CHAPTER VIII. CAROLINE DE ST. CASTIN.
Dame Tremblay entered the suite of apartments and returned in a fewmoments, saying that her lady was not there, but had gone down to thesecret chamber, to be, she supposed, more out of hearing of the noise,which had disturbed her so much.
"I will go find her then," replied the Intendant; "you may return toyour own room, dame."
He walked across the drawing-room to one of the gorgeous panels thatdecorated the wall, and touched a hidden spring. A door flew open,disclosing a stair heavily carpeted that led down to the huge vaultedfoundations of the Chateau.
He descended the stair with hasty though unsteady steps. It led to aspacious room, lighted with a gorgeous lamp that hung pendant in silverchains from the frescoed ceiling. The walls were richly tapestried withproducts of the looms of the Gobelins, representing the plains ofItaly filled with sunshine, where groves, temples, and colonnades werepictured in endless vistas of beauty. The furniture of the chamber wasof regal magnificence. Nothing that luxury could desire, or art furnish,had been spared in its adornment. On a sofa lay a guitar, and beside ita scarf and a dainty glove fit for the hand of the fairy queen.
The Intendant looked eagerly round, as he entered this bright chamber ofhis fancy, but saw not its expected occupant. A recess in the deep wallat the farthest side of the room contained an oratory with an altar anda crucifix upon it. The recess was partly in the shade. But the eyesof the Intendant discerned clearly enough the kneeling, or rather theprostrate, figure of Caroline de St. Castin. Her hands were claspedbeneath her head, which was bowed to the ground. Her long, black hairlay dishevelled over her back, as she lay in her white robe like theAngel of Sorrow, weeping and crying from the depths of her broken heart,"Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world, have mercy uponme!" She was so absorbed in her grief that she did not notice theentrance of the Intendant.
Bigot stood still for a moment, stricken with awe at the spectacle ofthis lovely woman weeping by herself in the secret chamber. A look ofsomething like pity stole into his eyes; he called her by name, ran toher, assisted her to rise, which she did, slowly turning towards himthat weeping, Madonna-like face which haunts the ruins of Beaumanoir tothis day.
She was of medium stature, slender and lissome, looking taller than shereally was. Her features were chiselled with exquisite delicacy; herhair of a raven blackness, and eyes of that dark lustre which reappearsfor generations in the descendants of Europeans who have mingled theirblood with that of the aborigines of the forest. The Indian eye ispreserved as an heirloom, long after all memory of the red stain hasvanished from the traditions of the family. Her complexion was pale,naturally of a rich olive, but now, through sorrow, of a wan andbloodless hue--still very beautiful, and more appealing than the rosiestcomplexion.
Caroline de St. Castin was an Acadienne of ancient and noble family,whose head and founder, the Baron de St. Castin, had married thebeautiful daughter of the high chief of the Abenaquais.
Her father's house, one of the most considerable in the Colony, had beenthe resort of the royal officers, civil and military, serving in Acadia.Caroline, the only daughter of the noble house, had been reared inall the refinements and luxuries of the period, as became her rank andposition both in France and her native Province.
In an evil hour for her happiness this beautiful and accomplished girlmet the Chevalier Bigot, who as Chief Commissary of the Army, was one ofthe foremost of the royal officers in Acadia.
His ready wit and graceful manners pleased and flattered the susceptiblegirl, not used to the seductions of the polished courtesies of themother-land of France. She was of a joyous temper--gay, frank, andconfiding. Her father, immersed in public affairs, left her much toherself, nor, had he known it, would he have disapproved of the gallantcourtesies of the Chevalier Bigot. For the Baron had the soul of honor,and dreamt every gentleman as well as himself possessed it.
Bigot, to do him justice, felt as sincere a regard for this beautiful,amiable girl as his nature was capable of entertaining. In rank andfortune she was more than his equal, and left to himself, he wouldwillingly have married her. Before he learned that his project of amarriage in the Colony was scouted at Court he had already offered hislove to Caroline de St. Castin, and won easily the gentle heart that wasbut too well disposed to receive his homage.
