CHAPTER III. A CHATELAINE OF NEW FRANCE.
The Governor was surprised and delighted to encounter Lady de Tilly andher fair niece, both of whom were well known to and highly esteemedby him. He and the gentlemen of his suite saluted them with profoundrespect, not unmingled with chivalrous admiration for noble,high-spirited women.
"My honored Lady de Tilly and Mademoiselle de Repentigny," said theGovernor, hat in hand, "welcome to Quebec. It does not surprise, butit does delight me beyond measure to meet you here at the head of yourloyal censitaires. But it is not the first time that the ladies of theHouse of Tilly have turned out to defend the King's forts against hisenemies."
This he said in allusion to the gallant defence of a fort on the wildIroquois frontier by a former lady of her house.
"My Lord Count," replied the lady, with quiet dignity, "'tis no specialmerit of the house of Tilly to be true to its ancient fame--it could notbe otherwise. But your thanks are at this time more due to these loyalhabitans, who have so promptly obeyed your proclamation. It is theKing's corvee to restore the walls of Quebec, and no Canadian maywithhold his hand from it without disgrace."
"The Chevalier La Corne St. Luc will think us two poor women a weakaccession to the garrison," added she, turning to the Chevalier andcordially offering her hand to the brave old officer, who had been thecomrade in arms of her husband and the dearest friend of her family.
"Good blood never fails, my Lady," returned the Chevalier, warmlygrasping her hand. "You out of place here? No! no! you are at home onthe ramparts of Quebec, quite as much as in your own drawing-room atTilly. The walls of Quebec without a Tilly and a Repentigny would be abad omen indeed, worse than a year without a spring or a summer withoutroses. But where is my dear goddaughter Amelie?"
As he spoke the old soldier embraced Amelie and kissed her cheek withfatherly effusion. She was a prodigious favorite. "Welcome, Amelie!"said he, "the sight of you is like flowers in June. What a glorious timeyou have had, growing taller and prettier every day all the time I havebeen sleeping by camp-fires in the forests of Acadia! But you girls areall alike; why, I hardly knew my own pretty Agathe when I came home. Thesaucy minx almost kissed my eyes out--to dry the tears of joy in them,she said!"
Amelie blushed deeply at the praises bestowed upon her, yet felt gladto know that her godfather retained all his old affection. "Where isLe Gardeur?" asked he, as she took his arm and walked a few paces apartfrom the throng.
Amelie colored deeply, and hesitated a moment. "I do not know,godfather! We have not seen Le Gardeur since our arrival." Then after anervous silence she added, "I have been told that he is at Beaumanoir,hunting with His Excellency the Intendant."
La Corne, seeing her embarrassment, understood the reluctance of heravowal, and sympathized with it. An angry light flashed beneath hisshaggy eyelashes, but he suppressed his thoughts. He could not helpremarking, however, "With the Intendant at Beaumanoir! I could havewished Le Gardeur in better company! No good can come of his intimacywith Bigot; Amelie, you must wean him from it. He should have been inthe city to receive you and the Lady de Tilly."
"So he doubtless would have been, had he known of our coming. We sentword, but he was away when our messenger reached the city."
Amelie felt half ashamed, for she was conscious that she was offeringsomething unreal to extenuate the fault of her brother--her hopes ratherthan her convictions.
"Well, well! goddaughter! we shall, at any rate, soon have the pleasureof seeing Le Gardeur. The Intendant himself has been summoned toattend a council of war today. Colonel Philibert left an hour ago forBeaumanoir."
Amelie gave a slight start at the name; she looked inquiringly, but didnot yet ask the question that trembled on her lips.
"Thanks, godfather, for the good news of Le Gardeur's speedy return."Amelie talked on, her thoughts but little accompanying her words asshe repeated to herself the name of Philibert. "Have you heard that theIntendant wishes to bestow an important and honorable post in the Palaceupon Le Gardeur--my brother wrote to that effect?"
"An important and honorable post in the Palace?" The old soldieremphasized the word HONORABLE. "No, I had not heard of it,--never expectto hear of an honorable post in the company of Bigot, Cadet, Varin, DePean, and the rest of the scoundrels of the Friponne! Pardon me, dear,I do not class Le Gardeur among them, far from it, dear deluded boy! Mybest hope is that Colonel Philibert will find him and bring him cleanand clear out of their clutches."
The question that had trembled on her lips came out now. For her lifeshe could not have retained it longer.
"Who is Colonel Philibert, godfather?" asked she, surprise, curiosity,and a still deeper interest marking her voice, in spite of all she coulddo to appear indifferent.
