CHAPTER X. AMELIE DE REPENTIGNY.
The town house of the Lady de Tilly stood on the upper part of the Placed'Armes, a broad, roughly-paved square. The Chateau of St. Louis, withits massive buildings and high, peaked roofs, filled one side of thesquare. On the other side, embowered in ancient trees that had escapedthe axe of Champlain's hardy followers, stood the old-fashionedMonastery of the Recollets, with its high belfry and broad shady porch,where the monks in gray gowns and sandals sat in summer, reading theirbreviaries or exchanging salutations with the passers-by, who always hada kind greeting for the brothers of St. Francis.
The mansion of the Lady de Tilly was of stone, spacious and ornate, asbecame the rank and wealth of the Seigneurs de Tilly. It overlooked thePlace d'Armes and the noble gardens of the Chateau of St. Louis, witha magnificent sweep of the St. Lawrence, flowing majestically under thefortress-crowned cape and the high, wooded hills of Lauzon, the fartherside of the river closing the view.
In the recess of an ornate mullioned window, half concealed by the rich,heavy curtains of a noble room, Amelie de Repentigny sat alone--veryquiet in look and demeanor, but no little agitated in mind, as mightbe noticed in the nervous contact of her hands, which lay in her lapclasping each other very hard, as if trying to steady her thoughts.
Her aunt was receiving some lady visitors in the great drawing-room. Thehum of loud feminine voices reached the ear of Amelie, but she paid noattention, so absorbed was she in the new and strange thoughts thathad stirred in her mind since morning, when she had learned from theChevalier La Corne of the return to New France of Pierre Philibert. Thenews had surprised her to a degree she could not account for. Her firstthought was, how fortunate for her brother that Pierre had returned;her second, how agreeable to herself. Why? She could not think why: shewilfully drew an inference away from the truth that lay in her heart--itwas wholly for the sake of her brother she rejoiced in the return of hisfriend and preserver. Her heart beat a little faster than usual--thatwas the result of her long walk and disappointment at not meetingLe Gardeur on her arrival yesterday. But she feared to explore herthoughts: a rigid self-examination might discover what she instinctivelyfelt was deeply concealed there.
A subtile, indefinable prevision had suggested to her that ColonelPhilibert would not have failed to meet Le Gardeur at Beaumanoir, andthat he would undoubtedly accompany her brother on his return and callto pay his respects to the Lady de Tilly and--to herself. She felt hercheek glow at the thought, yet she was half vexed at her own foolishfancy, as she called it. She tried to call upon her pride, but that camevery laggardly to the relief of her discomposure.
Her interview, too, with Angelique des Meloises had caused her no littledisquiet. The bold avowals of Angelique with reference to the Intendanthad shocked Amelie. She knew that her brother had given more of histhoughts to this beautiful, reckless girl than was good for his peace,should her ambition ever run counter to his love.
The fond sister sighed deeply when she reflected that the woman who hadpower to make prize of Le Gardeur's love was not worthy of him.
It is no rare thing for loving sisters who have to resign their brothersto others' keeping to think so. But Amelie knew that Angelique desMeloises was incapable of that true love which only finds its own in thehappiness of another. She was vain, selfish, ambitious, and--what Ameliedid not yet know--possessed of neither scruple nor delicacy in attainingher objects.
It had chimed the hour of noon upon the old clock of the Recollets, andAmelie still sat looking wistfully over the great square of the Placed'Armes, and curiously scanning every horseman that rode across it. Athrong of people moved about the square, or passed in and out of thegreat arched gateway of the Castle of St. Louis. A bright shield,bearing the crown and fleur-de-lis, surmounted the gate, and under itwalked, with military pace, a couple of sentries, their muskets andbayonets flashing out in the sun every time they wheeled to return ontheir beat. Occasionally there was a ruffle of drums: the wholeguard turned out and presented arms, as some officer of high rank, orecclesiastical dignitary, passed through to pay his respects to theGovernor, or transact business at the vice-regal court. Gentlemen onfoot, with chapeaux and swords, carrying a cloak on their shoulders;ladies in visiting dress; habitans and their wives in unchangingcostume; soldiers in uniform, and black-gowned clergy, mingled in amoving picture of city life, which, had not Amelie's thoughts been sopreoccupied to-day, would have afforded her great delight to look outupon.
