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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/6203.txt b/6203.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f33cb56 --- /dev/null +++ b/6203.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2576 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook Valmond Came to Pontiac, v2, by G. Parker +#30 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 2. + +Author: Gilbert Parker + +Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6203] +[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, V2, 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 2. + + +CHAPTER VI + +Prince or plebeian, Valmond played his part with equal aplomb at the +simple home of Elise Malboir and at the Manoir Hilaire, where Madame +Chalice received him. His dress had nothing of the bizarre on this +occasion. He was in black-long coat, silk stockings, the collar of his +waistcoat faced with white, his neckerchief white and full, his enamelled +shoes adorned with silver buckles. His present repose and decorum +contrasted strangely with the fanciful display at his first introduction. +Madame Chalice approved instantly, for though the costume was, in itself, +an affectation, previous to the time by a generation, it was in the +picture, was sedately refined. She welcomed him in the salon where many +another distinguished man had been entertained--from Frontenac, and +Vaudreuil, down to Sir Guy Carleton. The Manor had belonged to her +husband's people seventy-five years before, and though, as a banker in +New York, Monsieur Chalice had become an American of the Americans, at +her request he had bought back from a kinsman the old place, unchanged, +furniture and all. Bringing the antique plate, china, and bric-a-brac, +made in France when Henri Quatre was king, she fared away to Quebec, set +the rude mansion in order, and was happy for a whole summer, as was her +husband, the best of fishermen and sportsmen. The Manor House stood on a +knoll, behind which, steppe on steppe, climbed the hills, till they ended +in Dalgrothe Mountain. Beyond the mountain were unexplored regions, hill +and valley floating into hill and valley, lost in a miasmic haze, ruddy, +silent, untenanted, save, mayhap, by the strange people known as the +Little Good Folk of the Scarlet Hills. + +The house had been built in the seventeenth century, and the walls were +very thick, to keep out both cold and attack. Beneath the high-pointed +roof were big dormer windows, and huge chimneys flanked each side of the +house. The great roof gave a sense of crouching or hovering, for warmth +or in menace. As Valmond entered the garden, Madame Chalice was leaning +over the lower half of the entrance door, which opened latitudinally, and +was hung on large iron hinges of quaint design, made by some seventeenth- +century forgeron. Behind her deepened hospitably the spacious hall, +studded and heavy beamed, with its unpainted pine ceiling toned to a good +brown by smoke and time. Caribou and moose antlers hung along the wall, +with arquebuses, powder-horns, big shot-bags, swords, and even pieces of +armour, such as Cartier brought with him from St. Malo. + +Madame Chalice looked out of this ancient avenue, a contrast, yet a +harmony; for, though her dress was modern, her person had a rare touch +of the archaic, and fitted into the picture like a piece of beautiful +porcelain, coloured long before the art of making fadeless colours was +lost. + +There was an amused, meditative smiling at her lips, a kind of wonder, +the tender flush of a new experience. She turned, and, stepping softly +into the salon, seated herself near the immense chimney, in a heavily +carved chair, her feet lost in rich furs on the polished floor. A quaint +table at her hand was dotted with rare old books and miniatures, and +behind her ticked an ancient clock in a tall mahogany case. + +Valmond came forward, hat in hand, and raised to his lips the fingers she +gave him. He did it with the vagueness of one in a dream, she thought, +and she neither understood nor relished his uncomplimentary abstraction; +so she straightway determined to give him some troublesome moments. + +"I have waited to drink my coffee with you," she said, motioning him to a +seat; "and you may smoke a cigarette, if you wish." + +Her eyes wandered over his costume with critical satisfaction. + +He waved his hand slightly, declining the permission, and looked at her +with an intent seriousness, which took no account of the immediate charm +of her presence. + +"I'd like to ask you a question," he said, without preamble. She +was amused, interested. Here was an unusual man, who ignored the +conventional preliminary nothings, beating down the grass before +the play, as it were. + +"I was never good at catechism," she answered. "But I will be as +hospitable as I can." + +"I've felt," he said, "that you can--can see through things; that you can +balance them, that you get at all sides, and--" + +She had been reading Napoleon's letters this very afternoon. + +"Full squared?" she interrupted quizzically. + +"As the Great Emperor said," he answered. "A woman sees farther than a +man, and if she has judgment as well, she is the best prophet in the +world." + +"It sounds distinctly like a compliment," she answered. "You are trying +to break that square!" + +She was mystified; he was different from any man she had ever +entertained. She was not half sure she liked it. Yet, if he were in +very truth a prince--she thought of his debut in flowered waistcoat, +panama hat, and enamelled boots!--she should take this confidence as a +compliment; if he were a barber, she could not resent it; she could not +waste wit or time; she could not even, in extremity, call the servant to +show the barber out; and in any case she was too comfortably interested +to worry herself with speculation. + +He was very much in earnest. "I want to ask you," he said, "what is the +thing most needed to make a great idea succeed." + +"I have never had a great idea," she replied. + +He looked at her eagerly, with youthful, questioning eyes. + +"How simple, and yet how astute he is!" she thought, remembering the +event of yesterday. + +"I thought you had--I was sure you had," he said in a troubled sort of +way. He did not see that she was eluding him. + +"I mean, I never had a fixed and definite idea that I proceeded to apply, +as you have done," she explained tentatively. "But--well, I suppose that +the first requisite for success is absolute belief in the idea; that it +be part of one's life; to suffer for, to fight for, to die for, if need +be--though that sounds like a handbook of moral mottoes, doesn't it?" + +"That's it, that's it," he said. "The thing must be in your bones +--hein?" + +"Also in--your blood--hein?" she rejoined slowly and meaningly, looking +over the top of her coffee-cup at him. Somehow again the plebeian +quality in that hein grated on her, and she could not resist the retort. + +"What!" said he confusedly, plunging into another pitfall. She had +challenged him, and he knew it. "Nothing what-ever," she answered, with +an urbanity that defied the suggestion of malice. Yet, now that she +remembered, she had sweetly challenged one of a royal house for the like +lapse into the vulgar tongue. A man should not be beheaded because of a +what. So she continued more seriously: "The idea must be himself, all of +him, born with him, the rightful output of his own nature, the thing he +must inevitably do, or waste his life." + +She looked him honestly in the eyes. She had spoken with the soft irony +of truth, the blind tyranny of the just. She had meant to test him here +and there by throwing little darts of satire, and yet he made her serious +and candid in spite of herself. He was of kin to her in some part of +his nature. He did not concern her as a man of personal or social +possibilities--merely as an active originality. Leaning back languidly, +she was eyeing him closely from under drooping lids, smiling, too, in an +unimportant sort of way, as if what she had said was a trifle. + +Consummate liar and comedian, or true man and no pretender, his eyes did +not falter. They were absorbed, as if in eager study of a theme. + +"Yes, yes, that's it; and if he has it, what next?" said he meaningly. + +"Well, then, opportunity, joined to coolness, knowledge of men, power of +combination, strategy, and"--she paused, and a purely feminine curiosity +impelled her to add suggestively--"and a woman." + +He nodded. "And a woman," he repeated after her musingly, and not +turning it to account cavalierly, as he might have done. He was taking +himself with a simple seriousness that appealed to her. + +"You may put strategy out of the definition, leaving in the woman," she +continued ironically. + +He felt the point, and her demure dart struck home. But he saw what an +ally she might make. Tremendous possibilities moved before him. His +heart beat faster than it did yesterday when the old sergeant faced him. +Here was beauty--he admired that; power--he wished for that. What might +he not accomplish, no matter how wild his move, with this wonderful +creature as his friend, his ally, his----He paused, for this house +had a master as well as a mistress. + +"We will leave in the woman," he said quietly, yet with a sort of trouble +in his face. + +"In your idea?" was the negligent question. + +"Yes." + +"Where is the woman?" insinuated the soft, bewildering voice. + +"Here!" he answered emotionally, and he believed it was the truth. She +stood looking meditatively out of the window, not at him. + +"In Pontiac?" she asked presently, turning with a child-like surprise. +"Ah, yes, yes! I know--one of the people; suitable for Pontiac; but is +it wise? She is pretty--but is it wise?" + +She was adroitly suggesting Elise Malboir, whose little romance she had +discovered. + +"She is the prettiest and wisest lady I ever knew, or ever hoped to +know," he said earnestly, laying his hand upon his heart. + +"How far will your idea take you?" she asked evasively, her small +fingers tightening a gold hair-pin. "To Paris--to the Tuileries!" +he answered, rising to his feet. + +"And you start--from Pontiac?" + +"What difference, Pontiac or Cannes, like the Great Master after Elba," +he said. "The principle is the same." + +"The money?" + +"It will come," he answered. "I have friends--and hopes." + +She almost laughed. She was suddenly struck by the grotesqueness of the +situation. But she saw how she had hurt him, and she said instantly: + +"Of course, with those one may go far. Sit down and tell me all your +plans." + +He was about to comply, when, glancing out of the window, she saw the +old sergeant, now "General Lagroin," and Parpon hastening up the walk. +Parpon ambled comfortably beside the old man, who seemed ten years +younger than he had done the day before. + +"Your army and cabinet, monseigneur!" she said with a pretty, mocking +gesture of salutation. + +He glanced at her reprovingly. "My General and my Minister; as brave a +soldier and as able a counsellor as ever prince had. Madame," he added, +"they only are farceurs who do not dare, and have not wisdom. My General +has scars from Auerstadt, Austerlitz, and Waterloo; my Minister is +feared--in Pontiac. Was he not the trusted friend of the Grand Seigneur, +as he was called here, the father of your Monseiur De la Riviere? Has he +yet erred in advising me? Have we yet failed? Madame," he added, a +little rhetorically, "as we have begun, so will we end, true to our +principles, and--" + +"And gentlemen of the king," she said provokingly, urging him on. + +"Pardon, gentlemen of the Empire, madame, as time and our lives will +prove. . . . Madame, I thank you for your violets of Sunday last." + +She admired the acumen that had seized the perfect opportunity to thank +her for the violets, the badge of the Great Emperor. + +"My hives shall not be empty of bees--or honey," she said, alluding to +the imperial bees, and she touched his arm in a pretty, gracious fashion. + +"Madame--ah, madame!" he replied, and his eyes grew moist. + +She bade the servant admit Lagroin and Parpon. They bowed profoundly, +first to Valmond, and afterwards to Madame Chalice. She saw the point, +and it amused her. She read in the old man's eye the soldier's contempt +for women, together with his new-born reverence and love for Valmond. +Lagroin was still dressed in the uniform of the Old Guard, and wore on +his breast the sacred ribbon which Valmond had given him the day before. + +"Well, General?" said Valmond. + +"Sire," said the old man, "they mock us in the streets. Come to the +window, sire." + +The "sire," fell on the ears of Madame Chalice like a mot in a play; but +Valmond, living up to his part, was grave and solicitous. He walked to +the window, and the old man said: + +"Sire, do you not hear a drum?" + +A faint rat-tat came up the road. Valmond bowed. "Sire," the old man +continued, "I would not act till I had your orders." + +"Whence comes the mockery?" Valmond asked quietly. + +The other shook his head. "Sire, I do not know. But I remember of such +a thing happening to the Emperor. It was in the garden of the Tuileries, +and twenty-four battalions of