Her trust went with her love. Earth was never so green, nor air sosweet, nor skies so bright and azure, as those of Caroline's wooing,on the shores of the beautiful Bay of Minas. She loved this man witha passion that filled with ecstasy her whole being. She trusted hispromises as she would have trusted God's. She loved him better than sheloved herself--better than she loved God, or God's law; and counted asa gain every loss she suffered for his sake, and for the affection shebore him.
After some months spent in her charming society, a change came overBigot. He received formidable missives from his great patroness atVersailles, the Marquise de Pompadour, who had other matrimonial designsfor him. Bigot was too slavish a courtier to resent her interference,nor was he honest enough to explain his position to his betrothed. Hedeferred his marriage. The exigencies of the war called him away. He hadtriumphed over a fond, confiding woman; but he had been trained amongthe dissolute spirits of the Regency too thoroughly to feel more thana passing regret for a woman whom, probably, he loved better than anyother of the victims of his licentious life.
When he finally left Acadia a conquered province in the hands ofthe English, he also left behind him the one true, loving heart thatbelieved in his honor and still prayed for his happiness.
The days of Caroline's disillusion soon came; she could not conceal fromherself that she had been basely deceived and abandoned by the man sheloved so ardently. She learned that Bigot had been elevated to the highoffice of Intendant of New France, but felt herself as utterly forgottenby him as the rose that had bloomed and withered in her garden twosummers ago.
Her father had been summoned to France on the loss of the Colony; andfearing to face him on his return, Caroline suddenly left her homeand sought refuge in the forest among her far-off kindred, the redAbenaquais.
The Indians welcomed her with joy and unbounded respect, recognizingher right to their devotion and obedience. They put upon her feet themoccasins of their tribe, and sent her, with a trusty escort, throughthe wilderness to Quebec, where she hoped to find the Intendant, not toreproach him for his perfidy,--her gentle heart was too much subdued forthat,--but to claim his protection, and if refused, to die at his door.
It was under such circumstances that the beautiful, highborn Caroline deSt. Castin became an inmate of Beaumanoir. She had passed the night ofthis wild debauch in a vigil of prayers, tears, and lamentations overher sad lot and over the degradation of Bigot by the life which she nowknew he led. Sometimes her maddened fancy was ready to accuse Providenceitself of cruelty and injustice; sometimes, magnifying her own sin, shewas ready to think all earthly punishment upon herself as too light, andinvoked death and judgment as alone adequate to her fault. All night shehad knelt before the altar, asking for mercy and forgiveness,--sometimesstarting to her feet in terror, as a fresh burst of revelry came rushingfrom the great hall above, and shook the door of her secret chamber.But no one came to her help, no one looked in upon her desolation. Shedeemed herself utterly forgotten and forsaken of God and man.
Occasionally she fancied she could distinguish the voice of theIntendant amid the drunken uproar, and she shuddered at the infatuationwhich bound her very soul to this man; and yet when she questioned herheart, she knew that, base as he was, all she had done and suffered forhim she would infallibly do again. Were her life to live over, she wouldrepeat the fault of loving this false, ungrateful man. The promiseof marriage had been equivalent to marriage in her trust of him, andnothing but death could now divorce her from him.
Hour after hour passed by, each seeming an age of suffering. Herfeelings were worked up to frenzy: she fancied she heard her father'sangry voice calling her by na
me, or she heard accusing angels jeeringat her fall. She sank prostrate at last, in the abandonment of despair,calling upon God to put an end to her miserable life.
Bigot raised her from the floor, with words of pity and sympathy. Sheturned on him a look of gratitude which, had he been of stone, he musthave felt. But Bigot's words meant less than she fancied. He was stilltoo intoxicated to reflect, or to feel shame of his present errand.
"Caroline!" said he, "what do you here? This is the time to makemerry--not to pray! The honorable company in the great hall desire topay their respects to the lady of Beaumanoir--come with me!"
He drew her hand through his arm with a courtly grace that seldomforsook him, even in his worst moments. Caroline looked at him in adazed manner, not comprehending his request. "Go with you, Francois? Youknow I will, but where?"
"To the great hall," repeated he; "my worthy guests desire to see you,and to pay their respects to the fair lady of Beaumanoir."
