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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/6215.txt b/6215.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..abe2805 --- /dev/null +++ b/6215.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2341 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook Pomp of the Lavilettes, v1, by G. Parker +#42 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: The Pomp of the Lavilettes, Volume 1. + +Author: Gilbert Parker + +Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6215] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on September 27, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POMP OF THE LAVILLETTES, PARKER, V1 *** + + + +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.] + + + + + +THE POMP OF THE LAVILETTES + +By Gilbert Parker + +Volume 1. + + + +INTRODUCTION + +I believe that 'The Pomp of the Lavilettes' has elements which justify +consideration. Its original appearance was, however, not made under +wholly favourable conditions. It is the only book of mine which I ever +sold outright. This was in 1896. Mr. Lamson, of Messrs. Lamson & +Wolffe, energetic and enterprising young publishers of Boston, came to +see me at Atlantic City (I was on a visit to the United States at the +time), and made a gallant offer for the English, American and colonial +book and serial rights. I felt that some day I could get the book back +under my control if I so desired, while the chances of the book making an +immediate phenomenal sale were not great. There is something in the +nature of a story which determines its popularity. I knew that 'The +Seats of the Mighty' and 'The Right of Way' would have a great sale, and +after they were written I said as much to my publishers. There was the +element of general appeal in the narratives and the characters. Without +detracting from the character-drawing, the characters, or the story in +'The Pomp of the Lavilettes', I was convinced that the book would not +make the universal appeal. Yet I should have written the story, even +if it had been destined only to have a hundred readers. It had to be +written. I wanted to write what was in me, and that invasion of a little +secluded French-Canadian society by a ne'er-do-well of the over-sea +aristocracy had a psychological interest, which I could not resist. +I thought it ought to be worked out and recorded, and particularly as +the time chosen--1837--marked a large collision between the British and +the French interests in French Canada, or rather of French political +interests and the narrow administrative prejudices and nepotism of the +British executive in Quebec. + +It is a satisfaction to include this book in a definitive edition +of my works, for I think that, so far as it goes, it is truthfully +characteristic of French life in Canada, that its pictures are faithful, +and that the character-drawing represents a closer observation than any +of the previous works, slight as the volume is. It holds the same +relation to 'The Right of Way' that 'The Trail of the Sword' holds to +'The Seats of the Mighty', that 'A Ladder of Swords' holds to 'The +Battle of the Strong', that 'Donovan Pasha' holds to 'The Weavers'. +Instinctively, and, as I believe, naturally, I gave to each ambitious, +and--so far as conception goes--to each important novel of mine, an avant +coureur. 'The Trail of the Sword, A Ladder of Swords, Donovan Pasha and +The Pomp of the Lavilettes', are all very short novels, not exceeding in +any case sixty thousand words, while the novels dealing in a larger way +with the same material--the same people and environment, with the same +mise-en-scene, were each of them at least one hundred and forty thousand +words in length, or over two and a half times as long. I do not say that +this is a system which I devised; but it was, from the first, the method +I pursued instinctively; on the basis that dealing with a smaller +subject--with what one might call a genre picture first, I should get +well into my field, and acquire greater familiarity with my material +than I should have if I attempted the larger work at once. + +This is not to say that the smaller work was immature. On the contrary, +I believe that at least these shorter works are quite mature in their +treatment and in their workmanship and design. Naturally, however, they +made less demand on all one's resources, they were narrower in scope and +less complicated, than the longer works, like 'The Seats of the Mighty', +which made heavier call upon the capacities of one's art. The only +occasion on which I have not preceded a very long novel of life in a new +field, by a very short one, is in the writing of 'The Judgment House'. +For this book, however, it might be said, that all the last twenty +years was a preparation, since the scenes were scenes in which I had +lived and moved, and in a sense played a part; while the ten South +African chapters of the book placed in the time of the Natal campaign +needed no pioneer narrative to increase familiarity with the material, +the circumstances and the country itself. I knew it all from study on +the spot. + +From The 'Pomp of the Lavilettes', with which might be associated 'The +Lane That Had no Turning', to 'The Right of Way', was a natural +progression; it was the emergence of a big subject which must be treated +in a large bold way, if it was to succeed. It succeeded to a degree +which could not fail to gratify any one who would rather have a wide +audience than a contracted one, who believes that to be popular is not +necessarily to be contemptible--as the ancient Pistol put it, "base, +common and popular." + + + + +THE POMP OF THE LAVILETTES + +CHAPTER I + +You could not call the place a village, nor yet could it be called a +town. Viewed from the bluff, on the English side of the river, it was a +long stretch of small farmhouses--some painted red, with green shutters, +some painted white, with red shutters--set upon long strips of land, +green, yellow, and brown, as it chanced to be pasture land, fields of +grain, or "plough-land." + +These long strips of property, fenced off one from the other, so narrow +and so precise, looked like pieces of ribbon laid upon a wide quilt of +level country. Far back from this level land lay the dark, limestone +hills, which had rambled down from Labrador, and, crossing the River St. +Lawrence, stretched away into the English province. The farmhouses and +the long strips of land were in such regular procession, it might almost +have seemed to the eye of the whimsical spectator that the houses and the +ribbon were of a piece, and had been set down there, sentinel after +sentinel, like so many toy soldiers, along the banks of the great river. +There was one important break in the long line of precise settlement, and +that was where the Parish Church, about the middle of the line, had +gathered round it a score or so of buildings. But this only added to the +strength of the line rather than broke its uniformity. Wide stretches of +meadow-land reached back from the Parish Church until they were lost in +the darker verdure of the hills. + +On either side of the Parish Church, with its tall, stone tower, were two +stout-built houses, set among trees and shrubbery. They were low set, +broad and square, with heavy-studded, old-fashioned doors. The roofs +were steep and high, with dormer windows and a sort of shelf at the +gables. + +They were both on the highest ground in the whole settlement, a little +higher than the site of the Parish Church. The one was the residence of +the old seigneur, Monsieur Duhamel; the other was the Manor Casimbault, +empty now of all the Casimbaults. For a year it had lain idle, until the +only heir of the old family, which was held in high esteem as far back as +the time of Louis Quinze, returned from his dissipations in Quebec to +settle in the old place or sell it to the highest bidder. + +Behind the Manor Casimbault and the Seigneury, thus flanking the church +at reverential distance, another large house completed the acute +triangle, forming the apex of the solid wedge of settlement drawn about +the church. This was the great farmhouse of the Lavilettes, one of the +most noticeable families in the parish. + +Of the little buildings bunched beside the church, not the least +important was the post-office, kept by Papin Baby, who was also keeper +of the bridge which was almost at the door of the office. This bridge +crossed a stream that ran into the large river, forming a harbour. It +opened in the middle, permitting boats and vessels to go through. Baby +worked it by a lever. A hundred yards or so above the bridge was the +parish mill, and between were the Hotel France, the little house of +Doctor Montmagny, the Regimental Surgeon (as he was called), the cooper +shop, the blacksmith, the tinsmith and the grocery shops. Just beyond +the mill, upon the banks of the river, was the most notorious, if not the +most celebrated, house in the settlement. Shangois, the travelling +notary, lived in it--when he was not travelling. When he was, he left it +unlocked, all save one room; and people came and went through the house +as they pleased, eyeing with curiosity the dusty, tattered books upon the +shelves, the empty bottles in the corner, the patchwork of cheap prints, +notices of sales, summonses, accounts, certificates of baptism, +memoranda, receipted bills--though they were few--tacked or stuck to the +wall. + +No grown-up person of the village meddled with anything, no matter how +curious; for this consistent, if unspoken, trust displayed by Shangois +appealed to their better instincts. Besides, they, like the children, +had a wholesome fear of the disreputable, shrunken, dishevelled little +notary, with the bead-like eyes, yellow stockings, hooked nose and +palsied left hand. Also the knapsack and black bag he carried under his +arms contained more secrets than most people wished to tempt or challenge +forth. Few cared to anger the little man, whose father and grandfather +had been notaries here before him. + +Like others in the settlement, Shangois was the last of his race. He +could put his finger upon the secret history and private lives of nearly +every person in a dozen parishes, but most of all in Bonaventure--for +such this long parish was called. He knew to a hair's breadth the social +value of every human being in the parish. He was too cunning and acute +to be a gossip, but by direct and indirect ways he made every person feel +that the Cure and the Lord might forgive their pasts, but he could never +forget them, nor wished to do so. For Monsieur Duhamel, the old +seigneur, for the drunken Philippe Casimbault, for the Cure, and for the +Lavilettes, who owned the great farmhouse at the apex of that wedge of +village life, he had a profound respect. The parish generally did not +share his respect for the Lavilettes. + +Once upon a time, beyond the memories of any in the parish, the +Lavilettes of Bonaventure were a great people. Disaster came, debt and +difficulty followed, fire consumed the old house in which their dignity +had been cherished, and at last they had no longer their seigneurial +position, but that of ordinary farmers who work and toil in the field +like any of the fifty-acre farmers on the banks of the St. Lawrence +River. + +Monsieur Louis Lavilette, the present head of the house, had not +married well. At the time when the feeling against the English was the +strongest, and when his own fortunes were precarious, he had married a +girl somewhat older than himself, who was half English and half French, +her father having been a Hudson's Bay Company factor on the north coast +of the river. In proportion as their fortunes and their popularity +declined, and their once notable position as an old family became +scarce a memory even, the pride of the Lavilettes increased. + +Madame Lavilette made strong efforts to secure her place; but she was +not of an old French family, and this was an easy and convenient weapon +against her. Besides, she had no taste, and her manners were much +inferior to those of her husband. What impression he managed to make by +virtue of a good deal of natural dignity, she soon unmade by her lack of +tact. She had no innate breeding, though she was not vulgar. She lacked +sense a little and sensitiveness much. + +The Casimbaults and the wife of the old seigneur made no friends of the +Lavilettes, but the old seigneur kept up a formal habit of calling twice +a year at the Lavilettes' big farmhouse, which, in spite of all +misfortune, grew bigger as the years went on. Probably, in spite of +everything, Monsieur Lavilette and his family would have succeeded better +socially had it not