the Old Guard filed past our great chief. +Some fool sent out a gamin dressed in regimentals in front of one of the +bands, and then--" + +"Enough, General," said Valmond; "I understand. I will go down into the +village--eh, monsieur?" he added, turning to Parpon with impressive +consideration. + +"Sire, there is one behind these mockers," answered the little man in a +low voice. + +Valmond turned towards Madame Chalice. "I know my enemy, madame," he +said. + +"Your enemy is not here," she rejoined kindly. + +He stooped over her hand, and bowed Lagroin and Parpon to the door. + +"Madame," he said, "I thank you. Will you accept a souvenir of him whom +we both love, martyr and friend of France?" + +He drew from his breast a small painting of Napoleon, on ivory, and +handed it to her. + +"It was the work of David," he continued. "You will find it well +authenticated. Look upon the back of it." + +She looked, and her heart beat a little faster. "This was done when he +was alive?" she said. + +"For the King of Rome," he answered. "Adieu, madame. Again I thank you, +for our cause as for myself." + +He turned away. She let him get as far as the door. "Wait, wait!" she +said suddenly, a warm light in her face, for her imagination had been +touched. "Tell me, tell me the truth. Who are you? Are you really a +Napoleon? I can be a constant ally, but, I charge you, speak the truth +to me. Are you--" She stopped abruptly. "No, no; do not tell me," she +added quickly. "If you are not, you will be your own executioner. I +will ask for no further proof than did Sergeant Lagroin. It is in a +small way yet, but you are playing a terrible game. Do you realise what +may happen?" + +"In the hour that you ask a last proof I will give it," he said almost +fiercely. "I go now to meet an enemy." + +"If I should change that enemy into a friend--" she hinted. + +"Then I should have no need of stratagem or force." + +"Force?" she asked suggestively. The drollery of it set her smiling. + +"In a week I shall have five hundred men." + +"Dreamer!" she thought, and shook her head dubiously; but, glancing +again at the ivory portrait, her mood changed. + +"Au revoir," she said. "Come and tell me about the mockers. Success go +with you--sire." + +Yet she did not know whether she thought him sire or sinner, gentleman +or comedian, as she watched him go down the hill with Lagroin and Parpon. +But she had the portrait. How did he get it? No matter, it was hers +now. + +Curious to know more of the episode in the village below, she ordered her +carriage, and came driving slowly past the Louis Quinze at an exciting +moment. A crowd had gathered, and boys, and even women, were laughing +and singing in ridicule snatches of, "Vive Napoleon!" For, in derision +of yesterday's event, a small boy, tricked out with a paper cocked-hat +and incongruous regimentals, with a hobby-horse between his legs, was +marching up and down, preceded by another lad, who played a toy drum in +derision of Lagroin. The children had been well rehearsed, for even as +Valmond arrived upon the scene, Lagroin and Parpon on either side of him, +the mock Valmond was bidding the drummer: "Play up the feet of the army!" + +The crowd parted on either side, silenced and awed by the look of +potential purpose in the face of this yesterday's hero. The old +sergeant's glance was full of fury, Parpon's of a devilish sort of glee. + +Valmond approached the lads. + +"My children," he said kindly, "you have not learned your lesson well +enough. You shall be taught." He took the paper caps from their heads. +"I will give you better caps than these." He took the hobby-horse, the +drum, and the tin swords. "I will give you better things than these." +He put the caps on the ground, added the toys to the heap, and Parpon, +stooping, lighted the paper. Scattering money among the crowd, and +giving some silver to the lads, Valmond stood looking at the bonfire for +a moment, and then, pointing to it dramatically, said: + +"My friends, my brothers, Frenchmen, we will light larger fires than +these. Your young Seigneur sought to do me honour this afternoon. +I thank him, and he shall have proof of my affection in due time. +And now our good landlord's wine is free to you, for one goblet each. +My children," he added, turning to the little mockers, "come to me +to-morrow and I will show you how to be soldiers. My General shall +teach you what to do, and I will teach you what to say." + +Almost instantly there arose the old admiring cries of, "Vive Napoleon!" +and he knew that he had regained his ground. Amid the pleasant tumult +the three entered the hotel together, like people in a play. + +As they were going up the stairs, Parpon whispered to the old soldier, +who laid his hand fiercely upon the fine sword at his side, given him +that morning by Valmond; for, looking down, Lagroin saw the young +Seigneur maliciously laughing at them, as if in delight at the mischief +he had caused. + +That night, at nine o'clock, the old sergeant went to the Seigneury, +knocked, and was admitted to a room where were seated the young Seigneur, +Medallion, and the avocat. + +"Well, General," said De la Riviere, rising with great formality, "what +may I do to serve you? Will you join our party?" He motioned to a +chair. + +The old man's lips were set and stern, and he vouchsafed no reply to the +hospitable request. + +"Monsieur," he said, "to-day you threw dirt at my great master. He is +of royal blood, and he may not fight you. But I, monsieur, his General, +demand satisfaction--swords or pistols!" + +De la Riviere sat down, leaned back in his chair, and laughed. Without a +word the old man stepped forward, and struck him across the mouth with +his red cotton handkerchief. + +"Then take that, monsieur," said he, "from one who fought for the First +Napoleon, and will fight for this Napoleon against the tongue of slander +and the acts of fools. I killed two Prussians once for saying that the +Great Emperor's shirt stuck out below his waistcoat. You'll find me at +the Louis Quinze," he added, before De la Riviere, choking with wrath, +could do more than get to his feet; and, wheeling, he left the room. + +The young Seigneur would have followed him, but the avocat laid a +restraining hand upon his arm, and Medallion said: "Dear Seigneur, see, +you can't fight him. The parish would only laugh." + +De la Riviere took the advice, and on Sunday, over the coffee, unburdened +the tale to Madame Chalice. + +Contrary to his expectations, she laughed a great deal, then soothed his +wounded feelings and advised him as Medallion had done. And because +Valmond commanded the old sergeant to silence, the matter ended for the +moment. But it would have its hour yet, and Valmond knew this as well +as did the young Seigneur. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +It was no jest of Valmond's that he would, or could, have five hundred +followers in two weeks. Lagroin and Parpon were busy, each in his own +way--Lagroin, open, bluff, imperative; Parpon, silent, acute, shrewd. +Two days before the feast of St. John the Baptist, the two made a +special tour through the parish for certain recruits. If these could be +enlisted, a great many men of this and other parishes would follow. They +were, by name, Muroc the charcoalman, Duclosse the mealman, Lajeunesse +the blacksmith, and Garotte the limeburner, all men of note, after their +kind, with influence and individuality. + +Lagroin chafed that he must play recruiting-sergeant and general also. +But it gave him comfort to remember that the Great Emperor had not at +times disdained to be his own recruiting-sergeant; that, after Friedland, +he himself had been taken into the Old Guard by the Emperor; that Davoust +had called him brother; that Ney had shared his supper and slept with him +under the same blanket. Parpon would gladly have done this work alone, +but he knew that Lagroin in his regimentals would be useful. + +The sought-for comrades were often to be found together about the noon +hour in the shop of Jose Lajeunesse. They formed the coterie of the +humble, even as the Cure's coterie represented the aristocracy of Pontiac +--with Medallion as a connecting link. + +Arches and poles were being put up, to be decorated against the feast- +day, and piles of wood for bonfires were arranged at points on the hills +round the village. Cheer and goodwill were everywhere, for a fine +harvest was in view, and this feast-day always brought gladness and +simple revelling. Parish interchanged with parish; but, because it was +so remote, Pontiac was its own goal of pleasure, and few fared forth, +though others came from Ville Bambord and elsewhere to join the fete. +As Lagroin and the dwarf came to the door of the smithy, they heard +the loud laugh of Lajeunesse. + +"Good!" said Parpon. "Hear how he tears his throat!" + +"If he has sense, I'll make a captain of him," remarked Lagroin +consequentially. + +"You shall beat him into a captain on his own anvil," rejoined the little +man. + +They entered the shop. Lajeunesse was leaning on his bellows, laughing, +and holding an iron in the spitting fire; Muroc was seated on the edge of +the cooling tub; and Duclosse was resting on a bag of his excellent meal. +Garotte was the only missing member of the quartette. + +Muroc was a wag, a grim sort of fellow, black from his trade, with big +rollicking eyes. At times he was not easy to please, but if he took a +liking, he was for joking at once. He approved of Parpon, and never lost +a chance of sharpening his humour on the dwarf's impish whetstone of a +tongue. + +"Lord! Lord!" he cried, with feigned awe, getting to his feet at sight +of the two. Then, to his comrades, "Children, children, off with your +hats! Here is Monsieur Talleyrand, if I'm not mistaken. On to your +feet, mealman, and dust your stomach. Lajeunesse, wipe your face with +your leather. Duck your heads, stupids!" + +With mock solemnity the three greeted Parpon and Lagroin. The old +sergeant's face flushed, and his hand dropped to his sword; but he had +promised Parpon to say nothing till he got his cue, and he would keep his +word. So he disposed himself in an attitude of martial attention. The +dwarf bowed to the others with a face of as great gravity as the +charcoalman's, and waving his hand, said: + +"Keep your seats, my children, and God be with you. You are right, +smutty-face; I am Monsieur Talleyrand, Minister of the Crown." + +"The devil, you say!" cried the mealman. + +"Tut, tut!" said Lajeunesse, chaffing; "haven't you heard the news? +The devil is dead!" + +The dwarf's hand went into his pocket. "My poor orphan," said he, +trotting over and thrusting some silver into the blacksmith's pocket, +"I see he hasn't left you well off. Accept my humble gift." + +"The devil dead?" cried Muroc; "then I'll go marry his daughter." + +Parpon climbed up on a pile of untired wheels, and with an elfish grin +began singing. Instantly the three humorists became silent and listened, +the blacksmith pumping his bellows mechanically the while. + + "O mealman white, give me your daughter, + Oh, give her to me, your sweet Suzon! + O mealman dear, you can do no better + For I have a chateau at Malmaison. + + Black charcoalman, you shall not have her + She shall not marry you, my Suzon-- + A bag of meal--and a sack of carbon! + Non, non, non, non, non, non, non, non! + + Go look at your face, my fanfaron, + For my daughter and you would be night and day, + Non, non, non, non, non, non, non, non, + Not for your chateau at Malmaison, + Non, non, non, non, non, non, non, non, + You shall not marry her, my Suzon." + +A better weapon than his waspish tongue was Parpon's voice, for it, +before all, was persuasive. A few years before, none of them had ever +heard him sing. An accident discovered it to them, and afterwards he +sang for them but little, and never when it was expected of him. He +might be the minister of a dauphin or a fool, but he was now only the +mysterious Parpon who thrilled them. All the soul cramped in the small +body was showing in his eyes, as on that day when he had sung before the +Louis Quinze. + +A face suddenly appeared at a little door just opposite him. No one but +Parpon saw it. It belonged to Madelinette, the daughter of Lajeunesse, +who had a voice of merit. More than once the dwarf had stopped to hear +her singing as he passed the smithy. She sang only the old chansons and +the songs of the voyageurs, with a far greater sweetness and richness, +however, than any in the parish; and the Cure could detect her among all +others at mass. She had been taught her notes, but that had only opened +up possibilities, and fretted her till she was unhappy. What she felt +she could not put into her singing, for the machinery, unknown and +tyrannical, was not hers. Twice before she had heard Parpon sing-- +at mass when the miller's wife was buried, and he, forgetting the world, +had poured forth all his beautiful voice; and on that notable night +before the Louis Quinze. If he would but teach her those songs of his, +give her that sound of an organ in her throat! Parpon guessed what she +thought. Well, he would see what could be done, if the blacksmith joined +Valmond's standard. + +He stopped