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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/6202.txt b/6202.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c9b79e4 --- /dev/null +++ b/6202.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2125 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook Valmond Came to Pontiac, v1, by G. Parker +#29 in our series by Gilbert Parker + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + +Title: When Valmond Came to Pontiac, Volume 1. + +Author: Gilbert Parker + +Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6202] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on September 23, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VALMOND TO PONTIAC, V1, BY PARKER *** + + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + +[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the +file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an +entire meal of them. D.W.] + + + + + +WHEN VALMOND CAME TO PONTIAC + +The Story of a Lost Napoleon + +By Gilbert Parker + +Volume 1. + + + +INTRODUCTION + +In one sense this book stands by itself. It is like nothing else I have +written, and if one should seek to give it the name of a class, it might +be called an historical fantasy. + +It followed The Trail of the Sword and preceded The Seats of the Mighty, +and appeared in the summer of 1895. The critics gave it a reception +which was extremely gratifying, because, as it seemed to me, they +realised what I was trying to do; and that is a great deal. One great +journal said it read as though it had been written at a sitting; another +called it a tour de force, and the grave Athenaeum lauded it in a key +which was likely to make me nervous, since it seemed to set a standard +which I should find it hard to preserve in the future. But in truth the +newspaper was right which said that the book read as though it was +written at a sitting, and that it was a tour de force. The facts are +that the book was written, printed, revised, and ready for press in five +weeks. + +The manuscript of the book was complete within four weeks. It possessed +me. I wrote night and day. There were times when I went to bed and, +unable to sleep, I would get up at two o'clock or three o'clock in the +morning and write till breakfast time. A couple of hours' walk after +breakfast, and I would write again until nearly two o'clock. Then +luncheon; afterwards a couple of hours in the open air, and I would again +write till eight o'clock in the evening. The world was shut out. I +moved in a dream. The book was begun at Hot Springs, in Virginia, in the +annex to the old Hot Springs Hotel. I could not write in the hotel +itself, so I went to the annex, and in the big building--in the early +spring-time--I worked night and day. There was no one else in the place +except the old negro caretaker and his wife. Four-fifths of the book was +written in three weeks there. Then I went to New York, and at the Lotus +Club, where I had a room, I finished it--but not quite. There were a few +pages of the book to do when I went for my walk in Fifth Avenue one +afternoon. I could not shake the thing off, the last pages demanded to +be written. The sermon which the old Cure was preaching on Valmond's +death was running in my head. I could not continue my walk. Then and +there I stepped into the Windsor Hotel, which I was passing, and asked if +there was a stenographer at liberty. There was. In the stenographer's +office of the Windsor Hotel, with the life of a caravanserai buzzing +around me, I dictated the last few pages of When Valmond Came to Pontiac. +It was practically my only experience of dictation of fiction. I had +never been able to do it, and have not been able to do it since, and +I am glad that it is so, for I should have a fear of being led into mere +rhetoric. It did not, however, seem to matter with this book. It wrote +itself anywhere. The proofs of the first quarter of the book were in my +hands before I had finished writing the last quarter. + +It took me a long time to recover from the great effort of that five +weeks, but I never regretted those consuming fires which burned up sleep +and energy and ravaged the vitality of my imagination. The story was +founded on the incident described in the first pages of the book, which +was practically as I experienced it when I was a little child. The +picture there drawn of Valmond was the memory of just such a man as stood +at the four corners in front of the little hotel and scattered his hot +pennies to the children of the village. Also, my father used to tell me +as a child a story of Napoleon, whose history he knew as well as any man +living, and something of that story may be found in the fifth chapter of +the book where Valmond promotes Sergeant Lagroin from non-commissioned +rank, first to be captain, then to be colonel, and then to be general, +all in a moment, as it were. + +I cannot tell the original story as my father told it to me here, +but it was the tale of how a sergeant in the Old Guard, having shared his +bivouac supper of roasted potatoes with the Emperor, was told by Napoleon +that he should sup with his Emperor when they returned to Versailles. +The old sergeant appeared at Versailles in course of time and demanded +admittance to the Emperor, saying that he had been asked to supper. When +Napoleon was informed, he had the veteran shown in and, recognising his +comrade of the baked potatoes, said at once that the sergeant should sup +with him. The sergeant's reply was: "Sire, how can a non-commissioned +officer dine with a general?" It was then, Napoleon, delighted with the +humour and the boldness of his grenadier, summoned the Old Guard, and had +the sergeant promoted to the rank of captain on the spot. + +It was these apparently incongruous things, together with legends that +I had heard and read of Napoleon, which gave me the idea of Valmond. +First, a sketch of about five thousand words was written, and it looked +as though I were going to publish it as a short story; but one day, +sitting in a drawing-room in front of a grand piano, on the back of which +were a series of miniatures of the noted women who had played their part +in Napoleon's life, the incident of the Countess of Carnstadt (I do not +use the real name) at St. Helena associated itself with the picture in my +memory of the philanthropist of the street corner. Thereupon the whole +story of a son of Napoleon, ignorant of his own birth, but knowing that +a son had been born to Napoleon at St. Helena, flitted through my +imagination; and the story spread out before me all in an hour, +like an army with banners. + +The next night--for this happened in New York--I went down to Hot +Springs, Virginia, and began a piece of work which enthralled me as I had +never before been enthralled, and as I have never been enthralled in the +same way since; for it was perilous to health and mental peace. + +Fantasy as it is, the book has pictures of French-Canadian life which +are as true as though the story itself was all true. Characters are in +it like Medallion, the little chemist, the avocat, Lajeunesse the +blacksmith, and Madeleinette, his daughter, which were in some of the +first sketches I ever wrote of French Canada, and subsequently appearing +in the novelette entitled The Lane That Had No Turning. Indeed, 'When +Valmond Came to Pontiac', historical fantasy as it is, has elements both +of romance and realism. + +Of all the books which I have written, perhaps because it cost me so +much, because it demanded so much of me at the time of its writing, I +care for it the most. It was as good work as I could do. This much may +at least be said: that no one has done anything quite in the same way or +used the same subject, or given it the same treatment. Also it may be +said, as the Saturday Review remarked, that it contained one whole, new +idea, and that was the pathetic--unutterably pathetic--incident of a man +driven by the truth in his blood to impersonate himself. + + + + + "Oh, withered is the garland of the war, + The Soldier's pole is fallen." + + + + +WHEN VALMOND CAME TO PONTIAC + + +CHAPTER I + +On one corner stood the house of Monsieur Garon the avocat; on another, +the shop of the Little Chemist; on another, the office of Medallion the +auctioneer; and on the last, the Hotel Louis Quinze. The chief +characteristics of Monsieur Garon's house were its brass door-knobs, +and the verdant vines that climbed its sides; of the Little Chemist's +shop, the perfect whiteness of the building, the rolls of sober wall- +paper, and the bottles of coloured water in the shop windows; of +Medallion's, the stoop that surrounded three sides of the building, +and the notices of sales tacked up, pasted up, on the front; of the Hotel +Louis Quinze, the deep dormer windows, the solid timbers, and the veranda +that gave its front distinction--for this veranda had been the pride of +several generations of landlords, and its heavy carving and bulky grace +were worth even more admiration than Pontiac gave to it. + +The square which the two roads and the four corners made was, on week- +days, the rendezvous of Pontiac, and the whole parish; on Sunday mornings +the rendezvous was shifted to the large church on the hill, beside which +was the house of the Cure, Monsieur Fabre. Travelling towards the south, +out of the silken haze of a mid-summer day, you would come in time to the +hills of Maine; north, to the city of Quebec and the river St. Lawrence; +east, to the ocean; and west, to the Great Lakes and the land of the +English. Over this bright province Britain raised her flag, but only +Medallion and a few others loved it for its own sake, or saluted it in +the English tongue. + +In the drab velvety dust of these four corners, were gathered, one night +of July a generation ago, the children of the village and many of their +elders. All the events of that epoch were dated from the evening of this +particular day. Another day of note the parish cherished, but it was +merely a grave fulfilment of the first. + +Upon the veranda-stoop of the Louis Quinze stood a man of apparently +about twenty-eight years of age. When you came to study him closely, +some sense of time and experience in his look told you that he might be +thirty-eight, though his few grey hairs seemed but to emphasise a certain +youthfulness in him. His eye was full, singularly clear, almost benign, +and yet at one moment it gave the impression of resolution, at another it +suggested the wayward abstraction of the dreamer. He was well-figured, +with a hand of peculiar whiteness, suggesting in its breadth more the man +of action than of meditation. But it was a contradiction; for, as you +saw it rise and fall, you were struck by its dramatic delicacy; as it +rested on the railing of the veranda, by its latent power. You faced +incongruity everywhere. His dress was bizarre, his face almost +classical, the brow clear and strong, the profile good to the mouth, +where there showed a combination of sensuousness and adventure. Yet in +the face there was an illusive sadness, strangely out of keeping with the +long linen coat, frilled shirt, flowered waistcoat, lavender trousers, +boots of enamelled leather, and straw hat with white linen streamers. It +was