smugglers came across from -Chateau, with the military after them. That was excitement, if you -like. But this affair at La Folie was not so bad. You choose a good -night for the fire, my nephew. What?" - -Pamphile stared at the old hag. - -"I?" he said. "I choose? But no, my wise aunt, it was the good God. -That thunderbolt, you know." - -"Bah!" she sneered. "It made a big noise, the thunder; knocked a few -stones off the chimney, put Jean Baptiste to sleep, but that was all. -No, my friend, the good God had nothing to do with it." - -"But the fire----" - -"Started an hour later, in the wood-pile near the stove." - -"My dear aunt, you seem to be well informed." - -"Informed? I was there and I saw. I am a light sleeper, you must know; -and when you, my dear guest and nephew, left my house in the dead of -night, I became curious, as any woman would, followed at a safe -distance, and saw everything--saw you strike the match, even. I tell -you, my western friend, that it is better to confide in people, -especially one's near relations. Too much secrecy is bad for the -health, leading to serious trouble, in which case one might have to call -in the physician, that is to say, the police. Eh, my dear nephew?" - -"Ah, my lovely aunt, you have the advantage of me, I must confess, in -these days of enlightenment, of emancipation. If only the good old days -could come again I would know what to do. I would have you drowned as a -witch, or burned, perhaps. Yes, that would be better--a little taste of -Hell in advance, a sample, as it were, of what is to follow. Eh, my -angel aunt?" - -"Pamphile," said the old witch, "you are a devil, and I love you for it. -In the old days at Chateau there were lovers like you, brave boys, -fearing neither God nor man. Usually man is more to be feared, but in -the end God and the devil. But the devil amuses one for a time. If -only I could be young again! But tell me, Pamphile, my friend--why did -you not let him die?" - -"Well, my aunt, that is a hard question. Why did I not let him be -burned to a cinder? How do I know? I thought of it, to be sure; and I -said to myself: 'There, Pamphile, you are avenged. Be satisfied.' But -what revenge can one take on an enemy dead? No, it was better that -Monseigneur should see his castle burn to the ground. A good revenge, -my precious aunt. First you take away one's love, then one's property, -then the ambition that makes life worth living; and after that, to -finish, you give the _coup de grace_. That was one of my reasons, -perhaps. - -"For another, I hear Madame Giroux scream, she who used to give me -_croquignoles_ years ago, when I was a boy, and I go to the rescue. I -save the life of Jean Baptiste because of a _croquignole_. Also, it is -a pity to let a strong man be choked in that black smoke, without a -struggle, without a chance. I prefer to see him die fighting, so I pull -him out of the fire that I may prolong the game. You understand, my -gentle aunt, the ways of the tiger, which are those of his first cousin, -the domestic cat?" - -"Yes, I understand perfectly. The same family--a difference in size, -that is all. We will play with him for a while, and then we will make -an end. But first, my nephew, we have our little plan." - -"Damn your little plan, you she-devil! We will speak of it to-morrow. -Good-night, my blessed aunt. Pleasant dreams." - - - - - *CHAPTER XVIII* - - *MICHEL* - - -In St. Placide, as elsewhere, the habitants usually build their houses -quite near to the main road, with a background of green fields, but -scarcely a tree by the house to give shade in summer or to break the -force of the wind in winter. It is an ancestral custom, perhaps, coming -down from the time when there was danger from wild beasts, Indians and -forest fires; or it may be that the good habitants do not value trees -because they find them superfluous. City people love to surround their -homes with lawns and trees, a sort of make-believe country, but in the -true country they are in the way, occupying space that could be used for -other purposes, and giving shade injurious to potatoes, turnips, onions, -cabbages, and all the other useful products of the vegetable garden. In -the mountain valleys, above all, good land is scarce, and it is wasteful -to give it over to the growing of trees, which do well enough in the -hills above and the swamps below. For firewood, trees are necessary, -but for shade, what need? The warm, sunny days are all too few, in any -case. As for beauty, what could be finer than a broad expanse of -cultivated fields, sunny open spaces of green and yellow, with the dark -forest all about, a lovely picture in a handsome frame? - -Michel Gamache was no cultivator, and his thoughts of trees were not -those of a grower of cabbages. To him the forest was a place of refuge, -and every tree a sentinel on guard. How faithful they were, those tall -sentinels, always standing in their places, always interposing their -bodies as a shield, always spreading their branches as a covering? He -loved them, every one, the maples, the poplars, the birches; but most of -all the pines, the spruces, the balsams, and all the tribe of -evergreens, that protected him against the summer's heat and the -winter's cold and were a barrier between him and the outer world. They -were good companions, too, for they talked with him in a language that -he well understood, music that caused his heart-strings to vibrate, and -awoke responsive echoes in his soul. In all the changing seasons, when -the wind blew and when the air was still, in sunshine and rain, by night -and by day, he loved to be in the forest, to see the varied forms, -colours, and movements of the trees, to hear their voices, to converse -with them without reserve, to be silent and to know that they were his -friends. Yet he was no misanthrope, this strange man, but a lonely -spirit whom the neighbours could not understand, and who felt most at -home in the company of trees. - -The neighbours seldom visited Michel Gamache, for they feared him, and -it was a long and lonely path that led to his log castle in the forest. -He was known as a wise man, one who had insight into the ways of the -world and the hearts of men; could predict the weather and read the -signs of the times; understood the medicinal virtues of all plants; was -on friendly terms with all beasts, birds, and fishes; had sources of -information unknown to the generality of men; could give advice that -would heal the sick, discover lost property, unite estranged friends, -and lead the distressed and perplexed into the way of prosperity and -peace. - -He was a sorcerer, who had sold his soul to Satan for a great treasure -of gold; who never went to Mass nor confessed to the priest; who was -often changed into a _loup garou_; who could cause cows to drop their -calves, to withhold their milk, to become frantic and run away into the -forest. He had the fatal gift of the evil eye; could bring the itch, -the measles, the smallpox, and disease of every other kind; in short, he -could command all the powers of darkness to torment and destroy his -enemies, if only he wished to do so. Fortunately he had seldom, if ever, -used this malignant power; and could usually be propitiated by a small -offering, which, strange to say, he always refused. It was part of his -contract with Satan, it would seem, that he should give his most -valuable advice for nothing; though why the evil one should have made a -stipulation so favourable to the neighbours it was hard to understand. -Possibly Michel thought to save himself some of the pains of Purgatory -by works of charity; but he should know that it was not a question of -Purgatory any more when one had sold oneself to Satan, who would come -some time, unexpected and unwelcome, and drag the lost soul down to the -bottomless pit, where works of charity were of no avail and indulgence -was unknown. - -It was terrible, no doubt, the fate of a sorcerer, and dangerous to have -communications with him; but what was one to do when in great trouble -and all other means had failed, when the priest could not help and the -saints gave no heed? Surely the good God would forgive poor people who, -in their extremity, sought aid from such a source. Besides, some said -that Michel was no sorcerer at all, but a practiser of white magic, a -familiar of good spirits, and that they who consulted him were in no -sense tainted with the sin of witchcraft. Surely it was right to give -the old man the benefit of the doubt. Anyway, one could confess and -receive absolution, for Father Paradis had never accused Michel of -witchcraft, but only of neglecting his religious duties; and had always -let the penitents off with reproof and warning and a penance not too -severe. - -Jean Baptiste laughed at all this idle talk; yet in the hour of loss and -disappointment he turned, not to the priest, the professional confessor, -but to his friend and his father's friend, the old man who had known -defeat and humiliation, but had gained wisdom and strength, a true -appreciation of the values of life, a high courage in danger, and a -joyful hope toward the future that rested in the good will of God. If -any man could give advice at such a time it was Michel Gamache; but in -any case he would understand, and it would be a great relief and -satisfaction to tell him everything, to show him the destruction and -ruin that had come, to consider what material should be cast away, and -what could be used again in making a new building out of the wreckage of -the past. - -So Jean Baptiste, on the evening after the great fire, when the -benumbing effect of the calamity was over and he had come to realize the -full magnitude of the disaster, betook himself to the forest retreat of -Michel Gamache. - -Michel, who was sitting on the doorstep, heard Jean coming along the -winding path, and rose to meet him as he came out into the open. - -"Good evening, Jean," he said, "I was expecting you." - -"Yes," said Jean, "I would come to you, of course." - -"Of course," said Michel, nodding his head. "You are in trouble." - -"Do you not know, Monsieur Gamache, that my house is gone, burned to the -ground? You have been away, then." - -"Yes, I have been away for some time, at Lac Desir, up there. I was -arranging my camp for the winter. There will be good trapping this -season, better than ever. Oh, the prospects are good, excellent. Come -with me, Jean; we shall both become quite rich. A single skin of the -silver fox, as you know, may be worth a thousand dollars, or more. -There will be caribou without limit, and moose; not to mention hares and -grouse, so that we shall not lack for food. With a few bags of flour -and some sides of bacon we shall live like lords, better than the guests -of the Hotel St. Louis, I assure you. And oh, the freedom, the glory of -that life, far from the world, near to Nature and to God! It would be a -good place for you, Jean, for a time--a retreat, you know. At times -people need that, my son, for the soul's rest. But your house is gone, -you say? Well, that was to be expected." - -"Expected?" - -"Assuredly, my son. Did I not warn you? No? Well, it could not have -been prevented. Pamphile Lareau is here, is he not?" - -"Pamphile? Do you know, Monsieur Gamache, that he saved my life at the -risk of his own?" - -"Yes, I know. Which proves, does it not, that he started the fire?" - -"Started the fire? Impossible! It was the lightning." - -"You think so, Jean, but you are mistaken. Listen. Last evening at -midnight I was at my cabin at Lac Desir, thirty miles away, sitting on a -log near the door and looking out on the lake--a mirror in which all the -stars were reflected. Not a cloud was in the sky. Suddenly there was a -flash, as of lightning, and there, in the middle of the lake, stood La -Folie; and on the top of the roof lay Jean Baptiste Giroux, yourself, -pale as one who is dead. Then the brightness was gone, but still the -shadow of the house was on the lake, and would not go away. After a -time a light appeared in the window, then a burst of flame; and I saw -the people running out of the door, climbing from the windows, the -neighbours arriving, with much excitement and confusion and wild -gesticulation. But still the body of Jean Baptiste, your body, lay upon -the roof, until Pamphile arrived and you were saved. Yes, I saw it all, -as in the depths of a crystal. Did I see Pamphile kindle the fire? No, -for it was quite dark, you know; but that he did it I have no doubt. It -was not the lightning; therefore it was Pamphile. So I knew that you -would need me, and I came. Thirty miles through the forest would be a -good walk even for a young fellow like you, would it not?" - -"Indeed it would, Monsieur Gamache, and I thank you for coming. It does -me good to talk with you. Already I begin to take courage, to make new -plans, to see light ahead. But as to Pamphile, surely you are mistaken. -At great risk he led me down from the burning roof. It was the act of a -hero, and I have a mind to forgive him for everything--for burning the -house, even, if he really did it." - -"Forgive him if you like, Jean, but watch him all the same. Yes, it -will be worth while to watch Pamphile and that witch, Mere Tabeau. They -have other plans, without doubt. The fire was only a beginning. -Pamphile would kill you, Jean, if he could." - -"This is interesting, Monsieur Gamache. You make me forget, almost, the -loss of my house, and my other troubles." - -"Other troubles, Jean? What are they, my son? But I know without -asking, and I tell you that there is no cause for trouble. She loves -you." - -"No, Monsieur Gamache. On the contrary, she has gone to the convent; -for she does not love me, nor anything in the kingdom of earth. It is -the heavenly kingdom that she desires, and the good God whom she loves." - -"Do not believe it, Jean," said the old man, with an inscrutable smile. -"It is you only that she loves; and if she thinks of the religious life -it is because of love--and pride. But love is stronger than pride. To -what convent, Jean?" - -"The Ursulines, Monsieur Gamache." - -"The Ursulines. Well, that is not so bad. Teaching sisters. That is -not to throw away one's life altogether. They are good ladies, those -sisters of Ste. Ursule. She will be happy there, after a time, after -she has forgotten. But to forget--there is the difficulty. Has Mother -Sainte Anne forgotten, I wonder?" - -"Mother Sainte Anne?" - -"Only an acquaintance of former days, Jean, a friend of forty years ago. -But have courage, my son. Gabrielle has not yet taken the veil, has not -even begun the novitiate. The bride of Heaven? No, no! For a young -girl of such accomplishments, of a beauty so rare, of an affection so -tender, it was a sad mistake. How I would have cherished her! How she -would have adorned the home, brightened the fireside! And the children -that might have played about, sat upon one's knee, thrown their arms -about one's neck! _Mon Dieu_! _Mon Dieu_! What a mistake!" - -"Monsieur!" - -"Jean!" - -"You are not speaking of Gabrielle." - -"Of Gabrielle? No. Yes. She will be all this to you, and more. Have -courage, my friend." - -"Monsieur Gamache, you are a true friend, one who stands by in the hour -of need. Those dark clouds are passing away now, and the sky is -clearing, with the promise of a fine day to-morrow. Good night, -Monsieur, and thank you a thousand times." - -"Wait, Jean. You have not spoken of the house." - -"The house? Oh, I had forgotten that. It is not of much consequence, -by comparison. Indeed, I am almost glad that it is gone. Yet it is a -great loss, a calamity." - -"And the debt, Jean!" - -"The debt. Yes, that is still worse. Bonhomme Laroche will try to take -the farm, I fear--the old place where we have lived for so many years. -For myself I should not care, but for the good mother it would be -terrible." - -"You are right, Jean. To the young such a calamity is nothing. They -have good health, the strong arm, the cheerful spirit, the high courage, -the undaunted will. Nothing can subdue them. They are downcast, for a -time; but presently they rise again, stronger than ever, more eager for -the struggle, the test of manhood. But with the old it is different. -They have not the vigour, the joy of living any more; nor the elasticity -of spirit that gives the rebound, the recovery. They fall, and