been for one or two unpopular lawsuits brought by the +Lavilettes against two neighbours, small farmers, one of whom was clearly +in the wrong, and the other as clearly in the right. + +When, after years had gone by, and the children of the Lavilettes had +grown up, young Monsieur Casimbault came from Quebec to sell his property +(it seemed to the people of Bonaventure like selling his birthright), he +was greatly surprised to find Monsieur Lavilette ready with ten thousand +dollars, to purchase the Manor Casimbault. Before the parish had time to +take breath Monsieur Casimbault had handed over the deed, pocketed the +money, and leaving the ancient heritage of his family in the hands of the +Lavilettes, (who forthwith prepared to enter upon it, house and land), +had hurried away to Quebec again without any pangs of sentiment. + +It was a little before this time that impertinent peasants in the parish +began to sing: + + "O when you hear my little silver drum, + And when I blow my little gold trompette-a, + You must drop your work and come, + You must leave your pride at home, + And duck your heads before the Lavilette-a!" + +Gatineau the miller, and Baby the keeper of the bridge, gave their +own reasons for the renewed progress of the Lavilettes. They met in +conference at the mill on the eve of the marriage of Sophie Lavilette +to Magon Farcinelle, farrier, farmer and member of the provincial +legislature, whose house lay behind the piece of maple wood, a mile +or so to the right of the Lavilettes' farmhouse. Farcinelle's engagement +to Sophie had come as a surprise to all, for, so far as people knew, +there had been no courting. Madame Lavilette had encouraged, had even +tempted, the spontaneous and jovial Farcinelle. Though he had never made +a speech in the House of Assembly, and it was hard to tell why he was +elected, save because everybody liked him, his official position and his +popularity held an important place in Madame Lavilette's long-developed +plans, which at last were to place her in a position equal to that of the +old seigneur, and launch her upon society at the capital. + +They had gone more than once to the capital, where their family had been +well-known fifty years before, but few doors had been opened to them. +They were farmers--only farmers--and Madame Lavilette made no remarkable +impression. Her dress was florid and not in excellent taste, and her +accent was rather crude. Sophie had gone to school at the convent in the +city, but she had no ambition. She had inherited the stolid simplicity +of her English grandfather. When her schooling was finished she let her +school friends drop, and came back to Bonaventure, rather stately, given +to reading, and little inclined to bother her head about anybody. + +Christine, the younger sister, had gone to Quebec also, but after a week +of rebellion, bad temper and sharp speaking, had come home again without +ceremony, and refused to return. Despite certain likenesses to her +mother, she had a deep, if unintelligible, admiration for her father, +and she never tired looking at the picture of her great-grandfather in +the dress of a chevalier of St. Louis--almost the only thing that had +been saved from the old Manor House, destroyed so long before her time. +Perhaps it was the importance she attached to her ancestry which made her +impatient with their present position, and with people in the parish who +would not altogether recognise their claims. It was that which made her +give a little jerky bow to the miller and the postmaster when she passed +the mill. + +"Come, dusty-belly," said Baby, "what's all this pom-pom of the +Lavilettes?" + +The miller pursed out his lips, contracted his brows, and arranged his +loose waistcoat carefully on his fat stomach. + +"Money," said he, oracularly, as though he had solved the great question +of the universe. + +"La! la! But other folks have money; and they step about Bonaventure no +more louder than a cat." + +"Blood," added Gatineau, corrugating his brows still more. + +"Bosh!" + +"Both together--money and blood," rejoined the miller. Overcome by his +exertions, he wheezed so tremendously that great billows of excitement +raised his waistcoat, and a perspiration broke out upon his mealy face, +making a paste which the sun, through the open doorway, immediately began +to bake into a crust. + +"Pah, the airs they have always had, those Lavilettes!" said Baby. +"They will not do this because it is not polite, they will not do that +because they are too proud. They say that once there was a baron in +their family. Who can tell how long ago! Perhaps when John the Baptist +was alive. What is that? Nothing. There is no baron now. All at once +somebody die a year ago, and leave them ten thousand dollars; and then-- +mais, there is the grand difference! They have save and save twenty +years to pay their debts and to buy a seigneury, like that baron who live +in the time of John the Baptist. Now it is to stand on a ladder to speak +to them. And when all's done, they marry Ma'm'selle Sophie to a farrier, +to that Magon Farcinelle--bah!" + +"Magon was at the Laval College in Quebec; he has ten thousand dollars; +he is the best judge of horses in the province, and he's a Member of +Parliament to boot," said the miller, puffing. "He is a great man +almost." + +"He's no better judge of horses than M'sieu' Nic Lavilette--eh, that's a +bully bad scamp, my Gatineau!" responded Baby. "He's the best in the +family. He is a grand sport; yes. It's he that fetched Ma'm'selle +Sophie to the hitching-post. Voila, he can wind them all round his +finger!" + +Baby looked round to see if any one was near; then he drew the miller's +head down by pulling at his collar, and whispered in his ear: + +"He's hot foot for the Rebellion; that's one good thing," he said. "If +he wipes out the English--" + +"Hold your tongue," nervously interrupted Gatineau, for just then two or +three loiterers of the parish came shambling around the corner of the +mill. + +Baby stopped short, and as they greeted the newcomers their attention was +drawn to the stage-coach from St. Croix coming over the little hill near +by. + +"Here's M'sieu' Nic now--and who's with him?" said Baby, stepping about +nervously in his excitement. "I knew there was something up. M'sieu' +Nic's been writing long letters from Montreal." + +Baby's look suggested that he knew more than his position as postmaster +entitled him to know; but the furtive droop at the corner of his eyes +showed also that his secretiveness was equal to his cowardice. + +On the seat, beside the driver of the coach, was Nicolas Lavilette, +black-haired, brown-eyed, athletic, reckless-looking, with a cast in his +left eye, which gave him a look of drollery, in keeping with his buoyant, +daring nature. Beside him was a figure much more noticeable and unusual. + +Lean, dark-featured, with keen-glancing eyes, and a body with a faculty +for finding corners of ease; waving hair, streaked with grey, black +moustache, and a hectic flush on the cheeks, lending to the world-wise +face a wistful look-that, with near six feet of height, was the picture +of his friend. + +"Who is it?" asked the miller, with bulging eyes. "An English +nobleman," answered Baby. "How do you know?" asked Gatineau. + +"How do I know you are a fat, cheating miller?" replied the postmaster, +with cunning care and a touch of malice. Malice was the only power Baby +knew. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +In the matter of power, Baby, the inquisitive postmaster and keeper of +the bridge, was unlike the new arrival in Bonaventure. The abilities of +the Honourable Tom Ferrol lay in a splendid plausibility, a spontaneous +blarney. He could no more help being spendthrift of his affections and +his morals than of his money, and many a time he had wished that his +money was as inexhaustible as his emotions. + +In point of morals, any of the Lavilettes presented a finer average than +their new guest, who had come to give their feasting distinction, and +what more time was to show. Indeed, the Hon. Mr. Ferrol had no morals to +speak of, and very little honour. He was the penniless son of an Irish +peer, who was himself well-nigh penniless; and he and his sister, whose +path of life at home was not easy after her marriageable years had +passed, drew from the consols the small sum of money their mother +had left them, and sailed away for New York. + +Six months of life there, with varying fortune in which a well-to-do girl +in society gave him a promise of marriage, and then Ferrol found himself +jilted for a baronet, who owned a line of steamships and could give the +ambitious lady a title. In his sick heart he had spoken profanely of the +future Lady of Title, had bade her good-bye with a smile and an agreeable +piece of wit, and had gone home to his flat and sobbed like a schoolboy; +for, as much as he could love anybody, he loved this girl. He and the +faithful sister vanished from New York and appeared in Quebec, where they +were made welcome in Government House, at the citadel, and among all who +cared to know the weight of an inherited title. For a time, the fact +that he had little or no money did not temper their hospitality with +niggardliness or caution. But their cheery and witty guest began to take +more wine than was good for him or comfortable for others; his bills at +the clubs remained unpaid, his landlord harried him, his tailors pursued +him; and then he borrowed cheerfully and well. + +However, there came an end to this, and to the acceptance of his I O U's. +Following the instincts of his Irish ancestors, he then leagued with a +professional smuggler, and began to deal in contraband liquors and +cigars. But before this occurred, he had sent his sister to a little +secluded town, where she should be well out of earshot of his doings or +possible troubles. He would have shielded her from harm at the cost of +his life. His loyalty to her was only limited by the irresponsibility of +his nature and a certain incapacity to see the difference between radical +right and radical wrong. His honour was a matter of tradition, such as +it was, and in all else he had the inherent invalidity of some of his +distant forebears. For a time all went well, then discovery came, and +only the kind intriguing of as good friends as any man deserved prevented +his arrest and punishment. But it all got whispered about; and while +some ladies saw a touch of romance in his doing professionally and +wholesale what they themselves did in an amateurish way with laces, +gloves and so on, men viewed the matter more seriously, and advised +Ferrol to leave Quebec. + +Since that time he had lived by his wits--and pleasing, dangerous wits +they were--at Montreal and elsewhere. But fatal ill-luck pursued him. +Presently a cold settled on his lungs. In the dead of winter, after +sending what money he had to his sister, he had lived a week or more in +a room, with no fire and little food. As time went on, the cold got no +better. After sundry vicissitudes and twists of fortune, he met Nicolas +Lavilette at a horse race, and a friendship was struck up. He frankly +and gladly accepted an invitation to attend the wedding of Sophie +Lavilette, and to make a visit at the farm, and at the Manor Casimbault +afterwards. Nicolas spoke lightly of the Manor Casimbault, yet he had +pride in it also; for, scamp as he was, and indifferent to anything like +personal dignity or self-respect, he admired his father and had a +natural, if good-natured, arrogance akin to Christine's self-will. + +It meant to Ferrol freedom from poverty, misery and financial subterfuge +for a moment; and he could be quiet--for, as he said, "This confounded +cold takes the iron out of my blood." + +Like all people stricken with this disease, he never called it anything +but a cold. All those illusions which accompany the malady were his. He +would always be better "to-morrow." He told the two or three friends who +came from their beds in the early morning to see him safely off from +Montreal to Bonaventure that he would be all right as soon as he got out +into the country; that he sat up too late in the town; and that he had +just got a new prescription which had cured a dozen people "with colds +and hemorrhages." His was only a cold--just a cold; that was all. He +was a bit weak sometimes, and what he needed was something to pull up +his strength. The country would do this-plenty of fresh air, riding, +walking, and that sort of thing. + +He had left Montreal behind in gay spirits, and he continued gay for +several hours, holding himself' erect in the seat, noting the landscape, +telling stories; but he stumbled with weakness as they got out of the +coach for luncheon. He drank three full portions of whiskey at table, +and ate nothing. The silent landlady who waited on them at last brought +a huge bowl of milk, and set it before him without a word. A flush +passed swiftly across his face and faded away, as, with quick +sensitiveness, he glanced at Nicolas and another passenger, a fat priest. +They took no notice, and, reassured, he said, with a laugh, that the +landlady knew exactly what he wanted. Lifting the dish, he drained it at +a gasp, though the milk almost choked him, and, to the apprehension of +his hostess, set the bowl spinning on the table like a top. Another +illusion of the disease was his: that he succeeded perfectly in deceiving +everybody round him with his pathetic make-believe; and, unlike most +deceivers, he deceived himself as well. The two actions, inconsistent +as they were, were reconciled in him, as in all the race of consumptives, +by some strange chemistry of the mind and spirit. He was on the broad, +undiverging highway to death; yet, with every final token about him that +he was in the enemy's country, surrounded, trapped, soon to be passed +unceremoniously inside the citadel at the end of the avenue, he kept +signalling back to old friends that all was well, and he told himself +that to-morrow the king should have his own again--"To-morrow, and to- +morrow, and to-morrow!" + +He was not very thin in body; his face was full, and at times his eyes +were singularly and fascinatingly bright. He had colour--that hectic +flush which, on his cheek, was almost beautiful. One would have turned +twice to see. The quantities of spirits that he drank (he ate little) +would have killed a half-dozen healthy men. To him it was food, taken +up, absorbed by the fever of his disease, giving him a real, not a +fictitious strength; and so it would continue to do till some artery +burst and choked him, or else, by some miracle of air and climate, the +hole in his lung healed up again; which he, in his elation, believed +would be "to-morrow." Perhaps the air, the food, and life of Bonaventure +were the one medicine he needed! + +But, in the moment Nicolas said to him that Bonaventure was just over the +hill, that they would be able to see it now, he had a sudden feeling of +depression. He felt that he would give anything to turn back. A +perspiration broke out on his forehead and his cheek. His eyes had a +wavering, anxious look. Some of that old sanity of the once healthy man +was making a last effort for supremacy, breaking in upon illusive hopes +and irresponsible deceptions. + +It was only for a moment. Presently, from the top of the hill, they +looked down upon the long line of little homes lying along the banks of +the river like peaceful watchmen in a pleasant land, with corn and wine +and oil at hand. The tall cross on the spire of the Parish Church was +itself a message of hope. He did not define it so; but the impression +vaguely, perhaps superstitiously, possessed him. It was this vague +influence, perhaps (for he was not a Catholic), which made him +involuntarily lift his hat, as did Nicolas, when they passed a calvary; +which induced him likewise to make the sacred gesture when they met a +priest, with an acolyte and swinging censer, hurrying silently on to the +home of some dying parishioner. The sensations were different from +anything he had known. He had been used to the Catholic religion in +Ireland; he had seen it in France, Spain, Italy and elsewhere; but here +was something essentially primitive, archaically touching and convincing. + +His spirits came back with a rush; he had a splendid feeling of +exaltation. He was not religious, never could be, but he felt religious; +he was ill, but he felt that he was on the open highway to health; he was +dishonest, but he felt an honest man; he was the son of a peer, but he +felt himself brother to the fat miller by the roadway, to Baby, the +postmaster and keeper of the bridge, to the Regimental Surgeon, who stood +in his doorway, pulling at his moustache and blowing clouds of tobacco +smoke into the air. + +Shangois, the notary, met his eye as they dashed on. A new sensation-- +not a change in the elation he felt, but an instant's interruption-- +came to him. He asked who Shangois was, and Nicolas told him. + +"A notary, eh?" he remarked gaily. "Well, why does he disguise himself? +He looks like a ragpicker, and has the eye of Solomon and the devil in +one. He ought to be in some Star Chamber--Palmerston could make use of +him." + +"Oh, he's kept busy enough with secrets here!" was Nicolas's laughing +reply. + +"It's only a difference of size in the secrets anyhow," was Ferrol's +response in the same vein; and in a few moments they had passed the +Seigneury, and were drawn up before the great farmhouse. + +Its appearance was rather comfortable and commodious than impressive, but +it had the air of home and undepreciating use. There was one beautiful +clump of hollyhocks and sunflowers in the front garden; a corner of the +main building was covered with morning-glories; a fence to the left was +overgrown with grape-vines, making it look like a hedge; a huge pear tree +occupied a spot opposite to the pretty copse of sunflowers and +hollyhocks; and the rest of the garden was green, save just round a +little "summer-house," in the corner, with its back to the road, near +which Sophie had set a palisade of the golden-rod flower. Just beside +the front door was a bush of purple lilac; and over the door, in copper, +was the coat-of-arms of the Lavilettes, placed there, at Madame's +insistence, in spite of the dying wish of Lavilette's father, a feeble, +babbling old gentleman in knee-breeches, stock, and swallow-tailed coat, +who, broken down by misfortune, age and loneliness, had gathered himself +together for one last effort for becomingness against his daughter-in- +law's false tastes--and had died the day after. He was spared the +indignity of the coat-of-arms on the tombstone only by the fierce +opposition of Louis Lavilette, who upon this point had his first quarrel +with his wife. + +Ferrol saw no particular details in his first view of the house. +The picture was satisfying to a tired man--comfort, quiet, the bread +of idleness to eat, and welcome, admiring faces round him. Monsieur +Lavilette stood in the doorway, and behind him, at a carefully disposed +distance, was Madame, rather more emphatically dressed than necessary. +As he shook hands genially with Madame he saw Sophie and Christine in the +doorway of the parlour. His spirits took another leap. His +inexhaustible emotions were out upon cheerful parade at once. + +The Lavilettes immediately became pensioners of his affections. The +first hour of his coming he himself did not know which sister his ample +heart was spending itself on most--Sophie, with her English face, and +slow, docile, well-bred manner, or Christine, dark, petite, impertinent, +gay-hearted, wilful, unsparing of her tongue for others--or for herself. +Though Christine's lips and cheeks glowed, and her eyes had wonderful +warm lights, incredulity was constantly signalled from both eyes and +lips. She was a fine, daring little animal, with as great a talent for +untruth as truth, though, to this point in her life, truth had been more +with her. Her temptations had been few. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Mr. Ferrol seemed honestly to like the old farmhouse, with its low +ceilings, thick walls, big beams and wide chimneys, and he showed himself +perfectly at home. He begged to be allowed to sit for an hour in the +kitchen, beside the great fireplace. He enjoyed this part of his first +appearance greatly. It was like nothing he had tasted since he used, as +a boy, to visit the huntsman's home on his father's estate, and gossip +and smoke in that Galway chimney-corner. It was only when he had to face +the too impressive adoration of Madame Lavilette that his comfort got a +twist. + +He made easy headway into the affections of his hostess; for, besides all +other predilections, she had an adoring awe of the nobility. It rather +surprised her that Ferrol seemed almost unaware of his title. He was +quite without self-consciousness, although there was that little touch +of irresponsibility in him which betrayed a readiness to sell his dignity +for a small compensation. With a certain genial capacity for universal +blarney, he was at first as impressive with Sophie as he was attentive to +Christine. It was quite natural that presently Madame Lavilette should +see possibilities beyond all her past imaginations. It would surely +advance her ambitions to have him here for Sophie's wedding; but even as +she thought that, she had twinges of disappointment, because she had +promised Farcinelle to have the wedding as simple and bourgeois as +possible. + +Farcinelle did not share the social ambitions of the Lavilettes. +He liked his political popularity, and he was only concerned for that. +He had that touch of shrewdness to save him from fatuity where the +Lavilettes were concerned. He was determined to associate with the +ceremony all the primitive customs of the country. He had come of a race +of simple farmers, and he was consistent enough to attempt to live up to +the traditions of his people. He was entirely too good-natured to take +exception to Ferrol's easy-going admiration of Sophie. + +Ferrol spoke excellent French, and soon found points of pleasant contact +with Monsieur Lavilette, who, despite the fact that he had coarsened as +the years went on, had still upon him the touch of family tradition, +which may become either offensive pride or defensive self-respect. With +the Cure, Ferrol was not quite so successful. The ascetic, prudent +priest, with that instinctive, long-sighted accuracy which belongs to the +narrow-minded, scented difficulty. He disliked the English exceedingly; +and all Irishmen were English men to him. He resisted Ferrol's blarney. +His thin lips tightened, his narrow forehead seemed to grow narrower, and +his very cassock appeared to contract austerely on his figure as he +talked to the refugee of misfortune. + +When the most pardonable of gossips, the Regimental Surgeon, asked him on +his way home what he thought of Ferrol, he shrugged his shoulders, +tightened his lips again, and said: + +"A polite, designing heretic." + +The Regimental Surgeon, though a Frenchman, had once belonged to a +British battery of artillery stationed at Quebec, and there he had +acquired an admiration for the English, which betrayed itself in his +curious attempts to imitate Anglo-Saxon bluffness and blunt spontaneity. +When the Cure had gone, he flung back his shoulders, with a laugh, as he +had seen the major-general do at the officers' mess at the citadel, and +said in English: + +"Heretics are damn' funny. I will go and call. I have also some Irish +whiskey. He will like that; and pipes--pipes, plenty of them!" + +The pipe he was smoking at the moment had been given to him by the major- +general, and he polished the silver ferrule, with its honourable +inscription, every morning of his life. + +On the morning of the second day after Ferrol came, he was carried off to +the Manor Casimbault to see the painful alterations which were being made +there under the direction of Madame Lavilette. Sophie, who had a good +deal of natural taste, had in the old days fought against her mother's +incongruous ideas, and once, when the rehabilitation of the Manor +Casimbault came up, she had made a protest; but it was unavailing, and it +was her last effort. The Manor Casimbault was destined to be an example +of ancient dignity and modern bad taste. Alterations were going on as +Madame Lavilette, Ferrol and Christine entered. + +For some time Ferrol watched the proceedings with a casual eye, but +presently he begged his hostess that she would leave the tall, old oak +clock where it was in the big hall, and that the new, platter-faced +office clock, intended for its substitute, be hung up in the kitchen. +He eyed the well-scraped over-mantel askance and saw, with scarcely +concealed astonishment, a fine, old, carved wooden seat carried out of +doors to make room for an American rocking-chair. He turned his head +away almost in anger when he saw that the beautiful brown wainscoting was +being painted an ultra-marine blue. His partly disguised astonishment +and dissent were not lost upon the crude but clever Christine. A new +sense was opened up in her, and she felt somehow that the ultra-marine +blue was not right, that the over-mantel had been spoiled, that the new +walnut table was too noticeable, and that the American rocking-chair +looked very common. Also she felt that the plush, with which her mother +and the