So the day wore on into evening, and only then did the Chevalier venture forth. He wandered aimlessly about the ramparts, alone, having declined Victor's company, and avoiding all whom he saw. He wanted to be alone, alone, forever alone. Longingly he gazed toward the blackening forests. Yonder was a haven. Into those shadowy woods he might plunge and hide himself, built him a hut, and become lost to civilization, his name forgotten and his name forgetting. O fool in wine that he had been! To cut himself off from the joys and haunts of men in a moment of drunken insanity! He had driven the marquis with taunts and gibes; he had shouted his ign.o.ble birth across a table; and he expected, by coming to this wilderness, to lose the Nemesis he himself had set upon his heels! What a fool! What a fool! He had cast out his heart for the rooks and the daws. Wherever he might go, the world would go also, and the covert smile . . . and the covert smile . . . G.o.d, how apart from all mankind he seemed this night. But for Victor he would have sought the woods at once, facing the Iroquois fearlessly. He must remain, to bow his head before the glances of the curious, the head that once was held so high; accept rebuffs without murmur, stand aside, step down, and follow. If a man laughed at him, he must turn away: his sword could no longer protect him. How his lips thirsted for the wine-cup, for one mad night, and then . . . oblivion!

An outcast! What would be his end? O the long years! For him there should be no wifely lips to kiss away the penciled lines of care; the happy voices of children would never make music in his ears. He was alone, always and ever alone!

Presently the Chevalier bowed his head upon the cold iron of the cannon. The crimson west grew fainter and fainter; and the evening breeze came up and stirred the Company's flags on the warehouses far below.

Suddenly the Chevalier lifted his head. He was still an officer and a gentleman. He would stand taller, look into each eye and dare with his own. It was not what he had been, nor what had been done to him; it was what he was, would be and do. If every hand was to be against his, so be it. D'Herouville? Some day that laugh should cost him dear.

The vicomte? What was his misfortune to the vicomte that he should pick a quarrel on his account? Was he a gallant fellow like Victor?

He would learn.

He put on his hat. It was dark. Lights began to flicker in the fort and the chateau. The resolution seemed to give him new strength, and he squared his shoulders, took in deep breaths, entered the officers'

mess and dined.

The men about him were for the most part manly men, brave, open-handed, rough outwardly and soft within. And as they saw him take his seat quietly, a sparkle of admiration gleamed from every eye. The vicomte and Victor, both out on parole, took their plates and gla.s.ses and ranged alongside of the Chevalier. In France they would have either left the room or cheered him; as it was, they all finished the evening meal as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

So the Chevalier won his first victory.

CHAPTER XVII

WHAT THE SHIP HENRI IV BRINGS TO QUEBEC

The ship Henri IV dropped anchor before Quebec on the seventh day of August. This being the Company's vessel, hundreds of Canadians flocked to the wharves. And again flags decked the chateau and town, and cannon roared. The Henri IV was part merchantman and part man-of-war.

Her ports bristled with cannon, her marines wore formidable cutla.s.ses, and the law on board was military in the strictest sense. Stores and ammunition filled her hull; carpenters' tools, tea-chests, bags of plaster, uniforms, cannon, small arms, beads and trinkets of no value save to the Indian, silk and wool and a beautiful window for the cathedral. And in return she was to carry away mink, otter and beaver skins.

Breton had been left behind by the Chevalier, who had joined a scouting party up the river. Love and anxiety had made the lad thin. Any night might bring disastrous news from Three Rivers, the burning of the settlement and the ma.s.sacre. Such speculation counteracted his usually good appet.i.te. So Breton mooned about the wharves day by day, always looking up the river instead of down.

To-day he lingered to witness the debarkation. Besides, the Henri IV was a great ship, bringing with her a vague perfume from France.