It flashed upon her mind what he wanted. Her womanly pride was outragedas it had never been before; she withdrew her hand from his arm withshame and terror stamped on every feature.
"Go up there! Go to show myself to your guests!" exclaimed she, withchoking accents, as she stepped back a pace from him. "Oh, FrancoisBigot, spare me that shame and humiliation! I am, I know, contemptiblebeyond human respect, but still--God help me!--I am not so vile as tobe made a spectacle of infamy to those drunken men whom I hear clamoringfor me, even now."
"Pshaw! You think too much of the proprieties, Caroline!" Bigot feltsensibly perplexed at the attitude she assumed. "Why! The fairest damesof Paris, dressed as Hebes and Ganymedes, thought it a fine jest to waiton the Regent Duke of Orleans and the Cardinal du Bois in the gay daysof the King's bachelorhood, and they do the same now when the King getsup one of his great feasts at Choisy; so come, sweetheart--come!" Hedrew her towards the door.
"Spare me, Francois!" Caroline knelt at his feet, clasping his hand, andbathing it in tears--"Spare me!" cried she. "Oh, would to God I haddied ere you came to command me to do what I cannot and will not do,Francois!" added she, clasping hard the hand of the Intendant, which shefancied relaxed somewhat of its iron hardness.
"I did not come to command you, Caroline, but to bear the request of myguests. No, I do not even ask you on my account to go up to the greathall: it is to please my guests only." Her tears and heartrending appealbegan to sober him. Bigot had not counted on such a scene as this.
"Oh, thanks, Francois, for that word! You did not come to command myobedience in such a shameful thing: you had some small regard left forthe unfortunate Caroline. Say you will not command me to go up there,"added she, looking at him with eyes of pitiful pleading, such as noItalian art ever portrayed on the face of the sorrowing Madonna.
"No," he replied, impatiently. "It was not I proposed it: it was Cadet.He is always a fool when the wine overflows, as I am too, or I would nothave hearkened to him! Still, Caroline, I have promised, and my guestswill jeer me finely if I return without you." He thought she hesitated amoment in her resolve at this suggestion. "Come, for my sake, Caroline!Do up that disordered hair; I shall be proud of you, my Caroline; thereis not a lady in New France can match you when you look yourself, mypretty Caroline!"
"Francois," said she, with a sad smile, "it is long since you flatteredme thus! But I will arrange my hair for you alone," added she, blushing,as with deft fingers she twisted her raven locks into a coronal abouther head. "I would once have gone with you to the end of the world tohear you say you were proud of me. Alas! you can never be proud of meany more, as in the old happy days at Grand Pre. Those few brief days oflove and joy can never return--never, never!"
Bigot stood silent, not knowing what to say or do. The change from thebacchanalian riot in the great hall to the solemn pathos and woe of thesecret chamber sobered him rapidly. Even his obduracy gave way at last."Caroline," said he, taking both her hands in his, "I will not urge youlonger. I am called bad, and you think me so; but I am not brutal. Itwas a promise made over the wine. Varin, the drunken beast, called youQueen Vashti, and challenged me to show your beauty to them; and I sworenot one of their toasted beauties could match my fair Acadienne."
"Did the Sieur Varin call me Queen Vashti? Alas! he was a truer prophetthan he knew," replied she, with ineffable sadness. "Queen Vashtirefused to obey even her king, when commanded to unveil her face to thedrunken nobles. She was deposed, and another raised to her place. Suchmay be my fate, Francois."
"Then you will not go, Caroline?"
"No; kill me if you like, and bear my dead body into the hall, butliving, I can never show my face again before men--hardly before you,Francois," added she, blushing, as she hid her tearful eyes on hisshoulder.
"Well then, Caroline," replied, he, really admiring her spirit andresolution, "they shall finish their carouse without seeing you. Thewine has flowed to-night in rivers, but they shall swim in it withoutyou."
"And tears have flowed down here," said she, sadly,--"oh, so bitter! Mayyou never taste their bitterness, Francois!"
