CHAPTER XXVI
BROTHER JACQUES TELLS THE STORY OP HIAWATHA
At the noon meal madame's chair at the table was vacant, and Anne, whohad left madame outside the convent gate and had not seen her since,went up to the room to ascertain the cause of the absence. She foundthe truant asleep, the last vestige of her recent violent tearsfringing her lashes. Silently Anne contemplated the fall and rise ofthe lovely bosom, eyed thoughtfully the golden thread which encircledthe white throat; and wondered. Had this poor victim of conspiracy,this puppet in the cruel game of politics, left behind in France someunhappy love affair? What was this locket which madame hid sojealously? She bent and pressed a kiss upon the blooming cheek,lightly and lovingly. And light as the touch of her lips was, it wassufficient to arouse the sleeper.
"What is it?" madame said, sitting up. "Oh, it is you, Anne. I amglad you awoke me. Such a frightful dream! I dreamt that I hadmarried the Chevalier du Cevennes! What is the hour?"
"It is the noon meal, dear. You have been weeping."
"Yes, for France, beloved France, with all its Mazarins and its cabals.Anne, dear, I must confess. I can not remain here. I am afraid,afraid of D'Herouville, the vicomte. I am going to return on the HenriIV. I can bear it here no longer. I shall find a hiding place beyondthe reach of Mazarin."
"As you think best. But why not enter the Ursulines with me? There ispeace in the House of God."
"Is there not peace wherever the peaceful heart is? Walls will notgive me peace."
"You should have known your heart before you left France," shrewdly.
"Anne, does any one know the human heart? Do you know yours?"
Anne's eyes closed, for the briefest moment. Know her heart? Alas!
"Come, Gabrielle; they are waiting for us at the table."
"I will go with you, but I have no appetite."
"We will go upon the water after four. It will pass away the time.You are certain that you wish to return to France; from passive dangerinto active?"
Madame nodded.
"I will inform his Excellency, for it is no more than right that heshould be acquainted with your plans."
"How serious you have become, Anne," wistfully. "I am sure that Ishould be livelier and more contented if you were not always at prayer.I am lonely at times."
"You have been here scarce more than a week."
Madame did not reply.
At four her calm and even spirits returned; and the thought of seeingFrance again filled her with subdued gaiety. The sun was nearing theforests' tops when the two women sauntered down to the river front, toput about the governor's pleasure boat. They put blankets and matsinto the skiff and were about to push off, when Brother Jacquesapproached them.
"Now, what may he want?" asked Anne, in a whisper.
"You are going for a row upon the river?" asked Brother Jacques,respectfully.
"Yes, Brother Jacques," replied Anne. "Is not the water beautiful andinviting?"
"I would not venture far," he said. "Iroquois have been reported inthe vicinity of Orleans."
"We intend to row as far as Sillery and back. There can be no dangerin that."
Brother Jacques looked doubtful.
"And are not the Iroquois our friends?" asked madame. "Are notFrenchmen building a city in the heart of their kingdom?"
Brother Jacques smiled sadly. "Madame, I should not be surprised tolearn on the morrow that the expedition to Onondaga had already beenexterminated."
"You, of all persons, should be loyal to the Indian," replied Anne,arranging the mats in the bottom of the boat.
"Mademoiselle, I know him thoroughly. That is why I undertake to warnyou. The rattlesnake which you dread is less terrible to me than theIroquois. My duty, not my inclination, makes me walk among them."
"We promise not to go beyond sight of the warehouses."
"Come with us," said Anne. "We will read to you and you will in turntell us the legend of Hiawatha, so long delayed."
"If madame is agreeable," replied the priest, his heart beating atrifle faster than normal: he was human, and these two women werebeautiful.
"Come with us, by all means," said madame graciously.
"You will sit in the stern, Gabrielle," said the admiral'sgranddaughter; "I shall sit on the mat, as the Indian says, and BrotherJacques shall take the oars. And take care that we do not run awaywith you."