remain -on the ground; they are injured, and the wound does not heal; they are -sick, and do not recover. No, Jean, the old are afflicted with an -incurable disease. The joy of battle is not for them. For them sleep -and rest--the sleep of death, the rest of the grave. Jean, the good -mother must not leave the old home." - -"No, Monsieur Gamache; it must not be. I will see to that." - -"But how, Jean?" - -"Oh, Monsieur, I will find a way, you may be sure. For one thing, -Bonhomme the miser cannot claim his principal--that will not be due for -two years. He can demand only the interest, a trifling sum, after all. -Meanwhile the farm is there, and I shall have the mail contract and some -tourists. In winter there will be lumbering or the trapping of which -you speak. When I think of silver foxes at a thousand dollars apiece I -see the debt vanish in a single season. Oh, we are not ready to die -yet, by any means. A man of my size and strength can surely earn a -living for the good mother and pay the debt off as well. Do not fear, -Monsieur Gamache." - -"I have no fear for you, Jean, no fear at all. But come with me--I have -something to show you." - -Michel led the way into the cabin, a habitation of a single long room, -with a fireplace and the apparatus of a kitchen at one end, and the -furniture of a bedroom at the other. It was the abode of a hunter and -fisherman, yet everything was neat and proper as though cared for by the -hand of a woman. On the walls were guns, fishing-rods, and snowshoes; -the antlers of caribou, moose, and red deer; a snowy owl; a golden -eagle; with various quaint decorations in shells and porcupine quills -after the manner of the Montaignais Indians. On the floor were the -tanned skins of bear, wolves, and lynxes; while over the fireplace, like -the holy picture of a shrine, hung a water-colour by a famous -artist--the portrait of a young and beautiful woman. - -"There, Jean, my son, son of my old friend Toussaint Giroux, behold that -picture! You have seen it before, but do you know who it is? No; but I -will tell you. It is Mademoiselle Annette Duval, formerly of the parish -of Chateau Richer, now Mother Sainte Anne of the Ursulines, the patron -saint of this retreat, the holy angel who protects this place, who -presides over this home. You have said that Mademoiselle Gabrielle is -with her. Well, she is in good company, and will receive the best of -advice. Have courage, my friend. Mother Sainte Anne is religious, -without doubt, but something more than that. Beneath the robe of -religion there beats still a woman's heart. I have not seen her in -forty years, but I know that those eyes have the same gentle gaze, those -lips the same lovely smile, and that day and night she prays for one -whom once she loved." - -Michel stood in silence for some moments as one who prayed, and then -turned suddenly to Jean with a dramatic gesture and an air of -cheerfulness, almost of gaiety. - -"Well, Jean Baptiste, did I bring you here to worship at the shrine of a -bygone generation? By no means. It was to solve the problem of your -life, to untangle the complication of your affairs, to put you on the -road to fortune, fame, and love. To that end I will reveal to you the -secret which I have guarded for forty years. You look incredulous, my -friend, but you shall see and believe. Remove that bearskin, if you -please. Yes, the big one in the centre of the room. You see that -trap-door with the iron ring? Take hold and lift. Heavy? Only a -hundred pounds or so--a mere trifle for a man like you. Now let us -descend. We will take one of the candles from the altar--no sacrilege -in a cause like this. Come on, Jean. Now we can see better, as our -eyes become accustomed to the gloom. Do you see the old iron box in the -corner over there--there where it has rested so many years? It is ten -years since I examined it, but there is no reason to think that it has -been disturbed in all that time. Dieu, if it has been touched! But no, -it is covered with the dust of many years. Lift the lid. You cannot? -No, for it is locked. Do not be impatient--it was only a little joke of -mine. Here is the key. Turn it once--twice. There, you have it. Open -now, and look--look!" - -"_Mon Dieu!_" said Jean, as he knelt by the box, and eagerly scanned the -contents. "What a quantity of gold! Napoleons, sovereigns, and some -Spanish coins of fifty years ago. A treasure, a great treasure! The box -is not large, but heavy. Let us try. _Sapre_, but it weighs four or -five hundred pounds, at the very least. It would take a strong man to -carry it away, but a burglar might pick the lock. Lucky that there are -no such people in St. Placide. Still, Monsieur Gamache, I recommend -that you place this money in the bank at Quebec. It has been safe for -forty years, but I should fear to leave it here for a single night. But -what a treasure! I begin to believe that you are a sorcerer after all, -and that these piles of yellow coin are devil's gold." - -"Nothing of the sort!" exclaimed the old man, in high glee. "It is all -good money of the mints of France and England, good yellow gold, -receivable anywhere in the world. And what is more, Jean, my son, it -belongs to you." - -"To me, Monsieur Gamache? Impossible! Certainly not!" - -"But yes, Jean, it was your father's, and now it is yours." - -"My father's? How can that be? He was always a poor man." - -"His own fault, Jean, when he had a treasure like this. You, I hope, -will not be so foolish. It is yours, as I have said. Be so good as to -take it away." - -"But why did not my father take it?" - -"Why? Why? How do I know? Because, because your father was the -biggest damn fool that I have ever known. He was a fool, I say, and I -was another. We were two fools, two drivelling idiots. Be wise, Jean, -and ask no more questions. It is good gold, yellow gold, coin of the -realm, receivable for all debts, bankable anywhere in the world, of -unquestioned value. What more do you want?" - -"Only one question, Monsieur Gamache. Why then did my father refuse to -take it?" - -"_Peste!_" exclaimed Michel, stamping his foot. "This is the old man -again, a chip from the old block; yes, the old blockhead himself. Well, -if you will have it, I will tell you. It was a treasure that we found -in the hulk of a ship half-buried in the sands of Anticosti. There were -no names, no papers, only the bones of some men along the shore with -some fragments of clothing--that was all. The wreck we burned; the -bones we buried in the sand; and the gold we took to Ste. Famille on the -Isle of Orleans--that is to say, it was I who took it?" - -"And my father?" - -"Refused to take it--would not touch a single piece." - -"No?" - -"No! Because, as he said, they were smugglers or pirates, those men who -had been cast away; and the gold was the reward of robbery, or the price -of blood. Yes, he said, in the very words that you have used, that it -was devil's gold. He would have given it to the Church, that the altar -might sanctify the gift, as he said; but I would not. No, and I left it -buried for forty years. Devil's gold? What folly! Yes, he was a -valiant man, that Toussaint Giroux, a valiant man and a trusty friend; -but obstinate as a mule." - -"Devil's gold!" repeated Jean, slowly. "The reward of robbery. The -price of blood. Yes, that was it, a treasure acquired by fraud or -force, jetsam that one may not own, but may dedicate to a holy purpose. -He was a valiant man, that good father, as you have said. He would not -touch the treasure, and I, his son, I will not touch it either." - -Michel held up the candle and passed it slowly before the face of Jean -Baptiste, but could find in the firm mouth and steady eye no sign of -relenting. Then, with a shrug of the shoulders, he said, as though -reciting an oft-repeated formula: - -"It would be useless, no doubt, to remind you that you are throwing away -a fortune, that you are allowing a mass of wealth to lie idle that might -start a great enterprise and give work to a thousand men. It would be -in vain to tell you that you are giving up all your plans for the -improvement of the parish; that you are sacrificing your mother and the -girl you love; that you are blighting your life, blasting your -prospects, and shutting the door of opportunity in your face. That is, -in substance, what I said to Toussaint Giroux; that is what I say to -Jean Baptiste, his youngest son--and with the same effect." - -"The same," said Jean Baptiste. - -"Then I have to tell you, Jean, that you are the same species of fool as -your father. What a damn fool he was, that man! I rejoice to think of -it. What courage! What determination! What resolve! A hero, a knight -without fear and without reproach. Such a man was your father, Jean, my -son. Never forget it! Jean Baptiste, son of Toussaint Giroux, I salute -you!" - - - - - *CHAPTER XIX* - - *MOTHER SAINTE ANNE* - - -It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and the shadows of the tall -houses of the Rue des Jardins reached already the middle of the narrow -street, as an old gentleman in the garb of half a century ago passed -along the shady side and entered the open gate of the Ursuline Convent. -He was a tall man, not handsome, but of an erect bearing and -distinguished appearance; and the fashion of his frock coat of fine -homespun, his beaver hat and black stock, together with his carefully -trimmed grey hair and whiskers, proclaimed him a country dandy of a -former generation, dressed for Church, or to pay a visit of importance -to his lady love. - -It was more than forty years since he had last paid such a visit, and -the costume of that occasion had reposed in the bottom of an old cedar -box during all those years. But now he wore it with pride and dignity; -and carried his light malacca cane with something of the swagger of -former days, when he had thought himself as good as any of the young -bloods of Quebec, not excepting the army officers, who trusted overmuch -in the grandeur of their red uniforms to win the ladies' hearts. Was he -not a cadet of a good family; son of the seigneur of Ste. Famille on the -Island; and had he not the right to hold up his head among the best? -Indeed, whether he had the right or not, he was accustomed to do so by -virtue of his consciousness of personal merit and his strong right hand. -Evidently, the old gentleman had been a force to be reckoned with; and -even now the memory of a bygone glory seemed to linger about him, -commanding the respect and deference of all the passers-by. - -Crossing the paved courtyard with an active stride remarkable in one of -his years, he pulled the door-bell and waited until the portress came, a -sister of mature age and sober mien. - -"May I have the honour of an interview with the Reverend Mother -Superior?" - -The sister hesitated. - -"It is somewhat unusual," she began, but immediately added: "I dare say -that the Reverend Mother will see you. Will Monsieur be so kind as to -give his name?" - -The old gentleman presented a thin visiting-card, and was shown into the -waiting-room with the intimation that the Reverend Mother would soon -appear. The room was plainly furnished; with a carpet of dull colours, -a few straight-backed chairs, and a plain walnut table on which were -some religious books--the _Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignace_, the -_Imitation of Christ_, a _Roman Breviary_ in four volumes, and a life of -Angele de Brescia. On the bare walls was a large crucifix, and a number -of holy pictures representing the Lord Jesus, the Holy Mother, Sainte -Ursule, and other saints and martyrs, both men and women; who for the -love of God had forsaken parents and friends, abjured the world, -crucified the flesh, and given themselves a living sacrifice unto God. -It was an exhibition of piety such as might well make one regret the -struggles and sins of the outer world, admire the sincerity and devotion -of those who had chosen the way of the Cross, and rejoice in the thought -that they were now singing the eternal song around the throne of God. - -As the old man stood looking at the ascetic and courageous faces, the -spirit of the place came stealing upon him; and he saw that there was a -way of life in which the lonely, the loveless, the defeated and -disappointed, as well as men and women of high ideals and lofty -purposes, might find refuge, shelter, companionship, and peace, and have -at the same time work to do that would give scope to all their powers -and absorb all their thoughts. They would suffer, no doubt, but not -more than others; while they would have great satisfaction in the -success of their work and the triumph of their cause. It was a good -life in itself for those who had the vocation; and as for the final -reward there was a wonderful hope, a glorious chance, for which sane -people might well throw down the vain baubles and frivolities of the -world. Yes, the religious life was not to be despised. Only human love -was lacking, but what was that? A passing fancy, the pastime of an -hour. - -"Monsieur Gamache." - -The old gentleman turned from the holy pictures to find the Reverend -Mother Superior standing before him, a little old lady clad in the garb -of the Ursulines, with a rosary of plain jet beads about her neck, from -which hung an ivory crucifix, yellow with age. Her sweet, wistful face -was pale, but she smiled, and her eyes glistened as she held out her -hand to the old friend. - -He bent over the frail little hand and raised it to his lips in the old -courtly way. As for words, he could find none. - -"Be seated, Monsieur," said Mother Sainte Anne, taking up the thread of -conversation dropped so many years ago. "It is a great pleasure to see -you again, and all the more so because quite unexpected. 'Until -to-morrow,' you said, as we parted that day. I remember it well. A -good many to-morrows have come and gone since that time. Yet I should -have known you anywhere. It is I who have changed the more." - -"But no, Annette--pardon me, Reverend Mother--I do not find that you -have changed in the least." - -The Mother Superior smiled, and a faint blush appeared on her pale -cheeks. - -"In one respect you have not changed, Monsieur Gamache--you were always -able to turn a compliment in a very pleasant way, though without much -regard to fact, perhaps. It is sinful; yet one likes to hear those -charming little untruths, which flatter but do not deceive. You shall -confess to Father Felix, Monsieur, and he will give you a suitable -penance." - -"Confess, Reverend Mother? To what end? That is what I have not done in -forty years. There, I am confessing now, and already I feel better. -You have power to grant absolution, have you not?" - -Mother Sainte Anne held up her hands in amazement and horror. - -"Forty years! You have not confessed once in all that time, since, -since---- _Bon Dieu_, what neglect! What a sin against the soul, -against the spirit of God! If you had died thus, would any prayers, my -prayers, or those of your guardian angel, even, have been able to -deliver you? Oh, Monsieur Gamache, Michel, my old friend, delay no -longer, not a single day. The grace of God is everlasting, -inextinguishable. It still pursues you; and by my voice it once more -asks you to confess, to demand forgiveness, to receive absolution." - -The Reverend Mother was weeping, and Michel Gamache was not unmoved. -Yet he could not at once rid himself of the cynicism of years, but -allowed himself to doubt his best friend. - -"Is it that you ask this as a personal request, Reverend Mother, or -merely to save another soul from Hell?" - -"Michel," said the old lady, in a low voice, "I have not seen you once -since the day we parted, but during every day in all those years I have -wished, yes, I have prayed that we might meet again in the eternal -world." - -"Why then, Annette, did you leave me at that time, without a word?" - -"Michel," she replied, in a broken voice, "they told me that you had -gone away in anger, and afterwards that you were dead. It was not for -years, when it was too late, that I learned the truth." - -"Annette," said the old man, "I was always sure that there was some -mistake; and always have I thought of you with the same regard, a love -that will last until the end of life, and afterwards, whether in Heaven -or Hell, will remain the same." - -"Michel, it