a whimsical picture. + +At the moment that the Cure and Medallion the auctioneer came down the +street together towards the Louis Quinze, talking amiably, this singular +gentleman was throwing out hot pennies, with a large spoon, from a tray +in his hand, calling on the children to gather them, in French which was +not the French of Pontiac--or Quebec; and this refined accent the Cure +was quick to detect, as Monsieur Garon the avocat, standing on the +outskirts of the crowd, had done, some moments before. The stranger +seemed only conscious of his act of liberality and the children before +him. There was a naturalness in his enjoyment which was almost boylike; +a naive sort of exultation possessed him. + +He laughed softly to see the children toss the pennies from hand to hand, +blowing to cool them; the riotous yet half-timorous scramble for them, +and burnt fingers thrust into hot, blithe mouths. And when he saw a fat +little lad of five crowded out of the way by his elders, he stepped down +with a quick word of sympathy, put a half-dozen pennies in the child's +pocket, snatched him up and kissed him, and then returned to the stoop, +where were gathered the landlord, the miller, and Monsieur De la Riviere, +the young Seigneur. But the most intent spectator of the scene was +Parpon the dwarf, who was grotesquely crouched upon the wide ledge of a +window. + +Tray after tray of pennies was brought out and emptied, till at last the +stranger paused, handed the spoon to the landlord, drew out a fine white +handkerchief and dusted his fingers, standing silent for a moment and +smiling upon the crowd. + +It was at this point that some young villager called, in profuse +compliment: "Three cheers for the Prince!" The stranger threw an accent +of pose into his manner, his eye lighted, his chin came up, he dropped +one hand negligently on his hip, and waved the other in acknowledgment. +Presently he beckoned, and from the hotel were brought out four great +pitchers of wine and a dozen tin cups, and, sending the garcon around +with one, the landlord with another, he motioned Parpon the dwarf to bear +a hand. Parpon shot out a quick, half-resentful look at him, but meeting +a warm, friendly eye, he took the pitcher and went round among the +elders, while the stranger himself courteously drank with the young men +of the village, who, like many wiser folk, thus yielded to the charm of +mystery. To every one he said a hearty thing, and sometimes touched his +greeting off with a bit of poetry or a rhetorical phrase. These dramatic +extravagances served him well, for he was among a race of story-tellers +and crude poets. + +Parpon, uncouth and furtive, moved through the crowd, dispensing as much +irony as wine: + + "Three bucks we come to a pretty inn, + 'Hostess,' say we, 'have you red wine?' + Brave! Brave! + 'Hostess,' say we, 'have you red wine?' + Bravement! + Our feet are sore and our crops are dry, + Bravement!" + +This he hummed to the avocat in a tone all silver, for he had that one +gift of Heaven as recompense for his deformity, his long arms, big head, +and short stature, a voice which gave you a shiver of delight and pain +all at once. It had in it mystery and the incomprehensible. This +drinking-song, hummed just above his breath, touched some antique memory +in Monsieur Garen the avocat, and he nodded kindly at the dwarf, though +he refused the wine. + +"Ah, M'sieu' le Cure," said Parpon, ducking his head to avoid the hand +that Medallion would have laid on it, "we're going to be somebody now +in Pontiac, bless the Lord! We're simple folk, but we're not neglected. +He wears a ribbon on his breast, M'sieu' le Cure!" + +This was true. Fastened by a gold bar to the stranger's breast was the +ribbon of an order. + +The Cure smiled at Parpon's words, and looked curiously and gravely at +the stranger. Tall Medallion the auctioneer took a glass of the wine, +and, lifting it, said: "Who shall I drink to, Parpon, my dear? What is +he?" + +"Ten to one, a dauphin or a fool," answered Parpon, with a laugh like the +note of an organ. "Drink to both, Long-legs." Then he trotted away to +the Little Chemist. + +"Hush, my friend!" said he, and he drew the other's ear down to his +mouth. "Now there'll be plenty of work for you. We're going to be gay +in Pontiac. We'll come to you with our spoiled stomachs." He edged +round the circle, and back to where the miller his master and the young +Seigneur stood. + +"Make more fine flour, old man," said he to the miller; "pates are the +thing now." Then, to Monsieur De la Riviere: "There's nothing like hot +pennies and wine to make the world love you. But it's too late, too late +for my young Seigneur!" he added in mockery, and again he began to hum +in a sort of amiable derision: + + "My little tender heart, + O gai, vive le roi! + My little tender heart, + O gai, vive le roi! + + 'Tis for a grand baron, + Vive le roi, la reine! + 'Tis for a grand baron, + Vive Napoleon!" + +The words of the last two lines swelled out far louder than the dwarf +meant, for few save Medallion and Monsieur De la Riviere had ever heard +him sing. His concert-house was the Rock of Red Pigeons, his favourite +haunt, his other home, where, it was said, he met the Little Good Folk of +the Scarlet Hills, and had gay hours with them. And this was a matter of +awe to the timid habitants. + +At the words, "Vive Napoleon!" a hand touched him on the shoulder. He +turned and saw the stranger looking at him intently, his eyes alight. + +"Sing it," he said softly, yet with an air of command. Parpon hesitated, +shrank back. + +"Sing it," he insisted, and the request was taken up by others, till +Parpon's face flushed with a sort of pleasurable defiance. The stranger +stooped and whispered something in his ear. There was a moment's pause, +in which the dwarf looked into the other's eyes with an intense +curiosity--or incredulity--and then Medallion lifted the little man on to +the railing of the veranda, and over the heads and into the hearts of the +people there passed, in a divine voice, a song known to many, yet coming +as a new revelation to them all: + + "My mother promised it, + O gai, rive le roi! + My mother promised it, + O gai, vive le roi! + + To a gentleman of the king, + Vive le roi, la reine! + To a gentleman of the king, + Vive Napoleon!" + +This was chanted lightly, airily, with a sweetness almost absurd, coming +as it did from so uncouth a musician. The last verses had a touch of +pathos, droll yet searching: + + "Oh, say, where goes your love? + O gai, rive le roi! + Oh, say, where goes your love? + O gai, vive le roi! + He rides on a white horse, + Vive le roi, la reine! + He wears a silver sword, + Vive Napoleon! + + "Oh, grand to the war he goes, + O gai, vive le roi! + Oh, grand to the war he goes, + O gai, vive le roi! + Gold and silver he will bring, + Vive le roi, la reine; + And eke the daughter of a king + Vive Napoleon!" +The crowd--women and men, youths and maidens--enthusiastically repeated +again and again the last lines and the refrain, "Vive le roi, la reine! +Vive Napoleon!" + +Meanwhile the stranger stood, now looking at the singer with eager eyes, +now searching the faces of the people, keen to see the effect upon them. +His glance found the faces of the Cure, the avocat, and the auctioneer; +and his eyes steadied to Medallion's humorous look, to the Cure's puzzled +questioning, to the avocat's bird-like curiosity. It was plain they were +not antagonistic (why should they be?); and he--was there any reason why +he should care whether or no they were for him or against him? + +True, he had entered the village in the dead of night, with many packages +and much luggage, had roused the people at the Louis Quinze, the driver +who had brought him departing before daybreak gaily, because of the gifts +of gold given him above his wage. True, this singular gentleman had +taken three rooms in the Louis Quinze, had paid the landlord in advance, +and had then gone to bed, leaving word that he was not to be waked till +three o'clock the next afternoon. True, the landlord could not by any +hint or indirection discover from whence his midnight visitor came. But +if a gentleman paid his way, and was generous and polite, and minded his +own business, wherefore should people busy themselves about him? When he +appeared on the veranda of the inn with the hot pennies, not a half-dozen +people in the village had known aught of his presence in Pontiac. The +children came first, to scorch their fingers and fill their pockets, and +after them the idle young men, and the habitants in general. + +The stranger having warmly shaken Parpon by the hand and again whispered +in his ear, stepped forward. The last light of the setting sun was +reflected from the red roof of the Little Chemist's shop upon the quaint +figure and eloquent face, which had in it something of the gentleman, +something of the comedian. The alert Medallion himself did not realise +the touch of the comedian in him, till the white hand was waved +grandiloquently over the heads of the crowd. Then something in the +gesture corresponded with something in the face, and the auctioneer had +a nut which he could not crack for many a day. The voice was musical,-- +as fine in speaking almost as the dwarf's in singing,--and the attention +of the children was caught by the rich, vibrating tones. He addressed +himself to them. + +"My children," he said, "my name is--Valmond! We have begun well; let us +be better friends. I have come from far off to be one of you, to stay +with you for awhile--who knows how long--how long?" He placed a finger +meditatively on his lips, sending a sort of mystery into his look and +bearing. "You are French, and so am I. You are playing on the shores of +life, and so am I. You are beginning to think and dream, and so am I. +We are only children till we begin to make our dreams our life. So I am +one with you, for only now do I step from dream to action. My children, +you shall be my brothers, and together we will sow the seed of action and +reap the grain; we will make a happy garden of flowers, and violets shall +bloom everywhere out of our dream--everywhere. Violets, my children, +pluck the wild violets, and bring them to me, and I will give you silver +for them, and I will love you. Never forget," he added, with a swelling +voice, "that you owe your first duty to your mothers, and afterwards to +your country, and to the spirit of France. I see afar"--he looked +towards the setting sun, and stretched out his arm dramatically, yet +such was the eloquence of his voice and person that not even the young +Seigneur or Medallion smiled--"I see afar," he repeated, "the glory of +our dreams fulfilled; after toil and struggle and loss: and I call upon +you now to unfurl the white banner of justice and liberty and the +restoration." + +The women who listened guessed little of what he meant by the fantastic +sermon; but they wiped their eyes in sympathy, and gathered their +children to them, and said, "Poor gentleman, poor gentleman!" and took +him instantly to their hearts. The men were mystified, but wine and +rhetoric had fired them, and they cheered him--no one knew why. The +Cure, as he turned to leave, with Monsieur Garon, shook his head in +bewilderment; but even he did not smile, for the man's eloquence had +impressed him; and more than once he looked back at the dispersing crowd +and the quaint figure posing on the veranda. The avocat was thinking +deeply, and as, in the dusk, he left the Cure at his own door, all that +he ventured was: "Singular--a most singular person!" + +"We shall see, we shall see," said the Cure abstractedly, and they said +good-night. + +Medallion joined the Little Chemist in his shop door and watched the +habitants scatter, till only Parpon and the stranger were left, and these +two faced each other, and, without a word, passed into the hotel +together. + +"H'm, h'm!" said Medallion into space, drumming the door-jamb with his +fingers; "which is it, my Parpon--a dauphin, or a fool?" + +He and the Little Chemist talked long, their eyes upon the window +opposite, inside which Monsieur Valmond and Parpon were in conference. +Up the dusty street wandered fitfully the refrain: + + "To a gentleman of the king, + Vive Napoleon!" + +And once they dimly saw Monsieur Valmond come to the open window and +stretch out his hand, as if in greeting to the song and the singer. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +This all happened on a Tuesday, and on Wednesday, and for several days, +Valmond went about making friends. His pockets were always full of +pennies and silver pieces, and he gave them liberally to the children and +to the poor, though, indeed, there were few suffering poor in Pontiac. +All had food enough to keep them from misery, though often it got no +further than sour milk and bread, with a dash of sugar in it of Sundays, +and now and then a little pork and molasses. As for homes, every man and +woman had a house of a kind, with its low, projecting roof and dormer +windows, according to the ability and prosperity of the owner. These +houses were whitewashed, or painted white and red, and had double glass +in winter, after the same measure. There was no question of warmth, for +in snow-time every house was banked up with earth above the foundations, +the cracks and intersections of windows and doors filled with cloth from +the village looms; and wood was for the chopping far and near. Within +these air-tight cubes these simple folk baked and were happy, content if +now and then the housewife opened the one pane of glass which hung on a +hinge, or the slit in the sash, to let in the cold air. As a rule, the +occasional opening of the outer door to admit some one sufficed, for out +rushed the hot blast, and in came the dry, frosty air to brace to their +tasks the cheerful story-teller and singer. + +In summer the little fields were broken with wooden ploughs, followed by +the limb of a tree for harrow, and the sickle, the scythe, and the flail +to do their office in due course; and if the man were well-to-do, he +swung the cradle in his rye and wheat, rejoicing in the sweep of the +knife and the fulness of the swathe. Then, too, there was the driving of +the rivers, when the young men ran the logs from the backwoods to the +great mills near and far: red-shirted, sashed, knee-booted, with rings in +their ears, and wide hats on their heads, and a song in their mouths, +breaking a jamb, or steering a crib, or raft, down the rapids. And the +voyageur also, who brought furs out of the North down the great lakes, +came home again to Pontiac, singing in his patois: + + "Nous avons passe le bois, + Nous somm's a la rive!" + +Or, as he went forth: + + "Le dieu du jour s'avance; + Amis, les vents sont doux; + Berces par l'esperance, + Partons, embarquons-noun. + A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a!" + +And, as we know, it was summer when Valmond came to Pontiac. The river- +drivers were just beginning to return, and by and by the flax swingeing +would begin in the little secluded valley by the river; and one would +see, near and far, the bright sickle flashing across the gold and green +area; and all the pleasant furniture of summer set forth in pride, by the +Mother of the House whom we call Nature. + +Valmond was alive to it all, almost too alive, for at first the +flamboyancy of his spirit touched him off with melodrama. Yet, on the +whole, he seemed at first more natural than involved or obscure. His +love for children was real, his politeness to women spontaneous. He was +seen to carry the load of old Madame Degardy up the hill, and place it +at her own door. He also had offered her a pinch of snuff, which she +acknowledged by gravely offering a pinch of her own from a dirty twist +of brown paper. + +One day he sprang over a fence, took from the hands of coquettish Elise +Malboir an axe, and split the knot which she in vain had tried to break. +Not satisfied with this, he piled full of wood the stone oven outside the +house, and carried water for her from the spring. This came from natural +kindness, for he did not see the tempting look she gave him, nor the +invitation in her eye, as he turned to leave her. He merely asked her +name. But after he had gone, as though he had forgotten, or remembered, +something, he leaped the fence again, came up to her with an air of half- +abstraction, half-courtesy, took both her hands in his, and, before she +could recover herself, kissed her on the cheeks in a paternal sort of +way, saying, "Adieu, adieu, my child!" and left her. + +The act had condescension in it; yet, too, something unconsciously simple +and primitive. Parpon the dwarf, who that moment perched himself on the +fence, could not decide which Valmond was just then--dauphin or fool. +Valmond did not see the little man, but swung away down the dusty road, +reciting to himself couplets from 'Le Vieux Drapeau': + + "Oh, come, my flag, come, hope of mine, + And thou shalt dry these fruitless tears;" + +and apparently, without any connection, he passed complacently to an +entirely different song: + + "She loved to laugh, she loved to drink, + I bought her jewels fine." + +Then he added, with a suddenness which seemed to astound himself,--for +afterwards he looked round quickly, as if to see if he had been heard,-- +"Elise Malboir--h'm! a pretty name, Elise; but Malboir--tush! it should +be Malbarre; the difference between Lombardy cider and wine of the +Empire." + +Parpon, left behind, sat on the fence with his legs drawn up to his chin, +looking at Elise, till she turned and caught the provoking light of his +eye. She flushed, then was cool again, for she was put upon her mettle +by the suggestion of his glance. + +"Come, lazy-bones," she said; "come fetch me currants from the garden." + +"Come, mocking-bird," answered he; "come peck me on the cheek." + +She tossed her head and struck straight home. "It isn't a game of pass +it on from gentleman to beetle." + +"You think he's a gentleman?" he asked. + +"As sure as I think you're a beetle." + +He laughed, took off his cap, and patted himself on the head. "Parpon, +Parpon!" said he, "if Jean Malboir could see you now, he'd put his foot +on you and crush you--dirty beetle!" + +At the mention of her father's name a change passed over Elise; for this +same Parpon, when all men else were afraid, had saved Jean Malboir's life +at a log chute in the hills. When he died, Parpon was nearer to him than +the priest, and he loved to hear the dwarf chant his wild rhythms of the +Little Good Folk of the Scarlet Hills, more than to listen to holy +prayers. Elise, who had a warm, impulsive nature, in keeping with her +black eyes and tossing hair, who was all fire and sun and heart and +temper, ran over and caught the dwarf round the neck, and kissed him on +the cheek, dashing the tears out of her eyes, as she said: + +"I'm a cat, I'm a bad-tempered thing, Parpon; I hate myself." + +He laughed, shook his shaggy head, and pushed her away the length of his +long, strong arms. "Bosh!" said he; "you're a puss and no cat, and I +like you better for the claws. If you hate yourself, you'll get a big +penance. Hate the ugly like Parpon, not the pretty like you. The one's +no sin, the other is." + +She was beside the open door of the oven; and it would be hard to tell +whether her face was suffering from heat or from blushes. However that +might chance, her mouth was soft and sweet, and her eyes were still wet. + +"Who is he, Parpon?" she asked, not looking at him. + +"Is he like Duclosse the mealman, or Lajeunesse the blacksmith, or +Garotte the lime-burner-and the rest?" + +"Of course not," she answered. + +"Is he like the Cure, or Monsieur De la Riviere, or Monsieur Garon, or +Monsieur Medallion?" + +"He's different," she said hesitatingly. + +"Better or worse?" + +"More--more"--she did not know what to say--"more interesting." + +"Is he like the Judge Honourable that comes from Montreal, or the grand +Governor, or the General that travels with the Governor?" + +"Yes, but different--more--more like us in some things, like them in +others, and more--splendid. He speaks such fine things! You mind the +other night at the Louis Quinze. He is like--" + +She paused. "What is he like?" Parpon asked slyly, enjoying her +difficulty. + +"Ah, I know," she answered; "he is a little like Madame the American who +came two years ago. There is something--something!" + +Parpon laughed again. "Like Madame Chalice from New York--fudge!" Yet +he eyed her as if he admired her penetration. "How?" he urged. + +"I don't know--quite," she answered, a little pettishly. "But I used to +see Madame go off in the woods, and she would sit hour by hour, and +listen to the waterfall, and talk to the birds, and at herself too; and +more than once I saw her shut her hands--like that! You remember what +tiny hands she had?" (She glanced at her own brown ones unconsciously.) +"And she spoke out, her eyes running with tears--and she all in pretty +silks, and a colour like a rose. She spoke out like this: 'Oh, if I +could only do something, something, some big thing! What is all this +silly coming and going to me, when I know, I know I might do it, if I had +the chance! O Harry, Harry, can't you see!'" + +"Harry was her husband. Ah, what a fisherman was he!" said Parpon, +nodding. "What did she mean by doing 'big things'?" he added. + +"How do I know?" she asked fretfully. "But Monsieur Valmond seems to me +like her, just the same." + +"Monsieur Valmond is a great man," said Parpon slowly. + +"You know!" she cried; "you know! Oh, tell me, what is he? Who is he? +Where does he come from? Why is he here? How long will he stay? Tell +me, how long will se stay?" She caught flutteringly at Parpon's +shoulder. "You remember what I sang the other night?" he asked. + +"Yes, yes," she answered quickly. "Oh, how beautiful it was! Ah, +Parpon, why don't you sing for us oftener, and all the world would love +you, and--" + +"I don't love the world," he retorted gruffly; "and I'll sing for the +devil" (she crossed herself) "as soon as for silly gossips in Pontiac." + +"Well, well!" she asked; "what had your song to do with him, with +Monsieur Valmond?" + +"Think hard, my dear," he said, with mystery in his look. Then, breaking +off: "Madame Chalice is coming back to-day; the Manor House is open, and +you should see how they fly round up there." He nodded towards the hill +beyond. + +"Pontiac'll be a fine place by and by," she said, for she had village +patriotism deep in her veins. Had not her people lived there long before +the conquest by the English? + +"But tell me, tell me what your song had to do with Monsieur," she urged +again. "It's a pretty song, but--" + +"Think about it," he answered provokingly. "Adieu, my child!" he went +on mockingly, using Valmond's words, and catching both her hands as he +had done; then, springing upon a bench by the oven, he kissed her on both +cheeks. "Adieu, my child!" he said again, and, jumping down, trotted +away out into the road. Back to her, from the dust he made as he +shuffled away, there came the words: + + "Gold and silver he will bring, + Vive le roi, la reine! + And eke the daughter of a king + Vive Napoleon!" + +She went about her work, the song in her ears, and the words of the +refrain beat in and out, out and in: + +"Vive Napoleon." Her brow was troubled, and she perched her head on +this side and on that, as she tried to guess what the dwarf had meant. +At last she sat down on a bench at the door of her home, and the summer +afternoon spent its glories on her; for the sunflowers and the hollyhocks +were round her, and the warmth gave her face a shining health and +joyousness. There she brooded till she heard the voice of her mother +calling across the meadow; then she got up with a sigh, and softly +repeated Parpon's words: "He is a great man!" + +In the middle of that night she started up from a sound sleep, and, with +a little cry, whispered into the silence: "Napoleon--Napoleon!" + +She was thinking of Valmond. A revelation had come to her out of her +dreams. But she laughed at it, and buried her face in her pillow and +went to sleep, hoping to dream again. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +In less than one week Valmond was as outstanding from Pontiac as +Dalgrothe Mountain, just beyond it in the south. His liberality, his +jocundity, his occasional abstraction, his meditative pose, were all his +own; his humour that of the people. He was too quick in repartee and +drollery for a bourgeois, too "near to the bone" in point for an +aristocrat, with his touch of the comedian and the peasant also. +Besides, he was mysterious and picturesque, and this is alluring to +women and to the humble, if not to all the world. It might be his was +the comedian's fascination, but the flashes of grotesqueness rather +pleased the eye than hurt the taste of Pontiac. + +Only in one quarter was there hesitation, added to an anxiety almost +painful; for to doubt Monsieur Valmond would have shocked the sense of +courtesy so dear to Monsieur the Cure, Monsieur Garon, the Little +Chemist, and even Medallion the auctioneer, who had taken into his bluff, +odd nature something of the spirit of those old-fashioned gentlemen. +Monsieur De la Riviere, the young Seigneur, had to be reckoned with +independently. + +It was their custom to meet once a week, at the house of one or another, +for a "causerie," as the avocat called it. On the Friday evening of this +particular week, all were seated in the front garden of the Cure's house, +as Valmond came over the hill, going towards the Louis Quinze. His step +was light, his head laid slightly to one side, as if in pleased and +inquiring reverie, and there was a lifting of one corner of the mouth, +suggesting an amused disdain. Was it that disdain which comes from +conquest not important enough to satisfy ambition? The social conquest +of a village--to be conspicuous and attract the groundlings in this tiny +theatre of life, that seemed little! + +Valmond appeared not to see the little coterie, but presently turned, +when just opposite the gate, and, raising his hat, half paused. Then, +without more ado, he opened the gate and advanced to the outstretched +hand of the Cure, who greeted him with a courtly affability. He shook +hands with, and nodded good-humouredly at, Medallion and the Little +Chemist, bowed to the avocat, and touched off his greeting to Monsieur De +la Riviere with deliberation, not offering his hand--this very reserve a +sign of equality not lost on the young Seigneur. He had not this +stranger at any particular advantage, as he had wished, he knew scarcely +why. Valmond took the seat offered him beside the Cure, who remarked +presently: + +"My dear friend, Monsieur Garon, was saying just now that the spirit of +France has ever been the Captain of Freedom among the nations." + +Valmond glanced quickly from the Cure to the others, a swift, inquisitive +look, then settled back in his chair, and turned, bowing, towards +Monsieur Garon. The avocat's pale face flushed, his long, thin fingers +twined round each other and untwined, and presently he said, in his +little chirping voice, so quaint as to be almost unreal: + +"I was saying that the spirit of France lived always ahead of the time, +was ever first to conceive the feeling of the coming century, and by its +own struggles and sufferings--sometimes too abrupt and perilous--made +easy the way for the rest of the world." + +During these words a change passed over Valmond. His restless body +became still, his mobile face steady and almost set--all the life of him +seemed to have burnt into his eyes; but he answered nothing, and the +Cure, in the pause, was constrained to say: + +"Our dear Monsieur Garon knows perfectly the history of France, and is +devoted to the study of the Napoleonic times and of the Great Revolution +--alas for our people and the saints of Holy Church who perished then!" + +The avocat lifted a hand in mute disacknowledgment. Again there was a +silence, and out of the pause Monsieur De la Riviere's voice was heard. + +"Monsieur Valmond, how fares this spirit of France now--you come from +France?" + +There was a shadow of condescension and ulterior meaning in De la +Riviere's voice, for he had caught the tricks of the poseur in this +singular gentleman. + +Valmond did not stir, but looked steadily at De la Riviere, and said +slowly, dramatically, yet with a strange genuineness also: + +"The spirit of France, monsieur, the spirit of France looks not forward +only, but backward, for her inspiration. It is as ready for action now +as when the old order was dragged from Versailles to Paris, and in Paris +to the guillotine, when France got a principle and waited, waited--" + +He did not finish his sentence, but threw back his head with a sort of +reflective laugh. + +"Waited for what?" asked the young Seigneur, trying to conquer his +dislike. + +"For the Man!" came the quick reply. + +The avocat rubbed his hands in pleasure. He instantly divined one who +knew his subject, though he talked this melodramatically: a thing not +uncommon among the habitants and the professional story-tellers, but +scarcely the way of the coterie. + +"Ah, yes, yes," he said, "for--? monsieur, for--?" He paused, as if to +give himself the delight of hearing their visitor speak. + +"For Napoleon," was the abrupt reply. + +"Ah, yes, dear Lord, yes--a Napoleon--of--of the Empire. France can only +cherish an idea when a man is behind it, when a man lives it, embodies +it. She must have heroes. She is a poet, a poet--and an actress." + +"So said the Man, Napoleon," cried Valmond, getting to his feet. "He +said that to Barras, to Remusat, to Josephine, to Lucien, to--to another, +when France had for the moment lost her idea--and her man." + +The avocat trembled to his feet to meet Valmond, who stood up as he +spoke, his face shining with enthusiasm, a hand raised in broad dramatic +gesture, a dignity come upon him, in contrast to the figure which had +disported itself through the village during the past week. The avocat +had found a man after his own heart. He knew that Valmond understood +whereof he spoke. It was as if an artist saw a young genius use a brush +on canvas for a moment; a swordsman watch an unknown master of the sword. +It was not so much the immediate act, as the divination, the rapport, the +spirit behind the act, which could only come from the soul of the real +thing. + +"I thank you, monsieur; I thank you with all my heart," the avocat said. +"It is the true word you have spoken." + +Here a lad came running to fetch the Little Chemist, and Medallion and he +departed, but not without the auctioneer having pressed Valmond's hand +warmly, for he was quick of emotion, and, like the avocat, he recognised, +as he thought, the true word behind the dramatic trappings. + +Monsieur Garon and Valmond talked on, eager, responsive, Valmond lost in +the discussion of Napoleon, Garon in the man before him. By pregnant +allusions, by a map drawn hastily on the ground here, and an explosion of +secret history there, did Valmond win to a sort of worship this fine +little Napoleonic scholar, who had devoured every book on his hero which +had come in his way since boyhood. Student as he was, he had met a man +whose knowledge of the Napoleonic life was vastly more intricate, +searching and vital than his own. He, Monsieur Garon, spoke as from a +book or out of a library, but this man as from the Invalides, or, since +that is anachronistic, from the lonely rock of St. Helena. A private +saying of Napoleon's, a word from his letters and biography, a phrase out +of his speeches to his soldiers, sent tears to the avocat's eyes, and for +a moment transformed Valmond. + +While they talked, the Cure and the young Seigneur listened, and there +passed into their minds the same wonder that had perplexed Elise Malboir; +so that they were troubled, as was she, each after his own manner and +temperament. Their reasoning, their feelings were different, but they +were coming to the point the girl had reached when she cried into the +darkness of the night, "Napoleon--Napoleon!" + +They sat forgetful of the passing of time, the Cure preening with +pleasure because of Valmond's remarks upon the Church when quoting the +First Napoleon's praise of religion. + +Suddenly a carriage came dashing up the hill, with four horses and a +postilion. The avocat was in the house searching for a book. De la +Riviere, seeing the carriage first, got to his feet with instant +excitement, and the others turned to look. As it neared the house, the +Cure took off his baretta, and smiled expectantly, a little red spot +burning on both cheeks. These deepened as the carriage stopped, and a +lady, a little lady like a golden flower, with sunny eyes and face--how +did she keep so fresh in their dusty roads?--stood up impulsively, and +before any one could reach the gate was entering herself, her blue eyes +swimming with the warmth of a kind heart--or a warm temperament, which +may exist without a kind heart. + +Was it the heart, or the temperament, or both, that sent her forward with +hands outstretched, saying: "Ah, my dear, dear Cure, how glad I am to see +you once again! It is two years too long, dear Cure." + +She held his hand in both of hers, and looked up into his eyes with a +smile at once child-like and naive--and masterful; for behind the +simplicity and the girlish manner there was a power, a mind, with which +this sweet golden hair and cheeks like a rose-garden had nothing to do. +The Cure, beaming, touched by her warmth, and by her tiny caressing +fingers, stooped and kissed them both like an old courtier. He had come +of a good family in France long ago, very long ago,--and even in this +French-Canadian village; where he had taught and served and lingered +forty years, he had kept the graces of his youth, and this beautiful +woman drew them all out. Since his arrival in Pontiac, he had never +kissed a woman's hand--women had kissed his; and this woman was a +Protestant, like Medallion! + +Turning from the Cure, she held out a hand to the young Seigneur with a +little casual air, as if she had but seen him yesterday, and said: +"Monsieur De la Riviere--what, still buried?