"I am not afraid," returned Brother Jacques, a secret happinesspossessing him. "Besides, I can swim." He recognized the danger ofbeauty in close proximity, but he unwisely forgot the dangers of timeand place. How much rarer the world becomes to the man who has seenflower gardens and beautiful women moving to and fro among them! Ah,that ragged, rugged highway which he had traversed: dry crusts of life,buffets, bramble, curses and mockery. And here was realized one of hisidle dreams. He took a dozen long strokes, which sent the craft upstream in the direction of Sillery, and let the oars drift. "You wereto read a book?" he asked.
"It would burn your godly ears," said madame: "Malherbe."
"I have read him," quietly.
"What? Oh, fie, Monsieur le Jesuit!" And madame laughed at hisconfusion.
"When I was eighteen. That was before I took the orders." He pickedup the oars again and pulled strongly and noiselessly. His thought wasfar away just then: when he was eighteen.
Anne, with her shoulders resting against madame's knees, opened thebook which Victor had given her on a Sunday the year before. SometimesBrother Jacques's stroke beat rhythmically with the measures; sometimesthe oars trailed through the water with a low, sweet murmur. He couldsee nothing but those two fair faces.
They were nearing the heights of Sillery when Anne closed the book."And now for Hiawatha and his white canoe," she said.
"Very well; I will tell you of the good Hiawatha, his daughter, and hiswhite canoe. He came from the sky one day, in this very wonderfulcanoe. He had given up his rights as a deity in order to mingle withmen and teach them wisdom. He was the wisest of all Indians as Nestorwas the wisest of all the Greeks. As a god he was known asTaounyawatha, and he presided over the fisheries and the waterways.Whenever there was dissension among the various nations of theIroquois, it was his word which settled the dispute. Grey-haired hewas, penetration marked his eye, dark mystery pervaded his countenance.One day there was internal war and great slaughter followed. The wisemen of the nations got together and summoned Hiawatha. They builtgreat council fires on the shores of Genentaha Lake, which we callOnondaga. For three days these fires burned, but the great sage didnot put in appearance, and nothing could be done without his counsel.When at last messengers found him in his secret abode, he was in a mostmelancholy state of mind. Great evil lay in his path, he said; and hehad concluded not to attend the council at Genentaha. But themessengers said that the great wise men could not proceed with businessuntil the council was graced with his presence. And if he did notcome, annihilation awaited his children."
Brother Jacques rested on his oars again. Only his voice was with hisnarrative; his mind was filled with longing, the same longing which hadalways blocked his path to priestly greatness: the love of women.
"So Hiawatha removed his sacred white canoe from the lodge built forit, and the messengers reverentially assisted him to launch it. Thewise man once again took his accustomed seat, and bade his daughter, agirl of twelve, and his heart's darling, to accompany him. Sheunhesitatingly obeyed; and together they made all possible speed towardthe grand council ground. At the approach of the venerable sage, ashout of joy resounded throughout the assembled host, and everydemonstration of respect was paid to the illustrious one. As he landedand was passing up the steep bank toward the council ground, a loudnoise was heard, like the rushing of a mighty wind. All eyes wereinstantly turned upward, and a dark spot was discovered rapidlydescending from the clouds above. It grew larger and larger as itneared the earth, and was descending with frightful velocity into theirvery midst. Terror f
illed every breast, and every one seemed anxiousfor his own safety. Confusion prevailed. All but the venerableHiawatha sought safety in flight. He gravely uncovered his silveredhead and besought his darling daughter to await the approaching dangerwith becoming resignation, at the same time reminding her of thefutility and impropriety of attempting to prevent the designs of theGreat Spirit.
"'If,' he said, 'the Great Spirit is determined upon our destruction,we shall not escape by removal, nor evade his decrees.'"
"And he was an Indian who expressed that thought?" said madame,wonderingly.