is good to hear you talk like that, for now I know that we -shall meet again in the homeland of the soul. You will go to Father -Felix, will you not, this very day? You will find him in the Basilica -an hour before sunset, in the little box to the right as you enter the -main door. You will see him?" - -"At least I will visit Father Paradis at St. Placide immediately after -my return." - -"No, Michel, do not delay. You will find Father Felix to-day, will you -not, for my sake?" - -"Yes, Annette, I will do it for your sake--and my own." - -"Michel, you make me very happy," said Annette, in words that Michel had -heard before, in the old days. "I have transgressed, I fear, the rules -of the convent, and I also shall have confessions to make. But I am -glad that you have come, and Father Felix will understand." - -"Yes, he will understand, no doubt, if he is still a man. The priests, -fortunately, are human beings like ourselves; and have the same -temptations, the same sufferings. Who could confess to an angel who has -never passed through the human life? But the priests, the saints, the -Holy Mother, the Lord Jesus--they know, they understand. And you, -Reverend Mother, will understand when I present a petition in favour of -my friend, my son, I may say--Jean Baptiste Giroux, of our parish." - -"Jean Baptiste Giroux? I do not know of him. He is a son, perhaps, of -your ancient friend Toussaint Giroux, of Chateau Richer, whom I have -seen in former times. He was a noble young man, I have heard." - -"Yes, Reverend Mother, and the son is like his father, tall, strong, -courageous, with all the virtues, all the abilities. But for all that, -one whom he loves has left him, and will give herself to the religious -life." - -"And why not, Monsieur Gamache?" - -"Why not, you say? How can you say that, Annette? Will it not be a -mistake, a sad mistake, as in our case?" - -"Oh!" exclaimed Mother Sainte Anne, with a catch in her voice. "Was it -for this you came? Well, it will be useless, I fear. Mademoiselle -Tache will take the first vows very soon, and after that it is not -likely that she will change her mind. She will be a notable addition to -our Congregation--a young lady of good family, beautiful, accomplished, -vivacious, of a charming disposition, of a most ardent devotion, and -with a considerable dowry. Yes, that is not to be despised, the dowry -which the bride of Heaven brings to her Lord and Master, a gift to lay -at His feet, a contribution to the great work of the Church through the -humble sisters of Sainte Ursule. Yes, Monsieur, Mademoiselle Tache will -be happy and useful with us. She is in every way fitted for the -religious vocation, and as a teaching sister will be one of the best. -Many heretics are won to the true fold through teachers such as she. -Yes, I foretell great things for her. A true vocation." - -"A vocation? Reverend Mother, can you believe it?" - -"But certainly. Who could doubt it? She has all the qualities, all the -marks, and she wishes it sincerely." - -"Are you certain, quite certain?" - -"Of course," replied the old lady, with some asperity. "Has she not said -so?" - -"But, Reverend Mother, permit a single question. Does she know that Jean -Baptiste loves her, with his whole heart, without reserve? Does she -know this, or does she think that he has forsaken her, that he despises -her, that he is in love with another?" - -"How should I know, Monsieur? Mademoiselle Tache has been very reserved -on this point. There has been some affair of the heart--that is all -that I know." - -"Reverend Mother," said the old man, rising. "Grant me but one favour -for the sake of old times. Be so kind as to tell Mademoiselle Gabrielle -what I have said." - -"I will tell her, of course, but it will make no difference. Those who -are called to the religious life are inspired by a love that is higher -than any mere human emotion. It is a live coal from the altar of God, a -spark of that love which brought the divine Saviour to earth to live and -die for a lost world. And when one thus gives oneself in the spirit of -true devotion, one finds a peace and rest which the world cannot give, -and bliss ineffable on the bosom of the divine Redeemer. In our love for -Him and for His cause all human loves are embraced and glorified--we -give them up that we may receive them again, purified and transfigured, -in the beauty of holiness. Ah, Monsieur, the religious life is a good -life; and afterwards, in the eternal world, the faithful will live with -God unto the ages of the ages. Amen!" - -"Amen!" said the old man, solemnly. "Give unto them eternal rest, O -God; and may perpetual light illumine them!" - -"Adieu, Annette," said Michel, a moment later. "It has been good to see -you again." - -"Yes, and for me also," said Mother Sainte Anne. "But tell me, Michel. -Did you come for the sake of your young friend only, or for Gabrielle?" - -"No, Annette. It was for your sake most of all. I have been on the -point of coming for many years, and the other motive was the occasion, -the pretext, merely." - -Mother Sainte Anne's face lighted up with a radiant smile; and through a -mist of tears Michel Gamache saw again the youth and loveliness of -former years, and was satisfied. - - - - - *CHAPTER XX* - - *THE ROBBERY* - - -"There, my nephew," said Mere Tabeau, as the two emerged from the forest -surrounding the log castle of Michel Gamache. "Behold the den of the -beast. He has gone away for a day or two, permitting us to make a little -exploration. Very considerate of him, was it not?" - -"But there is nobody here--no dog, even." - -"No, my good nephew, not even a dog. It is a sorcerer, the inhabitant -of this place, a species of wolf, you know; and wolves have no love for -dogs. There are no domestic animals of any kind; and no wild beasts -either, except the sorcerer himself and some of his cousins, who come -from the forest now and then." - -"Wolves?" exclaimed Pamphile. - -"Even so," she sneered. "But do not fear, my brave nephew; they spend -the day in the recesses of the forest, and do not come out until the -evening twilight. Fear nothing." - -"Bah!" said Pamphile. "I have no fear of people, nor dogs, nor even -wolves. If they were here there would be something to kill. No, my -aunt, it is not wolves that I fear, but this damned silence. There is -not the call of a bird, the chatter of a squirrel, nor the chirp of an -insect. Even the leaves of the trees are still. It is a silence that -one can hear. It is as though it were a place of the dead. My aunt, it -would be better, I think, to go away." - -The old crone laughed in scorn, a shrill, cackling laugh that woke the -echoes of the forest. - -"There!" she said. "You hear something, do you not? Bah! You surprise -me, Monsieur the bravo of Nevada. One who carries a pistol, one who has -fought with savages, cowboys, cattle-thieves, gamblers, one who has -saved his enemy from a burning house--to be afraid of a silence, and in -broad daylight! It is to laugh. Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho! Well, let us go -away. Let us leave the treasure, and the old miser will give it to Jean -Baptiste. _Hein_? You don't like that?" - -"_Sacre_!" said Pamphile. "He shall not have it, that proud one, that -peasant with the swagger of a grand seigneur, that bishop that was to -be. He despises me, does he? He strikes me with a whip, like a dog. -Sacred pig's head! I will see him crawl in the dust, and then I will -crush him with my foot. Obtain the treasure, he? Come on, my aunt; let -us storm the castle. Shall we break down the door or cut out a window? -The door is on the latch, you say--not barred? _Mon Dieu_! Is it -possible? A treasure in such a place, and no bolt, no bar, no guard? -My aunt, it is a trap. You shall press the latch; you shall open the -door; and then you shall receive a charge of buckshot in the body. No, -the game is not worth the candle." - -"Coward!" snarled the old hag. "Good-for-nothing! Call yourself a man! -Get out of my way, you chicken-liver, you who have not the spirit of a -mouse! There! I open the door; I enter the den; the beast is not -there; there is no gun, no trap, no weapon of any kind but what you see -on the walls, in full view. Now you can arm yourself to the teeth, if -you like; but there is no need. Oh yes, I have been here before, to -make a reconnaissance, so to speak; and I would have taken the treasure -myself, but that it is too heavy. You will have trouble to lift it, my -nephew. But you are strong, Pamphile, as strong as Jean Baptiste -himself, if you would believe it. You could kill him--you. I say it, -I, your mother." - -"What? What are you saying, my aunt?" - -"No aunt at all, Pamphile--your mother, sure enough, your dear mother. -Kiss me, my son." - -"Wait, my aunt; this is too sudden. My mother? Is it possible? A most -affectionate mother, I must say--a species of ostrich, or alligator. -Well, since you say it, you who should know, I must believe, I suppose; -but I confess that I am not so very proud of the relationship. And my -father, what of him? Perhaps you can reveal this also, since you are -telling things." - -"Well, that is not so easy to determine; but there is reason to think -that it is Monsieur the lord of this castle, the owner of the treasure -that we are to take." - -"Michel Gamache?" - -"No other." - -"Then, my aunt, my mother, if you will, the treasure is ours, in a -sense." - -"That is what I have been trying to say." - -"Well, my sainted parent; let us take what is ours before the old man -returns. He is a miser, as is well known; an unnatural father, as you -have intimated; a rascal in any case. That he is a sorcerer I no longer -believe, for the species of sorcery which he practises is no mystery to -me. I have used it, many a time, back there in Nevada. No, my dear -parents, let us not fool one another any more, for we are all sorcerers -together. Dog does not eat dog, as you know. Curious, that fear that I -had a moment since. It is all gone now; driven away by the power of -reason and a revelation concerning family ties. Come, my lovely mother; -let us find the treasure and take it away without delay." - -"Pamphile, you are a strange mixture of philosopher and fool, coward and -hero; but that is what one should expect from the events connected with -your birth. Some time I will tell you the story, but now we have other -fish to fry. Kick away those skins. There is the trap-door. Lift it. -Let us descend. A candle? I have it. Follow me. Now we are in the -cave, and over there in the corner we should find the box. There it is. -_Dieu merci_! You can lift it, of course. Take it up, now, and carry -it out. I will help you, if necessary. I am not very strong, but for a -treasure like this I could put forth some effort yet. Think of it, -Pamphile, the pleasure of counting all that gold, of feeling the weight -of every piece, of seeing the glimmer of it by the light of a candle. -I, too, must have a cave, a dark cave with no windows; and every night I -will descend to look, and feel and count. It will cost something for -candles, but one cannot have pleasure without expense. As for you, -Pamphile, you will want to spend your share, to gamble it away; and soon -you will have nothing, nothing. What a pity! Better leave it all with -me." - -"When you are tired of talking, my dear mother, will you be so good as -to give me the key?" - -"The key? I have no key. That is what I have not been able to find. -But you can carry the box, I know." - -"There is no need for that, my precious mother. If I had a piece of -strong wire. Ah, here it is in my pocket. A happy accident, is it not? -How useful pockets are! Possibly we might find some other useful -articles there, if the lock should prove refractory--a stick of -dynamite, for example. It is an interesting trade, the locksmith's, one -of the accomplishments that I have learned in the course of my -wanderings. But this is not a difficult combination. There goes one -bolt; and there goes the other. Now the hasp is loose, and the lid is -ready to open. If there is to be an explosion it will come at this -stage. My cherished parent, you shall have the pleasure of opening the -treasure chest, since you have desired it for so many years. The old -can be spared, you know, but the future of the world is with the young." - -"Bah!" said the old woman. "You make a great fuss about nothing, my -brave son; you with the long legs, the broad shoulders, the fierce look, -the big words. Bah! You are a poor excuse for a man. I will lift the -lid, of course, and you shall see what we have come to find. There! -Look now! Look! Oh, _Mon Dieu_! _Mon Dieu_! What is this? _Sacre -diable_! _Millecochons_! _Sacre_! _Sacre_! _Cru-ru-ru-ru-de Dieu_!" - -"What is the matter?" cried Pamphile. "What the deuce is here? No -gold, eh? I thought as much. Stones from the river? Yes, better than I -expected. Oh, be still, you old fool. Stop your yelling. Who is making -a fuss now, I should like to know? Be still, I say!" - -"Oh, Pamphile! Oh! Oh! You do not know, you cannot imagine the -disappointment, the sorrow, after all these years, to see all my hopes, -all my plans, come to an end like this. No treasure, no revenge! Ah, -the miserable one, to rob a poor woman, a poor old woman who had but one -hope, one ambition, one thing to make life worth while! Now all is -gone. No money, no revenge! Nothing, nothing! _Sacre_! _Sacre_! -Pamphile, I am finished. Let us go, my nephew." - -"Nephew?" said Pamphile, as they slowly mounted the steps to the floor -above. "I was your son a moment since, although I did not believe it -for a moment." - -"It was a lie, Pamphile. You are my nephew, truly, the son of my sister -Cecile. She was a fool, Cecile, and I could not abide her. Oh, we were -two doves--Cecile and Celestine--two angels with downy wings. Your -father? He also was a fool. What he could see in Cecile I could not -guess. They went away without my blessing, you may be sure, and soon -after he got himself drowned in the Gatineau. Oh, they were married -with all regularity in the church, by a priest--Father Gibaut of Chateau -Richer. No, you are no son of Michel Gamache, that traitor, that thief! -Ah, if I had him here I would stab him to the heart, that he might be -damned for ever, body and soul. I would go to Hell myself, to see him -burn. A thousand devils take him, stick him on forks, tear his eyes -out, his tongue, his liver, roast him in the fire! Ha, you damned one, -squirm, wriggle, writhe in the fire that never shall be quenched--for -ever, for ever, unto the ages of the ages! Ah, that is revenge, revenge -at last--sweet, sweet!" - -Mere Tabeau was raving; and when she saw the picture of Annette Duval, -serene and calm like a holy saint above an altar, she tore it from its -place; spat upon it; stamped upon it; and then raged about the room like -a wild beast, tearing and breaking, scratching and biting and foaming at -the mouth; until at last she fell unconscious to the floor, and Pamphile -carried her home. - -Toward evening Mere Tabeau recovered consciousness, and asked for the -priest, knowing that she had but a little while to live. Father Paradis -came in haste, carrying the _Bon Dieu_; while Pamphile, who drove, kept -ringing the warning bell; whereat all who heard fell on their knees to -pray for the departing soul. The priest remained with the dying woman -for a long time, hearing her last confession, administering the holy -wafer, anointing with the holy oil, and offering prayers of intercession -until the last breath was expired, the heart had ceased to beat, and the -soul had passed away from the mortal body. - -When Father Paradis came from the chamber of death there was upon his -face an expression of ineffable peace, as of one in communion with the -eternal world; and his eyes had the far-away look of one who gazes upon -things unseen. Even Pamphile felt a sense of awe and mystery, and for -some time drove on in silence. Then, unable to contain himself any -longer, he broke out suddenly: - -"She was a bad woman, Monsieur le cure." - -"What? What is that you say, Pamphile?" - -"She was a wicked old woman, and is now in Hell, no doubt." - -"Ah, Pamphile, how do I know? I am not her judge. She is in the hands -of God." - -"Yes, Monsieur le cure, but if there is a mortal sin which she has not -committed I do not know what it