"Colonel Philibert?" repeated La Corne. "Why, do not you know? Who butour young Pierre Philibert; you have not forgotten him, surely, Amelie?At any rate he has not forgotten you: in many a long night by ourwatch-fires in the forest has Colonel Philibert passed the hours talkingof Tilly and the dear friends he left there. Your brother at any ratewill gratefully remember Philibert when he sees him."
Amelie blushed a little as she replied somewhat shyly, "Yes, godfather,I remember Pierre Philibert very well,--with gratitude I rememberhim,--but I never heard him called Colonel Philibert before."
"Oh, true! He has been so long absent. He left a simple ensign en secondand returns a colonel, and has the stuff in him to make a field-marshal!He gained his rank where he won his glory--in Acadia. A noble fellow,Amelie! loving as a woman to his friends, but to his foes stern as theold Bourgeois, his father, who placed that tablet of the golden dog uponthe front of his house to spite the Cardinal, they say,--the act of abold man, let what will be the true interpretation of it."
"I hear every one speak well of the Bourgeois Philibert," remarkedAmelie. "Aunt de Tilly is ever enthusiastic in his commendation. Shesays he is a true gentleman, although a trader."
"Why, he is noble by birth, if that be needed, and has got the King'slicense to trade in the Colony like some other gentlemen I wot of.He was Count Philibert in Normandy, although he is plain BourgeoisPhilibert in Quebec; and a wise man he is too, for with his ships andhis comptoirs and his ledgers he has traded himself into being therichest man in New France, while we, with our nobility and our swords,have fought ourselves poor, and receive nothing but contempt from theungrateful courtiers of Versailles."
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden rush of people, makingroom for the passage of the Regiment of Bearn, which composed partof the garrison of Quebec, on their march to their morning drill andguard-mounting,--bold, dashing Gascons in blue and white uniforms, tallcaps, and long queues rollicking down their supple backs, seldom seen byan enemy.
Mounted officers, laced and ruffled, gaily rode in front. Subalternswith spontoons and sergeants with halberds dressed the long line ofglistening bayonets. The drums and fifes made the streets ring again,while the men in full chorus, a gorge deployee, chanted the gay refrainof La Belle Canadienne in honor of the lasses of Quebec.
The Governor and his suite had already mounted their horses, andcantered off to the Esplanade to witness the review.
"Come and dine with us today," said the Lady de Tilly to La Corne St.Luc, as he too bade the ladies a courteous adieu, and got on horsebackto ride after the Governor.
"Many thanks! but I fear it will be impossible, my Lady: the councilof war meets at the Castle this afternoon. The hour may be deferred,however, should Colonel Philibert not chance to find the Intendant atBeaumanoir, and then I might come; but best not expect me."
A slight, conscious flush just touched the cheek of Amelie at themention of Colonel Philibert.
"But come if possible, godfather," added she; "we hope to have LeGardeur home this afternoon. He loves you so much, and I know you havecountless things to say to him."
Amelie's trembling anxiety about her brother made her most desirous tobring the powerful influence of La Corne St. Luc to bear upon him.
>
Their kind old godfather was regarded with filial reverence by both.Amelie's father, dying on the battle-field, had, with his latest breath,commended the care of his children to the love and friendship of LaCorne St. Luc.
"Well, Amelie, blessed are they who do not promise and still perform.I must try and meet my dear boy, so do not quite place me among theimpossibles. Good-by, my Lady. Good-by, Amelie." The old soldier gailykissed his hand and rode away.
Amelie was thoroughly surprised and agitated out of all composure by thenews of the return of Pierre Philibert. She turned aside from thebusy throng that surrounded her, leaving her aunt engaged in eagerconversation with the Bishop and Father de Berey. She sat down in aquiet embrasure of the wall, and with one hand resting her droopingcheek, a train of reminiscences flew across her mind like a flight ofpure doves suddenly startled out of a thicket.
She remembered vividly Pierre Philibert, the friend and fellow-studentof her brother: he spent so many of his holidays at the old Manor-Houseof Tilly, when she, a still younger girl, shared their sports, wovechaplets of flowers for them, or on her shaggy pony rode with them onmany a scamper through the wild woods of the Seigniory. Those summer andwinter vacations of the old Seminary of Quebec used to be looked forwardto by the young, lively girl as the brightest spots in the whole year,and she grew hardly to distinguish the affection she bore her brotherfrom the regard in which she held Pierre Philibert.