The boat drifted: not down stream as was natural, but up against thecurrent, contrary to the laws of nature. Had they all been lessinterested in what was going on in their minds, they would have at onceremarked this phenomenal performance.
"There is a mysterious particle of God in every savage," repliedBrother Jacques, mentally comparing Anne's eyes with flashing water."Well, to go on. Hiawatha's daughter modestly acquiesced to her kindparent's advice, and with patient submission awaited the catastrophe.All this was but the work of an instant; for no sooner had theresolution of the wise man become fixed and his latest words utteredthan an immense bird, with long and pointed beak, with wide extendedwings, came down with a mighty swoop and crushed the beautiful girl tothe earth. With such force did the monster fall, and so great was thecommotion of the air, that when it struck the ground, the wholeassemblage was forced violently back several rods. Hiawatha aloneremained unmoved, and silently witnessed the melancholy end of hisbeloved. 'Ai, ai, ai, agatondichou! Alas, alas, alas, my beloved!His darling had been killed before his eyes and her destroyer had beenkilled with her. His own time on earth was at an end.
"It was found upon examining the bird that it was covered withbeautiful white plumage; and every warrior as he advanced plucked aplume from this singular bird, and with it adorned his crown. Andforever after the braves of the confederate nations made choice of theplumes of the white herons as their most appropriate military ornament.
"Hiawatha was not to be consoled. He remained prostrate three nightsand days, neither eating nor drinking. Then he roused and deliveredthe great harangue to the multitude, gave them the advice which madethem so powerful. To the Mohawks he said that they should be calledthe first nation, because they were warlike and mighty; the Oneidasshould be second, because of their wisdom; the Onondagas should bethird, because they were mightiest of tongue and swiftest of foot; theCayugas should be fourth, because of their superior cunning in hunting;and the Senecas should be fifth, because of their thrift in the art ofraising corn and making cabins. To avoid all internal wars, all civilstrife, they must band together in this wise, and they should conquerall their enemies and become great forever.
"'Lastly,' he said, 'I have now assisted you to form a mighty league, acovenant of strength and friendship. If you preserve it, withoutadmission of other people, you will always be free, numerous andmighty. If other nations are admitted into your councils, they willsow jealousies among you, and you will become enslaved, few and feeble.Remember these words; they are the last you will hear from Hiawatha.Listen, my friends, the Great Master of Breath calls me to go. I havepatiently awaited his summons. I am ready; farewell.'
"And as the wise man closed his speech, there burst upon the air thesound of wondrous music. The whole sky was filled with sweetestmelody. Amid the general confusion which prevailed, Hiawatha was seenmajestically seated in his white canoe, gracefully rising higher andhigher above their heads through the air, until the clouds obscured itfrom view. Thus, as he came, he left them; but he had brought wisdomand had not taken it away, the godlike Taounyawatha, and son of theGreat and Good Spirit Hawahneu. It is the learning of these poeticallegends that has convinced us that some day we shall convert theseheretics into Christians. It is . . ." Brother Jacques seemed turnedinto stone.
A hand, dark and glistening with water resting upon the gunwale of theboat, just back of madame, had caught his eye. Both women saw thehorror grow in his face.
"What is it?" they cried.
Without replying he caught up the oars. The water boiled around thebroad blades: the boat did not turn, but irresistibly maintained itscourse up the river. With an exclamation of despair, he wrenched looseone of the oars, lifted it above his head and brought it swiftly downtoward the hand. The blade splintered on the gunwale. The hand hadbeen withdrawn too swiftly. At the same instant the boat careened anda bronzed and glistening savage raised himself into the boat; andanother, and another. They were captives, madame, Anne, and BrotherJacques. There stood the frowning fortress in the distance, help; butno voice could reach that distance. They were lost.
One of the Indians drew a knife and held it suggestively againstBrother Jacques's breast. Neither madame nor Anne screamed; they weredaughters of soldiers.