is. I understand that any one of these -is enough to damn the soul. Is it not so?" - -"Yes, Pamphile, if unforgiven. But who shall limit the mercy of God? -Even Judas, if he had repented, might have been forgiven. This poor old -woman, who has sinned and suffered, comes, like Magdalen, to the feet of -Jesus; in repentance and with tears, confesses her sins and receives -absolution. The thief on the cross----" - -"Oh yes, I know," said Pamphile, "but is it possible to cheat God like -that? The old reprobate lives in sin to the very last; and then, to -crown all, performs an act of sublime hypocrisy, cheating herself, the -priest, and Almighty God. If she had died in the fit--what then?" - -"God was merciful to her, Pamphile. He knew the circumstances of her -life, her parentage, associations, temptations. He knows all, -comprehends all, and is able to forgive when we could not. God is our -creator, my son; do not forget that; and is disposed to overlook the -sins of His creatures, poor insects that we are. We do not cheat Him, -no, but He makes allowance." - -"Well, that is a comfortable faith, Monsieur le cure. I hope that the -good God will make allowance for me too, for the little sins of the -past, and for some that I intend to commit before I die." - -"Pamphile!" said the priest, in horror. "That is little short of -blasphemy; and approaches the sin against the Holy Spirit, for which -there is no forgiveness, neither in this world nor in the world to come. -No, my son, one must have the good intention, else one cannot receive -the grace of forgiveness, because the heart is closed. Pamphile, my -son, repent of the sins of the past; cast away the bad intention for the -future; and open your heart to the grace of God. Now, my son, without -delay." - -"Ah, Monsieur, I wish to do so. Indeed, I have already commenced by -giving up a little scheme of mine, the St. Ange Gold Mining Company, -Limited, to which so many of our good friends have subscribed. But I -will not take their money, for they need it more than I." - -"God will reward you, Pamphile." - -"I hope so, Monsieur Paradis." - -"And if you have any other bad intention, Pamphile, cast it from you and -you will have peace in your soul." - -"I will, Monsieur, I will; but first I must settle a little score with -one of the good neighbours." - -"Forgive him, my son, as you hope to be forgiven." - -"Impossible, Monsieur le cure. I will settle the score; and afterwards -I will come and tell you, for I have long desired to turn over a new -leaf. I might have been a good man, Monsieur; but I was turned in the -wrong direction. You shall turn me the other way, Monsieur le cure." - -"Now, Pamphile." - -"To-morrow, Monsieur le cure." - -"There may be no to-morrow, Pamphile." - -"Well, Monsieur Paradis, I will take the risk of that. I was always a -gambler. One more chance; one more throw! Fortune, life, eternity I -will risk once more; and after that we shall see. _Au revoir_, Monsieur -le cure. Will you not say a little prayer for my intention?" - -"Assuredly Pamphile, but I implore----" - -"_Au revoir_, Monsieur. Until to-morrow or the day after." - - - - - *CHAPTER XXI* - - *LOVE AND WAR* - - -It was early morning; and Jean Baptiste, before beginning the day's -work, was walking slowly along the path where he had met Gabrielle and -Pamphile, thinking of the beauty and joy that he had lost, and trying to -reconstruct the pattern of his life out of the broken fragments that -were left. His conversation with Michel Gamache had given him renewed -hope and courage; but now that his friend and confessor was away, his -thoughts went back to the day of calamity, and his feet turned to the -path of disappointment and vain regret. - -It was a lovely path; winding along through the woods in a little glen -where the ground was all covered with ferns, the rocks with moss, and -the trees with lichen; while a clear stream descended in a series of -cascades, filling the air with the sound of falling water--a mournful -accompaniment to the sad thoughts of Jean Baptiste. Had Gabrielle been -there the music of the stream would have been gay as the morning song of -love; but now it was like a dirge; and the lonely glen was as the valley -of the shadow of death. - -Few flowers were there: some white orchids; the green, rank arum with -its bitter root; and the pale, dejected Indian pipe, the corpse-plant, -smoked in ghostly pow-wows by Indians long since dead. In the spring -the baneberry had been in flower; but now only the blood-red berries -were left; and where the trillium had bloomed were only withered leaves, -and a poisonous, purple fruit. The springtime of love was gone; and the -fruition of summer brought nothing but disappointment and despair. - -And yet, on the very spot where Jean had met and lost Gabrielle, he -found a little plant with shining leaves, a delicate white flower, and -long roots of golden thread running through the cool, black mould. The -roots were bitter to the taste, but of a healing virtue, purifying to -the blood; the trefoil was a holy sign, potent to drive away evil -spirits; and the white flower was a symbol of hope, a promise of life -and love. As Jean knelt to gather the little plant, its several virtues -seemed to enter his body and soul, and he arose revived, purified, and -encouraged, once more believing in himself, Gabrielle, the world, and -God. He had drunk a bitter cup to the dregs, it seemed, yet he felt -greatly strengthened. Dark clouds of doubt had hung over his soul; but -now they were passing away; the silver lining was showing; the blue was -appearing; and soon the bright sun would be shining in a clear sky. He -had felt himself alone, deserted by lover and friend; but now it seemed -as though all were returning, and Gabrielle herself could not be far -away. He had been beset by foes, not knowing how to escape; but now he -felt the glow of returning strength, the joy of coming victory; and he -had it in his heart to thank his enemies for having set themselves -against him. So Jean strode up the path, out of the dark valley of -humiliation, toward the lookout point on the hill, into the light and -warmth of the rising sun; and as he went he sang in a deep, resonant -voice a brave song of life and death and war: - - "Malbrough s'en va-t-en guerre, - Mironton, mironton, mirontaine; - Malbrough s'en va-t-en guerre - Ne sait quand reviendra, - Ne sait quand reviendra, - Ne sait quand reviendra." - - -At the top of the hill Jean suddenly ceased to sing; and stood gazing in -astonishment at the figure of a woman in a white dress, with a white -sunbonnet on her head, standing by the fence and looking out over the -valley as though expecting some one. - -"Gabrielle!" - -There was no reply, but the vision was still there. - -"Gabrielle! Is it you, dear? Speak to me!" - -"No, it is not your dear Gabrielle, and I am sorry." replied the -apparition, turning. "But is it true that I resemble her? I should be -much pleased to think so." - -"No. Yes, Mademoiselle Laroche," stammered Jean. "All woman look alike -more or less. There is a resemblance, certainly, and it was heightened -by the sunlight. I was dazzled on coming out of the woods." - -"Indeed!" said Blanchette, with a grim smile. "You are more truthful -than complimentary, Monsieur Giroux. I know very well that I have not a -pretty face. It was my figure, then, that reminded you of Mademoiselle -Gabrielle?" - -"Yes, Mademoiselle." - -"Bah! Jean, why lie any more? You know very well that Mademoiselle -Tache is tall and slender; while I, my friend, am short and plump, -though not exactly stout, as yet. Confess, now, that it was a mere -illusion created by the thought. That of which one is thinking all the -time one sees everywhere. Good philosophy, is it not?" - -"Mademoiselle Blanchette, you are always right. For penetration of -thought there is none that can compare with you." - -"Now, Jean, that is better. There you strike a true note which finds -response in my intellect, if not in my heart. Yes, in my heart as well, -for I am conscious of a certain superiority there also. As for mere -beauty, that will disappear with time; but truth and love, the virtues -of the intellect and of the heart, will endure for ever. Yes, for ever, -Monsieur Jean." - -"I know it, Mademoiselle." - -"And those who have the least beauty, they often can love the most." - -"Yes, Mademoiselle." - -"Yes, you say 'yes, yes' like a parrot. Why do you not utter your own -thoughts? Why do you not say that you have no wish to be loved; that -you desire only to love; to find some object, some perfection of beauty -that absorbs you wholly, in the contemplation of which you are lost, so -that you forget all else; are blind, deaf, dumb, even, in the presence -of all others. Can you deny it, Monsieur Giroux?" - -"No, Mademoiselle." - -"And if that object were taken away, to Heaven, perhaps, or to a -nunnery, which is the same thing, it would be for ever enshrined in your -heart, and you would worship it until the end of life." - -"Yes, Blanchette." - -"And no second object could ever take the place of the first. There -could be no second, Jean Baptiste." - -"Blanchette, all that you have said is true. I will not deny it." - -"It would be useless, Jean. You do not lie with any conviction, my -friend. You are a man of sincerity and truth, such as the good God -seldom finds in man, and in woman, never. What constancy! Listen. I -will tell you a secret. No woman is worth it. We are not like that, we -others. We have our preferences, of course, but when it comes to -choosing, the case is otherwise. To prefer is one thing; to choose is -altogether different. Do you grasp the distinction, Monsieur the -scholar? For example, if we cannot have our first preference we take -the second, or the third; and as to the religious life, that is fourth -or fifth, possibly, according to circumstances. To be the bride of -Heaven, Monsieur, is highly desirable for the salvation of the soul, if -one cannot be the bride of some good, brave, strong man. For me, I also -will be the bride of Heaven, if I must." - -"Blanchette, my friend, my sister, tell me--do you think that she will -return?" - -Blanchette did not speak, but nodded her head emphatically. - -"Why do you think so, Blanchette?" - -"What a question!" exclaimed Blanchette, with indignation. "The young -Apollo wishes an enumeration of his virtues, evidently. Well, he shall -not have it from me. I have given you my opinion, have I not? As for -reasons, I will merely say, as other women do: because. Is that -sufficient?" - -"It must be, since you say so; and I thank you more than I can tell. -And now I must leave you, I fear. There is work to do at the -place--especially since the fire. We are making a new start, you know. -Good-bye, Blanchette, I am glad that you were here." - -"Must you go, Jean?" - -"Yes. The sun is rising high, as you see. _Au revoir_, Blanchette." - -"Wait a moment, Jean. Do not return by the path. Take the road, -rather." - -"Why then? It is much shorter by the path, and I must hasten. Good-bye -again." - -"Jean!" - -"What is it, Blanchette?" - -"Do not go that way." - -"But why not!" - -"Because." - -"Because? You are laughing at me." - -"No laughing matter, Jean. Do not go, I say." - -"Blanchette, this is too foolish. I will go, of course." - -"There may be danger." - -"Danger?" - -"Yes. Now I have said it. There is danger, Jean." - -"That is interesting. Now I shall certainly go. I should like very -much to find a little danger, to begin the day. Life was becoming too -monotonous, altogether. Where is the danger, Blanchette?" - -"In the glen, Jean, where the path crosses the little stream. Ah, now I -have told you, and you will go. I do not wish you to be killed, Jean." - -"Killed? Who would kill me, and why!" - -"They do not wish to kill you, but merely to punish you." - -"Punish me? That is good. But who, then?" - -"Tom Sullivan and Paddy Brady." - -"Ha! Ha! They have tried it before." - -"And Pamphile." - -"_Hein_? Three of them? Well, we must see about that. _Au revoir_, -Blanchette. I shall be all right." - -"Jean!" - -"What then?" - -"Do not kill him." - -"Certainly not. Reassure yourself, Blanchette. Nobody will be killed." - -"Jean! Jean!" called Blanchette, in distress; but he was already out of -sight, hastening with eager steps toward the place of danger. - -At the stream he stopped and looked about in all directions, but could -see no one; and was passing along, disappointed but watchful, on the -other side, where the path skirted a great rock, when two men stepped -out and stood facing him in the middle of the way. They were Tom -Sullivan and Pamphile Lareau. - -"Good morning, gentlemen," said Jean, without slackening his pace, but -turning aside to give them the path. - -"Not so fast," said Pamphile, placing himself directly in front of Jean. -"Stop a moment, if you please. We wish to talk to you." - -"Certainly," replied Jean, stopping within arm's length of the two men, -and measuring them with his eye. "But you will first throw away that -pistol, my friend. You will not need it, I assure you." - -"No, we shall not need it," said Pamphile, with a harsh laugh, throwing -the weapon aside. "Two to one are odds enough, Jean Baptiste." - -"Three to one would be still better, Pamphile--two in front and one -behind, eh? Tell Paddy to come out where I can see him." - -"He is a devil," said Tom, with an oath. "Pat, come around in front. -He will not run away, I can see that." - -"Run away, Tom?" said Jean, in mild surprise. "Why should I do that?" - -"Damned if I know," said Tom. - -"You never saw me do it, did you, Tom?" - -"No, damn you! Not yet." - -"Not yet, Tom? Why do you say that?" - -"Oh, be silent, Tom," broke in Pamphile. "Why all this talk? Don't you -see that he is mocking you. Jean Baptiste Giroux, listen to me. We have -certain requests which we desire to make." - -"Requests, Pamphile?" - -"Yes, requests. Demands, if you like." - -"Demands? That is interesting. I am curious to know what they are." - -"You shall know soon enough. Begin, Tom." - -"Jean Baptiste Giroux, damn you!" spluttered Tom Sullivan. "You know -damn well what I want, and if you don't give it up, by God, I'll kill -you, you cursed thief--kill you, I say." - -"Give up what, Tom?" - -"The mail contract, damn you!" - -"And if not, Tom?" - -"If not? You refuse? He refuses. Come on, boys! All together!" - -But Pamphile laid his hand on Tom's shoulder. - -"Wait, Tom. He has not yet refused. Give him a chance. Wait, I say. -I also have a request to make of Monseigneur the Bishop." - -Jean did not smile any more; but his lips were pressed close together, -and a steely glitter was in his eye. - -"What is it, then?" - -"I ask, Monseigneur the Bishop that was to be; I demand, little priest, -to be permitted to strike you four times across the face with this -little whip; the same, you will notice, that was used the other day. It -was with some difficulty that I obtained it, but here it is--the very -same, I assure you." - -"And if I refuse?" - -"If you refuse, little priest, I propose, for myself alone, not knowing -what the good Tom may wish: I propose to tie you to a tree, without -clothes, of course, and to flog you within an inch of your life. For my -part, I would not kill you, but I might leave you for the mosquitoes." - -"That would be pleasant," said Jean, as though deliberating. "Unique, -too, in this part of the world. I do not like it, at all. And you, -Paddy, what would you do?" - -"I?" said Pat, "I am sick of the whole damned business, but I stand with -Tom. But I'll not see you killed, Jean, no, not that." - -"I let you off easy last time, Paddy." - -"So you did, Jean, damn well I know it. I'll not see you killed, Jean." - -"Thank you for that, Paddy!" - -With that Jean made a sudden spring across the path in front of Pamphile -and Tom; made a feint at Pat's face with his left hand; and with his -right dealt him a terrific blow at the corner of the jaw below the left -ear. Pat fell to the ground, and lay unconscious among the ferns; while -a struggle went on about him that he would have given his right arm to -have seen. - -Instantly Pamphile and Tom fastened upon Jean like mastiffs upon a bear -at bay. Both were strong men; but Jean shook them off, and tried to -close with one alone. More wary now, they circled about him, out of -reach of