singing. + +"That's as good as dear Caron, the vivandiere of the Third Corps. Blood +o' my body, I believe it's better--almost!" said Lagroin, nodding his +head patronisingly. "She dragged me from under the mare of a damned +Russian that cut me down, before he got my bayonet in his liver. Caron! +Caron! ah yes, brave Caron! my dear Caron!" said the old man, smiling +through the alluring light that the song had made for him, as he looked +behind the curtain of the years. + +Parpon's pleasant ridicule was not lost on the charcoalman and the +mealman; but neither was the singing wasted; and their faces were touched +with admiration, while the blacksmith, with a sigh, turned to his fire +and blew the bellows softly. + +"Blacksmith," said Parpon, "you have a bird that sings." + +"I've no bird that sings like that, though she has pretty notes, my +bird." He sighed again. "'Come, blacksmith,' said the Count Lassone, +when he came here a-fishing, 'that's a voice for a palace,' said he. +'Take it out of the woods and teach it,' said he, 'and it will have all +Paris following it.' That to me, a poor blacksmith, with only my bread +and sour milk, and a hundred dollars a year or so, and a sup of brandy +when I can get it." + +The charcoalman spoke up. "You'll not forget the indulgences folks give +you more than the pay for setting the dropped shoe--true gifts of God, +bought with good butter and eggs at the holy auction, blacksmith. I gave +you two myself. You have your blessings, Lajeunesse." + +"So; and no one to use the indulgences but you and Madelinette, giant," +said the fat mealman. + +"Ay, thank the Lord, we've done well that way!" said the blacksmith, +drawing himself up--for he loved nothing better than to be called the +giant, though he was known to many as petit enfant, in irony of his size. + +Lagroin was now impatient. He could not see the drift of this, and he +was about to whisper to Parpon, when the little man sent him a look, +commanding silence, and he fretted on dumbly. + +"See, my blacksmith," said Parpon, "your bird shall be taught to sing, +and to Paris she shall go by and by." + +"Such foolery!" said Duclosse. + +"What's in your noddle, Parpon?" cried the charcoalman. + +The blacksmith looked at Parpon, his face all puzzled eagerness. But +another face at the door grew pale with suspense. Parpon quickly turned +towards it. "See here, Madelinette," he said, in a low voice. The girl +stepped inside and came to her father. Lajeunesse's arm ran round her +shoulder. There was no corner of his heart into which she had not crept. +"Out with it, Parpon!" called the blacksmith hoarsely, for the +daughter's voice had followed herself into those farthest corners +of his rugged nature. + +"I will teach her to sing first; then she shall go to Quebec, and +afterwards to Paris, my friend," he answered. + +The girl's eyes were dilating with a great joy. "Ah, Parpon--good +Parpon!" she whispered. + +"But Paris! Paris! There's gossip for you, thick as mortar," cried the +charcoalman, and the mealman's fingers beat a tattoo on his stomach. + +Parpon waved his hand. "'Look to the weevil in your meal, Duclosse; and +you, smutty-face, leave true things to your betters. See, blacksmith," +he added, "she shall go to Quebec, and after that to Paris." + +Here he got off the wheels, and stepped out into the centre of the shop. +"Our master will do that for you. I swear for him, and who can say that +Parpon was ever a liar?" + +The blacksmith's hand tightened on his daughter's shoulder. He was +trembling with excitement. + +"Is it true? is it true?" he asked, and the sweat stood out on his +forehead. + +"He sends this for Madelinette," answered the dwarf, handing over a +little bag of gold to the girl, who drew back. But Parpon went close to +her, and gently forced it into her hands. + +"Open it," he said. She did so, and the blacksmith's eyes gloated on the +gold. Muroc and Duclosse drew near, and peered in also. And so they +stood there for a little while, all looking and exclaiming. + +Presently Lajeunesse scratched his head. "Nobody does nothing for +nothing," said he. "What horse do I shoe for this?" + +"La, la!" said the charcoalman, sticking a thumb in the blacksmith's +side; "you only give him the happy hand--like that!" + +Duclosse was more serious. "It is the will of God that you become a +marshal or a duke," he said wheezingly to the blacksmith. "You can't say +no; it is the will of God, and you must bear it like a man." + +The child saw further; perhaps the artistic strain in her gave her keener +reasoning. + +"Father," she said, "Monsieur Valmond wants you for a soldier." + +"Wants me?" he roared in astonishment. "Who's to shoe the horses a week +days, and throw the weight o' Sundays after mass? Who's to handle a +stick for the Cure when there's fighting among the river-men? + +"But there, la, la! many a time my wife, my good Florienne, said to me, +'Jose--Jose Lajeunesse, with a chest like yours, you ought to be a +corporal at least.'" + +Parpon beckoned to Lagroin, and nodded. "Corporal! corporal!" cried +Lagroin; "in a week you shall be a lieutenant and a month shall make you +a captain, and maybe better than that!" + +"Better than that--bagosh!" cried the charcoalman in surprise, proudly +using the innocuous English oath. "Better than that--sutler, maybe?" +said the mealman, smacking his lips. + +"Better than that," replied Lagroin, swelling with importance. "Ay, ay, +my dears, great things are for you. I command the army, and I have free +hand from my master. Ah, what joy to serve a Napoleon once again! What +joy! Lord, how I remember--" + +"Better than that-eh?" persisted Duclosse, perspiring, the meal on his +face making a sort of paste. + +"A general or a governor, my children," said Lagroin. "First in, first +served. Best men, best pickings. But every man must love his chief, and +serve him with blood and bayonet; and march o' nights if need, and limber +up the guns if need, and shoe a horse if need, and draw a cork if need, +and cook a potato if need; and be a hussar, or a tirailleur, or a +trencher, or a general, if need. But yes, that's it; no pride but the +love of France and the cause, and--" + +"And Monsieur Valmond," said the charcoalman slyly. + +"And Monsieur the Emperor!" cried Lagroin almost savagely. + +He caught Parpon's eye, and instantly his hand went to his pocket. + +"Ah, he is a comrade, that! Nothing is too good for his friends, for his +soldiers. See!" he added. + +He took from his pocket ten gold pieces. "'These are bagatelles,' said +His Excellency to me; 'but tell my friends, Monsieur Muroc and Monsieur +Duclosse and Monsieur Garotte, that they are buttons for the coats of my +sergeants, and that my captains' coats have ten times as many buttons. +Tell them,' said he, 'that my friends shall share my fortunes; that +France needs us; that Pontiac shall be called the nest of heroes. Tell +them that I will come to them at nine o'clock tonight, and we will swear +fidelity.'" + +"And a damned good speech too--bagosh!" cried the mealman, his fingers +hungering for the gold pieces. "We're to be captains pretty soon--eh?" +asked Muroc. + +"As quick as I've taught you to handle a company," answered Lagroin, with +importance. + +"I was a patriot in '37," said Muroc. "I went against the English; I +held abridge for two hours. I have my musket yet." + +"I am a patriot now," urged Duclosse. "Why the devil not the English +first, then go to France, and lick the Orleans!" + +"They're a skittish lot, the Orleans; they might take it in their heads +to fight," suggested Muroc, with a little grin. + +"What the devil do you expect?" roared the blacksmith, blowing the +bellows hard in his excitement, one arm still round his daughter's +shoulder. "D'you think we're going to play leap-frog into the Tuileries? +There's blood to let, and we're to let it!" + +"Good, my leeches!" said Parpon; "you shall have blood to suck. But +we'll leave the English be. France first, then our dogs will take a snap +at the flag on the citadel yonder." He nodded in the direction of +Quebec. + +Lagroin then put five gold pieces each into the hands of Muroc and +Duclosse, and said: + +"I take you into the service of Prince Valmond Napoleon, and you do +hereby swear to serve him loyally, even to the shedding of your blood, +for his honour and the honour of France; and you do also vow to require a +like loyalty and obedience of all men under your command. Swear." + +There was a slight pause, for the old man's voice had the ring of a fatal +earnestness. It was no farce, but a real thing. + +"Swear," he said again. "Raise your right hand." + +"Done!" said Muroc. "To the devil with the charcoal! I'll go wash my +face." + +"There's my hand on it," added Duclosse; "but that rascal Petrie will get +my trade, and I'd rather be strung by the Orleans than that." + +"Till I've no more wind in my bellows!" responded Lajeunesse, raising +his hand, "if he keeps faith with my Madelinette." + +"On the honour of a soldier," said Lagroin, and he crossed himself. + +"God save us all!" said Parpon. Obeying a motion of the dwarf's hand, +Lagroin drew from his pocket a flask of cognac, with four little tin cups +fitting into each other. Handing one to each, he poured them brimming +full. Then, filling his own, he spilled a little in the steely dust of +the smithy floor. All did the same, though they knew not why. + +"What's that for?" asked the mealman. + +"To show the Little Corporal, dear Corporal Violet, and my comrades of +the Old Guard, that we don't forget them," cried Lagroin. + +He drank slowly, holding his head far back, and as he brought it straight +again, he swung on his heel, for two tears were racing down his cheeks. + +The mealman wiped his eyes in sympathy; the charcoalman shook his head at +the blacksmith, as though to say, "Poor devil!" and Parpon straightway +filled their glasses again. Madelinette took the flask to the old +sergeant. He looked at her kindly, and patted her shoulder. Then he +raised his glass. + +"Ah, the brave Caron, the dear Lucette Caron! Ah, the time she dragged +me from under the Russian's mare!" He smiled into the distance. "Who +can tell? Perhaps, perhaps--again!" he added. + +Then, all at once, as if conscious of the pitiful humour of his +meditations, he came to his feet, straightened his shoulders, and cried: + +"To her we love best!" + +The charcoalman drank, and smacked his lips. "Yes, yes," he said, +looking into the cup admiringly; "like mother's milk that. White of my +eye, but I do love her!" + +The mealman cocked his glance towards the open door. "Elise!" he said +sentimentally, and drank. The blacksmith kissed his daughter, and his +hand rested on her head as he lifted the cup, but he said never a word. + +Parpon took one sip, then poured his liquor upon the ground, as though +down there was what he loved best; but his eyes were turned to Dalgrothe +Mountain, which he could see through the open door. + +"France!" cried the old soldier stoutly, and tossed off the liquor. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +That night Valmond and his three new recruits, to whom Garotte the +limeburner had been added, met in the smithy and swore fealty to the +great cause. Lajeunesse, by virtue of his position in the parish, and +his former military experience, was made a captain, and the others +sergeants of companies yet unnamed and unformed. The limeburner was a +dry, thin man of no particular stature, who coughed a little between his +sentences, and had a habit, when not talking, of humming to himself, as +if in apology for his silence. This humming had no sort of tune or +purpose, and was but a vague musical sputtering. He almost perilled the +gravity of the oath they all took to Valmond by this idiosyncrasy. His +occupation gave him a lean, arid look; his hair was crisp and straight, +shooting out at all points, and it flew to meet his cap as if it were +alive. He was a genius after a fashion, too, and at all the feasts and +on national holidays he invented some new feature in the entertainments. +With an eye for the grotesque, he had formed a company of jovial blades, +called Kalathumpians, after the manner of the mimes of old times in his +beloved Dauphiny. + +"All right, all right," he said, when Lagroin, in the half-lighted +blacksmith shop, asked him to swear allegiance and service. "'Brigadier, +vous avez raison,'" he added, quoting a well-known song. Then he hummed +a little and coughed. "We must have a show"--he hummed again--"we must +tickle 'em up a bit--touch 'em where they're silly with a fiddle and +fife-raddy dee dee, ra dee, ra dee, ra dee!" Then, to Valmond: "We gave +the fools who fought the Little Corporal sour apples in Dauphiny, my +dear!" + +He followed this extraordinary speech with a plan for making an ingenious +coup for Valmond, when his Kalathumpians should parade the streets on the +evening of St. John the Baptist's Day. + +With hands clasped the new recruits sang: + + "When from the war we come, + Allons gai! + Oh, when we ride back home, + If we be spared that day, + Ma luronne lurette, + We'll laugh our scars away, + Ma luronne lure, + We'll lift the latch and stay, + Ma luronne lure." + +The huge frame of the blacksmith, his