The Lady de Tilly had rather wearied of the visit of the two ladies ofthe city, Madame de Grandmaison and Madame Couillard, who had bored herwith all the current gossip of the day. They were rich and fashionable,perfect in etiquette, costume, and most particular in their society;but the rank and position of the noble Lady de Tilly made her friendshipmost desirable, as it conferred in the eyes of the world a patent ofgentility which held good against every pretension to overtop it.
The stream of city talk from the lips of the two ladies had the meritof being perfect of its kind--softly insinuating and sweetly censorious,superlative in eulogy and infallible in opinion. The good visitors mostconscientiously discharged what they deemed a great moral and socialduty by enlightening the Lady de Tilly on all the recent lapses andsecrets of the capital. They slid over slippery topics like skaters onthin ice, filling their listener with anxiety lest they should breakthrough. But Madame de Grandmaison and her companion were too wellexercised in the gymnastics of gossip to overbalance themselves. HalfQuebec was run over and run down in the course of an hour.
Lady de Tilly listened with growing impatience to their frivolities, butshe knew society too well to quarrel with its follies when it was of noservice to do so: she contented herself with hoping it was not so bad.The Pope was not Catholic enough to suit some people, but, for her part,she had generally found people better than they were called.
A rather loud but well-bred exclamation of Madame de Grandmaison rousedAmelie from her day-dream.
"Not going to the Intendant's ball at the Palace, my Lady de Tilly!neither you nor Mademoiselle de Repentigny, whom we are so sorry not tohave seen to-day? Why, it is to be the most magnificent affair ever gotup in New France. All Quebec has rung with nothing else for a fortnight,and every milliner and modiste in the city has gone almost insane overthe superlative costumes to be worn there."
"And it is to be the most select in its character," chimed in MadameCouillard; "all gentry and noblesse, not one of the bourgeois tobe invited. That class, especially the female portion of them, givethemselves such airs nowadays! As if their money made them company forpeople of quality! They must be kept down, I say, or--"
"And the Royal Intendant quite agrees with the general sentiment of thehigher circles," responded Madame de Grandmaison. "He is for keepingdown--"
"Noblesse! Noblesse!" The Lady de Tilly spoke with visible impatience."Who is this Royal Intendant who dares cast a slight upon the worthy,honest bourgeoisie of this city? Is he noble himself? Not that I wouldthink worse of him were he not, but I have heard it disputed. He is thelast one who should venture to scorn the bourgeoisie."
Madame de Grandmaison fanned herself in a very stately manner. "Oh, myLady, you surely forget! The Chevalier Bigot is a distant relative ofthe Count de Marville, and the Chevalier de Grandmaison is a constantvisitor at the Intendant's! But he would not have sat at his table anhour had he not known that he was connected with the nobility. The Countde Marville--"
"The Count de Marville!" interrupted the Lady de Tilly, whose politenessalmost gave way. "Truly, a man is known by the company he keeps. Nocredit to any one to be connected with the Count de Marville."
Madame de Grandmaison felt rather subdued. She perceived that the Ladyde Tilly was not favorably impressed towards the Intendant. But shetried again: "And then, my Lady, the Intendant is so powerful at Court.He was a particular friend of Madame d'Etioles before she was knownat Court, and they say he managed her introduction to the King at thefamous masked ball at the Hotel de Ville, when H
is Majesty threwhis handkerchief at her, and she became first dame du palais and theMarquise de Pompadour. She has ever remained his firm friend, and inspite of all his enemies could do to prevent it His Majesty made himIntendant of New France."
"In spite of all the King's friends could do, you mean," replied theLady de Tilly, in a tone the sound of which caught the ear of Amelie,and she knew her aunt was losing patience with her visitors. Lady deTilly heard the name of the royal mistress with intense disgust, buther innate loyalty prevented her speaking disparagingly of the King."We will not discuss the Court," said she, "nor the friendships of thisIntendant. I can only pray his future may make amends for his past.I trust New France may not have as much reason as poor lost Acadia tolament the day of his coming to the Colonies."