his powerful hands; but presently he regained the path, stood -with his back to the rock, and they feared to come near. - -"Come on, boys!" said he, with a grim smile. "I am waiting for you." - -"Come on yourself, damn you!" yelled Tom Sullivan. - -"All right, Tom; I am coming. You first, my friend," said Jean, as he -advanced slowly upon Tom; keeping an eye and an arm for Pamphile, who -was about to take him in the rear. This time Tom, who was one of the -best fighters in the parish, stood his ground; exchanged a feint or two -with Jean; and then, nimbly evading a blow that should have felled him -to the earth, he suddenly whirled; his body sank; his feet rose in the -air, one after the other; and he delivered a furious kick at his enemy's -head, the terrible savate, with which he had been known to split open an -adversary's skull, and which, in the lumber woods, had won him the title -of "Terror of the Gatineau." The fight would have ended then and there, -but that Jean, who had been expecting the attack, swerved a trifle to -one side; seized the lower foot, as it rose; and allowed Tom to fall by -his own momentum on head and shoulders with such force as to drive the -breath from his body and to leave him stunned upon the ground. Thus, -frequently, the savate, if not successfully delivered, brings -destruction to him who launches the blow. - -As Tom fell, Jean received a blow at the back of the head that sent him -to his knees; as he sprang to his feet he took another that made him -reel; but the third blow he parried; also the fourth; and then he began -to counter with such effect as to put Pamphile wholly on the defensive; -and forced him back, step by step, now on the path, now trampling among -the ferns, down to the stream and up the slope on the other side, until -they stood upon the very spot where Pamphile, in the presence of -Gabrielle, had been struck in the face and wounded in the soul. - -"Here is the place. Well, Pamphile, have you had enough?" - -Pamphile made no reply, but glared in futile rage, while his right hand -still clutched the whip with which he had planned to take revenge. - -"Ah, the little whip!" said Jean. "And you would like to strike me in -the face? Well, you shall do so." - -"What?" exclaimed Pamphile, in astonishment. - -"I struck you in the face," said Jean, in a calm, even voice, "instead -of killing you; and if it would be a satisfaction to you to strike me in -return you may do it. Now--begin!" - -A peculiar expression, as of a rat driven into a corner, came into the -face of Pamphile, as he slowly raised the whip. - -At this moment a shrill cry rang out through the woods--a woman's voice. - -"Oh! Oh! Jean! Take care! Behind you! Look! Look!" - -The warning came too late; for Pamphile, dropping the whip, sprang at -Jean's throat; while Tom, who had crept up like a cat, seized him from -behind; and together they bore him to the ground. - -There they twisted, writhed and lashed about for moments that were like -hours; but soon were still, for Jean was upon his knees; and then he -rose, slowly, steadily, until he stood erect, with Pamphile still -hanging to his throat, and Tom's strong arms clasped about his body. -They were resting, as it seemed, taking breath for the final struggle; -but presently nerve and muscle were tense again; the strain was on; they -swayed to and fro, trampling the ferns, staggering against the trees, -and all the while moving down the slope toward the stony bed of the -stream. Pamphile and Tom, seeing this, and realizing that Jean meant to -fall on them there, made a tremendous effort; and once more dragged him -down. Then Jean, putting forth all of his great strength, rolled over -and over down the slope; while his enemies, like bulldogs, hung on, now -above, now beneath, until they all lay together in the stream, among the -boulders and pebbles that in ages past had broken from the mountains and -had been worn smooth by the incessant action of falling water. Pamphile -lay beneath the weight of two men; but still his fingers clutched the -throat of Jean, and slowly tightened until he could hardly breathe. - -"Pamphile," he whispered, "let go, or I will kill you." - -The grip tightened, Jean was being strangled to death. - -With a last effort he rose to his knees, seized the head of Pamphile -that was pressed against his breast, forced it back until it touched one -of the large, smooth pebbles; and then, with a sudden jerk, cracked it -like a nut against the rock. The head lay there with staring eyes and -open mouth; the body relaxed; but still the fingers held their grip; and -it was with difficulty that Jean released his throat from the dying -grasp. - -The fight was over. Jean staggered to his feet, in great distress of -body and mind, his face all covered with blood and bruises; and turned -to Tom, who still clung to him, looking up with expression of mingled -hate and fear. - -"Tom!" - -"By God, I'll kill you yet," muttered Tom, making a last and futile -effort. - -"No!" said Jean, putting his hand on Tom's head, and pressing back the -elastic curls of bright red hair. "No, Tom, old man, let us have no more -killing. Oh, why did we do it, Tom, my friend?" - -The terror fled from Tom's soul; the hate and anger too; and as he -looked up at Jean's battered, sorrowful face, he broke down and wept -like a child. - -"Oh, my God, my God!" he moaned. "Why did we do it? Pamphile dead; Pat -dead; and I, I might as well be dead too. My God! My God!" - -"Pat is not dead, Tom. I hear him, I think. Yes, there he comes. -Thank God. Pat is all right, Tom, and you are all right too. Brace up, -old man. But Pamphile? _Mon Dieu_! What have I done? Tom, I am going -away. You will look after Pamphile--you and Pat. There will be some -expense--I will pay it. And the mail contract----" - -"Damn the mail contract!" - -"But no, Tom; it is yours now. You will drive the mail to-morrow, will -you not? The mail must go--Her Majesty's Mail." - -"Yes, I will do it, Jean; but it will be yours when you come back." - -"I am not coming back, Tom. Good-bye." - -"Jean Baptiste," said Tom, grasping the extended hand, "you have been -damn good to us that have been damn mean to you, and it's damn sorry I -am for all our damned cussedness. Come back soon, and we'll be good -neighbours and friends, by God, we will." - -As Jean strode along toward his home he saw Blanchette by the path, -weeping bitterly. - -"Ah, Blanchette, it is you. And you saw it all." - -"Not all, Jean. I was too much afraid, and I hid behind the rock. Oh, -why did I not stop it? _Mon Dieu_, but it was terrible! You are a hero, -Jean Baptiste." - -"No, Blanchette, far from it. A brute, rather, a species of tiger. At -one time I would gladly have killed them all, and drunk their blood. -_Mon Dieu_, what an uprising from the depths! But now that has passed; -and the man, the Christian, is sorry for the deeds of the brute; But you -do not understand such things, Blanchette." - -"No? You think not? Ah, if it were only so. But I, too, have my -struggles, my conflicts. But oh, Jean, you are hurt! Ah, my poor Jean, -he can hardly walk. Lie down here, on the cool moss, and I will fetch -some water from the stream. Ah, _Mon Dieu_! _Mon Dieu_!" - -"No, I am all right. A little dizziness--that was all. It is gone now, -and I must go. No, Blanchette, it is not I who need you, but Pamphile -down there. For me, I could not touch him. Ah, the poor fellow! A -strong man and brave; yes, brave to the last. _Adieu_, Blanchette." - -"_Adieu!_" said Blanchette, going away; and then she turned, suddenly, -fiercely: - -"Jean!" - -"What is it, Blanchette?" - -"Nothing," she said, as she turned away down the path. "There was -something, but I have forgotten. _Adieu_, my friend. May God keep you." - - - - - *CHAPTER XXII* - - *THE WILDERNESS* - - -"Misery loves company," they say. How true and yet how false! The -miserable seek society as they take to drink, that they may forget their -sorrow; but those who are sore hurt, with a pain that cannot be -forgotten, a grief that will not be put aside, creep away to die, or to -be alone, until the cruel wound is healed. They seek the solitary -places, where they may have the silent sympathy of the stars, the -unuttered consolation of the desert, the healing virtue of the -wilderness; where they may renew their strength at the fountain of life, -or return the worn-out body to Mother Earth, and the tired spirit to -Father God. - -So Jean Baptiste, failure, good-for-nothing, who had come to the end of -all his efforts, had seen the ruin of all his hopes; humiliated, -discouraged, deserted by lover and friend, despised and rejected, with -the brand of Cain upon his forehead; fled from the dwellings of men to -the solitude of the forest, to be alone with his wounded spirit, to -fight alone the grim battle with the dark angels of grief, regret, -remorse, and despair. - -Within a stone's-throw of his mother's door was the edge of the great -Laurentian forest, stretching northward without a break to the -settlements of the Saguenay and Lake St. John, and thence north and -north-west to the barren wastes of Labrador and the rocky shores of -Hudson's Bay. In that vast region are lonely places where trappers and -Indians seldom pass and lumbermen have blazed no trail. There moose and -caribou roam undisturbed; there giant pines grow on virgin hillsides; -there lie lakes on which no canoe has ever floated; and there bloom -flowers that are never seen by mortal eye. It is a retreat where one -may be alone; a sanctuary where no enemy may come; a wilderness where -one may be lost; but where one may find paths of peace, rest by still -waters, restoration for the soul, and a meeting-place with God. - -As Jean Baptiste, hunter and trapper now, with a pack on his back and a -rifle in his hand, plunged into the forest, and the trees received him -with open arms, the people and things that he had known seemed to go -into the background of consciousness like the unreal images of a dream. -It was as though he had died, and was awaking in a place where there -were no people, but only trees and underbrush, ferns and moss, wild -grasses and flowers, soft black soil underfoot, and a canopy of leaves -overhead, with openings here and there, through which he could see the -blue sky and white, fleecy clouds. The air was fragrant with moist, -earthy odours, and the scent of flowers and leaves. Not a sound was -heard, save now and then the call of a bird, the chatter of a squirrel, -or the crackle of a breaking twig. So sudden and complete was the -change that Jean thought of himself as another person, seeking refuge in -a new world, but ever pursued by the avenger, his former self, whom he -was vainly trying to leave behind. - -On he went through the cool woods; winding about among the trees, -clambering over rocks and fallen timber, and all the while going up the -mountain-side, until a precipice rose before him, a wall of granite -where there was no foothold, but only crannies here and there, with a -tuft of grass or a sprig of fern growing in a handful of soil. Jean did -not see that it was an impassable barrier; but set himself to it with -blind force; went up a little way; and then fell, torn and bleeding, to -the ground. Presently he took a new path, skirted the rock until he -found a place where trees and shrubs could grow; and here he climbed, -though with great difficulty, to the very top. It was a good omen, this -victory after defeat; and it was with no little satisfaction that he -stood upon the rocky crown of the mountain looking down on the valley -below. - -How small everything looked from an elevation of a thousand feet! The -dwellings and barns were like dolls' houses; the cattle like mice; the -chickens and ducks like flies; and all went about without a sound, like -puppets in a pantomine. Driving along the road at a snail's pace, and -raising a little cloud of dust, were a tiny horse and cart with a -mannikin in the seat holding invisible reins in one hand and an -invisible whip in the other. It was Bonhomme Gagnon, going to market -with his butter and cheese, his potatoes and turnips. What a foolish -little midget, with his pompous air, his absurd swagger and his boastful -talk! And the other neighbours were much the same--tiny insects buzzing -about in the sunlight of a summer's day, soon to be drowned in the rain -or nipped by the early frost. Was it for the good opinion of creatures -such as these that one should plan and work? Glory, fame--what were -they? To hear one's name pronounced by the lips of men; to see them -stare and gape as one passed by; and after that silence, and the pall of -night. It was not worth while. Nothing was worth while but to escape -from the world, to bury oneself in the forest, to ascend some high place -whence one could look down and see the pettiness of everything--and then -to go away and forget. - -It should be easy to forget. One had only to ascend another thousand -feet, and all those objects would disappear from sight, or one could -turn away, plunge into the forest, and they would be gone. Thus one -could at will obliterate the past, annihilate the world. True, but that -would only bring them back again; for to the inward vision they would be -as large as ever, prominent, imposing, dominant. When the former life -was out of sight it was by no means out of mind. When the eyes were -closed, the absent ones, friends and enemies, would return and take -their accustomed places. To banish them would be to commit a species of -suicide, a mutilation of the soul, like cutting off a hand or plucking -out an eye. No, he who would have the fulness of life must forget -nothing; and he who would be brave must not only face the future with -courage, but look with steadfast eye upon the past. Thus Jean Baptiste, -as he stood on the mountain-top, in view of his old home, allowed his -former self to overtake him, and together they went on their way. - -Jean made his way over the crest of the mountain, and down the northern -slope, into a densely wooded valley, pushing through the thick fringe of -alders that bordered the stream, floundering in a maze of swamps and -beaver ponds, stepping lightly over carpets of thick, yielding moss in -the shade of cedars and tamaracks, climbing up again among the beeches -and maples of the middle slopes, the pines and spruces of the higher -ridges, until he stood on the summit of a second range that overtopped -all the southern hills. Looking back he saw beneath him a sea of hills -and valleys, with the edge of a clearing showing here and there; while -far away and beyond were the flats of Beauport, the great river, and the -spires and roofs of Quebec shining in the morning sun. The gleaming -light seemed to beckon, to call him back to a life and work that should -lead in the end to the city, the centre of civilisation, the lure and -reward of all worthy effort; but the spirit of the woods was strong -within him, and he turned his back upon the achievements of industry and -commerce, and all the idols of the market-place, and set his face once -more toward the wilderness. - -For many hours Jean marched along through the woods, steadily going -northward toward the height of land that divides the waters flowing into -the St. Lawrence from those that go into Lake St. John and the Saguenay; -until at sunset he stood upon a low ridge and saw at his feet, in a -hollow between the hills, the lake toward which he had been moving all -the day. He smiled in satisfaction at the feat which he had -accomplished; for he had taken a course across five ranges of mountains, -and kept his direction with such precision that he came out of the -forest within a hundred yards of the cabin that was to be his home. - -A few eager steps brought him to the place, and there it was, in a clump -of pines: a little hut of logs well caulked with moss, with a good roof -of hollowed logs, and an excellent chimney of rough stones, a most -unusual luxury in a trapper's cabin. It was the lodge of Michel -Gamache, where he and Jean had spent many happy days; but where other -hunters seldom came, for it was far in the forest, and the way to it was -rough and little known. - -The door was on the latch; and Jean went in; laid down his gun and pack; -but immediately came out and took the path toward the lake. For a -moment he turned aside into a dense growth