There were four Indians in all. They had daringly breasted the stream,and had grasped the towing line and the stern and had silentlypropelled the boat up the current.
"For myself I do not care," said Brother Jacques, his voice breaking."But God forgive me for not being firm when I warned you."
"You are not to blame, Father," said madame. She was pale, but calm.
"What will they do with us?" asked Anne, a terrible thought dazing her.
"We are in the hands of God."
The boat moved diagonally across the river. When the forest-linedshore was gained, the leader motioned his captives to disembark, whichthey did. He put the remaining oar into the lock and pushed thegovernor's pleasure craft down stream, smiling as he did so. Next hedrew forth two canoes from under drooping elderberry bushes andmotioned to the women and Brother Jacques to enter.
"What are you going to do with us?" asked Brother Jacques in his bestIroquois.
"Make slaves of the white man's wives," gruffly. "The squaws of theSenecas long for them. And shall the Seneca see his favorite wife weeplike a mother who has lost her firstborn?"
"Ah!" cried the priest, a light of recognition coming into his eyes."So it is you, Corn Planter, whom I baptized Peter, whom I saved fromstarvation three times come the Winter Maker! So the word andgratitude of Corn Planter become like walnuts which have no meat?Beware; these are the daughters of Onontio, and his wrath will begreat."
"It is the little Father," replied the Seneca. "It is well. He shallhave food in plenty, and his days shall be long in my village, where hewill teach my children the laws of his fathers. As for Onontio, hesleeps in his stone house while my brothers from the Mohawk valleycarry away his Huron children. The daughters of Onontio shall becomeslaves. I have said."
"I will give my body to the stake," said Brother Jacques; "my flesh andbones to torture. Let Onontio's daughters go."
"I have seen the little Father with his thumb in the pipe, and hesmiles like a brave man. No. They are fairer than the blossom of thewild plum, and their hair is like the silk of corn. They shall beslaves or wives, as they choose. Make haste," pushing the priesttoward the canoe in which madame and Anne had already taken theirplaces.
Had he been alone he would have resisted, so great was his wrath. Amoment's vanity placed him and these poor women in this predicament.He had been warned by a trader that a small band of Iroquois werehanging about, and yet he had been drawn into this! Yonder was themarquis, who might die . . . !
"Take care, little Father," warned the Seneca, realizing by theJesuit's face the passion which was mounting to his brain. "It wouldcause the Corn Planter great sorrow to strike."
Brother Jacques's shoulders drooped, and he sat down in the bottom ofthe canoe.
"They will not harm us for the present," he said to the womenencouragingly. "And there is hope for us is the fact that these areSenecas. To reach their villages they will perforce travel the sameroute as the Onondaga expedition. And we shall probably pass close towhere our friends are."
"But the boat," said madame, "Monsieur de Lauson will think that wehave been drowned!"
"Jean Pau
quet saw me enter the boat with you, and he knows that I am agood sailor. Monsieur de Lauson will suspect immediately that we havefallen into the hands of savages, and will instantly send us aid. Sokeep a good heart and show the savage that you do not fear him. If youcan win his respect he will be courteous to you; and that will besomething, for the journey to Seneca is long."
Neither woman replied. Madame's thought went back rebelliously to themorning. "To the ends of the world," the Chevalier had said. Sheshook her head wearily. It was all over. She cared not whither thesesavages took her. Mazarin would not find her indeed! What a life hadbeen hers! Only twenty-two, and nothing but unhappiness, disillusion,with here and there an hour of midsummer's madness. And that note shehad written! The thought of it sustained her spirits. By now he knewall. She shut her eyes and pictured in fancy his pain and astonishmentand chagrin. It was exhilarating. She would have liked to cry.