love for his daughter, his simple +faith in this new creed of patriotism, his tenderness of heart, joined to +his irascible disposition, spasmodic humour, and strong arm, roused in +Valmond an immediate liking, as keen, after its kind, as that he had for +the Cure; and the avocat. With both of these he had had long talks of +late, on everything but purely personal matters. They would have thought +it a gross breach of etiquette to question him on that which he avoided. +His admiration of them was complete, although he sometimes laughed half +sadly, half whimsically, as he thought of their simple faith in him. + +At dusk on the eve of St. John the Baptist's Day, after a long conference +with Lagroin and Parpon, Valmond went through the village, and came to +the smithy to talk with Lajeunesse. Those who recognised him in passing +took off their bonnets rouges, some saying, "Good-night, your Highness;" +some, "How are you, monseigneur?" some, "God bless your Excellency;" and +a batch of bacchanalian river-men, who had been drinking, called him +"General," and insisted on embracing him, offering him cognac from their +tin flasks. + +The appearance among them of old Madame Degardy shifted the good-natured +attack. For many a year, winter and summer, she had come and gone in the +parish, all rags and tatters, wearing men's kneeboots and cap, her grey +hair hanging down in straggling curls, her lower lip thrust out fiercely, +her quick eyes wandering to and fro, and her sharp tongue, like Parpon's, +clearing a path before her whichever way she turned. On her arm she +carried a little basket of cakes and confitures, and these she dreamed +she sold, for they were few who bought of Crazy Joan. The stout stick +she carried was as compelling as her tongue, so that when the river-men +surrounded her in amiable derision, it was used freely and with a heart +all kindness: "For the good of their souls," she said, "since the Cure +was too mild, Mary in heaven bless him high and low!" + +She was the Cure's champion everywhere, and he in turn was tender towards +the homeless body, whose history even to him was obscure, save in the few +particulars that he had given to Valmond the last time they had met. + +In her youth Madame Degardy was pretty and much admired. Her lover had +deserted her, and in a fit of mad indignation and despair she had fled +from the village, and vanished no one knew where, though it had been +declared by a wandering hunter that she had been seen in the far-off +hills that march into the south, and that she lived there with a +barbarous mountaineer, who had himself long been an outlaw from his kind. + +But this had been mere gossip, and after twenty-five years she came back +to Pontiac, a half-mad creature, and took up the thread of her life +alone; and Parpon and the Cure saw that she suffered nothing in the hard +winters. + +Valmond left the river-men to the tyranny of her tongue and stick, and +came on to where the red light of the forge showed through the smithy +window. As he neared the door, he heard a voice singularly sweet, and +another of commoner calibre was joining in the refrain of a song: + + "'Oh, traveller, see where the red sparks rise,' + (Fly away, my heart, fly away!) + But dark is the mist in the traveller's eyes. + (Fly away, my heart, fly away!) + 'Oh, traveller, see far down the gorge, + The crimson light from my father's forge. + (Fly away, my heart, fly away!) + + "'Oh, traveller, hear how the anvils ring.' + (Fly away, my heart, fly away!) + But the traveller heard, ah, never a thing. + (Fly away, my heart, fly away!) + 'Oh, traveller, loud do the bellows roar, + And my father waits by the smithy door. + (Fly away, my heart, fly away!) + + "'Oh, traveller, see you thy true love's grace.' + (Fly away, my heart, fly away!) + And now there is joy in the traveller's face. + (Fly away, my heart, fly away!) + Oh, wild does he ride through the rain and mire, + To greet his love by the smithy fire. + (Fly away, my heart, fly away!)" + +In accompaniment, some one was beating softly on the anvil, and the +bellows were blowing rhythmically. + +He lingered for a moment, loath to interrupt the song, and then softly +opened the upper half of the door, for it was divided horizontally, and +leaned over the lower part. + +Beside the bellows, her sleeves rolled up, her glowing face cowled in her +black hair, comely and strong, stood Elise Malboir, pushing a rod of +steel into the sputtering coals. Over the anvil, with a small bar caught +in a pair of tongs, hovered Madelinette Lajeunesse, beating, almost +tenderly, the red-hot point of the steel. The sound of the iron hammer +on the malleable metal was like muffled silver, and the sparks flew out +like jocund fireflies. She was making two hooks for her kitchen wall, +for she was clever at the forge, and could shoe a horse if she were let +to do so. She was but half-turned to Valmond, but he caught the pure +outlines of her face and neck, her extreme delicacy of expression, which +had a pathetic, subtle refinement, in acute contrast to the quick, +abundant health, the warm energy, the half defiant look of Elise. It was +a picture of labour and life. + +A dozen thoughts ran through Valmond's mind. He was responsible, to an +extent, for the happiness of these two young creatures. He had promised +to make a songstress of the one, to send her to Paris; had roused in her +wild, ambitious hopes of fame and fortune--dreams that, in any case, +could be little like the real thing: fanciful visions of conquest and +golden living, where never the breath of her hawthorn and wild violets +entered; only sickly perfumes, as from an odalisque's fan, amid the +enervating splendour of voluptuous boudoirs--for she had read of these +things. + +Valmond had, in a vague, graceless sort of way, worked upon the quick +emotions of Elise. Every little touch of courtesy had been returned to +him in half-shy, half-ardent glances; in flushes, which the kiss he had +given her the first day of their meeting had made the signs of an +intermittent fever; in modest yet alluring waylayings; in restless +nights, in half-tuneful, half-silent days; in a sweet sort of petulance. +She had kept in mind everything he had said to her; the playfully +emotional pressure of her hand, his eloquent talks with her uncle, the +old sergeant's rhapsodies on his greatness; and there was no place in the +room where he had sat or stood, which she had not made sacred--she, the +mad cap, who had lovers by the dozen. Importuned by the Cure and her +mother to marry, she had threatened, if they worried her further, to wed +fat Duclosse, the mealman, who had courted her in a ponderous way for at +least three years. The fire that corrodes, when it does not make +glorious without and within, was in her veins, and when Valmond should +call she was ready to come. She could not, at first, see that if he +were, in truth, a Napoleon, she was not for him. Seized of that wilful, +daring spirit called Love, her sight was bounded by the little field +where she strayed. + +Elise's arm paused upon the lever of the bellows, when she saw Valmond +watching them from the door. He took off his hat to them, as Madelinette +turned towards him, the hammer pausing in the stroke. + +"Ah, monseigneur!" she said impulsively, and then paused, confused. +Elise did not move, but stood looking at him, her eyes all flame, her +cheeks going a little pale, and flushing again. With a quick motion she +pushed her hair back, and as he stepped inside and closed the door behind +him, she blew the bellows, as if to give a brighter light to the place. +The fire flared up, but there were corners in deep shadow. Valmond +doffed his hat again and said ceremoniously: "Mademoiselle Madelinette, +Mademoiselle Elise, pray do not stop your work. Let me sit here and +watch you." + +Taking from his pocket a cigarette, he came over to the forge and was +about to light it with the red steel from the fire, when Elise, snatching +up a tiny piece of wood, thrust it in the coals, and, drawing it out, +held it towards the cigarette, saying: + +"Ah, no, your Excellency--this!" + +As Valmond reached to take it from her, he heard a sound, as of a hoarse +breathing, and turned quickly; but his outstretched hand touched Elise's +fingers, and it involuntarily closed on them, all her impulsive +temperament and warm life thrilling through him. The shock of feeling +brought his eyes to hers with a sudden burning mastery. For an instant +their looks fused and were lost in a passionate affiance. Then, as if +pulling himself out of a dream, he released her fingers with a "Pardon-- +my child!" + +As he did so, a cry ran through the smithy. Madelinette was standing, +tense and set with terror, her eyes riveted on something that crouched +beside a pile of cart-wheels a few feet away; something with shaggy head, +flaring eyes, and a devilish face. The thing raised itself and sprang +towards hers with a devouring cry. With desperate swiftness leaping +forward, Valmond caught the half man, half beast--it seemed that--by the +throat. Madelinette fell fainting against the anvil, and, dazed and +trembling, Elise hurried to her. + +Valmond was in the grasp of a giant, and, struggle as he might, he could +not withstand the powerful arms of his assailant. They came to their +knees on the ground, where they clutched and strained for a wild minute, + +Valmond desperately fighting to keep the huge bony fingers from his neck. +Suddenly the giant's knee touched the red-hot steel that Madelinette had +dropped, and with a snarl he flung Valmond back against the anvil, his +head striking the iron with a sickening thud. Then, seizing the steel, +he raised it to plunge the still glowing point into Valmond's eyes. + +Centuries of doom seemed crowded into that instant of time. Valmond +caught the giant's wrist with both hands, and with a mighty effort +wrenched himself aside. His heart seemed to strain and burst, and just +as he felt the end was come, he heard something crash on the murderer's +skull, and the great creature fell with a gurgling sound, and lay like a +parcel of loose bones across his knees. Valmond raised himself, a +strange, dull wonder on him, for as the weapon smote this lifeless +creature, he had seen another hurl by and strike the opposite wall. A +moment afterwards the dead man was pulled away by Parpon. Trying to rise +he felt blood trickling down his neck, and he turned sick and blind. As +the world slipped away from him, a soft shoulder caught his head, and out +of a vast distance there came to him the wailing cry: "He is dying! my +love! my love!" + +Peril and horror had brought to Elise's breast the one being in the world +for her, the face which was etched like a picture upon her eyes and +heart. + +Parpon groaned with a strange horror as he dragged the body from Valmond. +For a moment he knelt gasping beside the shapeless being, his great hands +spasmodically feeling the pulseless breast. + +Soon afterwards in the blacksmith's house the two girls nestled in each +other's arms, and Valmond, shaken and weak, returned to the smithy. + +In the dull glare of the forge fire knelt Parpon, rocking back and forth +beside the body. Hearing Valmond, he got to his feet. + +"You have killed him," he said, pointing. + +"No, no, not I," answered Valmond. "Some one threw a hammer." + +"There were two hammers." + +"It was Elise?" asked Valmond, with a shudder. "No, not Elise; it was +you," said the dwarf, with a strange insistence. + +"I tell you no," said Valmond. "It was you, Parpon." + +"By God, it is a lie!" cried the dwarf, with a groan. Then he came +close to Valmond. "He was--my brother! Do you not see?" he demanded +fiercely, his eyes full of misery. "Do you not see that it was you? +Yes, yes, it was you." + +Stooping, Valmond caught the little man in an embrace. "It was I that +killed him, Parpon. It was I, comrade. You saved my life," he added +significantly. "The girl threw, but missed," said Parpon. "She does not +know but that she struck him." + +"She must be told." + +"I will tell her that you killed him. Leave it to me--all to me, my +grand seigneur." + +A half-hour afterwards the avocat, the Cure, and the Little Chemist, had +heard the story as the dwarf told it, and Valmond returned to the Louis +Quinze a hero. For hours the habitants gathered under his window and +cheered him. + +Parpon sat long in gloomy silence by his side, but, raising his voice, +he began to sing softly a lament for the gross-figured body, lying alone +in a shed near the deserted smithy: + + "Children, the house is empty, + The house behind the tall hill; + Lonely and still is the empty house. + There is no face in the doorway, + There is no fire in the chimney. + Come and gather beside the gate, + Little Good Folk of the Scarlet Hills. + + "Where has the wild dog vanished? + Where has the swift foot gone? + Where is the hand that found the good fruit, + That made a garret of wholesome herbs? + Where is the voice that awoke the morn, + The tongue that defied the terrible beasts? + Come and listen beside the door, + Little Good Folk of the Scarlet Hills." + +The pathos of the chant almost made his listener shrink, so immediate and +searching was it. When the lament ceased, there was a long silence, +broken by Valmond. + +"He was your brother, Parpon--how? Tell me about it." + +The dwarf's eyes looked into the distance. + +"It was in the far-off country," he said, "in the hills where the Little +Good Folk come. My mother married an outlaw. Ah, he was cruel, and an +animal! My brother Gabriel was born--he was a giant, his brain all +fumbling and wild. Then I was born, so small, a head as a tub, and long +arms like a gorilla. We burrowed in the hills, Gabriel and I. One day +my mother, because my father struck her, went mad, left us and came to--" +He broke off, pausing an instant. "Then Gabriel struck the man, and he +died, and we buried him, and my brother also left me, and I was alone. +By and by I travelled to Pontiac. Once Gabriel came down from the hills, +and Lajeunesse burnt him with a hot iron, for cutting his bellows in the +night, to make himself a bed inside them. To-day he came again to do +some terrible thing to the blacksmith or the girl, and you have seen--ah, +the poor Gabriel, and I killed him!" + +"I killed him," said Valmond--"I, Parpon, my friend." + +"My poor fool, my wild dog!" wailed the dwarf mournfully. + +"Parpon," asked Valmond suddenly, "where is your mother?" + +"It is no matter. She has forgotten--she is safe." + +"If she should see him!" said Valmond tentatively, for a sudden thought +had come to him that the mother of these misfits of God was Madame +Degardy. + +Parpon sprang to his-feet. "She shall not see him. Ah, you know! +You have guessed?" he cried. "She is all safe with me." + +"She shall not see him. She shall not know," repeated the dwarf, his +eyes huddling back in his head with anguish. + +"Does she not remember you?" + +"She does not remember the living, but she would remember the dead. She +shall not know," he said again. + +Then, seizing Valmond's hand, he kissed it, and, without a word, trotted +from the room--a ludicrously pathetic figure. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +Now and again the moon showed through the cloudy night, and the air was +soft and kind. Parpon left behind him the village street, and, after a +half mile or more of travel, came to a spot where a crimson light showed +beyond a little hill. He halted a moment, as if to think and listen, +then crawled up the bank and looked down. Beside a still smoking lime- +kiln an abandoned fire was burning down into red coals. The little hut +of the lime-burner was beyond in a hollow, and behind that again was a +lean-to, like a small shed or stable. Hither stole the dwarf, first +pausing to listen a moment at the door of the hut. + +Leaning into the darkness of the shed, he gave a soft, crooning call. +Low growls of dogs came in quick reply. He stepped inside, and spoke to +them: + +"Good dogs! good dogs! good Musket, Coffee, Filthy, Jo-Jo--steady, +steady, idiots!" for the huge brutes were nosing him, throwing +themselves against: him, and whining gratefully. Feeling the wall, he +took down some harness, and, in the dark, put a set on each dog--mere +straps for the shoulders, halters, and traces; called to them sharply to +be quiet, and, keeping hold of their collars, led them out into the +night. He paused to listen again. Presently he drove the dogs across +the road, and attached them to a flat vehicle, without wheels or runners, +used by Garotte for the drawing of lime and stones. It was not so heavy +as many machines of the kind, and at a quick word from the dwarf the +dogs darted away. Unseen, a mysterious figure hurried on after them, +keeping well in the shadow of the trees fringing the side of the road. + +The dwarf drove the dogs down a lonely side lane to the village, and came +to the shed where lay the uncomely thing he had called brother. He felt +for a spot where there was a loose board, forced it and another with his +strong fingers, and crawled in. Reappearing with the dead body, he bore +it in his huge arms to the stoneboat: a midget carrying a giant. He +covered up the face, and, returning to the shed, placed his coat against +the boards to deaden the sound, and hammered them tight again with a +stone, after having straightened the grass about. Returning, he found +the dogs cowering with fear, for one of them had pushed the cloth off the +dead man's face with his nose, and death exercised its weird dominion +over them. They crouched together, whining and tugging at the traces. +With a persuasive word he started them away. + +The pursuing, watchful figure followed at a distance, on up the road, on +over the little hills, on into the high hills, the dogs carrying along +steadily the grisly load. And once their driver halted them, and sat in +the grey gloom and dust beside the dead body. + +"Where do you go, dwarf?" he said. + +"I go to the Ancient House," he made answer to himself. + +"What do you get?" + +"I do not go to get; I go to give." + +"What do you go to give?" + +"I go to leave an empty basket at the door, and the lantern that the +Shopkeeper set in the hand of the pedlar." + +"Who is the pedlar, hunchback?" + +"The pedlar is he that carries the pack on his back." + +"What carries he in the pack?" + +"He carries what the Shopkeeper gave him--for he had no money and no +choice." + +"Who is the Shopkeeper, dwarf?" + +"The Shopkeeper--the Shopkeeper is the father of dwarfs and angels and +children--and fools." + +"What does he sell, poor man?" + +"He sells harness for men and cattle, and you give your lives for the +harness." + +"What is this you carry, dwarf?" + +"I carry home the harness of a soul." + +"Is it worth carrying home?" + +"The eyes grow sick at sight of the old harness in the way." + +The watching figure, hearing, pitied. + +It was Valmond. Excited by Parpon's last words at the hotel, he had +followed, and was keen to chase this strange journeying to the end, +though suffering from the wound in his head, and shaken by the awful +accident of the evening. But, as he said to himself; some things were to +be seen but once in the great game, and it was worth while seeing them, +even if life were the shorter for it. + +On up the heights filed the strange procession until at last it came to +Dalgrothe Mountain. On one of the foot-hills stood the Rock of Red +Pigeons. This was the dwarf's secret resort, where no one ever disturbed +him; for the Little Good Folk of the Scarlet Hills (of whom it was +rumoured, he had come) held revel there, and people did not venture +rashly. The land about it, and a hut farther down the hill, belonged +to Parpon; a legacy from the father of the young Seigneur. + +It was all hills, gorges, rivers, and idle, murmuring pines. Of a +morning, mist floated into mist as far as eye could see, blue and grey +and amethyst, a glamour of tints and velvety radiance. The great hills +waved into each other like a vast violet sea, and, in turn, the tiny +earth-waves on each separate hill swelled into the larger harmony. At +the foot of a steep precipice was the whirlpool from which Parpon, at +great risk, had rescued the father of De la Riviere, and had received +this lonely region as his reward. To the dwarf it was his other world, +his real home; for here he lived his own life, and it was here he had +brought his ungainly dead, to give it housing. + +The dogs drew up the grim cargo to a plateau near the Rock of Red +Pigeons, and, gathering sticks, Parpon lit a sweet-smelling fire of +cedar. Then he went to the hut, and came back with a spade and a shovel. +At the foot of a great pine he began to dig. As the work went on, he +broke into a sort of dirge, painfully sweet. Leaning against a rock not +far away, Valmond watched the tiny man with the long arms throw up the +soft, good-smelling earth, enriched by centuries of dead leaves and +flowers. The trees waved and bent and murmured, as though they gossiped +with each other over this odd gravedigger. The light of the fire showed +across the gorge, touching off the far wall of pines with burnished +crimson, and huge flickering shadows looked like elusive spirits, +attendant on the lonely obsequies. Now and then a bird, aroused by the +flame or the snap of a burning stick, rose from its nest and flew away; +and wild-fowl flitted darkly down the pass, like the souls of heroes +faring to Walhalla. When an owl hooted, a wolf howled far off, or a loon +cried from the water below; the solemn fantasy took on the aspect of the +unreal. + +Valmond watched like one in a dream, and twice or thrice he turned faint, +and drew his cloak about him as if he were cold; for a sickly air, +passing by, seemed to fill his lungs with poison. + +At last the grave was dug, and, sprinkling its depth with leaves and soft +branches of spruce, the dwarf drew the body over, and lowered it slowly, +awkwardly, into the grave. Then he covered all but the huge, unlovely +face, and, kneeling, peered down at it pitifully. + +"Gabriel, Gabriel," he cried, "surely thy soul is better without its +harness! I killed thee, and thou didst kill, and those we love die by +our own hands. But no, I lie; I did not love thee, thou wert so ugly and +wild and cruel. Poor boy! Thou wast a fool, and thou wast a murderer. +Thou wouldst have slain my prince, and so I slew thee--I slew thee." + +He rocked to and fro in abject sorrow, and cried again: "Hast thou no one +in all the world to mourn thee, save him who killed thee? Is there no +one to wish thee speed to the Ancient House? Art thou tossed away like +an old shoe, and no one to say, The Shoemaker that made thee must see to +it if thou wast ill-shapen, and walked crookedly, and did evil things? +Ah, is there no one to mourn thee, save him that killed thee?" + +He leaned back, and cried out into the high hills like a remorseful, +tortured soul. + +Valmond, no longer able to watch this grief in silence, stepped quickly +forward. The dogs, seeing him, barked, and then were still; and the +dwarf looked up as he heard footsteps. + +"Another has come to mourn him, Parpon," said Valmond. + +A look of bewilderment and joy swam into Parpon's eyes. Then he gave a +laugh of singular wildness, his face twitched, tears rushed down his +cheeks, and he threw himself at Valmond's feet, and clasped his knees, +crying: + +"Ah-ah, my prince, great brother, thou hast come also! Ah, thou didst +know the way up the long hill Thou hast come to the burial of a fool. +But he had a mother--yes, yes, a mother! All fools have mothers, +and they should be buried well. Come, ah, come, and speak softly +the Act of Contrition, and I will cover him up." + +He went to throw in the earth, but Valmond pushed him aside gently. + +"No, no," he said, "this is for me." And he began filling the grave. + +When they left the place of burial, the fire was burning low, for they +had talked long. At the foot of the hills they looked back. Day was +beginning to break over Dalgrothe Mountain. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +When, next day, in the bright sunlight, the Little Chemist, the Cure, +and others, opened the door of the shed, taking off their hats in the +presence of the Master Workman, they saw that his seat was empty. The +dead Caliban was gone--who should say how, or where? The lock was still +on the doors, the walls were intact, there was no window for entrance or +escape. He had vanished as weirdly as he came. + +All day the people sought the place, viewing with awe and superstition +the shed of death, and the spot in the smithy where, it was said, +Valmond had killed the giant. + +The day following was the feast of St. John the Baptist. Mass was said +in the church, all the parish attending; and Valmond was present, with +Lagroin in full regimentals. + +Plates of blessed bread were passed round at the close of mass, as was +the custom on this feast-day; and with a curious feeling that came to him +often afterwards, Valmond listened to his General saying solemnly: + + "Holy bread, I take thee; + If I die suddenly, + Serve me as a sacrament." + +With many eyes watching him curiously, he also ate the bread, repeating +the holy words. + +All day there were sports and processions, the habitants gay in rosettes +and ribbons, flowers and maple leaves, as they idled or filed along the +streets, under arches of evergreens, where the Tricolor and Union Jack +mingled and fluttered amiably together. Anvils, with powder placed +between, were touched off with a bar of red-hot iron, making a vast noise +and drawing applausive crowds to the smithy. On the hill beside the +Cure's house was a little old cannon brought from the battle-field of +Ticonderoga, and its boisterous salutations were replied to from the +Seigneury, by a still more ancient piece of ordnance. Sixty of Valmond's +recruits, under Lajeunesse the blacksmith, marched up and down the +streets, firing salutes with a happy, casual intrepidity, and setting +themselves off before the crowds with a good many airs and nods and +simple vanities. + +In the early evening the good Cure blessed and lighted the great bonfire +before the church; and immediately, at this signal, an answering fire +sprang up on a hill at the other side of the village. Then fire on fire +glittered and multiplied, till all the village was in a glow. This was a +custom set in memory of the old days when fires