of firs, and presently -appeared again with a birch canoe on his shoulders, which he carried -down to the shelving beach and placed in the water. Then he crept -aboard, knelt in the stern, and with a long stroke of the paddle sent -the light craft far out on the lake. - -There was not a ripple on the water but the wavelet in front of the -canoe and the long wake that trailed behind. There was not a living -creature in sight but a pair of loons that floated beyond a rocky islet; -and not a sound but their shrill, quavering cry that echoed and -re-echoed in the hills. The granite rocks along the shore were -reflected perfectly in the water, in all their colours--grey, blue, -pink--and with all their covering of lichen, moss, grass, ferns, and -trees. Birches with their silvery trunks, pines with their long -branches, tall, spire-like spruces were there, pointing upward on the -land and downward in the water; while above and below the trees was the -red glow of sunset, and glorious clouds floated in an azure sky. - -Presently the canoe shot into a long, narrow bay, where the shores came -close together; the shadows met; and a panorama of new beauties unrolled -at every turn. Here a flock of wild ducks rose quacking from the water -and flew over the trees; there a long-legged heron stood in a marshy -place among the rushes; there a doe and a half-grown fawn gazed in mild -surprise, then leaped away and vanished in the woods. Suddenly the bay -came to an end where a stream flowed over a steep cliff into a deep, -clear pool; and here Jean stayed for a while, listening to the music of -the waterfall, watching the trout that lurked under the stones, and -wishing for a rod and line that he might try a cast to see what would -rise out of the depths. - -Night was coming on as Jean turned the prow of his canoe down the bay; -soon it was quite dark; and only the glimmer of stars on the water and -the dense blackness on either side showed the way. Silently the paddle -rose and fell; and on went the canoe through the darkness; until at the -last turn, where the bay joined the main body of the lake, a bright -light appeared over the trees; and the moon rose, making a shining path -across the water. With powerful strokes Jean shot the canoe along the -bright way to the very end; and plunged again into the shadow near the -shore. Presently the light craft touched the landing-place, where Jean -stepped out, pulled the canoe out of the water, turned it bottom up on -the shore, placed the paddle underneath, and went up to the cabin. - -After having fasted all day, Jean was hungry as a bear, and was glad to -find in his pack the food that his good mother had provided. By the -light of a candle he ate his evening meal; and then, spreading his -blankets on a bearskin in the corner, and with his knapsack as a pillow, -he lay down to sleep. - -"Ah!" he said to himself, as the tension of muscle and nerve was relaxed -for the first time since the early morning. "How tired I am! I did not -think that I could be so tired. How good it is to rest at the close of -a long day! And such a day! _Mon Dieu_, but it was a day, a good day!" - -"What, Jean Baptiste?" said his other self. "A good day, you call it, -when you have fought like a beast and killed a fellow-man, a brother, -one who might have been your friend! Do you know what you are saying? -Wake up, Jean." - -"Wake up? But no, I prefer to rest, to sleep--a long, long sleep. And -it was a good day. I have lived. Yes, lived." - -"But what of Pamphile?" said his good angel, in a far-away voice. - -"Pamphile? Pamphile?" murmured Jean, as he went into the land of -dreams. "That fellow with the pretty face? He got it, did he not? Got -what he deserved. Regret it? No! A good fight! A good day!" - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIII* - - *THE CURE* - - -Already the healing power of the wilderness had begun its work, and as -the days passed Jean gradually recovered the tone and balance of mind -that had been so much disturbed. Without knowing it he had been under a -strain for a long time, that tension of brain and nerve so -characteristic of modern life, which the strongest and most ambitious -must endure, when they forsake the old ways and go out into the unknown -to make new paths wherein the feet of generations to come may safely -tread. In the vanguard of progress they do the work of pioneers; in -breaking new ground they are themselves broken; and the army of -civilisation marches on over their graves. - -But Jean Baptiste had left his place in the front rank, and gone to the -rear, to the very remotest rear, where there were no people and neither -sight nor sound of war, where the forest was his hospital and Nature his -physician. What wonder that he grew to love the quiet retreat, and to -wish that he might never hear the battle-call again? - -By night he slept a dreamless sleep, undisturbed by the cry of the loon, -the hoot of the owl, the wail of the lynx, or any call of birds or -beasts that hunt by night. He was up with the dawn, and out in the open, -refreshed and strong, with bright eyes and a joyous heart, breathing the -fragrant morning air, rejoicing in the free movement of every limb, his -whole being expanding in the growing light, and leaping up to meet the -rising sun. - -To Jean the wilderness was as the garden of the Lord. All the trees that -he loved were there, all the wild flowers of the season, with ferns and -mosses of many kinds; there were bubbling springs and clear streams, -shallow ponds and deep lakes, dense thickets and open glades, narrow -glens and broad valleys, low ridges and high mountains, whence he could -look out upon a sea of forest-clad hills stretching away and beyond to -meet the circle of the sky. - -But it was the lake by the cabin that Jean loved most of all, and there -he spent many hours of every day in his birch canoe; plying long strokes -of the paddle; skimming along here and there; exploring creeks and bays -or floating in the shade of a rocky point, at the mouth of a stream or -by a sunken log, while he cast a fly upon the water to lure the wary -trout. When the lake was calm he could see not only the rocks and trees -of the shore, but his own thoughts and feelings reflected there; for it -was a mirror to his soul. When a wind came up and ruffled the surface -with little dancing waves, his thoughts seemed to dance and sparkle in -their turn; and he would sing the song of the voyageur to the hum of the -breeze and the lapping of the waves. When a white squall came, raising -great waves capped with foam, the soul of Jean Baptiste was stirred to -its depths and rose up to meet the foe; as with a strong grip on the -tough paddle he held the canoe to the wind and rode out the storm; -mounting on the crest of the waves, beating down into the trough, -splashed and buffeted, rocked and tossed; but all the time pushing on -toward the lee shore, where at last he lay in calm water, serenely -watching the tempest as it passed. - -Like the human heart, the lake was never twice the same. Even at dawn -it varied with the breeze, the mist, the clouds, the rain, the light of -the waning moon, the gleam of the morning star. All the days were -different, each from the others; so also the nights. Now the lake was a -crystal, now a pearl, now of a pale turquoise blue, now blue like a -sapphire or green as an emerald; and often, at sunset, it was like an -opal with fire in its heart, changing soon to violet and purple tints, -and then taking on the deep indigo of the evening sky, shot with points -and threads of gold. Even on sunless days, when the clouds hung low and -rain fell, there was a pensive beauty in the lake, like the sweet, pale -face of a nun trying to forget the light and love of bygone days in -thinking of the glory that should appear in the eternal world. Truly, -thought Jean, it was good to be in the wilderness, and gladly would he -live and die beside a lake like this. - -Jean was alone in the forest, and yet he had many companions. One who -goes carelessly through the Laurentian woods sees few signs of life, and -hears few sounds; though many eyes watch him, and many creatures come -out of hiding when he has passed by. To Jean, trained in woodcraft from -his early years, the timid creatures showed themselves and spoke in many -tongues. Not only the bold blue jay and the camp-robber came about the -cabin; but the red-headed woodpecker, the chickadee, the wren and the -waxwing came; the crossbill, too, the linnet and the wood-thrush--all -curious to see the strange being that lived there, and eager to pick up -any crumbs that might be lying about. Chipmunks came every day; -sometimes red squirrels; now and then a marten; and often, in the -twilight, a porcupine came, shuffling along, rattling his quills, and -nosing about for scraps of fish and bacon to add to his meagre diet of -bark and roots. - -Not far from the cabin was a pond where a colony of beavers played and -worked every night, diving, swimming and splashing about, slapping the -water with their tails, climbing about on the embankment, or venturing -into the woods to eat pieces of juicy bark or to gnaw patiently at the -trunks of young birches that were to be timber for building and a store -of food for the long winter. There were mink and otter, too, in various -places; and Jean would have made war on them as enemies of the trout, -but that he wished to leave them for trapping later in the year, when -the skins would be in prime condition and would fetch high prices in the -fur market at Quebec. - -All the wild animals came, at one time or another, to the lake. Almost -every evening Jean saw red deer drinking there; occasionally a caribou; -and once a moose, with great branching horns and outstretched muzzle, -calling loudly to his mate, came to the end of the point, plunged into -the water, and swam over to the other side. There were lynx and -wild-cat in the forest that at times made a fearful noise by night. -There were foxes, too; a few lone wolves; and now and then a vagabond -bear, seeking for honey, nests of ants, raspberries and blueberries, -catching a hare or a marmot now and then, and glad to make a meal of -dead fish or carrion when he could find such dainties. - -All these and many more, the hunter and the hunted, came and went; some -with rush and clamour; others silently and on tiptoe; but always leaving -some token of their presence by which Jean knew that they had been near. -In the evening and morning twilight he caught glimpses of them as they -passed; by night he knew them by the sounds they made, the odours they -exhaled, or their bright eyes glowing in the dark; by day he saw their -tracks in the soft earth, the marks of teeth and claws on the trees, the -remains of their feasts, and all the signs of life and death that tell -the joyous and fearful tragedy of the forest. - -Jean had a mind to take part in the tragedy, to be one of the characters -of the play; and the more he thought of it the more alluring it seemed. -Not only could he lead an independent and enjoyable life in the woods; -but he could obtain a good income from the sale of skins; and even -accumulate a small fortune, if he had good luck. He had traversed the -forest in every direction for a distance of twenty miles or more, and -had carefully estimated the probable catch of a winter's work. There was -scarcely a pond in all that region where there were not scores of -muskrats; and although the price of a single skin was not high, they -would be worth a good sum in the aggregate. Of more valuable -fur-bearing animals there was that old stand-by, the beaver; with the -skunk, the mink and the otter; squirrel and weasel; wild-cat and lynx; -wolf and bear; red fox and hare--all of which were well worth taking for -the skins alone, not to mention the meat, which was excellent food in -the cold weather. - -Then there was the marten, or Hudson Bay sable, a rare and valuable fur; -and finally, and most highly prized of all, the black or silver fox, -which often sold for fabulous sums; as much as a thousand dollars being -paid, at times, for a single skin. In his explorations Jean had seen -the marten several times; and knew of a place on a sandy hillside that -was the home of a whole family of silver foxes; for one morning he had -seen father, mother and four cubs playing, like kittens, on the carpet -of pine-needles near their hole. Yes, he could make a good living in -the wilderness, preying upon the beasts of prey. - -Cruel? True; yet no man can say that without hypocrisy but the -vegetarian; he who eats neither meat nor fish; wears neither wool, silk, -leather, nor garments trimmed with fur. But if we must defend the -trapper, let us say that for every fox that he takes a hundred hares are -kept alive; and that by killing a single otter he saves the lives of a -thousand trout. Moreover, while the beasts resemble man in some -respects, they are by no means human. They suffer some pangs when they -come to die, but during their lifetime they are not continually haunted -by the thought of death. The king of terrors has no terror for them; -and at the end they lay down their life without regret, and with no fear -of torment in any life to come. It is as though the good God in pity -had given them compensation for having withheld the gift of reason: the -knowledge of good and evil which is at once the glory and the shame of -man, the source of his profoundest joy and sorrow, his salvation and -damnation. Which of them would not rather be one of the beasts that -perish, than a man, made in the image of God, fated to follow evermore -the gleam of an ideal that might lead to the heights of eternal glory, -or the bottomless abyss of eternal degradation and loss? - -As for Jean Baptiste he accepted cheerfully the law of life and death as -it was in the wilderness. He would live there, as the others did, -according to his strength and cunning; and he would kill, too, not -wantonly, but for a purpose; and when his strength failed, through -sickness, accident or old age, he would lie down to die, as they did; -with a few moans, perhaps, but without any vain regrets. What is death, -after all, that men should fear it so? In the midst of the amenities of -civilised life it seems a dreadful thing to die; but in the forest it is -the merest incident. The good God cares for sparrows; gives them food -and drink and everything else that they need; and after a while takes -away their breath. So also He cares for man. The generations come and -go; the earth abides; and God lives. Life and death, both are good; for -living or dying we are the Lord's. Thus Jean Baptiste learned the -lesson of the wilderness. - -At the same time Jean was learning another lesson; for he was getting a -distant view of himself and his past life; and seeing everything, as he -thought, in the true perspective. He was lifted up, at times, into a -kind of third heaven; where he had such a vision of eternal values, that -the world of men, with all their thoughts and feelings, their words and -deeds, seemed little and far away. The friends and neighbours seemed -like puppets in a show, and his own part in the play as vain and futile -as the rest. The work that he had done, the plans that he had made, the -ends for which he had striven, no longer seemed desirable or worth -while. He cared no longer for the opinion of men, whether good or bad; -for any help that they might give him, or any harm that they might do. -No longer did he hate his enemies or love his friends. The place where -he had lived and the people he had known had lost all power over him; -for the thought of them caused neither satisfaction nor regret, neither -joy nor sorrow, neither hope nor fear. His own personality, even, had -lost its value; for the memory of the past was fading away; the outlook -was narrowing; and he was living in the present only; borne along upon -the tide of time, his individuality lost in the great ocean of existence -of which he was so small a part. He was intoxicated by the thin air of -those altitudes, and deceived by the illusions of the mountain-top. - -From this plane of thought Jean descended suddenly and with something of -a shock to solid earth, on one of those cold, grey days of August that -come to remind us that summer is passing, and that soon the snows of -winter will begin to fall. Instinctively he went about the cabin and -found many gaping chinks that should be filled with moss. He looked at -the wood-pile, and saw that it was almost gone. He examined his store -of provisions, and saw that it was running low. Firearms, -fishing-tackle, traps, snowshoes, traineau, clothes, moccasins--all -required attention, for the cold season was coming, and it was necessary -to be prepared. Already the beavers were preparing for the winter, and -the human animal knew that he must do the same; for the wilderness is -kind to those who keep her commandments, but implacably cruel to those -who will not live according to her law. So Jean determined to rest and -play no more; laid philosophy aside; spent the day in the forest, -chopping dry wood for fuel; and in the evening, by the light of a -blazing fire, he sat down to mend the traps of Michel Gamache. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIV* - - *THE RELAPSE* - - -The novitiate of Jean Baptiste was at an end; and now he was about to -renounce all that he had held dear in his past life; and to take the -final vows of the wilderness. It was as though the spirit of some remote -ancestor had taken possession of him, body and soul, and was leading him -back and down to the primitive savagery out of which the race, by long -effort and much pain, had gradually ascended. He was a willing captive, -feeling neither surprise nor regret; and it was with a sigh of relief -that he cast the burden of civilisation away; and laid him down to sleep -upon his bed of fragrant balsam; to dream of the green trees, clear -streams, placid lakes and purple hills of that pleasant summer land. - -But in his dreams the former self of Jean Baptiste awoke, and came unto -his own. He had wandered far; and was almost lost in the wilderness; -but suddenly he found himself walking along the familiar valley road, -passing the old landmarks, and approaching the old home. The night was -dark; but the house was lighted; and as he entered by the open door, he -saw a company of neighbours and friends sitting in a circle around the -spacious kitchen; the men smoking, and the women knitting, as they often -used to do in the good old days. But now there was no telling of -stories; and neither song nor jest nor laughter; but a subdued and -orderly conversation, like a memorial service in honour of one who was -dead. No one looked up as Jean entered, walked across the room and took -the vacant chair; and there he sat as a ghost, seeing and hearing -everything, but himself an unseen and unbidden guest. - -His mother rose to pass the spruce-beer and cakes; and when she came to -Jean's place she paused and smiled as though she saw him sitting there -and smiling in return. - -"Oh!" she said, "I think that Jean is not very far away. We shall see -him soon, I am sure." - -"Let us hope so," said Father Paradis, gently, "but I fear that he will -never return. He is a disappointed man. He has missed his vocation, he -who might have become a bishop, an archbishop, a cardinal, even, in the -course of time. What a pity!" - -"Yes," said Michel Gamache, "to miss the path like that, he who might -have been a great man in the parish, a seigneur, a member of -Parliament--anything. And now he is a failure, a _coureur des bois_, -like me." - -"And all for the sake of a girl!" broke in Blanchette. "As though there -were only one girl in the parish, in the Province. What folly! No -woman is worth it. He is a fool, that Jean Baptiste." - -"He is more than that!" cried Pamphile, who sat by the fire, pale and -haggard, his head bound up in a shawl. "He is a coward, that little -priest. A coward, I say; and he fears the law. The law, yes, and this -little whip across the face. _Sacre_! If he returns he shall suffer. -I say it; I, his ancient enemy." - -"And I," said Bonhomme Laroche, shaking his fist, "I wish to see him -too, that proprietor, debtor, thief. He will not pay me? Well, I have -the mortgage. See! There it is, Madame, the mother of a thief. My -mortgage! My property! My farm!" - -"No, you old miser!" shouted Brother Nicholas. "You shall have your -money, but no farm of ours. Do not cry, my mother. Do not think of the -old miser, nor of Jean, the deserter. He was to have stayed at home; -he, the youngest; but now I have returned. Fear nothing. I am with you, -I, Nicholas." - -"Yes," said Bonhomme Gagnon, rising in his place. "Yes, Madame Giroux, -we will assume the responsibility--I, Telesphore Gagnon; you, Nicholas; -you other children; you neighbours; everybody. As to Jean Baptiste, -forget him, the good-for-nothing. He was too proud, he, and the good -God could not endure it. It is the good God who has driven him away, -and he is lost, lost." - -At this Madame Giroux began to weep, while Father Paradis tried to -comfort her, and Brother Nicholas was sending all the people home; when -suddenly at the open door appeared a sturdy figure in a brown fishing -suit, with a pannier on his back and a lance-wood rod in his hand. It -was Monsieur Trudel, the City Man. - -"What is this?" he exclaimed. "Is it a funeral, a wake, or what, in the -name of God? My brave Jean, where is he? Dead? Gone away? A -fugitive, he? Deserter, you say? Failure? Good-for-nothing? Thief? -Murderer? Ha! Ha! It is to laugh! Reassure yourself, Madame. It is -not in Jean Baptiste to be like that, he who conquered me, the champion -of the Province. He will return, most certainly, and soon. _Mon Dieu_! -He is here now. There, do you not see him? There, in the chair! Jean, -my brave one! Arise! Show yourself!" - -During all that time Jean had sat there speechless, immovable; but now, -with a mighty effort, he rose in his place; stretched out his arms and -cried, in a strong and joyous voice: "Monsieur, my friends, my mother, I -am here!" - -Jean advanced with outstretched hands toward his friends; but they -shrunk back, pale and terrified, into the dark corners of the room and -out of the door; until there was only one left, a slight figure in a -brown fishing suit, with pannier, and rod, reddish-golden hair, -violet-blue eyes, and a radiant smile. - -"Monsieur Trudel," he began, "you have changed much since, since---- -_Mon Dieu_! Gabrielle! It is you, you! Come to me, dear." - -But the vision melted away, and Jean awoke to find himself standing -alone on the cabin floor in the glimmering dawn of a new day. - -"_Mon Dieu!_" he said to himself. "Was it a dream? I can see them -still, when I close my eyes--and hear them, too. They think of me, talk -of me, those good friends, whom I had forgotten--almost. They are -disappointed in me, it would seem, and with reason. But they had -expected too much--more than I could do. What? More than I could do? -Oh, Jean Baptiste, it was not that you could not, but that you would -not! What is that one cannot do? 'Good-for-nothing? Too proud? The -good God does not like it?' How does Bonhomme Gagnon know that? I -should like to show him, the old rascal, that the good God will aid me -to resume my former work. By Heaven, I will resume! - -"I am a dreamer, it would seem. Yes. A coward? No! Afraid of the law? -I had not thought of it. The law? Why then? For the killing of -Pamphile. But I did it in self-defence. Tom and Paddy will witness. -Will they? _Dieu_! Possibly not. And what then? A trial, a judge, a -jury, and I, the accused at the bar. It might be well to remain here, -or to go to the Indians of Mistassini or Hudson's Bay. Then I should be -a coureur des bois indeed; an exile, fugitive, outlaw. What then could -I say to the abuse of Bonhomme Gagnon, Monsieur Laroche, and the rest? -Coward--thief--deserter--good-for-nothing--fool--all that and more! -Yes, I should deserve it all. - -"'And all for the sake of a girl?' Blanchette, that was unjust. It was -a combination of circumstances, an accumulation of misfortunes, that -drove me away--for a time. O, Blanchette! I have many good excuses, as -you must know; yet I will excuse myself no more, for I think I hear you -say: '_Qui s'excuse s'accuse!_' - -"But Gabrielle was there, and oh, what a lovely smile! To see her again -I would return, in spite of everything. But where was the garb of the -Ursulines--the black robe, the hood, the veil, the rosary, the cross, -the pale face of the novice, the nun that is to be? There was none of -that. No, it was only the City Man after all. Gabrielle was not there, -for she was not thinking of me, but of Jesus and Mary and the glories of -Heaven. But if she gave a thought to me, and a single call, I would -enter the convent and take her away--from the altar, even--and who -should hinder me? An adventure that, worthy of a knight of the olden -time. Yes, worthy of those times, perhaps; but for a penniless -habitant, a trapper, a discredited fugitive, not quite so suitable. To -steal a novice from the convent, an heiress--a noble deed, surely. Ah, -Gabrielle, why so much haste? Why bury the heart before the love is -dead? A little more time, a year, two years at most--that is all I ask. -Could you not grant me this, Gabrielle?" - -As Jean thought of the situation from every point of view, the -difficulty and perplexity of it seemed to increase, and no way of escape -appeared. He walked up and down the narrow cabin like a wild beast in a -cage, raging and wondering at his fate, wildly longing to break away and -be free. At last, unable to disentangle the coil, he threw it from him, -flung open the door, and went out into the open air. - -It was like going into another world. The clouds of yesterday, the -gloom of night, the ghostly dawn, all had passed away; and the summer -morning, fresh and lovely, opened like a flower. It was good to breathe -the pure, fragrant air; to see the earth, the grass and the trees in all -their brightest colours, washed by the rain; to hear the sweet voices of -the forest; and to feel, in every nerve and muscle, the strength and -courage of returning day. In the lake Jean took his morning plunge, and -a long swim far out in the deep water; and when, an hour later, he -returned to the cabin, refreshed in body and soul, with a keen appetite -and a joyous heart, he was ready to face the world, to receive its -hardest buffets, and to deliver his most telling blows in return. The -soldier was himself again; his furlough was over; and he was going back -to the front. - -Jean was now ready to do battle with the enemy, for he was at peace with -himself. The long struggle within him was at an end; for his nobler -self had obtained the victory, and taken complete control. The strange, -weird voices that had well-nigh led him astray for ever were heard no -more. The voice of fear, too, was stilled; for he was so completely -possessed with the thought of his work and the joy of devotion to his -cherished ideal, that there was neither fear nor doubt in his soul; but -strong courage and sublime faith that the work of his hands would be -established, and that the day of small things would have a great and -satisfying fruition. - -Jean's attitude toward the world was changed. No longer did he despise -the opinions of the neighbours, but found himself wondering what they -would think and say when they saw him take up his former work. His -mother, the cure, his friend Michel, and a few others would be glad; and -he was glad to think that he could please them in any way. His enemies -would be disconcerted; and he took a malicious pleasure in thinking of -their confusion, and in guessing what their next move would be. As for -the rest, they might find fault for a time, but sooner or later the -benefits of his work would appear; all the good people of the parish -would approve; and his reputation would spread far and wide--to -Beauport, Quebec and the greater world beyond. A good name--that was -something worth while; a prize to be won, a possession to be kept, an -heirloom to be handed down to future generations. But if not, if in the -end he should fail, he would still have the satisfaction of attempting a -noble task; a few friends would understand, and the good God would know -that he had done his best. - -And Gabrielle? Jean could no longer think of her as a novice of the -Ursulines preparing to take the veil, to renounce all human love and -devote her young life to prayer and penance within convent walls. On -the contrary, she now resumed her former place in his scheme of life; -the golden-haired chatelaine of his Castle in Spain; for whose love he -would fight unto the death; at whose feet he would lay all the trophies -of war; and from whom he would ask, in the hour of victory, his greatest -earthly reward--herself. - -As Jean was preparing to depart, putting away the canoe, setting the -cabin in order, taking a last look at the lake, he was sorry to leave -the beautiful place; but his heart was full of an abiding joy; for he -was thinking all the time of Gabrielle; and when at last he turned his -back upon his hermitage, and set himself to climb the southern hill, his -joyous voice woke again the echoes of the forest, as he sang the brave -song of a crusader who prayed for victory and love: - - "Partant pour la Syrie, - Le jeune et beau Dunois, - Alla prier Marie - De benir ses exploits. - 'Donne, reine immortelle,' - Lui dit-il en partant, - 'Que j'aime la plus belle, - Et sois le plus vaillant.'" - - - - - *CHAPTER XXV* - - *TREASURE TROVE* - - -"Where are you going, Jean Baptiste?" - -Jean stopped instantly, and stared in dumb surprise; for there was -Gabrielle standing before him in a hunting suit of tanned buckskin, a -light rifle on her arm--a veritable Diana of the wilderness. - -"Speak, Jean! Say something, for goodness' sake. I am not a ghost, nor -a holy picture descended from its frame. It is I, Gabrielle." - -"As I see," said Jean, raising his cap and offering his hand. "Welcome -to Lac Desir, Gabrielle." - -"Lac Desir! What a pretty name! Where is Lac Desir, Jean? Which way?" - -"Come, Gabrielle; I will show you. It is only a step or two. I was -coming away, but now I will gladly return. This way, if you please. It -is a rough path, and steep. Take my hand, will you not? Now we are at -the foot of the hill, and there, under the trees, is the cabin--my -hermitage. It is not much like the Ursulines, I should say. You were -there, were you not?" - -"Yes, certainly, I was there for a while; but I have escaped, as you -see. I could not say so many prayers--it was too fatiguing--and I had -to have a little vacation in the country. Soon I will return." - -"Return?" exclaimed Jean, in dismay. "That would be a pity. Do not -return to the convent, Gabrielle." - -"Why not, then? It is a pleasant place, the convent, so quiet, so -peaceful; and the sisters are so good, so dear. And it is a place where -one can make one's salvation." - -"Salvation, you say, in a convent, in a little cell? How can one find -that between four walls? It is something that belongs to the open air, -Gabrielle; something that comes with the sunshine. No, it is here that -one finds true peace, rest for the soul--salvation, if you like." - -"But you are going away, Jean. Is it possible that you are leaving your -salvation?" - -"But no. I have found it here; and I am taking it back to St. Placide, -to the work that awaits me there. But now that you are here I forget all -that, and I could stay for ever. Stay here, Gabrielle." - -"So I will, Jean, for a few moments, at least. It is a pretty place. -But where is the lake? Where is Lac Desir?" - -"We are coming to it. Another turn of the path and you will get a -glimpse of it through the trees. There, there it is!" - -Gabrielle clapped her hands. - -"Beautiful! Charming! Like a picture--more lovely than any picture! -Certainly, the pictures at the convent are not like this. You have a -canoe, of course. Get it, Jean--quickly. You shall take me out on the -lake." - -"With pleasure, Gabrielle. The ship is here, in this clump of spruces. -It would not be easy to find it if one did not know the place. I am -revealing all our secrets, as you see. Presently I will give you the -keys, and you shall be the sovereign lady of these dominions. Look! A -fine canoe, is it not? Of a single piece of bark. It is not often that -one sees a canoe like this--so light, so graceful, so strong, so perfect -in all its lines. One carries it like a feather. There, I will place -it in the water, by the rock. Have the goodness to take your place in -the bow, Mademoiselle