--and the world waiting for +the great touch! But we in Pontiac gain what the world loses." + +She turned to the Cure again, and said, placing a hand upon his arm: + +"I could not pass without stepping in upon my dear old friend, even +though soiled and unpresentable. But you forgive that, don't you?" + +"Madame is always welcome, and always unspotted of the dusty world," he +answered gallantly. + +She caught his fingers in hers as might a child, turned full upon +Valmond, and waited. The Cure instantly presented Valmond to her. She +looked at him brightly, alluringly, apparently so simply; yet her first +act showed the perception behind that rosy and golden face, and the +demure eyes whose lids languished now and then--to the unknowing with an +air of coquetry, to the knowing--did any know her?--as one would shade +one's eyes to see a landscape clearly, or make out a distant figure. As +Valmond bowed, a thought seemed to fetch down the pink eyelids, and she +stretched out her hand, which he took and kissed, while she said in +English, though they had been talking in French: + +"A traveller too, like myself, Monsieur Valmond? But Pontiac--why +Pontiac?" + +A furtive, inquiring look shot from the eyes of the young Seigneur, a +puzzled glance from the Cure's, as they watched Valmond; for they did not +know that he had knowledge of English; he had not spoken it to Medallion, +who had sent into his talk several English words. How did this woman +divine it? + +A strange suspicion flashed into Valmond's face, but it was gone on the +instant, and he replied quickly: + +"Yes, madame, a traveller; and for Pontiac--there is as much earth and +sky about Pontiac as about Paris or London or New York." + +"But people count, Monsieur-Valmond." + +She hesitated before the name, as if trying to remember, though she +recalled perfectly. It was her tiny fashion to pique, to appear +unknowing. + +"Truly, Madame Chalice," he answered instantly, for he did not yield to +the temptation to pause before her name; "but sometimes the few are as +important to us as the many--eh?" + +She almost started at the eh, for it broke in grimly upon the gentlemanly +flavour of his speech. + +"If my reasons for coming were only as good as madame's--" he added. + +"Who knows!" she said, with her eyes resting idly on his flowered +waistcoat, and dropping to the incongruous enamelled knee-boots with +their red tassels. She turned to the Cure again, but not till Valmond +had added: + +"Or the same--who knows?" + +Again she looked at him with drooping eyelids and a slight smile so full +of acid possibilities that De la Riviere drew in a sibilant breath of +delight. Her movement had been as towards an impertinence; but as she +caught Valmond's eye, something in it, so really boylike, earnest, and +free from insolence, met hers, that, with a little way she had, she laid +back her head slowly, her lips parted in a sweet, ambiguous smile, her +eyes dwelt on him with a humorous interest, or flash of purpose, and she +said softly: + +"Nobody knows--eh?" + +She could not resist the delicate malice of the exclamation, she imitated +the gaucherie so delightfully. + +Valmond did not fail to see her meaning, but he was too wise to show it. + +He hardly knew how it was he had answered her unhesitatingly in English, +for it had been his purpose to avoid speaking English in Pontiac. + +Presently Madame Chalice caught sight of Monsieur Garon coming from the +house. When he saw her, he stopped short in delighted surprise. +Gathering up her skirts, she ran to him, put both hands on his shoulders, +kissed him on the cheek, and said: + +"Monsieur Garon, Monsieur Garon, my good avocat, my Solon! are the +coffee, and the history, and the blest madeira still chez-toi?" + +There was no jealousy in the Cure; he smiled at the scene with great +benevolence, for he was as a brother to Monsieur Garon. If he had any +good thing, it was his first wish to share it with him; even to taking +him miles away to some simple home where a happy thing had come to poor +folk--the return of a prodigal son, a daughter's fortunate marriage, or +the birth of a child to childless people; and there together they +exchanged pinches of snuff over the event, and made compliments from the +same mould, nor desired difference of pattern. To the pretty lady's +words, Monsieur Garon blushed, and his thin hand fluttered to his lips. +As if in sympathy, the Cure's fingers trembled to his cassock cord. +"Madame, dear madame,"--the Cure approved by a caressing nod," we are all +the same here in our hearts and in our homes, and if anything seem good +in them to us, it is because you are pleased. You bring sunshine and +relish to our lives, dear madame." + +The Cure beamed. This was after his own heart and he had ever said that +his dear avocat would have been a brilliant orator, were it not for his +retiring spirit. + +For himself, he was no speaker at all; he could only do his duty and love +his people. So he had declared over and over again, and the look in his +eyes said the same now. + +Madame's eyes were shining with tears. This admiration of her was too +real to be doubted. + +"And yet--and yet"--she said, with a hand in the Cure's and the avocat's, +drawing them near her--"a heretic, a heretic, my dear friends! How +should I stand in your hearts if I were only of your faith? Or is it so +that you yearn over the lost sheep, more than over the ninety and nine of +the fold?" + +There was a real moisture in her eyes, and in her own heart she wondered, +this fresh and venturing spirit, if she cared for them as they seemed to +care for her--for she felt she had an inherent strain of the actress +temperament, while these honest provincials were wholly real. + +But if she made them happy by her gaiety, what matter! The tears dried, +and she flashed a malicious look at the young Seigneur, as though to say: +"You had your chance, and you made nothing of it, and these simple +gentlemen have done the gracious thing." + +Perhaps it was a liberal interpretation of his creed which prompted the +Cure to add with a quaint smile: + +"'Thou art not far from the Kingdom,' my daughter." + +The avocat, who had no vanity, hastened to add to his former remarks, as +if he had been guilty of an oversight: + +"Dear madame, you have flattered my poor gleanings in history; I am happy +to tell you that there is here another and a better pilot in that sea. +It is Monsieur Valmond," he added, his voice chirruping in his pleasure. +"For Napoleon--" + +"Ah, Napoleon--yes, Napoleon?" she said, turning to Valmond, with a look +half of interest, half of incredulity. + +"--For Napoleon is, through him, a revelation," the avocat went on. "He +fills in the vague spaces, clears up mysteries of incident, and gives, +instead, mystery of character." + +"Indeed," she added, still incredulous, but interested in this bizarre +figure who had so worked upon her old friend, interested because she had +a keen scent for mystery, and instinctively felt it here before her. +Like De la Riviere, she perceived a strange combination of the gentleman +and--something else; but, unlike him, she saw also a light in the face +and eyes that might be genius, poetry, adventure. For the incongruities, +what did they matter to her? She wished to probe life, to live it, to +race the whole gamut of inquiry, experiences, follies, loves, and +sacrifices, to squeeze the orange dry, and then to die while yet young, +having gone the full compass, the needle pointing home. She was as broad +as sumptuous in her nature; so what did a gaucherie matter? or a dash of +the Oriental in a citizen of the Occident? + +"Then we must set the centuries right, and so on--if you will come to see +me when I am settled at the Manor," she added, with soft raillery, to +Valmond. He bowed, expressed his pleasure a little oracularly, and was +about to say something else, but she turned deftly to De la Riviere, with +a sweetness which made up for her previous irony to him, and said: + +"You, my kind Seigneur, will come to breakfast with me one day? My +husband will be here soon. When you see our flag flying, you will find +the table always laid for four." + +Then to the Cure and the avocat: "You shall visit me whenever you will, +and you are to wait for nothing, or I shall come to fetch you. Voila! +I am so glad to see you. And now, dear Cure, will you take me to my +carriage?" + +Soon there was a surf of dust rising behind the carriage, hiding her; but +four men, left behind in the little garden, stood watching, as if they +expected to see a vision in rose and gold rise from it; and each was +smiling unconsciously. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Since Friday night the good Cure, in his calm, philosophical way, had +brooded much over the talk in the garden upon France, the Revolution, and +Napoleon. As a rule, his sermons were commonplace almost to a classical +simplicity, but there were times when, moved by some new theme, he talked +to the villagers as if they, like himself, were learned and wise. He +thought of his old life in France, of two Napoleons that he had seen, and +of the time when, at Neuilly, a famous general burst into his father's +house, and, with streaming tears, cried: + +"He is dead--he is dead--at St. Helena--Napoleon! Oh, Napoleon!" + +A chapter from Isaiah came to the Cure's mind. He brought out his Bible +from the house, and, walking up and down, read aloud certain passages. +They kept singing in his ears all day + + He will surely violently turn and toss thee like a ball into a large + country: there shalt thou die, and there the chariots of thy glory + shall be the shame of thy lord's house. . . . + + And it shall come to pass in that day, that I will call my servant + Eliakim the son of Hilkiah + + And I will clothe him with thy robe, and strengthen him with thy + girdle, and I will commit thy government into his hand. . . . + And I will fasten him as a nail in a sure place; and he shall be for + a glorious throne to his father's house. + + And they shall hang upon him all the glory of his father's house, + the offspring and the issue. . . . + +He looked very benign as he quoted these verses in the pulpit on Sunday +morning, with a half smile, as of pleased meditation. He was lost to the +people before him, and when he began to speak, it was as in soliloquy. +He was talking to a vague audience, into that space where a man's eyes +look when he is searching his own mind, discovering it to himself. The +instability of earthly power, the putting down of the great, their exile +and chastening, and their restoration in their own persons, or in the +persons of their descendants--this was his subject. He brought the +application down to their own rude, simple life, then returned with +it to a higher plane. + +At last, as if the memories of France, "beloved