Bigot paced the chamber with steadier steps than he had entered it. Thefumes were clearing from his brain; the song that had caught the ear ofColonel Philibert as he approached the Chateau was resounding atthis moment. As it ceased Bigot heard the loud impatient knocking ofPhilibert at the outer door.
"Darling!" said he, "lie down now, and compose yourself. Francois Bigotis not unmindful of your sacrifices for his sake. I must return to myguests, who are clamoring for me, or rather for you, Caroline!"
He kissed her cheek and turned to leave her, but she clung to his handas if wanting to say something more ere he went. She trembled visibly asher low plaintive tones struck his ear.
"Francois! if you would forsake the companionship of those men andpurify your table of such excess, God's blessing would yet descend uponyou, and the people's love follow you! It is in your power to be as goodas you are great! I have many days wished to say this to you, but alas,I feared you too much. I do not fear you to-day, Francois, after yourkind words to me."
Bigot was not impenetrable to that low voice so full of pathos and love.But he was at a loss what to reply: strange influences were flowinground him, carrying him out of himself. He kissed the gentle head thatreclined on his bosom. "Caroline," said he, "your advice is wise andgood as yourself. I will think of it for your sake, if not for my own.Adieu, darling! Go, and take rest: these cruel vigils are killing you,and I want you to live in hope of brighter days."
"I will," replied she, looking up with ineffable tenderness. "I am sureI shall rest after your kind words, Francois. No dew of Heaven was evermore refreshing than the balm they bring to my weary soul. Thanks, Omy Francois, for them!" She kissed his lips, and Bigot left the secretchamber a sadder and for the moment a better man than he had ever beenbefore.
Caroline, overcome by her emotions, threw herself on a couch, invokingblessings upon the head of the man by whom she had been so cruellybetrayed. But such is woman's heart--full of mercy, compassion, andpardon for every wrong, when love pleads for forgiveness.
"Ha! ha!" said Cadet, as the Intendant re-entered the great hall,which was filled with bacchanalian frenzy. "Ha! ha! His Excellency hasproposed and been rejected! The fair lady has a will of her own andwon't obey! Why, the Intendant looks as if he had come from QuintinCorentin, where nobody gets anything he wants!"
"Silence, Cadet! don't be a fool!" replied Bigot, impatiently, althoughin the Intendant's usual mood nothing too gross or too bad could be saidin his presence but he could cap it with something worse.
"Fool, Bigot! It is you who have been the fool of a woman!" Cadet wasprivileged to say anything, and he never stinted his speech. "Confess,your Excellency! she is splay-footed as St. Pedauque of Dijon! She darenot trip over our carpet for fear of showing her big feet!"
Cadet's coarse remark excited the mirth of the Intendant. The influencesof the great hall were more powerful than those of the secret chamber.He replied curtly, however,
--"I have excused the lady from coming,Cadet. She is ill, or she does not please to come, or she has a privatefancy of her own to nurse--any reason is enough to excuse a lady, or fora gentleman to cease pressing her."
"Dear me!" muttered Cadet, "the wind blows fresh from a new quarter!It is easterly, and betokens a storm!" and with drunken gravity hecommenced singing a hunting refrain of Louis XIV.:
"'Sitot qu'il voit sa Chienne Il quitte tout pour elle."'
Bigot burst out into immoderate laughter. "Cadet," said he, "you are,when drunk, the greatest ruffian in Christendom, and the biggest knavewhen sober. Let the lady sleep in peace, while we drink ourselves blindin her honor. Bring in brandy, valets, and we will not look for dayuntil midnight booms on the old clock of the Chateau."
The loud knocking of Philibert in the great hall reverberated again andagain through the house. Bigot bade the valets go see who disturbed theChateau in that bold style.
"Let no one in!" added he "'tis against the rule to open the doors whenthe Grand Company are met for business! Take whips, valets, and scourgethe insolent beggars away. Some miserable habitans, I warrant, whiningfor the loss of their eggs and bacon taken by the King's purveyors!"
A servant returned with a card on a silver salver. "An officer inuniform waits to see your Excellency: he brings orders from theGovernor," said he to the Intendant.
Bigot looked at the card with knitted brows; fire sparkled in his eyesas he read the name.