flashed intelligence, +after a fixed code, across the great rivers and lakes, and from hill to +hill. + +Far up against Dalgrothe Mountain appeared a sumptuous star, mystical and +red. Valmond saw it from his window, and knew it to be Parpon's +watchfire, by the grave of his brother Gabriel. The chief procession +started with the lighting of the bonfires: Singing softly, choristers and +acolytes in robes preceded the devout Cure, and pious believers and +youths on horseback, with ribbons flying, carried banners and shrines. +Marshals kept the lines steady, and four were in constant attendance on a +gorgeous carriage, all gilt and carving (the heirloom of the parish), in +which reclined the figure of a handsome lad, impersonating John the +Baptist, with long golden hair, dressed in rich robes and skins-- +a sceptre in his hand, a snowy lamb at his feet. The rude symbolism +was softened and toned to an almost poetical refinement, and gave to +the harmless revels a touch of Arcady. + +After this semi-religious procession, evening brought the march of +Garotte's Kalathumpians. They were carried on three long drays, each +drawn by four horses, half of them white, half black. They were an +outlandish crew of comedians, dressed after no pattern, save the absurd- +clowns, satyrs, kings, soldiers, imps, barbarians. Many had hideous +false-faces, and a few horribly tall skeletons had heads of pumpkins +containing lighted candles. The marshals were pierrots and clowns on +long stilts, who towered in a ghostly way above the crowd. They were +cheerful, fantastic revellers, singing the maddest and silliest of songs, +with singular refrains and repetitions. The last line of one verse was +the beginning of another: + + "A Saint Malo, beau port de mer, + Trois gros navir' sont arrives. + + Trois gros navir' sont arrives + Charges d'avoin', charges de ble." + +For an hour and more their fantastic songs delighted the simple folk. +They stopped at last in front of the Louis Quinze. The windows of +Valmond's chambers were alight, and to one a staff was fastened. +Suddenly the Kalathumpians quieted where they stood, for the voice of +their leader, a sort of fat King of Yvetot, cried out: + +"See there, my noisy children!" It was the inventive lime-burner who +spoke. "What come you here for, my rollicking blades?" + +"We are a long way from home; we are looking for our brother, your +Majesty," they cried in chorus. + +"Ha, ha! What is your brother like, jolly dogs?" + +"He has a face of ivory, and eyes like torches, and he carries a silver +sword." + +"But what the devil is his face like ivory for, my fanfarons?" + +"So that he shall not blush for us. He is a grand seigneur," they +shouted back. + +"Why are his eyes like torches, my ragamuffins?" + +"To show us the way home." + +Valmond appeared upon the balcony. + +"What is it you wish, my children?" he asked. "Brother," said the +fantastic leader, "we've lost our way. Will you lead us home again?" + +"It is a long travel," he answered, after the fashion of their own +symbols. "There are high hills to climb; there may be wild beasts +in the way; and storms come down the mountains." + +"We have strong hearts, and you have a silver sword, brother." + +"I cannot see your faces, to know if you are true, my children," he +answered. + +Instantly the clothes flew off, masks fell, pumpkins came crashing to the +ground, the stilts of the marshals dropped, and thirty men stood upon the +drays in crude military order, with muskets in their hands and cockades +in their caps. At that moment also, a flag--the Tricolor--fluttered upon +the staff at Valmond's window. The roll of a drum came out of the street +somewhere, and presently the people fell back before sixty armed men, +marching in columns, under Lagroin, while from the opposite direction +came Lajeunesse with sixty others, silent all, till they reached the +drays and formed round them slowly. + +Valmond stood watching intently, and the people were very still, for this +seemed like real life, and no burlesque. Some of the soldiery had +military clothes, old militia uniforms, or the rebel trappings of '37; +others, less fortunate, wore their trousers in long boots, their coats +buttoned lightly over their chests, and belted in; and the Napoleonic +cockade was in every cap. + +"My children," said Valmond at last, "I see that your hearts are strong, +and that you have the bodies of true men. We have sworn fealty to each +other, and the badge of our love is in your caps. Let us begin our +journey home. I will come down among you: I will come down among you, +and I will lead you from Pontiac to the sea, gathering comrades as we go; +then across the sea, to France; then to Paris and the Tuileries, where an +Orleans usurps the place of a Napoleon." + +He descended and mounted his waiting horse. At that moment De la Riviere +appeared on the balcony, and, stepping forward, said: + +"My friends, do you know what you are doing? This is folly. This man--" + +He got no further, for Valmond raised his hand to Lagroin, and the drums +began to beat. Then he rode down in front of Lajeunesse's men, the +others sprang from the drays and fell into place, and soon the little +army was marching, four deep, through the village. + +This was the official beginning of Valmond's fanciful quest for empire. +The people had a phrase, and they had a man; and they saw no further than +the hour. + +As they filed past the house of Elise Malboir, the girl stood in the glow +of a bonfire, beside the oven where Valmond had first seen her. All +around her was the wide awe of night, enriched by the sweet perfume of a +coming harvest. He doffed his hat to her, then to the Tricolor, which +Lagroin had fastened on a tall staff before the house. Elise did not +stir, did not courtesy or bow, but stood silent--entranced. She was in a +dream. This man, riding at the head of the simple villagers, was part of +her vision; and, at the moment, she did not rouse from the ecstasy of +reverie where her new-born love had led her. + +For Valmond the scene had a moving power. He heard again her voice +crying in the smithy: "He is dying! Oh, my love! my love!" + +He was now in the heart of a fantastical adventure. Filled with its +spirit, he would carry it bravely to the end, enjoying every step in it, +comedy or tragedy. Yet all day, since he had eaten the sacred bread, +there had been ringing in his ears the words: + + "Holy bread, I take thee; + If I die suddenly, + Serve me as a sacrament." + +It came home to him, at the instant, what a toss-up it all was. What was +he doing? No matter: it was a game, in which nothing was sure--nothing +save this girl. She would, he knew, with the abandon of an absorbing +passion, throw all things away for him. + +Such as Madame Chalice--ah, she was a part of this brave fantasy, this +dream of empire, this inspiring play! But Elise Malboir was life itself, +absolute, true, abiding. His nature swam gloriously in his daring +exploit; he believed in it, he sank himself in it with a joyous +recklessness; it was his victory or his doom. But it was a shake of the +dice--had Fate loaded them against him? + +He looked up the hill towards the Manor. Life was there in its essence; +beauty, talent, the genius of the dreamer, like his own. But it was not +for him; dauphin or fool, it was not for him! Madame Chalice was +his friendly inquisitor, not his enemy; she endured him for some talent +he had shown, for the apparent sincerity of his love for the cause; but +that was all. Yet she was ever in this dream of his, and he felt that +she would always be; the unattainable, the undeserved, more splendid than +his cause itself--the cause for which he would give--what would he give? +Time would show. + +But Elise Malboir, abundant, true, fine, in the healthy vigour of her +nature, with no dream in her heart but love fulfilled--she was no part of +his adventure, but of that vital spirit which can bring to the humblest +as to the highest the good reality of life. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +It was the poignancy of these feelings which, later, drew Valmond to +the ashes of the fire in whose glow Elise had stood. The village was +quieting down, the excited habitants had scattered to their homes. But +in one or two houses there was dancing, and, as he passed, Valmond heard +the chansons of the humble games they played--primitive games, primitive +chansons: + + "In my right hand I hold a rose-bush, + Which will bloom, Manon lon la! + Which will bloom in the month of May. + Come into our dance, pretty rose-bush, + Come and kiss, Manon Ion la! + Come and kiss whom you love best!" + +The ardour, the delight, the careless joy of youth, were in the song and +in the dance. These simple folk would marry, beget children, labour +hard, obey Mother Church, and yield up the ghost peacefully in the end, +after their kind; but now and then there was born among them one not +after their kind: even such as Madelinette, with the stirring of talent +in her veins, and the visions of the artistic temperament--delight and +curse all at once--lifting her out of the life, lonely, and yet +sorrowfully happy. + +Valmond looked around. How still it was, the home of Elise standing +apart in the quiet fields! But involuntarily his eyes were drawn to the +hill beyond, where showed a light in a window of the Manor. To-morrow he +would go there: he had much to say to Madame Chalice. The moon was lying +off above the edge of hills, looking out on the world complacently, like +an indulgent janitor scanning the sleepy street from his doorway. + +He was abruptly drawn from his reverie by the entrance of Lagroin into +the little garden; and he followed the old man through the open doorway. +All was dark, but as they stepped within they heard some one move. +Presently a match was struck, and Elise came forward with a candle raised +level with her dusky head. Lagroin looked at her in indignant +astonishment. + +"Do you not see who is here, girl?" he demanded. "Your Excellency!" +she said confusedly to Valmond, and, bowing, offered him a chair. + +"You must pardon her, sire," said the old sergeant. "She has never been +taught, and she's a wayward wench." + +Valmond waved his hand. "Nonsense, we are friends. You are my General; +she is your niece." His eyes followed Elise as she set out for them some +cider, a small flask of cognac, and some seed-cakes; luxuries which were +served but once a year in this house, as in most homes of Pontiac. + +For a long time Valmond and his General talked, devised, planned, +schemed, till the old man grew husky and pale. The sight of his senile +weariness flashed the irony of the whole wild dream into Valmond's mind. +He rose, and, giving his arm, led Lagroin to his bedroom, and bade him +good-night. When he returned to the room, it was empty. + +He looked around, and, seeing an open door, moved to it quickly. It led +into a little stairway. + +He remembered then that there was a room which had been, apparently, +tacked on, like an after-thought, to the end of the house. Seeing the +glimmer of a light beyond, he went up a few steps, and came face to face +with Elise, who, candle in hand, was about to descend the stairs again. + +For a moment she stood quite still, then placed the candle on the rude +little dressing-table, built of drygoods boxes, and draped with fresh +muslin. Valmond took in every detail of the chamber at a single glance. +It was very simple and neat, with the small wooden bedstead corded with +rope, the poor hickory rocking-chair, the flaunting chromo of the Holy +Family, the sprig of blessed palm, the shrine of the Virgin, the print +skirts hanging on the wall, the stockings lying across a chair, the bits +of ribbon on the bed. The quietness, the alluring simplicity, the whole +room filled with the rich presence of the girl, sent a flood of colour to +Valmond's face, and his heart beat hard. Curiosity only had led him into +the room, something more radical held him there. + +Elise seemed to read his thoughts, and, taking up her candle, she came on +to the doorway. Neither had spoken. As she was about to pass him, he +suddenly took her arm. But, glancing towards the window, he noticed that +the blind was not down. He turned and blew out the candle in her hand. + +"Ah, your Excellency!" she cried in tremulous affright. + +"We could have been seen from outside," he explained. She turned and saw +the moonlight streaming in at the window, and lying like a silver +coverlet upon the floor. As if with a blind, involuntary instinct for +protection, she stepped forward into the moonlight, and stood there +motionless. The sight thrilled him, and he moved towards her. The mind +of the girl reasserted itself, and she hastened to the door. Again, as +she was about to pass him, he put his hand upon her shoulder. + +"Elise--Elise!" he said. The voice was persuasive, eloquent, going to +every far retreat of emotion in her. There was a sudden riot in his +veins, and he took her passionately in his arms, and kissed her on the +lips, on the eyes, on the hair, on the neck. At that moment the outer +door opened below, and the murmur of voices came to them. + +"Oh, monsieur--oh, your Excellency, let me go!" she whispered