A startling incident happened one day, that filled the inmates of theManor House with terror, followed by a great joy, and which raisedPierre Philibert to the rank of an unparalleled hero in the imaginationof the young girl.
Her brother was gambolling carelessly in a canoe, while she and Pierresat on the bank watching him. The light craft suddenly upset. Le Gardeurstruggled for a few moments, and sank under the blue waves that look sobeautiful and are so cruel.
Amelie shrieked in the wildest terror and in helpless agony, whilePhilibert rushed without hesitation into the water, swam out to thespot, and dived with the agility of a beaver. He presently reappeared,bearing the inanimate body of her brother to the shore. Help wassoon obtained, and, after long efforts to restore Le Gardeur toconsciousness,--efforts which seemed to last an age to the despairinggirl,--they at last succeeded, and Le Gardeur was restored to thearms of his family. Amelie, in a delirium of joy and gratitude, ran toPhilibert, threw her arms round him, and kissed him again and again,pledging her eternal gratitude to the preserver of her brother, andvowing that she would pray for him to her life's end.
Soon after that memorable event in her young life, Pierre Philibert wassent to the great military schools in France to study the art of warwith a view to entering the King's service, while Amelie was placed inthe Convent of the Ursulines to be perfected in all the knowledge andaccomplishments of a lady of highest rank in the Colony.
Despite the cold shade of a cloister, where the idea of a lover isforbidden to enter, the image of Pierre Philibert did intrude, andbecame inseparable from the recollection of her brother in the mindof Amelie. He mingled as the fairy prince in the day-dreams and brightimaginings of the young, poetic girl. She had vowed to pray for him toher life's end, and in pursuance of her vow added a golden bead toher chaplet to remind her of her duty in praying for the safety andhappiness of Pierre Philibert.
But in the quiet life of the cloister, Amelie heard little of the stormsof war upon the frontier and down in the far valleys of Acadia. She hadnot followed the career of Pierre from the military school to the campand the battlefield, nor knew of his rapid promotion, as one of theablest officers in the King's service, to a high command in his nativeColony.
Her surprise, therefore, was extreme when she learned that the boycompanion of her brother and herself was no other than the renownedColonel Philibert, Aide-de-Camp of His Excellency the Governor-General.
There was no cause for shame in it; but her heart was suddenlyilluminated by a flash of introspection. She became painfully conscioushow much Pierre Philibert had occupied her thoughts for years, and nowall at once she knew he was a man, and a great and noble one. She wasthoroughly perplexed and half angry. She questioned herself sharply, asif running thorns into her flesh, to inquire whether she had failed inthe least point of maidenly modesty and reserve in thinking so much ofhim; and the more she questioned herself, the more agitated she grewunder her self-accusation: her temples throbbed violently; she hardlydared lift her eyes from the ground lest some one, even a stranger, shethought, might see her confusion and read its cause. "Sancta Maria,"she murmured, pressing her bosom with both hands, "calm my soul with thydivine peace, for I know not what to do!"
So she sat alone in the embrasure, living a life of emotion in a fewminutes; nor did she find any calm for her agitated spirits until thethought flashed upon her that she was distressing herself needlessly. Itwas most improbable that Colonel Philibert, after years of absence andactive life in the world's great affairs, could retain any recollectionof the schoolgirl of the Manor House of Tilly. She might meet him, nay,was certain to do so in the society in which both moved; but it wouldsurely be as a stranger on his part, and she must make it so on her own.
With this empty piece of casuistry, Amelie, like others of her sex,placed a hand of steel, encased in a silken glove, upon her heart,and tyrannically suppressed its yearnings. She was a victim, with theoutward show of conquest over her feelings. In the consciousness ofPhilibert's imagined indifference and utter forgetfulness, she couldmeet him now, she thought, with equanimity--nay, rather wished to do so,to make sure that she had not been guilty of weakness in regard tohim. She looked up, but was glad to see her aunt still engaged inconversation with the Bishop on a topic which Amelie knew was dear tothem both,--the care of the souls and bodies of the poor, in particularthose for whom the Lady de Tilly felt herself responsible to God and theKing.
While Amelie sat thinking over the strange chances of the morning, asudden whirl of wheels drew her attention.
A gay caleche, drawn by two spirited horses en fleche, dashed throughthe gateway of St. John, and wheeling swiftly towards Amelie, suddenlyhalted. A young lady attired in the gayest fashion of the period,throwing the reins to the groom, sprang out of the caleche with the easeand elasticity of an antelope. She ran up the rampart to Amelie with aglad cry of recognition, repeating her name in a clear, musical voice,which Amelie at once knew belonged to no other than the gay, beautifulAngelique des Meloises. The newcomer embraced Amelie and kissed her,with warmest expressions of joy at meeting her thus unexpectedly in thecity. She had learned that Lady de Tilly had returned to Quebec, shesaid, and she had, therefore, taken the earliest opportunity to findout her dear friend and school-fellow to tell her all the doings in thecity.