the Passenger. A great honour for the canoe, for -me, I assure you, Mademoiselle." - -"Monsieur, it is with sincere pleasure that I accord you the honour. -But how complimentary you have become! Already you are recovering from -the surprise, the shock, of my arrival. How serious you were a moment -since! I thought I should have to cry. Smile a little, Jean. There, -that is better. Once more. Now we are all right. How lovely the water! -How balmy the air! How pleasant to glide along like this! Not so fast, -Jean. Slowly. It is still early in the morning. Let us not think of -time. Let us forget the world. Ah, now I know what it is to be dead to -the world, as they say in the convent, and yet very much alive. I think -that I have never lived before. But what would Mother Sainte Anne say -if she could see me now? And why don't you ask how I happened to come?" - -"It is enough to know that you are here, Gabrielle. If only you would -stay." - -"I am staying, am I not? But if you say that again I will go away at -once." - -"Allow me to remind you, Mademoiselle, that we are at some distance from -the shore." - -"But I can swim quite well, Monsieur; and if you provoke me I will jump -into the water." - -"As you did once before, many years ago. How well I remember the -occasion! Do it again, Gabrielle, that I may have the pleasure of -saving your life. Then you would belong to me, you know." - -"What nonsense you talk, Jean! I will not jump into the water, just to -please you, but I will go back to the shore all the same. Take me -back." - -"Oh, not yet, Gabrielle. It is too pleasant here. Never before have I -seen the lake so beautiful. There was always something lacking; but now -it is complete, perfect." - -"It is truly wonderful, Jean; and it would be a pity not to enjoy it -while we may. I like to sit here on this comfortable bearskin, dipping -my hands in the water, looking at the trees, the sky, the clouds--while -you do all the work." - -"And I, Gabrielle, I should like to do this kind of work for the rest of -my life, to glide along over a summer lake while looking into the face -of one so beautiful." - -"Jean, I will splash you if you say any more." - -"Do so, Gabrielle. I need a bath, perhaps." - -"On the contrary, you look as though you took a bath every day, like a -certain Englishman at Quebec. Is it possible that you have been here for -a whole month? You are no wild man of the woods at all. I am -disappointed in you, Jean." - -"I am sorry, Gabrielle. In the future I will try to please you better." - -Gabrielle blushed and looked away; while Jean, in tender and eloquent -words, began to confess that he had loved her long; that in all his -plans he had thought of her; that all his battles had been for her sake; -and that it had been the hope of his life to lay his honours and -trophies at her feet. When she went away the light of his life had gone -out; and the world, once so full of beauty and interest, had become an -empty, barren desolation. Now that she had returned, in all her radiant -beauty, the glory had come back to earth; and the wilderness had become -a paradise, a garden of love. How wonderful the forest! How enchanting -the lake, nestling in the bosom of the hills! How blue the sky! How -clear and pure the air! How glorious the freedom of the wilderness, far -from the world, but near to the heart of Nature; near, also, to God. -And if two loving hearts, by chance, by fate, by the will of God, found -themselves together in such a paradise, was it not the will of God that -they should make their home there; live upon the bounty so lavishly -provided; conquer the wilderness; and achieve something unusual, unique, -even, in their day and generation? A good living was assured; a fortune -was not impossible; and the effort, the adventure itself, would be well -worth while. Their ancestors had carved a kingdom in the forest--why -not their children of a later generation? - -Thus Jean Baptiste, like all lovers since the world began, saw -everything through a golden mist that made a halo about his beloved; -gilded the commonest objects with all the colours of the rainbow; and -filled his eyes with a light that never was on sea or shore. - -Gabrielle listened, as though fascinated, to the story of love; blushes -came to her cheeks, smiles to her lips, and tears to her eyes at the -wonder and beauty of it; her heart glowed in return; and she was on the -point of stretching out her hands in glad surrender to one so strong, so -brave, so noble, with such undying faith in her, in himself, in God. - -Had Jean but known, he would have spoken of love alone, whom all hearts -love, to whom all yield as to their dearest friend; but in his ignorance -and folly he went on to speak of things external, foreign, out of -harmony with the thought of love. Plans, ambitions, a good living, a -fortune, the conquest of the wilderness--why all that? One must live, -of course; but why speak of it at such a moment? The beauties of -Nature--why so much of that? The lake was lovely, to be sure; the -forest and the hills as well, on a summer morning such as this; but what -would they be when winter came with its pall of snow and its chill winds -blowing out of the North? And how forlorn it would be, far from the old -home, with neither friend nor neighbour near; while the snow drifted -high, an impassable barrier between the lonely cabin and the outer -world. - -Renounce the world? The dear, friendly world of St. Placide, the gay, -joyous world of Quebec? As well might one enter the convent; for there, -at least, one would have the society of the good sisters, the occupation -of teaching, and the joy of devotion and worship when the congregation -lift up their hearts and voices unto God. What could one do in the -forest during the long winter with no books, no games, no music, no -society? The ancestors were satisfied? True, but times had changed, -and a new generation had arisen. Why go back to those half-savage days? -Love? That was all very well now and then; but there were times when -one did not wish to love, nor to be loved; when one might wish to cry, -perhaps, and there would be no comforter, no one to console. Work? -Yes, one might do that--cook, for example; or make garments of fur; or -mend the traps; or chop wood for the fire. Yes, that was what Jean -wanted--a wife to do the work of a slave, to grow old with toil and -hardship. Well, let him find an Indian squaw for that; and not ask a -girl from a comfortable home to share his savage existence in the -wilderness. - -As Jean talked on, in his idealistic, unpractical way, about the glories -of life in the forest, the crude realities of that life were borne in -upon Gabrielle; and her heart was hardened against one who could, in the -name of love, demand so great a sacrifice and offer so little in return. -The smile faded from her lips, the colour from her cheeks, and the -love-light from her eyes; while a grey cloud passed over the sun; and a -chill breath from the North swept over the lake. Gabrielle shuddered. - -"Take me back, Jean. I am cold." - -"But, Gabrielle, it is so lovely here." - -"I do not find it so. Take me back to the shore." - -"But the sun will be shining again in a moment; and the lake, the -forest, the hills, will be all aglow in the morning light." - -"It will not. I detest your lake, your mountains, your forest. It is a -desolation, and I hate it all--all." - -Without a word Jean turned the prow of the canoe toward the shore; and -when they reached the landing-place Gabrielle stepped out unassisted, -and walked swiftly up the path, past the cabin, and on up the hill down -which she had come an hour before. Jean noted the way she was going; -and a few moments later he took up his pack and rifle, and with long, -swift strides followed her trail up the ridge, and down the long slope -on the other side. Presently he caught a glimpse of her through the -trees, as she tripped along, lithe and active as a deer; and it was with -no little difficulty that he kept her in sight until she came to the -foot of the slope, and began to climb the shoulder of another hill. -There Gabrielle slackened her pace, and turned on her pursuer with -flushed face and angry eyes. - -"Jean, Monsieur Giroux, I will trouble you to cease following me." - -"I am sorry, Gabrielle, but I cannot let you go this way alone. It is -dangerous at times." - -"I am not at all afraid, and I wish to be alone." - -"But you might lose your way, Gabrielle." - -"I will not. I know the way quite well." - -"But it is easy to get lost, Gabrielle, in this vast forest; among these -hills, these cliffs, these marshes; and there are places where one might -fall, and not be able to rise alone. One needs a companion." - -"I do not. Will you please leave me?" - -"I will not leave you, Gabrielle, until you are with your friends." - -"Why, why? _Mon Dieu_, why not?" - -"Because I love you, Gabrielle." - -Gabrielle paused for a moment, on tiptoe, like a frightened deer; and -then sprang away, and went on with incredible swiftness up the hill; -then along a level place for a while; then down another slope; winding -about in a maze of trees and rocks, hills and valleys; but all the time -keeping, as she thought, the same general direction toward the place -where her friends had set their camp. - -An hour later Gabrielle found herself standing on the crest of a hill -looking down upon a lake that shimmered in the sunshine, with tiny waves -that sparkled like a cluster of diamonds set in emeralds. It was Lac -des Isles, no doubt, where they had camped the night before. But where -was the camp? And where were the islands? There was but one island to -be seen; and no camp at all--only a cabin half hidden in the trees -below. Yet the place was strangely familiar. What? Where could it be? -Was it possible? - -Gabrielle turned in dismay, and there was Jean standing beside her. - -"Monsieur Giroux, Jean, what is this? Where am I?" - -"This is Lac Desir, Gabrielle, and you are with one who loves you, -dear." - -Gabrielle looked up with a wistful smile. - -"Are you sure, Jean, that you love me as much as you love the lake, for -example; or the forest?" - -"Oh, Gabrielle, it is you that I love, and you only." - -"Or the life of the wilderness, Jean; and the struggle, the conflict, -the conquest?" - -"Gabrielle!" - -"Or the pretty log cabin down there, Jean; or that lovely canoe all made -of one piece of bark, so strong, so graceful, so perfect in all its -lines. Or----" - -"Hush, dear," said Jean, taking her in his strong arms, and kissing her -on the wayward lips again and again, while her flaming cheeks and loving -eyes, her quick breathing and the fluttering of her heart, told better -than any words that she loved this man and would go with him to the end -of the world. - -By-and-by they went down the hill together; and as Jean was showing -Gabrielle his home in the wilderness, she looked up in his face with an -expression of perfect trust and whispered her confession of love and -unconditional surrender. - -"Jean, we shall be happy here. You will be my world and I yours. Two -worlds should be enough for us; quite sufficient, should they not?" - -"But no, dear. That was a foolish plan, a species of insanity, I think, -a madness that came upon me. We will spend the honeymoon here, if you -consent; and after that we will make our home in St. Placide. It will -be a modest home at the first, but it will be the beginning of great -things. There is only one obstacle, one danger; but we will not think -of that. Nothing shall come between us any more, Gabrielle." - -"Obstacle, Jean? Danger? I cannot think of any. But wait. Do you know -why I came here? I had quite forgotten. Can you guess?" - -"Gabrielle, I had not thought of it. Strange, too, that you should find -your way to Lac Desir, so far from home. But you were nearly lost in -the end." - -"No, not lost, Jean, for you found me; and I, I found myself. Not lost -at all, Jean Baptiste Giroux. But how did I arrive in the first place? -Guess!" - -"How can I? You did not know the way. No one knows it but Michel and -I. Now I see. It was Michel who showed you the way, came with you. -Where is he, then?" - -"Good guess, Jean. You are not so stupid, after all. Michel and my -father are down there at Lac des Isles, not five miles away. That -explains my early visit, as you see." - -"Perfectly. It is the best way to come. You take the old road to Lac -des Isles, and then you follow the valley right up to this place. An -easy way, Gabrielle, and yet you missed it. It is to laugh." - -"No, indeed, I did not miss it on the way up, and if I missed it on the -way back it was your fault, Jean. It was cruel of you to torment me -like that." - -"True, Gabrielle, and I am glad of it. If I had let you go alone you -would have been lost." - -"Not at all, Monsieur Giroux. I should have gone back to the happy -Ursulines, to Mother Sainte Anne, and all the dear sisters, who would -have received me with open arms. And I should not have said a single -prayer for you, not one." - -"No matter, Gabrielle. Now that I have you I shall have the benefit of -your prayers as well; shall I not, dear?" - -"No. Yes. I don't know. You will need them, without doubt; for you -are a great sinner, Jean." - -"How so, Gabrielle?" - -"You broke the heart of that good girl, Blanchette." - -"No, Gabrielle; not intentionally, at least. Moreover, I think that the -heart of that young lady is not so very fragile." - -"What do you know about it, stupid man? It was broken indeed, but now -it is mended again--completely." - -"Mended?" - -"Yes, and she is to marry Pamphile Lareau." - -"Pamphile is dead, Gabrielle." - -"No, Jean. He is alive and almost well. For a time it was thought that -he would die, but Blanchette brought him back to life, with the aid of -the good God. That is what I came to tell you. We thought that you -would like to know." - -"Thank God!" said Jean. "And thank you, too, Gabrielle. Now there is -not a cloud in the sky. What a day, this--the best day of my life! And -you came to tell me the good news." - -"Yes, and to have a little outing, a little fresh air and -exercise--after the convent, you know." - -"Gabrielle, I am glad that you did not stay in the convent. It is a -refuge, a blessed retreat, for those who are discouraged, for the weary, -the sad at heart; but for the young, the strong, the brave, the world is -a better place. It was not for you. You had no vocation." - -"That is just what Mother Sainte Anne said. She is a dear friend. -'Listen, Gabrielle,' she said, 'for the voice, the true call that speaks -to the heart. You shall know it by the tone, like the clear, pure sound -of a bell, to which all the chords of the heart respond; and you will -say: "Lo! that is for me." Sometimes the call of love is the voice of -God, my dear.' Yes, she is a true friend, Mother Sainte Anne." - -"And Michel. He also is a good friend to us, as to my father in the -early days." - -"Oh, Jean, there is something else that I was forgetting. I forget -everything now. A treasure, a great treasure." - -"I could not touch it, Gabrielle." - -"No, Jean, you could not. But what do you think Michel has done? He -has given it to Mother Sainte Anne to found a hospital for poor -children, a cause that she has had at heart for many years. The poor -children will be happy with Mother Sainte Anne, and she with them. I am -so glad that you did not take the gold, Jean. Now it is treasure in -Heaven. I call it Mother Sainte Anne's dowry and my ransom." - -"Your ransom, Gabrielle? Yes, that is it. How lucky for me that I did -not take the treasure!" - -"And for me, Jean. Oh, how fortunate! I thank God! It was a miracle, -almost." - -"Yes, Gabrielle, but there is a greater miracle, the miracle of your -love, and a treasure more precious--yourself." - -"A treasure, I? Oh no, Jean, only a wilful, wayward girl. Can it be -that you love me, Jean? Is it true?" - -"Gabrielle!" - -"Jean!" - - - - - THE TEMPLE PRESS - LETCHWORTH, ENGLAND - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEAN BAPTISTE *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43280 - -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. Project Gutenberg is a -registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, -unless you receive specific permission. 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