dressmaker at St. Croix had decorated her bodice, was not the +thing. Presently this made her angry. + +"Won't you sit down?" she asked a little maliciously, pointing to the +rocking-chair in the salon. + +"I prefer standing--with you," he answered, eyeing the chair with a sly +twinkle. + +"No, that isn't it," she rejoined sharply. "You don't like the chair." +Then suddenly breaking into English--"Ah! I know, I know. You can't +fool me. I see de leetla look in your eye; and you not like the paint, +and you'd pitch that painter, Alcide, out into the snow if it is your +house." + +"I wouldn't, really," he answered--he coughed a little--"Alcide is doing +his work very well. Couldn't you give me a coat of blue paint, too?" + +The piquant, intelligent, fiery peasant face interested him. It had +warmth, natural life and passion. + +She flushed and stamped her foot, while he laughed heartily; and she was +about to say something dangerous, when the laugh suddenly stopped and he +began coughing. The paroxysm increased until he strained and caught at +his breast with his hand. It seemed as if his chest and throat must +burst. + +She instantly changed. The flush of anger passed from her face, and +something else came into it. She caught his hand. + +"Oh! what can I do, what can I do to help you?" she asked pitifully. +"I did not know you were so ill. Tell me, what can I do?" + +He made a gentle, protesting motion of his free arm--he could not speak +yet--while she held and clasped his other hand. + +"It's the worst I ever had," he said, after a moment "the very worst!" + +He sat down, and again he had a fit of coughing, and the sweat started +out violently upon his forehead and cheek. When his head at last lay +back against the chair, the paroxysm over, a little spot of blood showed +and spread upon his white lips. With a pained, shuddering little gasp +she caught her handkerchief from her bosom, and, running one hand round +his shoulder, quickly and gently caught away the spot of blood, and +crumpled the handkerchief in her hand to hide it from him. + +"Oh! poor fellow, poor fellow!" she said. "Oh! poor fellow!" + +Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked at him with that look which +is not the love of a woman for a man, or of a lover for a lover, but that +latent spirit of care and motherhood which is in every woman who is more +woman than man. For there are women who are more men than women. + +For himself, a new fact struck home in him. For the first time since +his illness he felt that he was doomed. That little spot of blood in +the crumpled handkerchief which had flashed past his eye was the fatal +message he had sought to elude for months past. A hopeless and ironical +misery shot through him. But he had humour too, and, with the taste of +the warm red drop in his mouth still, his tongue touched his lips +swiftly, and one hand grasping the arm of the chair, and the fingers of +the other dropping on the back of her hand lightly, he said in a quaint, +ironical tone: + +"'Dead for a ducat!'" + +When he saw the look of horror in her face, his eyes lifted almost gaily +to hers, as he continued: + +"A little brandy, if you can get it, mademoiselle." + +"Yes, yes. I'll get some for you--some whiskey!" she said, with +frightened, terribly eager eyes. + +"Alcide always has some. Don't stir. Sit just where you are." She ran +out of the room swiftly--a light-footed, warm-spirited, dramatic little +thing, set off so garishly in the bodice with the plush trimming; but she +had a big heart, and the man knew it. It was the big-heartedness which +was the touch of the man in her that made her companionable to him. + +He said to himself when she left him: + +"What cursed luck!" And after a pause, he added: "Good-hearted little +body, how sorry she looked!" Then he settled back in his chair, his eyes +fixed upon her as she entered the room, eager, pale and solicitous. A +half-hour later they two were on their way to the farmhouse, the work of +despoiling going on in the Manor behind them. Ferrol walked with an +easy, half-languid step, even a gay sort of courage in his bearing. The +liquor he had drunk brought the colour to his lips. They were now hot +and red, and his eyes had a singular feverish brilliancy, in keeping with +the hectic flush on his cheek. He had dismissed the subject of his +illness almost immediately, and Christine's adaptable nature had +instantly responded to his mood. + +He asked her questions about the country-side, of their neighbours, of +the way they lived, all in an easy, unintrusive way, winning her +confidence and provoking her candour. + +Two or three times, however, her face suddenly flushed with the memory +of the scene in the Manor, and her first real awakening to her social +insufficiency; for she of all the family had been least careful to see +herself as others might see her. She was vain; she was somewhat of a +barbarian; she loved nobody and nobody's opinion as she loved herself and +her own opinion. Though, if any people really cared for her, and she for +them, they were the Regimental Surgeon and Shangois the notary. + +Once, as they walked on, she turned and looked back at the Manor House, +but only for an instant. He caught the glance, and said: + +"You'll like to live there, won't you?" + +"I don't know," she answered almost sharply. "But if the Casimbaults +liked it, I don't see why we shouldn't." + +There was a challenge in her voice, defiance in the little toss of her +head. He liked her spirit in spite of the vanity. Her vanity did not +concern him greatly; for, after all, what was he doing here? Merely +filling in dark days, living a sober-coloured game out. He had one +solitary hundred dollars--no more; and half of that he had borrowed, and +half of it he got from selling his shooting-traps and his hunting-watch. +He might worry along on that till the end of the game; but he had no +money to send his sister in that secluded village two hundred miles away. +She had never known how really poor he was; and she had lived in her +simple way without want and without any unusual anxiety, save for his +health. More than once he had practically starved himself to send money +to her. Perhaps also he would have starved others for the same purpose. + +"I'll warrant the Casimbaults never enjoyed the Manor as much as I've +done that big kitchen in your house," he said, "and I can't see why you +want to leave it. Don't you feel sorry you are going to leave the old +place? Hadn't you got your own little spots there, and made friends with +them? I feel as if I should like to sit down by the side of your big, +warm chimney-corner, till the wind came along that blows out the candle." + +"What do you mean by 'blowing out the candle'?" she asked. + +"Well," he answered, "it means, shut up shop, drop the curtain, or +anything you like. It means X Y Z and the grand finale!" + +"Oh!" she said, with a little start, as the thing dawned upon her. +"Don't speak like that; you're not going to die." + +"Give me your handkerchief," he answered. "Give it to me, and I'll tell +you--how soon." + +She jammed her hand down in her pocket. "No, I won't," she answered. +"I won't!" + +She never did, and he liked her none the less for that. Somehow, up to +this time, he had always thought that he would get well, and to-morrow he +would probably think so again; but just for the moment he felt the real +truth. + +Presently she said (they spoke in French): + +"Why is it you like our old kitchen so much? It isn't nearly as nice as +the parlour." + +"Well, it's a place to live in, anyhow; and I fancy you all feel more at +home there than anywhere else." + +"I feel just as much at home in the parlour as there," she retorted. + +"Oh, no, I think not. The room one lives in the most is the room for any +one's money." + +She looked at him in a puzzled way. Too many sensations were being born +in her all at once; but she did recognise that he was not trying to +subtract anything from the pomp of the Lavilettes. + +He belonged to a world that she did not know--and yet he was so perfectly +at home with her, so idly easygoing. + +"Did you ever live in a castle?" she asked eagerly. "Yes," he said, +with a dry little laugh. Then, after a moment, with the half-abstracted +manner of a man who is recalling a long-forgotten scene, he added: "I +lived in the North Tower, looking out on Farcalladen Moor. When I wasn't +riding to the hounds myself I could see them crossing to or from the +meet. The River Stavely ran between; and just under the window of the +North Tower is the prettiest copse you ever saw. That was from one side +of the tower. From the other side you looked into the court-yard. As a +boy, I liked the court-yard just as well as the moor; for the pigeons, +the sparrows, the horses and the dogs were all there. As a man, I liked +the moor better. Well, I had jolly good times in Castle Stavely--once +upon a time." "Yet, you like our kitchen!" she again urged, in a maze +of wonderment. + +"I like everything here," he answered; "everything--everything, you +understand!" he said, looking meaningly into her eyes. + +"Then you'll like the wedding--Sophie's wedding," she answered, in a +little confusion. + +A half-hour later, he said much the same sort of thing to Sophie, with +the same look in his eyes, and only the general purpose, in either case, +of being on easy terms with them. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +The day of the wedding there was a gay procession through the parish of +the friends and constituents of Magon Farcinelle. When they came to his +home he joined them, and marched at the head of the procession as had +done many a forefather of his, with ribbons on his hat and others at his +button-hole. After stopping for exchange of courtesies at several houses +in the parish, the procession came to the homestead of the Lavilettes, +and the crowd were now enough excited to forget the pride which had +repelled and offended them for many years. + +Monsieur Lavilette made a polite speech, sending round cider and "white +wine" (as native whiskey was called) when he had finished. Later, +Nicolas furnished some good brandy, and Farcinelle sent more. A good +number of people had come out of curiosity to see what manner of man the +Englishman was, well prepared to resent his overbearing snobbishness-- +they were inclined to believe every Englishman snobbish. But Ferrol was +so entirely affable, and he drank so freely with everyone that came to +say "A votre sante, M'sieu' le Baron," and kept such a steady head in +spite of all those quantities of white wine, brandy and cider, that they +were almost ready to carry him on their shoulders; though, with their +racial prejudice, they would probably have repented of that indiscretion +on the morrow. + +Presently, dancing began in a paddock just across the road from +the house; and when Madame Lavilette saw that Mr. Ferrol gave such +undisguised countenance to the primitive rejoicings, she encouraged the +revellers and enlarged her hospitality, sending down hampers of eatables. +She preened with pleasure when she saw Ferrol walking up and down in very +confidential conversation with Christine. If she had been really +observant she would have seen that Ferrol's tendency was towards an +appearance of confidential friendliness with almost everybody. Great +ideas had entered Madame's head, but they were vaguely defining +themselves in Christine's mind also. Where might not this friendship +with Ferrol lead her? + +Something occurred in the midst of the dancing which gave a new turn to +affairs. In one of the pauses a song came monotonously lilting down the +street; yet it was not a song, it was only a sort of humming or chanting. +Immediately there was a clapping of hands, a flutter of female voices, +and delighted exclamations of children. + +"Oh, it's a dancing bear, it's a dancing bear!" they cried. + +"Is it Pito?" asked one. + +"Is it Adrienne?" cried another. + +"But no; I'll bet it's Victor!" exclaimed a third. As the man and the +bear came nearer, they saw it was neither of these. The man's voice was +not unpleasant; it had a rolling, crooning sort of sound, a little weird, +as though he had lived where men see few of their kind and have much to +do with animals. + +He was bearded, but young; his hair grew low on his forehead, and, +although it was summer time, a fur cap was set far back, like a fez, upon +his black curly hair. His forehead was corrugated, like that of a man of +sixty who had lived a hard life; his eyes were small, black and piercing. +He wore a thick, short coat, a red sash about his waist, a blue flannel +shirt, and a loose red scarf, like a handkerchief, at his throat. His +feet were bare, and