fearfully. +"It is my mother and Duclosse the mealman." + +Valmond recognised the fat, wheezy tones of Duclosse--Sergeant Duclosse. +He released her, and she caught up the candle. + +"What can you do?" she whispered. + +"I will wait here. I must not go down," he replied. "It would mean +ruin." + +Ruin! ruin! Was she face to face with ruin already, she who, two +minutes ago, was as safe and happy as a young bird in its nest? He felt +instantly that he had made a mistake, had been cruel, though he had not +intended it. + +"Ruin to me," he said at once. "Duclosse is a stupid fellow: he would +not understand; he would desert me; and that would be disastrous at this +moment. Go down," he said. "I will wait here, Elise." + +Her brows knitted painfully. "Oh, monsieur, I'd rather face death, I +believe, than that you should remain here." + +But he pushed her gently towards the door, and a moment afterwards he +heard her talking to Duclosse and her mother. + +He sat down on the couch and listened for a moment. His veins were still +glowing from the wild moment just passed. Elise would come back--and +then--what? She would be alone with him again in this room, loving him-- +fearing him. He remembered that once, when a child, he had seen a +peasant strike his wife, felling her to the ground; and how afterwards +she had clasped him round the neck and kissed him, as he bent over her in +merely vulgar fright lest he had killed her. That scene flashed before +him. + +There came an opposing thought. As Madame Chalice had said, either as +prince or barber, he was playing a terrible game. Why shouldn't he get +all he could out of it while it lasted--let the world break over him when +it must? Why should he stand in an orchard of ripe fruit, and refuse to +pick what lay luscious to his hand, what this stupid mealman below would +pick, and eat, and yawn over? There was the point. Wouldn't the girl +rather have him, Valmond, at any price, than the priest-blessed love of +Duclosse and his kind? + +The thought possessed, devoured him for a moment. Then suddenly there +again rang in his ears the words which had haunted him all day: + + "Holy bread, I take thee; + If I die suddenly, + Serve me as a sacrament." + +They passed backwards and forwards in his mind for a little time with no +significance. Then they gave birth to another thought. Suppose he +stayed; suppose he took advantage of the love of this girl? He looked +around the little room, showing so peacefully in the moonlight--the +religious symbols, the purity, the cleanliness, the calm poverty. He had +known the inside of the boudoirs and the bed-chambers of women of fashion +--he had seen them, at least. In them the voluptuous, the indulgent, +seemed part of the picture. But he was not a beast, that he could fail +to see what this tiny bedroom would be, if he followed his wild will. +Some terrible fate might overtake his gay pilgrimage to empire, and leave +him lost, abandoned, in a desert of ruin. + +Why not give up the adventure, and come to this quiet, and this good +peace, so shutting out the stir and violence of the world? + +All at once Madame Chalice came into his thoughts, swam in his sight, +and he knew that what he felt for this peasant girl was of one side of +his nature only. All of him worth the having--was any worth the having? +responded to that diffusing charm which brought so many men to the feet +of that lady of the Manor, who had lovers by the score: from such as the +Cure and the avocat, gentle and noble, and requited, to the young +Seigneur, selfish and ulterior, and unrequited. + +He got to his feet quietly. No, he would make a decent exit, in triumph +or defeat, to honour the woman who was standing his friend. Let them, +the British Government at Quebec, proceed against him; he would have only +one trouble to meet, one to leave behind. He would not load this girl +with shame as well as sorrow. Her love itself was affliction enough to +her. This adventure was serious; a bullet might drop him; the law might +remove him: so he would leave here at once. + +He was about to open the window, when he heard a door shut below, and the +thud of heavy steps outside the house. Drawing back, he waited until he +heard the foot of Elise upon the stair. She came in without a light, and +at first did not see him. He heard her gasp. Stepping forward a little, +he said: + +"I am here, Elise. Come." + +She trembled as she came. "Oh, monsieur--your Excellency!" she +whispered; "oh, you cannot go down, for my mother sits ill by the fire. +You cannot go out that way." + +He took both her hands. "No matter. Poor child, you are trembling! +Come." + +He drew her towards the couch. She shrank back. "Oh no, monsieur, oh-- +I die of shame!" + +"There is no need, Elise," he answered gently, and he sat on the edge of +the couch, and drew her to his side. "Let us say good-night." + +She grew very still, and he felt her move towards him, as she divined his +purpose, and knew that this room of hers would have no shadow in it to- +morrow, and her soul no unpardonable sin. A warm peace passed through +her veins, and she drew nearer still. She did not know that this new +ardent confidence came near to wrecking her. For Valmond had an +instant's madness, and only saved himself from the tumult in his blood by +getting to his feet, with strenuous resolution. Taking both her hands, +he kissed her on the cheeks, and said: + +"Adieu, Elise. May your sorrow never be more, and my happiness never +less. I am going now." + +He felt her hand grasp his arm, as if with a desire that he should not +leave her. Then she rose quickly, and came with him to the window. +Raising the sash, she held it, and he looked out. There seemed to be no +one in the road, no one in the yard. So, half turning, he swung himself +down by his hands, and dropped to the ground. From the window above a +sob came to him, and Elise's face, all tears, showed for an instant in +the moonlight. + +He did not seek the road directly, but, climbing a fence near by, crossed +a hay-field, going unseen, as he thought, to the village. + +But a lady, walking in the road with an old gentleman, had seen and +recognised him. Her fingers clinched with anger at the sight, and her +spirit filled with disgust. + +"What are you looking at?" said her companion, who was short-sighted. + +"At the tricks moonlight plays. Shadows frighten me sometimes, my dear +avocat." She shuddered. "My dear madame!" he said in warm sympathy. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +The sun was going down behind the hills, like a drowsy boy to his bed, +radiant and weary from his day's sport. The villagers were up at +Dalgrothe Mountain, soldiering for Valmond. Every evening, when the +haymakers put up their scythes, the mill-wheel stopped turning, and the +Angelus ceased, the men marched away into the hills, where the ardent +soldier of fortune had pitched his camp. + +Tents, muskets, ammunition came out of dark places, as they are ever sure +to come when the war-trumpet sounds. All seems peace, but suddenly, at +the wild call, the latent barbarian in human nature springs up and is +ready; and the cruder the arms, the fiercer the temper that wields. + +Recruits now arrived from other parishes, and besides those who came +every night to drill, there were others who stayed always in camp. The +lime-burner left his kiln, and sojourned with his dogs at Dalgrothe +Mountain; the mealman neglected his trade; and Lajeunesse was no longer +at his blacksmith shop, save after dark, when the red glow of his forge +could be seen till midnight. He was captain of a company in the daytime, +forgeron at night. + +Valmond, no longer fantastic in dress, speech, or manner, was happy, +busy, buoyed up and cast down by turn, troubled, exhilarated. He could +not understand these variations of health and mood. He had not felt +equably well since the night of Gabriel's burial in the miasmic air of +the mountain. At times he felt a wonderful lightness of head and heart, +with entrancing hopes; again a heaviness and an aching, accompanied by a +feeling of doom. He fought the depression, and appeared before his men +cheerful and alert always. He was neither looking back nor looking +forward, but living in his dramatic theme from day to day, and wondering +if, after all, this movement, by some joyful, extravagant chance, might +not carry him on even to the chambers of the Tuileries. + +From the first day that he had gathered these peasants about him, had +convinced, almost against their will, the wise men of the village, this +fanciful exploit had been growing a deep reality to him. He had +convinced himself; he felt that he could, in a larger sphere, gather +thousands about him where he now gathered scores--with a good cause. +Well, was his cause not good, he asked himself? + +There were others to whom this growing reality was painful. The young +Seigneur was serious enough about it, and more than once, irritated and +perturbed, he sought Madame Chalice; but she gave him no encouragement, +remarking coldly that Monsieur Valmond probably knew very well what he +was doing, and was weighing all consequences. + +She had become interested in a passing drama, and De la Riviere's +attentions produced no impression on her, and gave her no pleasure. They +were, however, not obtrusive. She had seen much of him two years before; +he had been a good friend of her husband. She was amused at his +attentions then; she had little to occupy her, and she felt herself +superior to any man's emotions: not such as this young Seigneur could win +her away from her passive but certain fealty. She had played with fire, +from the very spirit of adventure in her, but she had not been burnt. + +"You say he is an impostor, dear monsieur," she said languidly: "do pray +exert yourself, and prove him one. What is your evidence?" + +She leaned back in the very chair where she had sat looking at Valmond a +few weeks before, her fingers idly smoothing out the folds of her dress. + +"Oh, the thing is impossible," he answered, blowing the smoke of a +cigarette; "we've had no real proof of his birth, and life--and so on." + +"But there are relics--and so on!" she said suggestively, and she picked +up the miniature of the Emperor. + +"Owning a skeleton doesn't make it your ancestor," he replied. + +He laughed, for he was pleased at his own cleverness, and he also wished +to remain good-tempered. + +"I am so glad to see you at last take the true attitude towards this," +she responded brightly. "If it's a comedy, enjoy it. If it's a +tragedy"--she drew herself up with a little shudder, for she was thinking +of that figure dropping from Elise's window--"you cannot stop it. +Tragedy is inevitable; but comedy is within the gift and governance of +mortals." + +For a moment again she was lost in the thought of Elise, of Valmond's +vulgarity and commonness; and he had dared to speak words of love almost +to her! She flushed to the hair, as she had done fifty times since she +had seen him that moonlit night. Ah, she had thought him the dreamer, +the enthusiast--maybe, in kind, credulous moments, the great man he +claimed to be; and he had only been the sensualist after all! That he +did not love Elise, she knew well enough: he had been coldblooded; in +this, at least, he was Napoleonic. + +She had not spoken with him since that night; but she had had two long +letters superscribed: "In Camp, Headquarters, Dalgrothe Mountain," and +these had breathed only patriotism, the love of a cause, the warmth of +a strong, virile temperament, almost a poetical abandon of unnamed +ambitions and achievements. She had read the letters again and again, +for she had found it hard to reconcile them with her later knowledge of +this man. He wrote to her as to an ally, frankly, warmly. She felt the +genuine thing in him somewhere; and, in spite of all, she felt a sort of +kinship for him. Yet that scene--that scene! She flushed with anger +again, and, in spite of her smiling lips, the young Seigneur saw the +flush, and wondered. + +"The thing must end soon," he said, as he rose to go, for a messenger had +come for him. "He is injuring the peace, the trade, and the life of the +parishes; he is gathering men and arms, drilling, exploiting military +designs in one country, to proceed against another. England is at peace +with France!" + +"An international matter, this?" she asked sarcastically. + +"Yes. The Government at Quebec is English; we are French and he is +French; and, I repeat, this thing is serious." + +She smiled. "I am an American. I have no responsibility." + +"They might arrest you for aiding and abetting if--" + +"If what, dear and cheerful friend?" + +"If I did not make it right for you." He smiled, approving his own +kindness. + +She touched his arm, and said with ironical sweetness: "How you relieve +my mind!" Then with delicate insinuation: "I have a lot of old muskets +here, at least two hundred pounds of powder, and plenty of provisions, +and I will send them to--Valmond Napoleon." + +He instantly became grave. "I warn you--" + +She interrupted him. "Nonsense! You warn me!" She laughed mockingly. +"I warn you, dear Seigneur, that you will be more sorry than satisfied, +if you meddle in this