CHAPTER VIII
BEFORE MONTCALM
The Owl, with his warriors and captive, descended in time into the lowcountry in the northwest. They, too, had been on snowshoes, but now theydiscarded them, since they were entering a region in which little snow hadfallen, the severity of the weather abating greatly. Robert was stilltreated well, though guarded with the utmost care. The Indians, who seemedto be from some tribe about the Great Lakes, did not speak any dialect heknew, and, if they understood English, they did not use it. He wascompelled to do all his talking with the Owl who, however, was not at alltaciturn. Robert saw early that while a wonderful woodsman and a bornpartisan leader, he was also a Gascon, vain, boastful and full of words. Hetried to learn from him something about his possible fate, but he couldobtain no hint, until they had been traveling more than three weeks, andLanglade had been mellowed by an uncommonly good supper of tender game,which the Indians had cooked for him.
"You've been trying to draw that information out of me ever since you werecaptured," he said. "You were indirect and clever about it, but I noticedit. I, Charles Langlade, have perceptions, you must understand. If I dolive in the woods I can read the minds of white men."
"I know you can," said Robert, smilingly. "I observed from the first thatyou had an acute intellect."
"Your judgment does you credit, my young friend. I did not tell you what Iwas going to do with you, because I did not know myself. I know more aboutyou than you think I do. One of my warriors was with Tandakora in severalof his battles with you and Willet, that mighty hunter whom the Indianscall the Great Bear, and Tayoga, the Onondaga, who is probably following onour trail in the hope of rescuing you. I have also heard of you fromothers. Oh, as I tell you, I, Charles Langlade, take note of all things.You are a prisoner of importance. I would not give you to Tandakora,because he would burn you, and a man does not burn valuable goods. I wouldnot send you to St. Luc, because, being a generous man, he might take somefoolish notion to exchange you, or even parole you. I would not give you tothe Marquis Duquesne at Quebec, because then I might lose my pawn in thegame, and, in any event, the Marquis Duquesne is retiring as GovernorGeneral of New France."
"Is that true? I have met him. He seemed to me to be a great man."
"Perhaps he is, but he was too haughty and proud for the powerful men whodwelt at Quebec, and who control New France. I have heard something of yourappearance at the capital with the Great Bear and the Onondaga, and of whatchanced at Bigot's ball, and elsewhere. Ah, you see, as I told you, I,Charles Langlade, know all things! But to return, the Marquis Duquesnegives way to the Marquis de Vaudreuil. Oh, that was accomplished some timeago, and perhaps you know of it. So, I do not wish to give you to theMarquis de Vaudreuil. I might wait and present you to the Marquis deMontcalm when he comes, but that does not please me, either, and thus Ihave about decided to present you to the Dove."
"The Dove! Who is the Dove?"
Langlade laughed with intense enjoyment.
"The Dove," he replied, "is a woman, none other than Madame de Langladeherself, a Huron. You English do not marry Indian women often--and yetColonel William Johnson has taken a Mohawk to wife--but we French know themand value them. Do not think to have an easy and careless jailer when youare put in the hands of the Dove. She will guard you even more zealouslythan I, Charles Langlade, and you will notice that I have neither given youany opportunity to escape nor your friend, Tayoga, the slightest chance torescue you."
"It is true, Monsieur Langlade. I've abandoned any such hope on the march,although I may elude you later."
"The Dove, as I told you, will attend to that. But it will be a pretty playof wits, and I don't mind the test. I'm aware that you have intelligenceand skill, but the Dove, though a woman, possesses the wit of a greatchief, and I'll match her against you."
There was a further abatement of the weather, and they reached a regionwhere there was no snow at all. Warm winds blew from the direction of theGreat Lakes and the band traveled fast through a land in which the gamealmost walked up to their rifles to be killed, such plenty causing theIndians, as usual, now that they were not on the war path, to feastprodigiously before huge fires, Langlade often joining them, and showingthat he was an adept in Indian customs.
One evening, just as they were about to light the fire, the warrior who hadbeen posted as sentinel at the edge of the forest gave a signal and a fewmoments later a tall, spare figure in a black robe with a belt about thewaist appeared. Robert's heart gave a great leap. The wearer of the blackrobe was an elderly man with a thin face, ascetic and high. The captiverecognized him at once. It was Father Philibert Drouillard, the priest,whose life had already crossed his more than once, and it was not strangeto see him there, as the French priests roamed far through the greatwilderness of North America, seeking to save the souls of the savages.
Langlade, when he beheld Father Drouillard, sprang at once to his feet, andRobert also arose quickly. The priest saw young Lennox, but he did notspeak to him just yet, accepting the food that the Owl offered him, andsitting down with his weary feet to the fire that had now been lighted.