and incomparable," +overcame him, he dwelt upon the bitter glory of the Revolution. Then, +with a sudden flush, he spoke of Napoleon. At that name the church +became still, and the dullest habitant listened intently. Napoleon was +in the air--a curious sequence to the song that was sung on the night of +Valmond's arrival, when a phrase was put in the mouths of the parish, +which gave birth to a personal reality. "Vive Napoleon!" had been on +every lip this week, and it was an easy step from a phrase to a man. + +The Cure spoke with pensive dignity of Napoleon's past career, his work +for France, his too proud ambition, behind which was his great love of +country; and how, for chastening, God turned upon him violently and +tossed him like a ball into the wide land of exile, from which he came +out no more. + +"But," continued the calm voice, "his spirit, stripped of the rubbish of +this quarrelsome world, and freed from the spite of foes, comes out from +exile and lives in our France to-day--for she is still ours, though we +find peace and bread to eat, under another flag. And in these troubled +times, when France needs a man, even as a barren woman a child to be the +token of her womanhood, it may be that one sprung from the loins of the +Great Napoleon may again give life to the principle which some have +sought to make into a legend. Even as the deliverer came out of obscure +Corsica, so from some outpost of France, where the old watchwords still +are called, may rise another Napoleon, whose mission will be civic glory +and peace alone, the champion of the spirit of France, defending it +against the unjust. He shall be fastened as a nail in a sure place, as a +glorious throne to his father's house." + +He leaned over the pulpit, and, pausing, looked down at his congregation. +Then, all at once, he was aware that he had created a profound +impression. Just in front of him, his eyes burning with a strange fire, +sat Monsieur Valmond. Parpon, beside him, hung over the back of a seat, +his long arms stretched out, his hands applauding in a soundless way. +Beneath the sword of Louis the Martyr, the great treasure of the parish, +presented to this church by Marie Antoinette, sat Monsieur Garon, his +thin fingers pressed to his mouth as if to stop a sound. Presently, out +of pure spontaneity, there ran through the church like a soft chorus: + + "O, say, where goes your love? + O gai, vive le roi! + He wears a silver sword, + Vive Napoleon!" + +The thing was unprecedented. Who had started it? Afterwards some said +it was Parpon, the now chosen comrade--or servant--of Valmond, who, +people said, had given himself up to the stranger, body and soul; but no +one could swear to that. Shocked, and taken out of his dream, the Cure +raised his hand against the song. "Hush, hush, my children!" he said. +"Hush, I command you!" + +It was the sight of the upraised hands, more than the Cure's voice, which +stilled the outburst. Those same hands had sprinkled the holy water in +the sacrament of baptism, had blessed man and maid at the altar, had +quieted the angry arm lifted to strike, had anointed the brow of the +dying, and laid a crucifix on breasts which had ceased to harbour breath +and care and love, and all things else. + +Silence fell. In another moment the Cure finished his sermon, but not +till his eyes had again met those of Valmond, and there had passed into +his mind a sudden, startling thought. + +Unconsciously the Cure had declared himself the patron of all that made +Pontiac for ever a notable spot in the eyes of three nations: and if he +repented of it, no man ever knew. + +During mass and the sermon Valmond had sat very still, once or twice +smiling curiously at thought of how, inactive himself, the gate of +destiny was being opened up for him. Yet he had not been all inactive. +He had paid much attention to his toilet, selecting, with purpose, the +white waistcoat, the long, blue-grey coat cut in a fashion anterior to +this time by thirty years or more, and particularly to the arrangement of +his hair. He resembled Napoleon--not the later Napoleon, but the +Bonaparte, lean, shy, laconic, who fought at Marengo; and this had +startled the Cure in his pulpit, and the rest of the little coterie. + +But Madame Chalice, sitting not far from Elise Malboir, had seen the +resemblance in the Cure's garden on Friday evening; and though she had +laughed at it, for, indeed, the matter seemed ludicrous enough at first, +--the impression had remained. She was no Catholic, she did not as a +rule care for religious services; but there was interest in the air, she +was restless, the morning was inviting, she was reverent of all true +expression of life and feeling, though a sad mocker in much; and so she +had come to the little church. + +Following Elise's intent look, she read with amusement the girl's budding +romance, and was then suddenly arrested by the head of Valmond, now half +turned towards her. It had, indeed, a look of the First Napoleon. Was +it the hair? Yes, it must be; but the head was not so square, so firm +set; and what a world of difference in the grand effect! The one had +been distant, splendid, brooding (so she glorified him); the other was an +impressionist imitation, with dash, form, poetry, and colour. But where +was the great strength? It was lacking. The close association of Parpon +and Valmond--that was droll; yet, too, it had a sort of fitness, she knew +scarcely why. However, Monsieur was not a fool, in the vulgar sense, for +he had made a friend of a little creature who could be a wasp or a +humming-bird, as he pleased. Then, too, this stranger had conquered her +dear avocat; had won the hearts of the mothers and daughters--her own +servants talked of no one else; had captured this pretty Elise Malboir; +had caused the young men to imitate his walk and retail his sayings; +had won from herself an invitation to visit her; and now had made an +unconscious herald and champion of an innocent old Cure, and set a whole +congregation singing "Vive Napoleon" after mass. + +Napoleon? She threw back her pretty head, laughed softly, and fanned +herself. Napoleon? Why, of course there could be no real connection; +the man was an impostor, a base impostor, playing upon the credulities +of a secluded village. Absurd--and interesting! So interesting, she did +not resent the attention given to Valmond, to the exclusion of herself; +though to speak truly, her vanity desired not admiration more than is +inherent in the race of women. + +Yet she was very dainty this morning, good to look at, and refreshing, +with everything in flower-like accord; simple in general effect, yet with +touches of the dramatic here and there--in the little black patch on the +delicate health of her cheek, in the seductive arrangements of her laces. +She loved dress, all the vanities, but she had something above it all--an +imaginative mind, certain of whose faculties had been sharpened to a fine +edge of cleverness and wit. For she was but twenty-three; with the logic +of a woman of fifty, without its setness and lack of elasticity. She +went straight for the hearts of things, while yet she glittered upon the +surface. This was why Valmond interested her--not as a man, a physical +personality, but as a mystery to be probed, discovered. Sentiment? +Coquetry? Not with him. That for less interesting men, she said to +herself. Why should a point or two of dress and manners affect her +unpleasantly? She ought to be just, to remember that there was a touch +of the fantastic, of the barbaric, in all genius. + +Was he a genius? For an instant she almost thought he was, when she saw +the people make way for him to pass out of the church, as though he were +a great personage, Parpon trotting behind him. He carried himself with +true appreciation of the incident, acknowledging more by look than by +sign this courtesy. + +"Upon my word," she said, "he has them in his pocket." Then, +unconsciously plagiarising Parpon: "Prince or barber--a toss-up!" + +Outside, many had gathered round Medallion. The auctioneer, who liked +the unique thing and was not without tact, having the gift of humour, +took on himself the office of inquisitor, even as there rose again little +snatches of "Vive Napoleon" from the crowd. He approached Valmond, who +was moving on towards the Louis Quinze, with appreciation of a time for +disappearing. + +"We know you, sir," said Medallion, "as Monsieur Valmond; but there are +those who think you would let us address you by a name better known-- +indeed, the name dear to all Frenchmen. If it be so, will you not let us +call you Napoleon" (he took off his hat, and Valmond did the same), "and +will you tell us what we may do for you?" + +Madame Chalice, a little way off, watched Valmond closely. He stood a +moment in a quandary, yet he was not outwardly nervous, and he answered +presently, with an air of empressement: + +"Monsieur, my friends, I am in the hands of fate. I am dumb. Fate +speaks for me. But we shall know each other better; and I trust you, +who, as Frenchmen, descended from a better day in France, will not betray +me. Let us be patient till Destiny strikes the hour." Now for the first +time to-day Valmond saw Madame Chalice. + +She could have done no better thing to serve him than to hold out her +hand, and say in her clear tones, which had, too, a fascinating sort of +monotony: + +"Monsieur, if you are idle Friday afternoon, perhaps you will bestow on +me a half-hour at the Manor; and I will try to make half mine no bad +one." + +He was keen enough to feel the delicacy of the point through the deftness +of the phrase; and what he said and what he did now had no pose, but +sheer gratitude. With a few gracious words to Medallion, she bowed and +drove away, leaving Valmond in the midst of an admiring crowd. + +He was launched on an adventure as whimsical as tragical, if he was an +impostor; and if he was not, as pathetic as droll. He was scarcely +conscious that Parpon walked beside him, till the dwarf said: + +"Hold on, my dauphin, you walk too fast for your poor fool." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +From this hour Valmond was carried on by a wave of fortune. Before +vespers on that Sunday night, it was common talk that he was a true son +of the Great Napoleon, born at St. Helena. + +Why did he come to Pontiac? He wished to be in retirement till his +friends, acting for him in France, gave him the signal, and then with a +small army of French-Canadians he would land in France. Thousands would +gather round his standard, and so marching on to Paris, the Napoleonic +faith would be revived, and he would come into his own. It is possible +that these stories might have been traced to Parpon, but he had covered +up his trail so well that no one followed him. + +On that Sunday night, young men and old flocked into Valmond's chambers +at the Louis Quinze, shook hands with him, addressing him as "Your +Excellency" or "Your Highness." He maintained towards them a mysterious +yet kindly reserve, singularly effective. They inspected the martial +furnishing of the room: the drum, the pair of rifles, the pistols, in the +corner, the sabres crossed on the wall, the gold-handled sword that lay +upon the table, and the picture of Napoleon on a white horse against the +wall. Tobacco and wine were set upon a side table, and every man as he +passed out took a glass of wine and enough tobacco for his pipe, and +said: "Of grace, your health, monseigneur!" + +There were those who scoffed, who from natural habit disbelieved, and +nodded knowingly, and whispered in each other's ears; but these were in +the minority; and all the women and children declared for this new "Man +of Destiny." And when some foolish body asked him for a lock of his +hair, and old Madame Degardy (crazy Joan, as she was called) followed, +offering him a pinch of snuff, and a lad appeared with a bunch of violets +from Madame Chalice, the dissentients were cast in shadow, and had no +longer courage to doubt. + +Madame Chalice had been merely whimsical in sending these violets, which +her gardener had brought her that very morning. + +"It will help along the pretty farce," she had said to herself; and then +she sat her down to read Napoleon's letters to Josephine, and to wonder +that a woman could have been faithless and vile with such a man. Her +blood raced indignantly in her veins as she thought of it. She admired +intellect, supremacy, the gifts of temperament, deeds of war and +adventure beyond all. As yet her brain was stronger than her feelings; +there had been no breakers of emotion in her life. A wife, she had no +child; the mother in her was spent upon her husband, whose devotion, +honour, name, and goodness were dear to her. Yet--yet she had a world of +her own; and reading Napoleon's impassioned letters to his wife, written +with how great homage! in the flow of the tide washing to famous battle- +fields, an exultation of ambition inspired her, and the genius of her +distinguished ancestors set her heart beating hard. Presently, her face +alive with feeling, a furnace in her eyes, she repeated a paragraph from +Napoleon's letters to Josephine: + + The enemy have lost, my dearest, eighteen thousand men, prisoners, + killed, and wounded. Wurmzer has nothing left but to throw himself + into Mantua. I hope soon to be in your arms. I love you to + distraction. All is well. Nothing is wanting to your husband's + happiness, save the love of Josephine. + +She sprang to her feet. "And she, wife of a hero, was in common intrigue +with Hippolyte Charles at the time! She had a conqueror, a splendid +adventurer, and coming emperor, for a husband, and she loved him not. +I--I could have knelt to him--worshipped him. I"--With a little +hysterical, disdainful laugh, as of the soul at itself, she leaned upon +the window, looking into the village below, alternately smiling and +frowning at the thought of this adventurer down at the Louis Quinze. +"Yet, who can tell? Disraeli was half mountebank at the start," she +said. "Napoleon dressed infamously, too, before he was successful." +But again she laughed, as at an absurdity. + +During the next few days Valmond was everywhere--kind, liberal, quaint, +tireless, at times melancholy; "in the distant perspective of the stage," +as Monsieur De la Riviere remarked mockingly. But a passing member of +the legislature met and was conquered by Valmond, and carried on to +neighbouring parishes the wondrous tale. + +He carried it through Ville Bambord, fifty miles away; and the story of +how a Napoleon had come to Pontiac reached the ears of old Sergeant +Eustache Lagroin of the Old Guard, who had fought with the Great Emperor +at Waterloo, and in his army on twenty other battle-fields. He had been +at Fontainebleau when Napoleon bade farewell to the Old Guard, saying: +"For twenty years I have ever found you in the path of honour and glory. +Adieu, my children! I would I were able to press you all to my heart-- +but I will at least press your eagle. I go to record the great deeds we +have done together." + +When the gossip came to Lagroin, as he sat in his doorway, babbling of +Grouchy and Lannes and Davoust, the Little Corporal outflanking them all +in his praise, his dim blue eyes flared out from the distant sky of youth +and memory, his lips pursed in anger, and he got to his feet, his stick +fiercely pounding the ground. + +"Tut! tut!" said he. "A lie! a pretty lie! I knew all the Napoleons-- +Joseph, Lucien, Louis, Jerome, Caroline, Eliza, Pauline--all! I have +seen them every one. And their children--pah! Who can deceive me? I +will go to Pontiac, I will see to this tomfoolery. I'll bring the rascal +to the drumhead. Does he think there is no one? Pish! I will spit +him at the first stroke. Here, here, Manette," he cried to his grand- +daughter; "fetch out my uniform, give it an airing, and see to the +buttons. I will show this brag how one of the Old Guard looked at +Saint Jean. Quick, Manette, my sabre polish; I'll clean my musket, +and to-morrow I will go to Pontiac. I'll put the scamp through his +facings--but yes! I am eighty, but I have an arm of thirty." True to +his word, the next morning at daybreak he started to walk to Pontiac, +accompanied for a mile or so by Manette and a few of the villagers. + +"See you, my child," he said, "I will stay with my niece, Desire Malboir, +and her daughter Elise, there in Pontiac. You shall hear how I fetch +that vagabond to his potage!" + +Valmond had purchased a tolerable white horse through Medallion. After a +day's grooming the beast showed off very well; and he was now seen riding +about the parish, dressed after the manner of the First Napoleon, with a +cocked hat and a short sword at his side. He rode well, and the silver +and pennies he scattered were most fruitful of effect from the martial +elevation. He happened to be riding into the village at one end as +Sergeant Lagroin entered it at the other, each going towards the Louis +Quinze. Valmond knew nothing of Sergeant Lagroin, so that what followed +was of the inspiration of the moment. It sprang from his wit, and from +his knowledge of Napoleon and the Napoleonic history, a knowledge which +had sent Monsieur Garon into tears of joy in his own home, and afterwards +off to the Manor House and also to the Seigneury, full of praise of him. + +Catching sight of the sergeant, the significance of the thing flashed to +his brain, and his course was mapped out on the instant. Sitting very +straight, Valmond rode steadily down towards the old soldier. The +sergeant had drawn notice as he came up the street, and people came to +their doors, and children followed the grey, dust-covered veteran, in his +last-century uniform. He came as far as the Louis Quinze, and then, +looking on up the road, he saw the white horse, the cocked hat, the white +waistcoat, and the long grey coat. He brought his stick down smartly on +the ground, drew himself up, squared his shoulders, and said: "Courage, +Eustache Lagroin. It is not forty Prussians, but one rogue! Crush him! +Down with the pretender!" + +So, with a defiant light in his eye, he came on, the old uniform sagging +loosely on the shrunken body, which yet was soldier-like from head to +foot. Years of camp and discipline and battle and endurance were in the +whole bearing of the man. He was no more of Pontiac and this simple life +than was Valmond himself. + +So they neared each other, the challenger and the challenged, the +champion and the invader, and quickly the village emptied itself out to +see. + +When Valmond came so close that he could observe every detail of the old +man's uniform, he suddenly reined in his horse, drew him back on his +haunches with his left hand, and with his right saluted--not the old +sergeant, but the coat of the Old Guard, to which his eyes were directed. +Mechanically the hand of the sergeant went to his cap, then, starting +forward with an angry movement, he seemed as though he would attack +Valmond. + +Valmond sat very still, his right hand thrust in his bosom, his forehead +bent, his eyes calmly, resolutely, yet distantly, looking at the +sergeant, who grew suddenly still also, while the people watched and +wondered. + +As Valmond looked, a soft light passed across his face, relieving its +theatrical firmness, the half-contemptuous curl of his lip. He knew well +enough that this event would make or unmake him in Pontiac. He became +also aware that a carriage had driven up among the villagers, and had +stopped; and though he did not look directly, he felt that it was Madame +Chalice. This soft look on his face was not all assumed; for the ancient +uniform of the sergeant touched something in him, the true comedian, or +the true Napoleon, and it seemed as if he might dismount and take the old +soldier in his arms. + +He set his horse on a little, and paused again, with not more than +fifteen feet between them. The sergeant's brain was going round like a +top. It was not he that challenged after all. + +"Soldier of the Old Guard," cried Valmond, in a clear, ringing voice, +"how far is it to Friedland?" + +Like a machine the veteran's hand again went up to his cap, and he +answered: + +"To Friedland--the width of a ditch!" + +His voice shook as he said it, and the world to him was all a muddle +then; for Napoleon the Great had asked a private this question after that +battle on the Alle, when Berningsen, the Russian, threw away an army to +the master strategist. + +The private had answered the question in the words of Sergeant Lagroin. +It was a saying long afterwards among the Old Guard, though it may not be +found in the usual histories of that time, where every battalion, almost +every company, had a watchword, which passed to make room for others, as +victory followed victory. + +"Soldier of the Old Guard," said Valmond again, "how came you by those +scars upon your forehead?" + +"I was a drummer at Auerstadt, a corporal at Austerlitz, a sergeant at +Waterloo," rolled back the reply, in a high, quavering voice, as memories +of great events blew in upon the ancient fires of his spirit. + +"Ah!" answered Valmond, nodding eagerly; "with Davoust at Auerstadt-- +thirty against sixty thousand men. At eight o'clock, all fog and mist, +as you marched up the defile towards the Sonnenberg hills, the brave +Gudin and his division feeling their way to Blucher. Comrade, how still +you stepped, your bayonet thrust out before you, clearing the mists, your +eyes straining, your teeth set, ready to thrust. All at once a quick- +moving mass sprang out of the haze, and upon you, with hardly a sound of +warning; and an army of hussars launched themselves at your bayonets! +You bent that wall back like a piece of steel, and broke it. Comrade, +that was the beginning, in the mist of morning. Tell me how you fared in +the light of evening, at the end of that bloody day." + +The old soldier was trembling. There was no sign, no movement, from the +crowd. Across the fields came the sharpening of a scythe, the cry of the +grasshoppers, and the sound of a mill-wheel arose near by. In the mill +itself, far up in a deep dormer window, sat Parpon with his black cat, +looking down upon the scene with a grim smiling. + +The sergeant saw that mist fronting Sonnenberg rise up, and show ten +thousand splendid cavalry and fifty thousand infantry, with a king and a +prince to lead them down upon those malleable but unmoving squares of +French infantry. He saw himself drumming the Prussians back and his +Frenchmen on. + +"Beautiful God!" he cried proudly, "that was a day! And every man of +the Third Corps that time lift up the lid of hell and drop a Prussian in. +I stand beside Davoust once, and ping! come a bullet, and take off his +chapeau. It fell upon my drum. I stoop and pick it up and hand it to +him, but I keep drumming with one hand all the time. 