The two lady visitors were not obtuse. They saw they had roused thesusceptibilities--prejudices, they called them--of the Lady de Tilly.They rose, and smothering their disappointment under well-bred phrases,took most polite leave of the dignified old lady, who was heartily gladto be rid of them.
"The disagreeable old thing--to talk so of the Intendant!" exclaimedMadame Couillard, spitefully, "when her own nephew, and heir in theSeigniory of Tilly, is the Intendant's firmest friend and closestcompanion."
"Yes, she forgot about her own house; people always forget to look athome when they pass judgment upon their neighbors," replied Madamede Grandmaison. "But I am mistaken if she will be able to impress LeGardeur de Repentigny with her uncharitable and unfashionable opinionsof the Intendant. I hope the ball will be the greatest social successever seen in the city, just to vex her and her niece, who is as proudand particular as she is herself."
Amelie de Repentigny had dressed herself to-day in a robe of soft muslinof Deccan, the gift of a relative in Pondicherry. It enveloped herexquisite form, without concealing the grace and lissomeness of hermovements. A broad blue ribbon round her waist, and in her dark hair ablue flower, were all her adornments, except a chain and cross of gold,which lay upon her bosom, the rich gift of her brother, and often kissedwith a silent prayer for his welfare and happiness. More than once,under the influence of some indefinable impulse, she rose and went tothe mirror, comparing her features now with a portrait of herself takenas a young girl in the garb of a shepherdess of Provence. Her fatherused to like that picture of her, and to please him she often wore herhair in the fashion of Provence. She did so to-day. Why? The subtilethought in many Protean shapes played before her fancy, but she wouldnot try to catch it--no! rather shyly avoided its examination.
She was quite restless, and sat down again in the deep recess of thewindow, watching the Place d'Armes for the appearance of her brother.
She gave a sudden start at last, as a couple of officers galloped in tothe square and rode towards the great gate of the Chateau; one of themshe instantly recognized as her brother, the other, a tall martialfigure in full uniform, upon a fiery gray, she did not recognize, butshe knew in her heart it could be no other than Colonel Philibert.
Amelie felt a thrill, almost painful in its pleasure, agitating herbosom, as she sat watching the gateway they had entered. It was even amomentary relief to her that they had turned in there instead of ridingdirectly to the house. It gave her time to collect her thoughts andsummon all her fortitude for the coming interview. Her fingers wandereddown to the rosary in the folds of her dress, and the golden bead, whichhad so often prompted her prayer for the happiness of Pierre Philibert,seemed to burn to the touch. Her cheek crimsoned, for a strange thoughtsuddenly intruded--the boy Pierre Philibert, whose image and memoryshe had so long and innocently cherished, was now a man, a soldier, acouncillor, trained in courts and camps! How unmaidenly she had acted,forgetting all this in her childish prayers until this moment! "I meanno harm," was all the defence she could think of. Nor had she time tothink more of herself, for, after remaining ten minutes in the Chateau,just long enough to see the Governor and deliver the answer of theIntendant to his message, the gray charger emerged from the gate. Hisrider was accompanied by her brother and the well-known figure of hergodfather, La Corne St. Luc, who rode up the hill and in a minute or twodismounted at the door of the mansion of the Lady de Tilly.
The fabled lynx, whose eye penetrates the very earth to discover hiddentreasure, did not cast a keener and more inquisitive glance than thatwhich Amelie, shrouded behind the thick curtains, directed from thewindow at the tall, manly figure and handsome countenance of him whomshe knew to be Pierre Philibert. Let it not detract from her that shegave way to an irresistible impulse of womanly curiosity. The Queen ofFrance would, under the same temptation, have done the same thing, andperhaps without feeling half the modest shame of it that Amelie did. Aglance sufficed--but a glance that impressed upon her mind forever theineffaceable and perfect image of Pierre Philibert the man, who came inplace of Pierre Philibert the boy friend of Le Gardeur and of herself.