his trousers were rolled half way up to his knee. In +one hand he carried a short pole with a steel pike in it, in the other a +rope fastened to a ring in the bear's nose. + +The bear, a huge brown animal, upright on his hind legs, was dancing +sideways along the road, keeping time to the lazy notes of his leader's +voice. + +In front of the Hotel France they halted, and the bear danced round and +round in a ring, his eyes rolling savagely, his head shaking from side to +side in a bad-tempered way. + +Suddenly some one cried out: "It's Vanne Castine! It's Vanne!" + +People crowded nearer: there was a flurry of exclamations, and then +Christine took a few steps forward where she could see the man's face, +and as swiftly drew back into the crowd, pale and distraite. + +The man watched her until she drew away behind a group, which was +composed of Ferrol, her brother and her sister Sophie. He dropped no +note of his song, and the bear kept jigging on. Children and elders +threw coppers, which he picked up, with a little nod of his head, a +malicious sort of smile on his lips. He kept a vigilant eye on the bear, +however, and his pole was pointed constantly towards it. After about +five minutes of this entertainment he moved along up the road. He spoke +no word to anybody though there were some cries of greeting, but passed +on, still singing the monotonous song, followed by a crowd of children. +Presently he turned a corner, and was lost to sight. For a moment longer +the lullaby floated across the garden and the green fields, then the +cornet and the concertina began again, and Ferrol turned towards +Christine. + +He had seen her paleness and her look of consternation, had observed the +sulky, penetrating look of the bear-leader's eye, and he knew that he was +stumbling upon a story. Her eye met his, then swiftly turned away. When +her look came to his face again it was filled with defiant laughter, and +a hot brilliancy showed where the paleness had been. + +"Will you dance with me?" Ferrol asked. + +"Dance with you here?" she responded incredulously. + +"Yes, just here," he said, with a dry little laugh, as he ran his arm +round her waist and drew her out upon the green. + +"And who is Vanne Castine?" he asked as they swung away in time with the +music. + +The rest stopped dancing when they saw these two appear in the ring- +through curiosity or through courtesy. + +She did not answer immediately. They danced a little longer, then he +said: + +"An old friend, eh?" + +After a moment, with a masked defiance still, and a hard laugh, she +answered in English, though his question had been in French: + +"De frien' of an ol frien'." + +"You seem to be strangers now," he suggested. She did not answer at all, +but suddenly stopped dancing, saying: "I'm tired." + +The dance went on without them. Sophie and Farcinelle presently withdrew +also. In five minutes the crowd had scattered, and the Lavilettes and +Mr. Ferrol returned to the house. + +Meanwhile, as they passed up the street, the droning, vibrating voice of +the bear-leader came floating along the air and through the voices of the +crowd like the thread of motive in the movement of an opera. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +That night, while gaiety and feasting went on at the Lavilettes', there +was another sort of feasting under way at the house of Shangois, the +notary. + +On one side of a tiny fire in the chimney, over which hung a little black +kettle, sat Shangois and Vanne Castine. Castine was blowing clouds of +smoke from his pipe, and Shangois was pouring some tea leaves into a +little tin pot, humming to himself snatches of an old song as he did so: + + "What shall we do when the King comes home? + What shall we do when he rides along + With his slaves of Greece and his serfs of Rome? + What shall we sing for a song-- + When the King comes home? + + "What shall we do when the King comes home? + What shall we do when he speaks so fair? + Shall we give him the house with the silver dome + And the maid with the crimson hair + When the King comes home?" + +A long, heavy sigh filled the room, but it was not the breath of Vanne +Castine. The sound came from the corner where the huge brown bear +huddled in savage ease. When it stirred, as if in response to Shangois's +song, the chains rattled. He was fastened by two chains to a staple +driven into the foundation timbers of the house. Castine's bear might +easily be allowed too much liberty! + +Once he had killed a man in the open street of the City of Quebec, +and once also he had nearly killed Castine. They had had a fight and +struggle, out of which the man came with a lacerated chest; but since +that time he had become the master of the bear. It feared him; yet, as +he travelled with it, he scarcely ever took his eyes off it, and he never +trusted it. That was why, although Michael was always near him, sleeping +or waking, he kept him chained at night. + +As Shangois sang, Castine's brow knotted and twitched and his hand +clinched on his pipe with a sudden ferocity. + +"Name of a black cat, what do you sing that song for, notary?" he broke +out peevishly. "Nose of a little god, are you making fun of me?" + +Shangois handed him some tea. "There's no one to laugh--why should I +make fun of you?" he asked, jeeringly, in English, for his English was +almost as good as his French, save in the turn of certain idioms. +"Come, my little punchinello, tell me, now, why have you come back?" + +Castine laughed bitterly. + +"Ha, ha, why do I come back? I'll tell you." He sucked at his pipe. +"Bon'venture is a good place to come to-yes. I have been to Quebec, +to St. John, to Fort Garry, to Detroit, up in Maine and down to New York. +I have ride a horse in a circus, I have drive a horse and sleigh in a +shanty, I have play in a brass band, I have drink whiskey every night for +a month--enough whiskey. I have drink water every night for a year--it +is not enough. I have learn how to speak English; I have lose all my +money when I go to play a game of cards. I go back to de circus; de +circus smash; I have no pay. I take dat damn bear Michael as my share-- +yes. I walk trough de State of New York, all trough de State of Maine to +Quebec, all de leetla village, all de big city--yes. I learn dat damn +funny song to sing to Michael. Ha, why do I come to Bon'venture? What +is there to Bon'venture? Ha! you ask that? I know and you know, +M'sieu' Shangois. There is nosing like Bon'venture in all de worl'. + +"What is it you would have? Do you want nice warm house in winter, +plenty pork, molass', patat, leetla drop whiskey 'hind de door in de +morning? Ha! you come to Bon'venture. Where else you fin' it? You +want people say: 'How you do, Vanne Castine--how you are? Adieu, Vanne +Castine; to see you again ver' happy, Vanne Castine.' Ha, that is what +you get in Bon'venture. Who say 'God bless you' in New York! They say +'Damn you!'--yes, I know. + +"Where have you a church so warm, so ver' nice, and everybody say him +mass and God-have-mercy? Where you fin' it like that leetla place on de +hill in Bon'venture? Yes. There is anoser place in Bon'venture, ver' +nice place--yes, ha! On de side of de hill. You have small-pox, scarlet +fev', difthere; you get smash your head, you get break your leg, you fall +down, you go to die. Ha, who is there in all de worl' like M'sieu' +Vallier, the Cure? Who will say to you like him: 'Vanne Castine, you +have break all de commandments: you have swear, you have steal, you have +kill, you have drink. Ver' well, now, you will be sorry for dat, and say +your prayer. Perhaps, after hunder fifty tousen' years of purgator', you +will be forgive and go to Heaven. But first, when you die, we will put +you way down in de leetla warm house in de ground, on de side of de hill, +in de Parish of Bon'venture, because it is de only place for a gipsy like +Vanne Castine.' + +"You ask me-ah! I see you look at me, M'sieu' le Notaire, you look at me +like a leetla dev'. You t'ink I come for somet'ing else"--his black eyes +flashed under his brow, he shook his head, and his hands clinched--"You +ask me why I come back? I come back because there is one thing I care +for mos' in all de worl'. You t'ink I am happy to go about with a damn +brown bear and dance trough de village? Moi?--no, no, no! What a Jack +I look when I sing--ah, that fool's song all down de street! I come back +for one thing only, M'sieu' Shangois. + +"You know that night--ah, four, five years ago? You remember, M'sieu' +Shangois? Ah! she was so beautiful, so sweet; her hair it fall down +about her face, her eyes all black, her cheeks like the snow, her lips, +her lips!--You rememb' her father curse me, tell me to go. Why? Because +I have kill a man! Eh bien, what if I kill a man! He would have kill +me: I do it to save myself. I say I am not guilty; but her father say I +am a sc'undrel, and turn me out de house. + +"De girl, Christine, she love me. Yes, she love Vanne Castine. She say +to me, 'I will go with you. Go anywhere, and I will go!' + +"It is night and it is all dark. I wait at de place, an' she come. We +start to walk to Montreal. Ah! dat night, it is like fire in my heart. +Well, a great storm come down, and we have to come back. We come to your +house here, light a fire, and sit just in de spot where I am, one hour, +two hour, three hour. Saprie, how I love her! She is in me like fire, +like de wind and de sea. Well, I am happy like no other man. I sit here +and look at her, and t'ink of to-morrow-for ever. She look at me; oh, de +love of God, she look at me! So I kneel down on de floor here beside her +and say, 'Who shall take you from me, Christine, my leetla Christine?' + +"She look at me and say: 'Who shall take you from me, my big Vanne?' + +"All at once the door open, and--" + +"And a little black notary take her from you," said Shangois, dryly, and +with a touch of malice also. "You, yes, you lawyer dev', you take her +from me! You say to her it is wicked. You tell her how her father will +weep and her mother's heart will break. You tell her how she will be +ashame', and a curse will fall on her. Then she begin to cry, for she is +afraid. Ah, where is de wrong? I love her; I would go to marry her--but +no, what is that to you! She turn on me and say, 'I will go back to my +father.' And she go back. After that I try to see her; but she will not +see me. Then I go away, and I am gone five years; yes." + +Shangois came over, and with his thin beautiful hand (for despite the +ill-kept finger nails, it was the one fine feature of his body-long, +shapely, artistic) tapped Castine's knee. + +"I did right to save Christine. She hates you now. If she had gone with +you that night, do you suppose she would have been happy as your wife? +No, she is not for Vanne Castine." + +Suddenly Shangois's manner changed; he laid his hand upon the other's +shoulder. + +"My poor, wicked, good-for-nothing Vanne Castine, Christine Lavilette was +not made for you. You are a poor vaurien, always a poor vaurien. I knew +your father and your two grandfathers. They were all vauriens; all as +handsome as you can think, and all died, not in their beds. Your +grandfather killed a man, your father drank and killed a man. Your +grandfather drove his wife to her grave, your father broke your mother's +heart. Why should you break the heart of any girl in the world? Leave +her alone. Is it love to a woman when you break all the commandments, +and shame her and bring her down to where you are--a bad vaurien? When +a man loves a woman with the true love, he will try to do good for her +sake. Go back to that crazy New York--it is the place for you. +Ma'm'selle Christine is not for you." + +"Who is she for, m'sieu' le dev'?" + +"Perhaps for the English Irishman," answered Shangois, in a low +suggestive tone, as he dropped a little brandy in his tea with light +fingers. + +"Ah, sacre! we shall see. There is vaurien in her too," was the half- +triumphant reply. + +"There is more woman," retorted Shangois; "much more." + +"We'll see about that, m'sieu'!" exclaimed Castine, as he turned towards +the bear, which was clawing at his chain. + +An hour later, a scene quite as important occurred at Lavilette's great +farmhouse. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +It was about ten o'clock. Lights were burning in every window. At a +table in the dining-room sat Monsieur and Madame Lavilette, the father of +Magon Farcinelle, and Shangois, the notary. The marriage contract was +before them. They had reached a point of difficulty. Farcinelle was +stipulating for five acres of river-land as another item in Sophie's dot. + +The corners tightened around Madame's mouth. Lavilette scratched his +head, so that the hair stood up like flying tassels of corn. The land +in question lay next a portion of Farcinelle's own farm, with a river +frontage. On it was a little house and shed, and no better garden-stuff +grew in the parish than on this same five acres. + +"But I do not own the land," said Lavilette. "You've got a mortgage on +it," answered Farcinelle. "Foreclose it." + +"Suppose I did foreclose; you couldn't put the land in the marriage +contract until it was mine." + +The notary shrugged his shoulder ironically, and dropped his chin in his +hand as he furtively eyed the two men. Farcinelle was ready for the +emergency. He turned to Shangois. + +"I've got everything ready for the foreclosure," said he. "Couldn't it +be done to-night, Shangois?" + +"Hardly to-night. You might foreclose, but the property couldn't be +Monsieur Lavilette's until it is duly sold under the mortgage." + +"Here, I'll tell you what can be done," said Farcinelle. "You can put +the mortgage in the contract as her dot, and, name of a little man! I'll +foreclose it, I can tell you. Come, now, Lavilette, is it a bargain?" +Shangois sat back in his chair, the fingers of both hands drumming on the +table before him, his head twisted a little to one side. His little +reflective eyes sparkled with malicious interest, and his little voice +said, as though he were speaking to himself: + +"Excuse, but the land belongs to the young Vanne Castine--eh?" + +"That's it," exclaimed Farcinelle. + +"Well, why not give the poor vaurien a chance to take up the mortgage?" + +"Why, he hasn't paid the interest in five years!" said Lavilette. + +"But--ah--you have had the use of the land, I think, monsieur. That +should meet the interest." Lavilette scowled a little; Farcinelle +grunted and laughed. + +"How can I give him a chance to pay the mortgage?" said Lavilette. "He +never had a penny. Besides, he hasn't been seen for five years." + +A faint smile passed over Shangois's face. "Yesterday," he said, "he had +not been seen for five years, but to-day he is in Bonaventure." + +"The devil!" said Lavilette, dropping a fist on the table, and staring +at the notary; for he was not present in the afternoon when Castine +passed by. + +"What difference does that make?" snarled Farcinelle. "I'll bet he's +got nothing more than what he went away with, and that wasn't a sou +markee!" + +A provoking smile flickered at the corners of Shangois's mouth, and he +said, with a dry inflection, as he dipped and redipped his quill pen in +the inkhorn: + +"He has a bear, my friends, which dances very well." Farcinelle +guffawed. "St. Mary!" said he, slapping his leg, "we'll have the bear +at the wedding, and I'll have that farm of Vanne Castine's. What does he +want of a farm? He's got a bear. Come, is it a bargain? Am I to have +the mortgage? If you don't stick it in, I'll not let my boy marry your +girl, Lavilette. There, now, that's my last word." + +"'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, nor his wife, nor his maid, +nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is his,"' said the notary, +abstractedly, drawing the picture of a fat Jew on the paper before him. + +The irony was lost upon his hearers. Madame Lavilette had been thinking, +however, and she saw further than her husband. + +"It amounts to the same thing," she said. "You see it doesn't go away +from Sophie; so let him have it, Louis." + +"All right," responded monsieur at last, "Sophie gets the acres and the +house in her dot." + +"You won't give young Vanne Castine a chance?" asked the notary. "The +mortgage is for four hundred dollars and the place is worth seven +hundred!" + +No one replied. "Very well, my Israelites," added Shangois, bending over +the contract. + +An hour later, Nicolas Lavilette was in the big storeroom of the +farmhouse, which was reached by a covered passage from the hall between +the kitchen and the dining-room. In his off-hand way he was getting out +some flour, dried fruit and preserves for the cook, who stood near as he +loaded up her arms. He laughingly thrust a string of green peppers under +her chin, and added a couple of sprigs of summer-savoury, then suddenly +turned round, with a start, for a peculiar low whistle came to him +through the half-open window. It was followed by heavy stertorous +breathing. + +He turned back again to the cook, gaily took her by the shoulders, and +pushed her to the door. Closing it behind her, he shot the bolt and ran +back to the window. As he did so, a hand appeared on the windowsill, +and a face followed the hand. + +"Ha! Nicolas Lavilette, is that you? So, you know my leetla whistle +again!" + +Nicolas's brow darkened. In old days he and this same Vanne Castine had +been in many a scrape together, and Vanne, the elder, had always borne +the responsibility of their adventures. Nicolas had had enough of those +old days; other ambitions and habits governed him now. He was not +exactly the man to go back on a friend, but Castine no longer had any +particular claims to friendship. The last time he had heard Vanne's +whistle was a night five years before, when they both joined a gang of +river-drivers, and made a raid on some sham American speculators and +surveyors and labourers, who were exploiting an oil-well on the property +of the old seigneur. The two had come out of the melee with bruised +heads, and Vanne with a bullet in his calf. But soon afterwards came +Christine's elopement with Vanne, of which no one knew save her father, +Nicolas, Shangois and Vanne himself. That ended their compact, and, +after a bitter quarrel, they had parted and had never met nor seen each +other till this very afternoon. + +"Yes, I know your whistle all right," answered Nicolas, with a twist of +the shoulder. + +"Aren't you going to shake hands?" asked Castine, with a sort of sneer +on his face. + +Nicolas thrust his hands down in his pockets. "I'm not so glad to see +you as all that," he answered, with a contemptuous laugh. + +The black eyes of the bear-leader were alive with anger. + +"You're a damn' fool, Nic Lavilette. You think because I lead a bear-- +eh? Pshaw! you shall see. I am nothing, eh? I am to walk on! Nic +Lavilette, once he steal the Cure's pig and--" + +"See you there, Castine, I've had enough of that," was the half-angry, +half-amused interruption. "What are you after here?" + +"What was I after five years ago?" was the meaning reply. + +Lavilette's face suddenly flushed with fury. He gripped the window with +both hands, and made as if he would leap out; but beside Castine's face +there appeared another, with glaring eyes, red tongue, white vicious +teeth, and two huge claws which dropped on the ledge of the window in +much the same way as did Lavilette's. + +There was a moment's silence as the man and the beast looked at each +other, and then Castine began laughing in a low, sneering sort of way. + +"I'll shoot the beast, and I'll break your neck if ever I see you on this +farm again," said Lavilette, with wild anger. + +"Break my neck--that's all right; but shoot this leetla Michael! When +you do that you will not have to wait for a British bullet to kill you. +I will do it with a knife--just where you can hear it sing under your +ear!" + +"British bullet!" said Lavilette, excitedly; "what about a British +bullet--eh--what?" + +"Only that the Rebellion's coming quick now," answered Castine, his +manner changing, and a look of cunning crossing his face. "You've given +your name to the great Papineau, and I am here, as you see." + +"You--you--what have you got to do with the Revolution? with Papineau?" + +"Pah! do you think a Lavilette is the only patriot! Papineau is my +friend, and--" + +"Your friend--" + +"My friend. I am carrying his message all through the parishes. +Bon'venture is the last--almost. The great General Papineau sends you +a word, Nic Lavilette--here." + +He drew from his pocket a letter and handed it over. Lavilette tore it +open. It was a captain's commission for M. Nicolas Lavilette, with a +call for money and a company of men and horses. + +"Maybe there's a leetla noose hanging from the tail of that, but then-- +it is the glory--eh? Captain Lavilette--eh?" There was covert malice in +Castine's voice. "If the English whip us, they won't shoot us like grand +seigneurs, they will hang us like dogs." + +Lavilette scarcely noticed the sneer. He was seeing visions of a +captain's sword and epaulettes, and planning to get men, money and horses +together--for this matter had been brooding for nearly a year, and he had +been the active leader in Bonaventure. + +"We've been near a hundred years, we Frenchmen, eating dirt in the +country we owned from the start; and I'd rather die fighting to get back +the old citadel than live with the English heel on my nose," said +Lavilette, with a play-acting attempt at oratory. + +"Yes, an' dey call us Johnny Pea-soups," said Castine, with a furtive +grin. "An' perhaps that British Colborne will hang us to our barn doors +--eh?" + +There was silence for a moment, in which Lavilette read the letter over +again with gloating eyes. Presently Castine started and looked round. + +"What's that?" he said in a whisper. "I heard nothing." + +"I heard the feet of a man--yes." + +They both stood moveless, listening. There was no sound; but, at the +same time, the Hon. Mr. Ferrol had the secret of the Rebellion in his +hands. + +A moment later Castine and his bear were out in the road. Lavilette +leaned out of the window and mused. Castine's words of a few moments +before came to him: + +"That British Colborne will hang us to our barn doors--eh?" + +He shuddered, and struck a light. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Mr. Ferrol slept in the large guest-chamber of the house. Above it was +Christine's bedroom. Thick as were the timbers and boards of the floor, +Christine could hear one sound, painfully monotonous and frequent, coming +from his room the whole night--the hacking, rending cough which she had +heard so often since he came. The fear of Vanne Castine, the memories of +the wild, half animal-like love she had had for him in the old days, the +excitement of the new events which had come into her life; these kept her +awake, and she tossed and turned in feverish unrest. All that had +happened since Ferrol had arrived, every word that he had spoken, every +motion that he had made, every look of his face, she recalled vividly. +All that he was, which was different from the people she had known, she +magnified, so that to her he had a distant, overwhelming sort of +grandeur. She beat the bedclothes in her restlessness. Suddenly she sat +up straight in bed. + +"Oh, if I hadn't been a Lavilette! If I'd only been born and brought up +with the sort of people he comes from, I'd not have been ashamed of +myself or him of me." + +The plush bodice she had worn that day danced before her eyes. She knew +how horribly ugly it was. Her fingers ran over the patchwork quilt on +her bed; and although she could not see it, she loathed it, because she +knew it was a painful mess of colours. With a little touch of dramatic +extravagance, she leaned over and down, and drew her fingers +contemptuously along the rag-carpet on the floor. Then she cried a +little hysterically: + +"He never saw anything like that before. How he must laugh as he sits +there in that room!" + +As if in reply, the hacking cough came faintly through the time-worn +floor. + +"That cough's going to kill him, to kill him," she said. + +Then, with a little start and with a sort of cry, which she stopped by +putting both hands over her mouth, she said to herself, brokenly: + +"Why shouldn't he--why shouldn't he love me! I could take care of him; +I could nurse him; I could wait on him; I could be better to him than any +one else in the world. And it wouldn't make any difference to him at all +in the end. He's going to die before long--I know it. Well, what does +it matter what becomes of me afterwards? I should have had him; I should +have loved him; he should have been mine for a little while anyway. I'd +be good to him; oh, I'd be good to him! Who else is there? He'll get +worse and worse; and what will any of the fine ladies do for him then, +I'd like to know. Why aren't they here? Why isn't he with them? He's +poor--Nic says so--and they're rich. Why don't they help him? I would. +I'd give him my last penny and the last drop of blood in my heart. What +do they know about love?" + +Her little teeth clinched, she shook her brown hair back in a sort of +fury. + +"What do they know about love? What would they do for it? I'd have my +fingers chopped off one by one for it. I'd break every one of the ten +commandments for it. I'd lose my soul for it. + +"I've got twenty times as much heart as any one of them, I don't care who +they are. I'd lie for him; I'd steal for him; I'd kill for him. I'd +watch everything that he says, and I'd say it as he says it. I'd be +angry when he was angry, miserable when he was miserable, happy when he +was happy. Vanne Castine--what was he! What was it that made me care +for him then? And now--now he travels with a bear, and they toss coppers +to him; a beggar, a tramp--a dirty, lazy tramp! He hates me, I know--or +else he loves me, and that's worse. And I'm afraid of him; I know I'm +afraid of him. Oh, how will it all end? I know there's going to be +trouble. I could see it in Vanne's face. But I don't care, I don't +care, if Mr. Ferrol--" + +The cough came droning through the floor. + +"If he'd only--ah! I'd do anything for him, anything; anybody would. +I saw Sophie look at him as she never looked at Magon. If she did-- +if she dared to care for him--" + +All at once she shivered as if with shame and fright, drew the bedclothes +about her head, and burst into a fit of weeping. When it passed, she lay +still and nerveless between the coarse sheets, and sank into a deep sleep +just as the dawn crept through the cracks of the blind. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +The weeks went by. Sophie had become the wife of the member for the +country, and had instantly settled down to a quiet life. This was +disconcerting to Madame Lavilette, who had hoped that out of Farcinelle's +official position she might reap some praise and pence of ambition. +Meanwhile, Ferrol became more and more a cherished and important figure +in the Manor Casimbault, where the Lavilettes had made their home soon +after the wedding. The old farmhouse had also secretly become a +rendezvous for the mysterious Nicolas Lavilette and his rebel comrades. +This was known to Mr. Ferrol. One evening he stopped Nic as he was +leaving the house, and said: + +"See, Nic, my boy, what's up? I know a thing or so--what's the use of +playing peek-a-boo?" + +"What do you know, Ferrol?" + +"What's between you and Vanne Castine, for instance. Come, now, own up +and tell me all about it. I'm British; but I'm Nic Lavilette's friend +anyhow." + +He insinuated into his tone that little touch of brogue which he used +when particularly persuasive. Nic put out his hand with a burst of good- +natured frankness. + +"Meet me in the store-room of the old farmhouse at nine o'clock, and I'll +tell you. Here's a key." Handing over the key, he grasped Ferrol's hand +with an effusive confidence, and hurried out. Nic Lavilette was now +an important person in his own sight and in the sight of others in +Bonaventure. In him the pomp of his family took an individual form. + +Earlier than the appointed time, Ferrol turned the key and stepped inside +the big despoiled hallway of the old farmhouse. His footsteps sounded +hollow in the empty rooms. Already dust had gathered, and an air of +desertion and decay filled the place in spite of the solid timbers and +sound floors and window-sills. He took out his watch; it was ten minutes +to nine. Passing through the little hallway to the store-room, he opened +the door. It was dark inside. Striking a match, he saw a candle on the +window-sill, and, going to it, he lighted it with a flint and steel lying +near. The window was shut tight. From curiosity only he tried to open +the shutter, but it was immovable. Looking round, he saw another candle +on the window-sill opposite. He lighted it also, and mechanically tried +to force the shutters of the window, but they were tight also. + +Going to the door, which opened into the farmyard, he found it securely +fastened. Although he turned the lock, the door would not open. + +Presently his attention was drawn by the glitter of something upon one of +the crosspieces of timber halfway up the wall. Going over, he examined +it, and found it to be a broken bayonet--left there by a careless rebel. +Placing the steel again upon the ledge, he began walking up and down +thoughtfully. + +Presently he was seized with a fit of coughing. The paroxysm lasted a +minute or more, and he placed his arm upon the window-sill, leaning his +head upon it. Presently, as the paroxysm lessened, he thought he heard +the click of a lock. He raised his head, but his eyes were misty, and, +seeing nothing, he leaned his head on his arm again. + +Suddenly he felt something near him. He swung round swiftly, and saw +Vanne Castine's bear not fifteen-feet away from him! It raised itself on +its hind legs, its red eyes rolling, and started towards him. He picked +up the candle from the window-sill, threw it in the animal's face, and +dashed towards the door. + +It was locked. He swung round. The huge beast, with a loud snarl, was +coming down upon him. + +Here he was, shut within four solid walls, with a wild beast hungry for +his life. All his instincts were alive. He had little hope of saving +himself, but he was determined to do what lay in his power. + +His first impulse was to blow out the other candle. That would leave him +in the dark, and it struck him that his advantage would be greater if +there were no light. He came straight towards the bear, then suddenly +made a swift movement to the left, trusting to his greater quickness of +movement. The beast was nearly as quick as he, and as he dashed along +the wall towards the candle, he could hear its breath just behind him. + +As he passed the window, he caught the candle in his hands, and was about +to throw it on the floor or in the bear's face, when he remembered that, +in the dark, the bear's sense of smell would be as effective as eyesight, +while he himself would be no better off. + +He ran suddenly to the centre of the room, the candle still in his hand, +and turned to meet his foe. It came savagely at him. He dodged, ran +past it, turned, doubled on it, and dodged again. A half-dozen times +this was repeated, the candle still flaring. It could not last long. +The bear was enraged. Its movements became swifter, its vicious teeth +and lips were covered with froth, which dripped to the floor, and +sometimes spattered Ferrol's clothes as he ran past. No matador ever +played with the horns of a mad bull as Ferrol played his deadly game with +Michael, the dancing bear. His breath was becoming shorter and shorter; +he had a stifling sensation, a terrible tightness across his chest. He +did not cough, however, but once or twice he tasted warm drops of his +heart's blood in his mouth. Once he drew the back of his hand across his +lips mechanically, and a red stain showed upon it. + +In his boyhood and early manhood he had been a good sportsman; had been +quick of eye, swift of foot, and fearless. But what could fearlessness +avail him in this strait? With the best of rifles he would have felt +himself at a disadvantage. He was certain his time had come; and with +that conviction upon him, the terror of the thing and the horrible +physical shrinking almost passed away from him. The disease, eating away +his life, had diminished that revolt against death which is in the +healthy flesh of every man. He was levying upon the vital forces +remaining in him, which, distributed naturally, might cover a year or so, +to give him here and now a few moments of unnatural strength for the +completion of a hopeless struggle. + +It was also as if two brains in him were working: one busy with all the +chances and details of his wild contest, the other with the events of his +life. + +Pictures flashed before him. Some having to do with the earliest days of +his childhood; some with fighting on the Danube, before he left the army, +impoverished and ashamed; some with idle hours in the North Tower in +Stavely Castle; and one with the day he and his sister left the old +castle, never to return, and looked back upon it from the top of +Farcalladen Moor, waving a "God bless you" to it. The thought of his +sister filled him with a desire, a pitiful desire to live. + +Just then another picture flashed before his eyes. It was he himself, +riding the mad stallion, Bolingbroke, the first year he followed the +hounds: how the brute tried to smash his leg against a stone wall; how it +reared until it almost toppled over and backwards; how it jibbed at a +gate, and nearly dashed its own brains out against a tree; and how, after +an hour's hard fighting, he made it take the stiffest fence and water- +course in the county. + +This thought gave him courage now. He suddenly remembered the broken +bayonet upon the ledge against the wall. If he could reach it there +might be a chance--chance to strike one blow for life. As his eye +glanced towards the wall he saw the steel flash in the light of the +candle. + +The bear was between him and it. He made a feint towards the left, then +as quickly to the right. But doing so, he slipped and fell. The candle +dropped to the floor and went out. With a lightning-like instinct of +self-preservation he swung over upon his face just as the bear, in its +wild rush, passed over his head. He remembered afterwards the odour of +the hot, rank body, and the sprawling huge feet and claws. Scrambling to +his feet swiftly, he ran to the wall. Fortune was with him. His hand +almost instantly clutched the broken bayonet. He whipped out his +handkerchief, tore the scarf from his neck, and wound them around his +hand, that the broken bayonet should not tear the flesh as he fought for +his life; then, seizing it, he stood waiting for the bear to come on. +His body was bent forwards, his eyes straining into the dark, his hot +face dripping, dripping sweat, his breath coming hard and laboured from +his throat. + +For a minute there was absolute silence, save for the breathing of the +man and the savage panting of the beast. Presently he felt exactly where +the bear was, and listened intently. He knew that it was now but a +question of minutes, perhaps seconds. Suddenly it occurred to him that +if he could but climb upon the ledge where the bayonet had been, there +might be safety. Yet again, in getting up, the bear might seize him, and +there would be an end to all immediately. It was worth trying, however. + +Two things happened at that moment to prevent the trial: the sound of +knocking on a door somewhere, and the roaring rush of the bear upon him. +He sprang to one side, striking at the beast as he did so. The bayonet +went in and out again. There came voices from the outside; evidently +somebody was trying to get in. + +The bear roared again and came on. It was all a blind man's game. But +his scent, like the animal's, was keen. He had taken off his coat, and +he now swung it out before him in a half-circle, and as it struck the +bear it covered his own position. He swung aside once more and drove his +arm into the dark. The bayonet struck the nose of the beast. + +Now there was a knocking and a hammering at the window, and the wrenching +of the shutters. He gathered himself together for the next assault. +Suddenly he felt that every particle of strength had gone out of him. He +pulled himself up with a last effort. His legs would not support him; he +shivered and swayed. God, would they never get that window open! + +His senses were abnormally acute. Another sound attracted him: the +opening of the door, and a voice--Vanne Castine's--calling to the bear. + +His heart seemed to give a leap, then slowly to roll over with a thud, +and he fell to the floor as the bear lunged forwards upon him. + +A minute afterwards Vanne Castine was goading the savage beast through +the door and out to the hallway into the yard as Nic swung through the +open window into the room. + +Castine's lantern stood in the middle of the floor, and between it and +the window lay Ferrol, the broken bayonet still clutched in his right +hand. Lavilette dropped on his knees beside him and felt his heart. It +was beating, but the shirt and the waistcoat were dripping with blood +where the bear had set its claws and teeth in the shoulder of its victim. + +An hour later Nic Lavilette stood outside the door of Ferrol's bedroom in +the Manor Casimbault, talking to the Regimental Surgeon, as Christine, +pale and wildeyed, came running towards them. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"Is he dead? is he dead?" she asked distractedly. "I've just come from +the village. Why didn't you send for me? Tell me, is he dead? Oh, tell +me at once!" + +She caught the Regimental Surgeon's arm. He looked down at her, over his +glasses, benignly, for she had always been a favourite of his, and +answered: + +"Alive, alive, my dear. Bad rip in the shoulder--worn out--weak-- +shattered--but good for a while yet--yes, yes--certainement!" + +With a wayward impulse, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him +on the cheek. The embrace disarranged his glasses and flushed his face +like a schoolgirl's, but his eyes were full of embarrassed delight. + +"There, there," he said, "we'll take care of him--!" Then suddenly he +paused, for the real significance of her action dawned upon him. + +"Dear me," he said in disturbed meditation; "dear me!" + +She suddenly opened the bedroom door and went in, followed by Nic. The +Regimental Surgeon dropped his mouth and cheeks in his hand reflectively, +his eyes showing quaintly and quizzically above the glasses and his +fingers. + +"Well, well! Well, well!" he said, as if he had encountered a +difficulty. "It--it will never be possible. He would not marry her," +he added, and then, turning, went abstractedly down the stairs. + +Ferrol was in a deep sleep when Christine and her brother entered the +chamber. Her face turned still more pale when she saw him, flushed, and +became pale again. There were leaden hollows round his eyes, and his +hair was matted with perspiration. Yet he was handsome--and helpless. +Her eyes filled with tears. She turned her head away from her brother +and went softly to the window, but not before she had touched the pale +hand that lay nerveless upon the coverlet. + +"It's not feverish," she said to Nic, as if in necessary explanation of +the act. + +She stood at the window for a moment, looking out, then said: + +"Come here, Nic, and tell me all about it." + +He told her all he knew: how he had come to the old house by appointment +with Ferrol; had tried to get into the store-room; had found the doors +bolted; had heard the noise of a wild animal inside; had run out, tried a +window, at last wrenched it open and found Ferrol in a dead faint. He +went to the table and brought back the broken bayonet. + +"That's all he had to fight with," he said. "Fire of a little hell, but +he had grit--after all!" + +"That's all he had to fight with!" she repeated, as she untwisted the +handkerchief from the hilt end. "Why did you say he had true grit-- +'after all'? What do you mean by that 'after all'?" + +"Well, you don't expect much from a man with only one lung--eh?" + +"Courage isn't in the lungs," she answered. Then she added: "Go and +fetch me a bottle of brandy--I'm going to bathe his hands and feet in +brandy and hot water as soon as he's awake." + +"Better let mother do that, hadn't you?" he asked rather hesitatingly, +as he moved towards the door. + +Her eyes snapped fire. "Nic--mon Dieu, hear the nice Nic!" she said. +"The dear Nic, who went in swimming with--" + +She said no more, for he had no desire to listen to an account of his +misdeeds, which were not a few,--and Christine had a galling tongue. + +When the door was shut she went to the bed, sat down on a chair beside +it, and looked at Ferrol earnestly and sadly. + +"My dear! my dear, dear, dear!" she said in a whisper, "you look so +handsome and so kind as you lie there--like no man I ever saw in my life. +Who'd have fought as you fought--and nearly dead! Who'd have had brains +enough to know just what to do! My darling, that never said 'my darling' +to me, nor heard me call you so. Suppose you haven't a dollar, not a +cent, in the world, and suppose you'll never earn a dollar or a cent in +the world, what difference does that make to me? I could earn it; and +I'd give more for a touch of your finger than a thousand dollars; and +more for a month with you than for a lifetime with the richest man in the +world. You never looked cross at me, or at any one, and you never say an +unkind thing, and you never find fault when you suffer so. You never +hurt any one, I know. You never hurt Vanne Castine--" + +Her fingers twitched in her lap, and then clasped very tight, as she went +on: + +"You never hurt him, and yet he's tried to kill you in the most awful +way. Perhaps you'll die now--perhaps you'll die to-night--but no, no, +you shall not!" she cried in sudden fright and eagerness, as she got up +and leaned over him. "You shall not die; you shall live--for a while-- +oh! yes, for a while yet," she added, with a pitiful yearning in her +voice; "just for a little while--till you love me, and tell me so! Oh, +how could that devil try to kill you!" + +She suddenly drew herself up. + +"I'll kill him and his bear too--now, now, while you lie there sleeping. +And when you wake I'll tell you what I've done, and you'll--you'll love +me then, and tell me so, perhaps. Yes, yes, I'll--" + +She said no more, for her brother entered with the brandy. + +"Put it there," she said, pointing to the table. "You watch him till I +come. I'll be back in an hour; and then, when he wakes, we'll bathe him +in the hot water and brandy." + +"Who told you about hot water and brandy?" he asked her, curiously. + +She did not answer him, but passed through the door and down the hall +till she came to Nic's bedroom; she went in, took a pair of pistols from +the wall, examined them, found they were fully loaded, and hurried from +the room. + +About a half-hour later she appeared before the house which once had +belonged to Vanne Castine. The mortgage had been foreclosed, and the +place had passed into the hands of Sophie and Magon Farcinelle; +but Castine had taken up his abode in the house a few days before, +and defied anyone to put him out. + +A light was burning in the kitchen of the house. There were no curtains +to the window, but an old coat had been hung up to serve the purpose, and +light shone between a sleeve of it and the window-sill. Putting her face +close to the window, the girl could see the bear in the corner, clawing +at its chain and tossing its head from side to side, still panting and +angry from the fight. + +Now and again, also, it licked the bayonet-wound between its shoulders, +and rubbed its lacerated nose on its paw. Castine was mixing some tar +and oil in a pan by the fire, to apply to the still bleeding wounds of +his Michael. He had an ugly grin on his face. + +He was dressed just as in the first day he appeared in the village, even +to the fur cap; and presently, as he turned round, he began to sing the +monotonous measure to which the bear had danced. It had at once a +soothing effect upon the beast. + +After he had gone from the store-room, leaving Ferrol dead, as he +thought, it was this song alone which had saved himself from peril; for +the beast was wild from pain, fury and the taste of blood. As soon as +they had cleared the farmyard, he had begun this song, and the bear, +cowed at first by the thrusts of its master's pike, quieted to the well- +known ditty. + +He approached the bear now, and, stooping, put some of the tar and oil +upon its nose. It sniffed and rubbed off the salve, but he put more on; +then he rubbed it into the wound of the breast. Once the animal made a +fierce snap at his shoulder, but he deftly avoided it, gave it a thrust +with a sharp-pointed stick, and began the song again. Presently he rose +and came towards the fire. + +As he did so he heard the door open. Turning round quickly, he saw +Christine standing just inside. She had a shawl thrown round her, and +one hand was thrust in the pocket of her dress. She looked from him to +the bear, then back again to him. + +He did not realise why she had come. For a moment, in his excited state, +he almost thought she had come because she loved him. He had seen her +twice since his return; but each time she would say nothing to him +further than that she wished not to meet or to speak to him at all. He +had pleaded with her, had grown angry, and she had left him. Who could +tell--perhaps she had come to him now as she had come to him in the old +days. He dropped the pan of tar and oil. "Chris!" he said, and started +forward to her. + +At that moment the bear, as if it knew the girl's mission, sprang +forward, with a growl. Its huge mouth was open, and all its fierce lust +for killing showed again in its wild lunges. Castine turned, with an +oath, and thrust the steel-set pike into its leg. It cowered at the +voice and the punishment for an instant, but came on again. + +Castine saw the girl raise a pistol and fire at the beast. He was so +dumfounded that at first he did not move. Then he saw her raise another +pistol. The wounded bear lunged heavily on its chain--once--twice--in a +devilish rage, and as Christine prepared to fire, snapped the staple +loose and sprang forward. + +At the same moment Castine threw himself in front of the girl, and caught +the onward rush. Calling the beast by its name, he grappled with it. +They were man and servant no longer, but two animals fighting for their +lives. Castine drew out his knife, as the bear, raised on its hind legs, +crushed him in its immense arms, and still calling, half crazily, +"Michael! Michael! down, Michael!" he plunged the knife twice in the +beast's side. + +The bear's teeth fastened in his shoulder; the horrible pressure of its +arms was turning his face black; he felt death coming, when another +pistol shot rang out close to his own head, and his breath suddenly came +back. He staggered to the wall, and then came to the floor in a heap as +the bear lurched downwards and fell over on its side, dead. + +Christine had come to kill the beast and, perhaps, the man. The man had +saved her life, and now she had saved his; and together they had killed +the bear which had maltreated Tom Ferrol. + +Castine's eyes were fixed on the dead beast. Everything was gone from +him now--even the way to his meagre livelihood; and the cause of it all, +as he in his blind, unnatural way thought, was this girl before him--this +girl and her people. Her back was towards the door. Anger and passion +were both at work in him at once. + +"Chris," he said, "Chris, let's call it even-eh? Let's make it up. +Chris, ma cherie, don't you remember when we used to meet, and was fond +of each other? Let's make it up and leave here--now--to-night-eh? + +"I'm not so poor, after all. I'll be paid by Papineau, the leader of the +Rebellion--" He made a couple of unsteady steps towards her, for he was +weak yet. "What's the good--you're bound to come to me in the end! +You've got the same kind of feelings in you; you've--" + +She had stood still at first, dazed by his words; but she grew angry +quickly, and was about to speak as she felt, when he went on: + +"Stay here now with me. Don't go back. Don't you remember Shangois's +house? Don't you remember that night--that night when--ah! Chris, stay +here--" + +Her face was flaming. "I'd rather stay in a room full of wild beasts +like that"--she pointed to the bear" than be with you one minute--you +murderer!" she said, with choking anger. + +He started towards her, saying: + +"By the blood of Joseph! but you'll stay just the same; and--" + +He got no further, for she threw the pistol in his face with all her +might. It struck between his eyes with a thud, and he staggered back, +blind, bleeding and faint, as she threw open the door and sped away in +the darkness. + +Reaching the Manor safely, she ran up to her room, arranged her hair, +washed her hands, and came again to Ferrol's bedroom. Knocking softly +she was admitted by Nic. There was an unnatural brightness in her eyes. +"Where've you been?" he asked, for he noticed this. "What've you been +doing?" + +"I've killed the bear that tried to kill him," she answered. + +She spoke louder than she meant. Her voice awakened Ferrol. + +"Eh, what?" he said, "killed the bear, mademoiselle,--my dear friend," +he added, "killed the bear!" He coughed a little, and a twinge of pain +crossed over his face. + +She nodded, and her face was alight with pleasure. She lifted up his +head and gave him a little drink of brandy. His fingers closed on hers +that held the glass. His touch thrilled her. + +"That's good, that's easier," he remarked. + +"We're going to bathe you in brandy and hot water, now--Nic and I," she +said. + +"Bathe me! Bathe me!" he said, in amused consternation. + +"Hands and feet," Nic explained. + +A few minutes later as she lifted up his head, her face was very near +him; her breath was in his face. Her eyes half closed, her fingers +trembled. He suddenly drew her to him and kissed her. She looked round +swiftly, but her brother had not noticed. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Illusive hopes and irresponsible deceptions +She lacked sense a little and sensitiveness much +To be popular is not necessarily to be contemptible +Who say 'God bless you', in New York! they say 'Damn you!' + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POMP OF THE LAVILETTES, BY PARKER, V1 *** + +************* This file should be named 6215.txt or 6215.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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