"Colonel Philibert!" exclaimed he, "Aide-de-Camp of the Governor! Whatthe fiend brings HIM at such a time? Do you hear?" continued he, turningto Varin. "It is your friend from Louisbourg, who was going to put youin irons, and send you to France for trial when the mutinous garrisonthreatened to surrender the place if we did not pay them."
Varin was not so intoxicated but the name of Philibert roused his anger.He set his cup down with a bang upon the table. "I will not taste adrop more till he is gone," said he; "curse Galissoniere's crookedneck--could he not have selected a more welcome messenger to send toBeaumanoir? But I have got his name in my list of debtors, and he shallpay up one day for his insolence at Louisbourg."
"Tut, tut, shut up your books! you are too mercantile for gentlemen,"replied Bigot. "The question is, shall we allow Colonel Philibert tobring his orders into the hall? Par Dieu! we are scarcely presentable!"
But whether presentable or no, the words were scarcely spoken, when,impatient at the delay, Philibert took advantage of the open door andentered the great hall. He stood in utter amazement for a moment at thescene of drunken riot which he beheld. The inflamed faces, the confusionof tongues, the disorder, filth, and stench of the prolonged debauchsickened him, while the sight of so many men of rank and high officerevelling at such an hour raised a feeling of indignation which hehad difficulty in keeping down while he delivered his message to theIntendant.
Bigot, however, was too shrewd to be wanting in politeness. "Welcome,Colonel Philibert," said he; "you are an unexpected guest, but a welcomeone! Come and taste the hospitality of Beaumanoir before you deliveryour message. Bustle, valets, bring fresh cups and the fullest carafesfor Colonel Philibert."
"Thanks for your politeness, Chevalier! Your Excellency will pleaseexcuse me if I deliver my message at once. My time is not my ownto-day, so I will not sit down. His Excellency the Governor desires yourpresence and that of the Royal Commissaries at the council of war thisafternoon. Despatches have just arrived by the Fleur-de-Lis from home,and the council must assemble at once."
A red flush rested upon the brow of Philibert as in his mind he measuredthe important business of the council with the fitness of the men whomhe summoned to attend it. He declined the offer of wine, and steppedbackward from the table, with a bow to the Intendant and the company,and was about to depart, when a loud voice on the further side of thetable cried out,--
"It is he, by all that is sacred! Pierre Philibert! wait!" Le Gardeurde Repentigny rushed like a storm through the hall, upsetting chairsand guests in his advance. He ran towards Colonel Philibert, who, notrecognizing the flushed face and disordered figure that greeted him,shrank back from his embrace.
"My God! do you not know me, Pierre?" exclaimed Le Gardeur, woundedto the quick by the astonished look of his friend. "I am Le Gardeur deRepentigny! O dear friend, look and recognize me!"
Philibert stood transfixed with surprise and pain, as if an arrow hadstricken his eyes. "You! you Le Gardeur de Repentigny? It is impossible!Le Gardeur never looked like you--much less, was ever found among peoplelike these!" The last words were rashly spoken, but fortunately notheard amid the hubbub in the hall, or Philibert's life might have paidthe penalty from the excited guests.
"And yet it is true; Pierre, look at me again. I am no other than hewhom you drew out of the St. Lawrence, the only brother of Amelie!"
Philibert looked hard in the eyes of Le Gardeur, and doubted no longer.He pressed his old friend to his heart, saying, in a voice full ofpathos,--
"O Le Gardeur! I recognize you now, but under what change of look andplace! Often have I forecast our meeting again, but it was in yourpure, virtuous home of Tilly, not in this place. What do you here, LeGardeur?"
"Forgive me, Pierre, for the shame of meeting me here." Le Gardeur stoodup like a new man in the glance of his friend; the shock seemed to havesobered him at once. "'What do I do here?' say you, O dear friend!"said he, glancing round the hall, "it is easier seen than told what I dohere. But by all the saints, I have finished here for to-day! You returnto the city at once, Pierre?"
"At once, Le Gardeur. The Governor awaits my return."