The Seneca chief spoke softly, commanding silence, and the canoesglided noiselessly along the southern shores of the great river. Thesun sank presently, and night became prodigal with her stars.Occasionally there was the sound of gurgling water as some brook pouredinto the river, or the whisper of stirring branches lightly swept bythe feathered heads of the Indians. Aside from these infrequentsounds, the silence was vast and imposing. Anne, with her head inmadame's lap, wept bitterly but without sound. She was a girl again;the dignity of womanhood was gone, being no longer in the shadow of theconvent walls.
Brother Jacques saw nothing in the velvet glooms but the figure ofMonsieur le Marquis as it lay that night after the duel.
Whenever the Senecas came to a habitation, they drew up the canoes andcarried them overland, far distant into the forest, making ahalf-circuit of the point. During these portages the fatigue of thewomen was great. Several times Anne broke down, unable to proceed.Sometimes the savages waited patiently for her to recover, at othertimes they were cruel in their determination to go on. Once BrotherJacques took Anne's slight figure in his strong arms and carried her aquarter of a mile. She hung upon his neck with the content of a wearychild, and the cool flesh of her cheek against his neck disturbed thetranquillity of his dreams for many days to come.
Madame, on her part, struggled on without complaint. If she stumbledand fell, no sound escaped her lips. She regained her feet withoutassistance. Madame's was a great spirit; she knew the strength ofresignation.
It was after two o'clock when the Iroquois signified their intention ofpitching camp till dawn. They were far away from the common track now.The last portage had carried them across several small streams. Theywere in the heart of the forest. All night Brother Jacques sat at theside of the women, guarding with watchful eyes. How the spirit and theflesh of this man warred! And all the while his face in the filteredmoonlight was marbled and set of expression. He was made of iron,constitutionally; his resolution, tempered steel.
Anne slept, but not so madame. She listened and listened: to the stirof the leaves, to the dim murmur of running water, to the sighs of thenight wind, to the crackling of a dry twig when Anne turned uneasily inher sleep. She listened and listened, but the sound she hungered fornever came.
At Quebec the news of the calamity did not become known till nearmidnight. As the wind-drifted pleasure-boat told its grim story,desolation fell upon the hearts of four men, each being conscious inhis own way that some part of the world had shifted from under hisfeet. The governor recommended patience; he was always recommendingthat attribute; he was always practising it, and fatally at times. Thefour men shook their heads. The Chevalier and Victor bundled togethera few necessities, such as cloaks, blankets and arms. They set out atonce while the moon was yet high; set out in silence and with sullenrage.
Jean Pauquet and the vicomte were in the act of following, whenD'Herouville, disheveled and breathing heavily from his run down fromthe upper town, arrested them.
"Vicomte," he cried, "you must take me with you. I can find no one togo with me."
"Stay here then. Out of the way, Monsieur." The vicomte was notpatient to-night, and he had not time for banter.
"I say that you shall!"
"Not to-night. Now, Pauquet."
"One of us dies, then!" D'Herouville's sword was out.
"Are you mad?" exclaimed the vicomte, recoiling.
"Perhaps. Quick!" The sword took an ominous angle, and the pointtouched the vicomte.
"Get in!" said the vicomte, controlling his wild rage. "I will killyou the first opportunity. To-night there is not time." He seized hispaddle, which he handled with no small skill considering how recentlyhe had applied himself to this peculiar art of navigation.
Pauquet took his position in the stern, while D'Herouville crouchedamidships, his bare sword across his knees. The vicomte's broad backwas toward him, proving his contempt of fear. They were both brave men.
"Follow the ripple, Monsieur," said Pauquet; "that is the way Monsieurle Chevalier has gone."
It was all very foolhardy, this expedition of untried men againstIndian cunning; but it was also very gallant: the woman they loved wasin peril.
So the two canoes stole away upon the broad bosom of the river andpresently disappeared in the pearly moon-mists, the one always huggingthe wake of the other. The weird call of the loon sometimes soundedclose by. The air was heavy with the smell of water, of earth, and ofresin.
Three of these men had taken the way from which no man returns.