Listlessly he watched the seamen empty the hold of its treasures; carelessly he observed the meeting of sweethearts and lovers, wives and husbands. Two women in masks meant nothing to him. . . Holy Virgin!

it was not possible! Was his brain fooling him? He grew faint. Did he really see these two old men climbing down the ship's ladder to the boats? He choked; tears blinded him. He dashed aside the tears and looked once more. Oh! there could be no doubt; his eyes had not deceived him. There was only one face like that in the world; only one face like that, with its wrinkles, its haughty chin, its domineering nose. He had seen that lean, erect figure, crowned with silver-white hair, too many times to mistake it. It was the marquis, the grim and terrible marquis, the ogre of his dreams. The lad had always hated the marquis, taking his master's side; but at the sight of that familiar face, he felt his heart swell with joy and love and veneration. For intuition told him why Monsieur le Marquis was in Quebec. It was to seek Monsieur le Chevalier. And together they would all go back to France, beautiful France. He burst into hysterical tears, regardless of the wonder which he created. And there was the kindly Jehan, who had dandled him on his knee, long years ago before trouble had cast its blighting shadow over the House of Perigny. Blessed day!

Very slowly and with infinite pains the marquis climbed from the boat to the wharf. It was evident to Breton that the long voyage at sea had sapped his vitality and undermined his vigor. He was still erect, but, ah! how lean and frail! But his eye was still the eye of the proud eagle, and it swept the crowd, searching for a familiar face. Breton dared not make himself known because of that eye. An officer who had formerly resided in Roch.e.l.le recognized the marquis instantly, and he pressed forward.

"Monsieur le Marquis in Quebec?" he cried.

"You are of the fort?" replied the marquis. His voice was thin and high, like that of old men whose blood is turning to water.

"Yes, Monsieur," answered the officer.

"Will you lead me to his Excellency the governor? I have letters to present from her Majesty the queen."

"Follow me, Monsieur;" and the officer conducted the marquis through the crowd, politely but firmly brushing aside those who blocked his path. He found the governor quickly. "Your Excellency, the Marquis de Perigny wishes to present to you letters from her august Majesty."

"Monsieur le Marquis here?" exclaimed the governor. He embraced the old n.o.bleman, whom he held in genuine regard.

"So your Excellency remembers me?" said the marquis, pleased.

"One does not forget a man such as you are, Monsieur. And I see you here in Quebec? What twist of fortune brings you to my household?"

"I have come in search of a prodigal son, Monsieur," smiling. "Know you one who calls himself the Chevalier du Cevennes?"

"The Chevalier du Cevennes?" The governor was nonplussed. The marquis here in search of the Chevalier?

"I see that he is here," said the marquis, with a note of satisfaction.

"No, Monsieur; not here, but has been."

"He can be found?"

"Within sixty hours."

"That is well. I am very fortunate."

"You will be my guest during your stay?" suggested the governor.

"Her Majesty asks that good favor of you."

"A great honor, Monsieur, truly;" and the governor was elated at the thought of having so distinguished a guest at his table.

The marquis turned to the patient Jehan. "Jehan, you will see to the portmanteaus."

"Yes, Monsieur."

A priest elbowed his way toward them. On seeing him, the marquis raised and lowered his bushy white brows. It was the handsome Jesuit whose face had stolen into many a dream of late. Brother Jacques was greatly astonished. The marquis greeted him, but without marked cordiality. At a sign from the governor the quartet moved up the path toward the cliffs, which the marquis measured with the eye of one who understood thoroughly the art and value of military strategy.

"Superb!" he murmured. "With a few men and plenty of ammunition, I could hold even England at bay."

"I am proud of it," acknowledged the governor; but there was a twinge of envy when it occurred to him that a handful of savages had worried him more than once. And here was a man who would defy the whole world.

Jehan felt a pressure on his arm. Turning, he beheld the shining face of Breton. He caught the lad in his arms and kissed him on the cheek.

"I expected to find you, lad. Ah, but you have done wrong. You should have told us. You should not have run away with Monsieur le Comte . . . ."

"Monsieur le Comte?" bewildered.

"Yes; you should not have run away with him as you did."

"Had I told you, you would have prevented my coming," Breton confessed.

"You would have saved Monsieur le Marquis and myself a great deal of trouble."

"But Monsieur le Chevalier was in trouble, too. I could not leave him."

"Which speaks well for your heart, lad, but not for your reason. Where is Monsieur le Comte?"

"At Three Rivers; a day and a night's ride from here, with good paddlers."

"Good. We shall start out in the morning."