"Then I will return with you. My dear aunt and sister are in the city.News of their arrival reached me here; my duty was to return at once,but the Intendant's wine-cups were too potent for me--curse them, forthey have disgraced me in your eyes, Pierre, as well as my own!"
Philibert started at the information that Amelie was in the city."Amelie in the city?" repeated he, with glad surprise, "I did not expectto be able to salute her and the noble Lady de Tilly so soon." His heartbounded in secret at the prospect of again seeing this fair girl, whohad filled his thoughts for so many years and been the secret spring ofso much that was noble and manly in his character.
"Come, Le Gardeur, let us take leave of the Intendant, and return atonce to the city, but not in that plight!" added he, smiling, as LeGardeur, oblivious of all but the pleasure of accompanying him, graspedhis arm to leave the great hall. "Not in that garb, Le Gardeur! Bathe,purify, and clean yourself; I will wait outside in the fresh air. Theodor of this room stifles me!"
"You are not going to leave us, Le Gardeur!" Varin called, acrossthe table, "and break up good company? Wait till we finish a few morerounds, and we will all go together."
"I have finished all the rounds for to-day, Varin, may be forever!Colonel Philibert is my dearest friend in life; I must leave even you togo with him, so pray excuse me."
"You are excused, Le Gardeur." Bigot spoke very courteously to him, muchas he disliked the idea of his companionship with Philibert. "We mustall return by the time the Cathedral bells chime noon. Take one partingcup before you go, Le Gardeur, and prevail on Colonel Philibert to dothe same, or he will not praise our hospitality, I fear."
"Not one drop more this day, were it from Jove's own poculum!" LeGardeur repelled the temptation more readily as he felt a twitch on hissleeve from the hand of Philibert.
"Well, as you will, Le Gardeur; we have all had enough and over, I daresay. Ha! ha! Colonel Philibert rather puts us to the blush, or wouldwere not our cheeks so well-painted in the hues of rosy Bacchus."
Philibert, with official courtesy, bade adieu to the Intendant and thecompany. A couple of valets waited upon Le Gardeur, whom they assistedto bathe and dress. In a short time he left the Chateau almost sobered,and wholly metamorphosed into a handsome, fresh chevalier. A perverseredness about the eyes alone remained, to tell the tale of the lastnight's debauch.
Master Pothier sat on a horse-block at t
he door with all the gravityof a judge, while he waited for the return of Colonel Philibert andlistened to the lively noise in the Chateau, the music, song, and jingleof glass forming a sweet concert in the ears of the jolly old notary.
"I shall not need you to guide me back, Master Pothier," said Philibert,as he put some silver pieces in his hollow palm; "take your fee. Thecause is gained, is it not, Le Gardeur?" He glanced triumphantly at hisfriend.
"Good-by, Master Pothier," said he, as he rode off with Le Gardeur. Theold notary could not keep up with them, but came jolting on behind, wellpleased to have leisure to count and jingle his coins. Master Pothierwas in that state of joyful anticipation when hope outruns realization.He already saw himself seated in the old armchair in the snug parlorof Dame Bedard's inn, his back to the fire, his belly to the table, asmoking dish of roast in the middle, an ample trencher before him with abottle of Cognac on one flank and a jug of Norman cider on the other, anold crony or two to eat and drink with him, and the light foot and defthand of pretty Zoe Bedard to wait upon them.
This picture of perfect bliss floated before the winking eyes of MasterPothier, and his mouth watered in anticipation of his Eden, not offlowers and trees, but of tables, cups, and platters, with plenty tofill them, and to empty them as well.
"A worthy gentleman and a brave officer, I warrant!" said Pothier, as hejogged along. "He is generous as a prince, and considerate as a bishop,fit for a judge, nay, for a chief justice! What would you do forhim, Master Pothier?" the old notary asked himself. "I answer theinterrogatory of the Court: I would draw up his marriage contract, writehis last will and testament with the greatest of pleasure and withouta fee!--and no notary in New France could do more for him!" Pothier'simagination fell into a vision over a consideration of his favoritetext--that of the great sheet, wherein was all manner of flesh and fowlgood for food, but the tongue of the old notary would trip at the nameof Peter, and perversely say, "Rise, Pothier; kill, and eat."