'Comrade,' say I, +'the army thanks you for your courtesy.' 'Brother,' he say, 'twas to +your drum,' and his eye flash out where Gudin carved his way through +those pigs of Prussians. 'I'd take my head off to keep your saddle +filled, comrade,' say I. Ping! come a bullet and catch me in the calf. +'You hold your head too high, brother,' the general say, and he smile. +'I'll hold it higher,' answer I, and I snatch at a soldier. 'Up with me +on your shoulder, big comrade,' I say, and he lift me up. I make my +sticks sing on the leather. 'You shall take off your hat to the Little +Corporal to-morrow, if you've still your head, brother'--speak Davoust +like that, and then he ride away like the devil to Morand's guns. Ha, +ha, ha!" The sergeant's face was blazing with a white glare, for he was +very pale, and seemed unconscious of all save the scene in his mind's +eye. "Ha, ha, ha!" he laughed again. "Beautiful God, how did Davoust +bring us on up to Sonnenberg! And next day I saw the Little Corporal. +'Drummer,' say he, 'no head's too high for my Guard. Come you, comrade, +your general gives you to me. Come, Corporal Lagroin,' he call; and I +come. 'But, first,' he say, 'up on the shoulder of your big soldier +again, and play.' 'What shall I play, sire?' I ask. 'Play ten thousand +heroes to Walhalla,' he answer. I play, and I think of my brother +Jacques, who went fighting to heaven the day before. Beautiful God! +that was a day at Auerstadt." + +"Soldier," said Valmond, waving his hand, "step on. There is a drum at +Louis Quinze. Let us go together, comrade." + +The old sergeant was in a dream. He wheeled, the crowd made way for him, +and at the neck of the white horse he came on with Valmond. As they +passed the carriage of Madame Chalice, Valmond made no sign. They +stopped in front of the hotel, and Valmond, motioning to the garcon, gave +him an order. The old sergeant stood silent, his eyes full fixed upon +Valmond. In a moment the boy came out with the drum. Valmond took it, +and, holding it in his hands, said softly: "Soldier of the Old Guard, +here is a drum of France." Without a word the old man took the drum, his +fingers trembling as he fastened it to his belt. When the sticks were in +his hand, all trembling ceased, and his hands became steady. He was +living in the past entirely. + +"Soldier," said Valmond in a loud voice, "remember Austerlitz. The +Heights of Pratzen are before you. Play up the feet of the army." + +For an instant the old man did not move, and then a sullen sort of look +came over his face. He was not a drummer at Austerlitz, and for the +instant he did not remember the tune the drummers played. + +"Soldier," said Valmond softly, "with 'the Little Sword that Danced' play +up the feet of the army." + +A light broke over the old man's face. The swift look he cast on Valmond +had no distrust now. Instantly his hand went to his cap. + +"My General!" he said, and stepped in front of the white horse. There +was a moment's pause, and then the sergeant's arms were raised, and down +came the sticks with a rolling rattle on the leather. They sent a shiver +of feeling through the village, and turned the meek white horse into a +charger of war. No man laughed at the drama performed in Pontiac that +day, not even the little coterie who were present, not even Monsieur De +la Riviere, whose brow was black with hatred, for he had watched 'the +eyes of Madame Chalice fill with tears at the old sergeant's tale of +Auerstadt, had noticed her admiring glance, "at this damned comedian," as +he now called Valmond. When he came to her carriage, she said, with +oblique suggestion: + +"What do you think of it?" + +"Impostor! fakir!" was his sulky reply. "Nothing more." + +"If fakirs and impostors are so convincing, dear monsieur, why be +yourself longer? Listen!" she added. Valmond had spoken down at the +aged drummer, whose arms were young again, as once more he marched on +Pratzen. Suddenly from the sergeant's lips there broke, in a high, +shaking voice, to the rattle of the drum: + + "Conscrits, au pas; + Ne pleurez pas; + Ne pleurez pas; + Marchez au pas, + Au pas, au pas, au pas, au pas!" + +They had not gone twenty yards before fifty men and boys, caught in the +inflammable moment, sprang out from the crowd, fell involuntarily into +rough marching order, and joined in the inspiring refrain: + + "Marchez au pas, + Au pas, au pas, au pas, au pas!" + +The old man in front was charged anew. All at once, at a word from +Valmond, he broke into the Marseillaise, with his voice and with his +drum. To these Frenchmen of an age before the Revolution, the +Marseillaise had only been a song. Now in their ignorant breasts there +waked the spirit of France, and from their throats there burst out, with +a half-delirious ecstasy: + + "Allons, enfants de la patrie, + Le jour de gloire est arrive." + +As they neared the Louis Quinze, a dozen men, just arrived in the +village, returned from river-driving, carried away by the chant, +tumultuously joined in the procession, and so came on in a fever of vague +patriotism. A false note in the proceedings, a mismove on the part of +Valmond, would easily have made the thing ridiculous; but even to Madame +Chalice, with her keen artistic sense, it had a pathetic sort of dignity, +by virtue of its rude earnestness, its raw sincerity. She involuntarily +thought of the great Napoleon and his toy kingdom of Elba, of Garibaldi +and his handful of patriots. There were depths here, and she knew it. + +"Even the pantaloon may have a soul," she said; "or a king may have a +heart." + +In front of the Louis Quinze, Valmond waved his hand for a halt, and the +ancient drummer wheeled and faced him, fronting the crowd. Valmond was +pale, and his eyes burned like restless ghosts. Surely the Cupid bow of +the thin Napoleonic lips was there, the distant yet piercing look. He +waved his hand again, and the crowd were silent. + +"My children," said he, "we have begun well. Once more among you the +antique spirit lives. From you may come the quickening of our beloved +country; for she is yours, though here under the flag of our ancient and +amiable enemy you wait the hour of your return to her. In you there is +nothing mean or dull; you are true Frenchmen. My love is with you. And +you and I, true to each other, may come into our own again--over there!" + +He pointed to the East. + +"Through you and me may France be born again; and in the villages and +fields and houses of Normandy and Brittany you may, as did your +ancestors, live in peace, and bring your bones to rest in that blessed +and honourable ground. My children, my heart is full. Let us move on +together. Napoleon from St. Helena calls to you, Napoleon in Pontiac +calls to you! Will you come?" + +Reckless cheering followed; many were carried away into foolish tears, +and Valmond sat still and let them kiss his hand, while pitchers of wine +went round. + +"Where is our fakir now, dear monsieur?" said Madame Chalice to De la +Riviere once again. + +Valmond got silence with a gesture. He opened his waistcoat, took from +his bosom an order fastened to a little bar of gold, and held it in his +hand. + +"Drummer," he said, in a clear, full tone, "call the army to attention." + +The old man set their blood tingling with the impish sticks. + +"I advance Sergeant Lagroin, of the Old Guard of glorious memory, to the +rank of Captain in my Household Troops, and I command you to obey him as +such." + +His look bent upon the crowd, as Napoleon's might have done on the Third +Corps. + +"Drummer, call the army to attention," fell the words. + +And again like a small whirlwind of hailstones the sticks shook on the +drum. + +"I advance Captain Lagroin to the rank of Colonel in my Household Troops, +and I command you to obey him as such." + +And once more: "Drummer, call the army to attention." + +The sticks swung down, but somehow they faltered, for the drummer was +shaking now. + +"I advance Colonel Lagroin to the rank of General in my Household Troops, +and I command you to obey him as such." + +Then he beckoned, and the old man drew near. Stooping, he pinned the +order upon his breast. When the sergeant saw what it was, he turned +pale, trembled, and the drumsticks fell from his hand. His eyes shone +like sun on wet glass, then tears sprang from them upon his face. He +caught Valmond's hand and kissed it, and cried, oblivious of them all: + +"Ah, sire, sire! It is true. It is true. I know that ribbon, and I +know you are a Napoleon. Sire, I love you, and I will die for you!" + +For the first time that day a touch of the fantastic came into Valmond's +manner. + +"General," he said, "the centuries look down on us as they looked down on +him, your sire--and mine!" + +He doffed his hat, and the hats of all likewise came off in a strange +quiet. A cheer followed, and Valmond motioned for wine to go round +freely. Then he got off his horse, and, taking the weeping old man by +the arm, himself loosening the drum from his belt, they passed into the +hotel. + +"A cheerful bit of foolery and treason," said Monsieur De la Riviere to +Madame Chalice. + +"My dear Seigneur, if you only had more humour and less patriotism!" she +answered. "Treason may have its virtues. It certainly is interesting, +which, in your present gloomy state, you are not." + +"I wonder, madame, that you can countenance this imposture," he broke +out. + +"Excellent and superior monsieur, I wonder sometimes that I can +countenance you. Breakfast with me on Sunday, and perhaps I will tell +you why--at twelve o'clock." + +She drove on, but, meeting the Cure, stopped her carriage. + +"Why so grave, my dear Cure?" she asked, holding out her hand. + +He fingered the gold cross upon his breast--she had given it to him two +years before. + +"I am going to counsel him--Monsieur Valmond," he said. Then, with a +sigh: "He sent me two hundred dollars for the altar to-day, and fifty +dollars to buy new cassocks for myself." + +"Come in the morning and tell me what he says," she answered; "and bring +our dear avocat." + +As she looked from her window an hour later, she saw bonfires burning, +and up from the village came the old song, that had prefaced a drama in +Pontiac. + +But Elise Malboir had a keener interest that night, for Valmond and +Parpon brought her uncle "General Lagroin," in honour to her mother's +cottage; and she sat and listened dreamily, as Valmond and the old man +talked of great things to be done. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Conquest not important enough to satisfy ambition +Face flushed with a sort of pleasurable defiance +Touch of the fantastic, of the barbaric, in all genius +We are only children till we begin to make our dreams our life + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VALMOND TO PONTIAC, V1, BY PARKER *** + +*********** This file should be named 6202.txt or 6202.zip *********** + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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