"It is kind of you, Angelique," replied Amelie, returning her caresswarmly, but without effusion. "We have simply come with our peopleto assist in the King's corvee; when that is done, we shall return toTilly. I felt sure I should meet you, and thought I should know youagain easily, which I hardly do. How you are changed--for the better, Ishould say, since you left off conventual cap and costume!" Amelie couldnot but look admiringly on the beauty of the radiant girl. "How handsomeyou have grown! but you were always that. We both took the crownof honor together, but you would alone take the crown of beauty,Angelique." Amelie stood off a pace or two, and looked at her friendfrom head to foot with honest admiration, "and would deserve to wear ittoo," added she.
"I like to hear you say that, Amelie; I should prefer the crown ofbeauty to all other crowns! You half smile at that, but I must tell thetruth, if you do. But you were always a truth-teller, you know, in theconvent, and I was not so! Let us cease flatteries."
Angelique felt highly flattered by the praise of Amelie, whom she hadsometimes condescended to envy for her graceful figure and lovely,expressive features.
"Gentlemen often speak as you do, Amelie," continued she, "but, pshaw!they cannot judge as girls do, you know. But do you really think mebeautiful? and how beautiful? Compare me to s
ome one we know."
"I can only compare you to yourself, Angelique. You are more beautifulthan any one I know," Amelie burst out in frank enthusiasm.
"But, really and truly, do you think me beautiful, not only in youreyes, but in the judgment of the world?"
Angelique brushed back her glorious hair and stared fixedly in theface of her friend, as if seeking confirmation of something in her ownthoughts.
"What a strange question, Angelique! Why do you ask me in that way?"
"Because," replied she with bitterness, "I begin to doubt it. I havebeen praised for my good looks until I grow weary of the iteration; butI believed the lying flattery once,--as what woman would not, when it isrepeated every day of her life?"
Amelie looked sufficiently puzzled. "What has come over you, Angelique?Why should you doubt your own charms? or really, have you found at lasta case in which they fail you?"
Very unlikely, a man would say at first, second, or third sight ofAngelique des Meloises. She was indeed a fair girl to look upon,--tall,and fashioned in nature's most voluptuous mould, perfect in the symmetryof every part, with an ease and beauty of movement not suggestive ofspiritual graces, like Amelie's, but of terrestrial witcheries, likethose great women of old who drew down the very gods from Olympus, andwho in all ages have incited men to the noblest deeds, or tempted themto the greatest crimes.
She was beautiful of that rare type of beauty which is only reproducedonce or twice in a century to realize the dreams of a Titian or aGiorgione. Her complexion was clear and radiant, as of a descendant ofthe Sun God. Her bright hair, if its golden ripples were shaken out,would reach to her knees. Her face was worthy of immortality by thepencil of a Titian. Her dark eyes drew with a magnetism which attractedmen, in spite of themselves, whithersoever she would lead them. Theywere never so dangerous as when, in apparent repose, they sheathed theirfascination for a moment, and suddenly shot a backward glance, like aParthian arrow, from under their long eyelashes, that left a wound to besighed over for many a day.
The spoiled and petted child of the brave, careless Renaud d'Avesne desMeloises, of an ancient family in the Nivernois, Angelique grew upa motherless girl, clever above most of her companions, conscious ofsuperior charms, always admired and flattered, and, since she left theConvent, worshipped as the idol of the gay gallants of the city, and thedespair and envy of her own sex. She was a born sovereign of men, andshe felt it. It was her divine right to be preferred. She trod the earthwith dainty feet, and a step aspiring as that of the fair Louise deLa Valliere when she danced in the royal ballet in the forest ofFontainebleau and stole a king's heart by the flashes of her prettyfeet. Angelique had been indulged by her father in every caprice, and inthe gay world inhaled the incense of adulation until she regarded it asher right, and resented passionately when it was withheld.
She was not by nature bad, although vain, selfish, and aspiring. Herfootstool was the hearts of men, and upon it she set hard her beautifulfeet, indifferent to the anguish caused by her capricious tyranny. Shewas cold and calculating under the warm passions of a voluptuous nature.Although many might believe they had won the favor, none felt sure theyhad gained the love of this fair, capricious girl.