matter." + +"You are going to send those things to him?" he asked anxiously. + +"Certainly--and food every day." And she kept her word. + +De la Riviere, as he went down the hill, thought with irritation of how +ill things were going with him and Madame Chalice--so different from two +years ago, when their friendship had first begun. He had remembered her +with a singular persistency; he had looked forward to her coming back; +and when she came, his heart had fluttered like a schoolboy's. But +things had changed. Clearly she was interested in this impostor. Was +it the man himself or the adventure? He did not know. But the adventure +was the man--and who could tell? Once he thought he had detected some +warmth for himself in her eye, in the clasp of her hand; there was +nothing of that sort now. A black, ungentlemanly spirit seized him. + +It possessed him most strongly at the moment he was passing the home of +Elise Malboir. The girl was standing by the gate, looking down towards +the village. Her brow was a little heavy, so that it gave her eyes at +all times a deep look, but now De la Riviere saw that they were brooding +as well. There was sadness in the poise of the head. He did not take +off his hat to her. + + "'Oh, grand to the war he goes, + O gai, rive le roi!'" + +he said teasingly. He thought she might have a lover among the recruits +at Dalgrothe Mountain. + +She turned to him, startled, for she thought he meant Valmond. She did +not speak, but became very still and pale. + +"Better tie him up with a garter, Elise, and get the old uncle back to +Ville Bambord. Trouble's coming. The game'll soon be up." + +"What trouble?" she asked. + +"Battle, murder, and sudden death," he answered, and passed on with a +sour laugh. + +She slowly repeated his words, looked towards the Manor House, with a +strange expression, then went up to her little bedroom and sat on the +edge of the bed for a long time, where she had sat with Valmond. Every +word, every incident, of that night came back to her; and her heart +filled up with worship. It flowed over into her eyes and fell upon her +clasped hands. If trouble did come to him?--He had given her a new +world, he should have her life and all else. + +A half-hour later, De la Riviere came rapping at the Cure's door. +The sun was almost gone, the smell of the hay-fields floated over the +village, and all was quiet in the streets. Women gossiped in their +doorways, but there was no stir anywhere. With the young Seigneur was +the member of the Legislature for the county. His mood was different +from that of his previous visit to Pontiac; for he had been told that +whether the cavalier adventurer was or was not a Napoleon, this campaign +was illegal. He had made no move. Being a member of the Legislature, +he naturally shirked responsibility, and he had come to see the young +Seigneur, who was justice of the peace, and practically mayor of the +county. They found the Cure, the avocat, and Medallion, talking together +amiably. + +The three were greatly distressed by the representations of the member +and De la Riviere. The Cure turned to Monsieur Garon, the avocat, +inquiringly. + +"The law--the law of the case is clear," said the avocat helplessly. +"If the peace is disturbed, if there is conspiracy to injure a country +not at war with our own, if arms are borne with menace, if His +Excellency--" + +"His Excellency--my faith!--You're an ass, Garon!" cried the young +Seigneur, with an angry sneer. + +For once in his life the avocat bridled up. He got to his feet, and +stood silent an instant, raising himself up and down on his tiptoes, his +lips compressed, his small body suddenly contracting to a firmness, and +grown to a height, his eyelids working quickly. To the end of his life +the Cure remembered and talked of the moment when the avocat gave battle. +To him it was superb--he never could have done it himself. + +"I repeat, His Excellency, Monsieur De la Riviere. My information is +greater than yours, both by accident and through knowledge. I accept him +as a Napoleon, and as a Frenchman I have no cause to blush for my homage +or my faith, or for His Excellency. He is a man of loving disposition, +of great knowledge, of power to win men, of deep ideas, of large courage. +Monsieur, I cannot forget the tragedy he stayed at the smithy, with risk +of his own life. I cannot forget--" + +The Cure, anticipating, nodded at him encouragingly. Probably the avocat +intended to say something quite different, but the look in the Cure's +eyes prompted him, and he continued: + +"I cannot forget that he has given to the poor, and liberally to the +Church, and has promised benefits to the deserving--ah, no, no, my dear +Seigneur!" + +He had delivered his speech in a quaint, quick way, as though addressing +a jury, and when he had finished, he sat down again, and nodded his head, +and tapped a foot on the floor; and the Cure did the same, looking +inquiringly at De la Riviere. + +This was the first time there had been trouble in the little coterie. +They had never differed painfully before. Tall Medallion longed to say +something, but he waited for the Cure to speak. + +"What is your mind, Monsieur le Cure?" asked De la Riviere testily. + +"My dear friend, Monsieur Garon, has answered for us both," replied the +Cure quietly. + +"Do you mean to say that you will not act with me to stop this thing," he +urged--"not even for the safety of the people?" + +The reply was calm and resolute: + +"My people shall have my prayers and my life, when needed, but I do not +feel called upon to act for the State. I have the honour to be a friend +of His Excellency." + +"By Heaven, the State shall act!" cried De la Riviere, fierce with +rancour. "I shall go to this Valmond to-night, with my friend the member +here. I shall warn him, and call upon the people to disperse. If he +doesn't listen, let him beware! I seem to stand alone in the care of +Pontiac!" + +The avocat turned to his desk. "No, no; I will write you a legal +opinion," he said, with professional honesty. "You shall have my legal +help; but for the rest, I am at one with my dear Cure." + +"Well, Medallion, you too?" asked De la Riviere. "I'll go with you to +the camp," answered the auctioneer. "Fair play is all I care for. +Pontiac will come out of this all right. Come along." + +But the avocat kept them till he had written his legal opinion and +had handed it courteously to the young Seigneur. They were all silent. +There had been a discourtesy, and it lay like a cloud on the coterie. +De la Riviere opened the door to go out, after bowing to the Cure and the +avocat, who stood up with mannered politeness; but presently he turned, +came back, was about to speak, when, catching sight of a miniature of +Valmond on the avocat's desk, before which was set a bunch of violets, +he wheeled and left the room without a word. + +The moon had not yet risen, but stars were shining, when the young +Seigneur and the member came to Dalgrothe Mountain. On one side of the +Rock of Red Pigeons was a precipice and wild water; on the other was a +deep valley like a cup, and in the centre of this was a sort of plateau +or gentle slope. Dalgrothe Mountain towered above. Upon this plateau +Valmond had pitched his tents. There was water, there was good air, and +for purposes of drill--or defence--it was excellent. The approaches were +patrolled, so that no outside stragglers could reach either the Rock of +Red Pigeons or the valley, or see what was going on below, without +permission. Lagroin was everywhere, drilling, commanding, browbeating +his recruits one minute, and praising them the next. Lajeunesse, +Garotte, and Muroc were invaluable, each after his kind. Duclosse the +mealman was sutler. + +The young Seigneur and his companions were not challenged, and they +passed on up to the Rock of Red Pigeons. Looking down, they had a +perfect view of the encampment. The tents had come from lumber-camps, +from river-driving gangs, and from private stores; there was some regular +uniform, flags were flying everywhere, many fires were burning, the voice +of Lagroin in command came up the valley loudly, and Valmond watched the +drill and a march past. The fires lit up the sides of the valley and +glorified the mountains beyond. In this inspiring air it was impossible +to feel an accent of disaster or to hear the stealthy footfall of ruin. + +The three journeyed down into the valley, then up onto the plateau, where +they were challenged, allowed to pass, and came to where Valmond sat upon +his horse. At sight of them, with a suspicion of the truth, he ordered +Lagroin to march the men down the long plateau. They made a good figure +filing past the three visitors, as the young Seigneur admitted. + +Valmond got from his horse, and waited for them. He looked weary, and +there were dark circles round his eyes, as though he had had an illness; +but he stood erect and quiet. His uniform was that of a general of the +Empire. It was rather dingy, yet it was of rich material, and he wore +the ribbon of the Legion of Honour on his breast. His paleness was not +of fear, for when his eyes met Monsieur De la Riviere's, there was in +them waiting, inquiry--nothing more. He greeted them all politely, and +Medallion warmly, shaking his hand twice; for he knew well that the gaunt +auctioneer had only kindness in his heart; and they had exchanged +humorous stories more than once--a friendly bond. + +He motioned towards his tent near by, but the young Seigneur declined. +Valmond looked round, and ordered away a listening soldier. + +"It is business and imperative," said De la Riviere. Valmond bowed. +"Isn't it time this burlesque was ended?" continued the challenger, +waving a hand towards the encampment. + +"My presence here is my reply," answered Valmond. "But how does it +concern monsieur?" + +"All that concerns Pontiac concerns me." + +"And me; I am as good a citizen as you." + +"You are troubling our people. This is illegal--this bearing arms, these +purposes of yours. It is mere filibustering, and you are an--" + +Valmond waved his hand, as if to stop the word. "I am Valmond Napoleon, +monsieur." + +"If you do not promise to forego this, I will arrest you," said De la +Riviere sharply. + +"You?" Valmond smiled ironically. + +"I am a justice of the peace. I have the power." + +"I have the power to prevent arrest, and I will prevent it, monsieur. +You alone of all this parish, I believe of all this province, turn a +sour face, a sour heart, to me. I regret it, but I do not fear it." + +"I will have you in custody, or there is no law in Quebec," was the acrid +set-out. + +Valmond's face was a feverish red now, and he made an impatient gesture. +Both men had bitter hearts, for both knew well that the touchstone of +this malice was Madame Chalice. Hatred looked out of their eyes. It +was, each knew, a fight to the dark end. + +"There is not law enough to justify you, monsieur," answered Valmond +quickly. + +"Be persuaded, monsieur," urged the member to Valmond, with a persuasive, +smirking gesture. + +"All this country could not persuade me; only France can do that; and +first I shall persuade France," he answered, speaking to his old cue +stoutly. + +"Mummer!" broke out De la Riviere. "By God, I will arrest you now!" + +He stepped forward, putting his hand in his breast, as if to draw a +weapon, though, in truth, it was a summons. + +Like lightning the dwarf shot in between, and a sword flashed up at De la +Riviere's breast. + +"I saved your father's life, but I will take yours, if you step farther, +dear Seigneur," he said coolly. + +Valmond had not stirred, but his face was pale again. + +"That will do, Parpon," he said quietly. "Monsieur had better go," +he added to De la Riviere, "or even his beloved law may not save him!" + +"I will put an end to this," cried the other, bursting with anger. +"Come, gentlemen," he said to his companions, and turned away. + +Medallion paused, then came to Valmond and said: "Your Excellency, if +ever you need me, let me know. I'd do much to prove myself no enemy." + +Valmond gave him his hand courteously, bowed, and, beckoning a soldier to +take his horse, walked towards his tent. He swayed slightly as he went, +then a trembling seized him. He staggered as he entered the door of the +tent, and Parpon, seeing, ran forward and caught him in his arms. The +little man laid him down, felt his pulse, his heart, saw a little black +stain on his lips, and cried out in a great fear: + +"My God! The black fever! Ah, my Napoleon!" + +Valmond lay in a burning stupor; and word went abroad that he might die; +but Parpon insisted that he would be well presently, and at first would +let no one but the Little Chemist and the Cure come in or near the tent. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Her sight was bounded by the little field where she strayed +I was never good at catechism +The blind tyranny of the just +Visions of the artistic temperament--delight and curse + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VALMOND TO PONTIAC, V2, BY PARKER *** + +*********** This file should be named 6203.txt or 6203.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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