"You have traveled far, Father?" said Langlade, solicitously.
"From the shores of Lake Huron. I have converts there, and I must see thatthey do not grow weak in the faith."
"All men, red and white, respect Philibert Drouillard. Why are you alone,Father?"
"A runner from the Christian village came with me until yesterday. Then Isent him back, because I would not keep him too long from his people. I cango the rest of the way alone, as it will be but a few days before I meet aFrench force."
Then he turned to Robert for the first time.
"And you, my son," he said, "I am sorry it has fared thus with you."
"It has not gone badly, Father," said Robert. "Monsieur de Langlade hastreated me well. I have naught to complain of save that I'm a prisoner."
"It is a good lad, Charles Langlade," said the priest to the partisan, "andI am glad he has suffered no harm at your hands. What do you purpose to dowith him?"
"It is my present plan to take him to the village in which Madame Langlade,otherwise the Dove, abides. He will be her prisoner until a further plandevelops, and you know how well she watches."
A faint smile passed over the thin face of the priest.
"It is true, Charles Langlade," he said. "That which escapes the eyes ofthe Dove is very small, but I would take the lad with me to Montreal."
"Nay, Father, that cannot be. I am second to nobody in respect for HolyChurch, and for you, Father Drouillard, whose good deeds are known to all,and whose bad deeds are none, but those who fight the war must use theirjudgment in fighting it, and the prisoners are theirs."
Father Drouillard sighed.
"It is so, Charles Langlade," he said, "but, as I have said, the prisoneris a good youth. I have met him before, as I told you, and I would savehim. You know not what may happen in the Indian village, if you chance tobe away."
"The Dove will have charge of him. She can be trusted."
"And yet I would take him with me to Montreal. He will give his parole thathe will not attempt to escape on the way. It is the custom for prisoners tobe ransomed. I will send to you from Montreal five golden louis for him."
Langlade shook his head.
"Ten golden louis," said Father Drouillard.
"Nay, Father, it is no use," said the partisan. "I cannot be tempted toexchange him for money."
"Fifteen golden louis, Charles Langlade, though I may have to borrow fromthe funds of the Church to send them to you."
"I respect your motive, Father, but 'tis impossible. This is a prisoner ofgreat value and I must use him as a pawn in the game of war. He was takenfairly and I cannot give him up."
Again Father Drouillard sighed, and this time heavily.
"I would save you from captivity, Mr. Lennox," he said, "but, as you see, Icannot."
Robert was much moved.
"I thank you, Father Drouillard, for y
our kind intentions," he said. "Itmay be that some day I shall have a chance to repay them. Meanwhile, I donot dread the coming hospitality of Madame Langlade."
The priest shook his head sadly.
"It is a great and terrible war," he said, "though I cannot doubt thatFrance will prevail, but I fear for you, my son, a captive in the vastwilderness. Although you are an enemy and a heretic I have only goodfeeling for you, and I know that the great Chevalier, St. Luc, also regardsyou with favor."
"Know you anything of St. Luc?" asked Robert eagerly.
"Only that the expedition he was to lead against Albany has turned back andthat he has gone to Canada to fight under the banner of Montcalm, when hecomes with the great leaders, De Levis, Bourlamaque and the others."
"I thought I might meet him."
"Not here, with Charles Langlade."
The priest spent the night with them and in the morning, after giving themhis blessing, captors and captive alike, he departed on his long andsolitary journey to Montreal.
"A good man," said Robert, as he watched his tall, thin figure disappear inthe surrounding forest.
"Truly spoken," said the Owl. "I am little of a churchman myself, theforest and the war trail please me better, but the priests are a great propto France in the New World. They carry with them the authority of HisMajesty, King Louis."
A week later they reached a small Indian village on Lake Ontario where theOwl at present made his abode, and in the largest lodge of which hispatient spouse, the Dove, was awaiting him. She was young, much taller thanthe average Indian woman, and, in her barbaric fashion, quite handsome. Buther face was one of the keenest and most alert Robert had ever seen. Allthe trained observation of countless ancestors seemed stored in her and nowhe understood why Langlade had boasted so often and so warmly of her skillas a guard. She regarded him with a cold eye as she listened attentively toher husband's instructions, and, for the remainder of that winter andafterward, she obeyed them with a thoroughness beyond criticism.
The village included perhaps four hundred souls, of whom about a hundredwere warriors. Langlade was king and Madame Langlade, otherwise the Dove,was queen, the two ruling with absolute sovereignty, their authority due totheir superior intelligence and will and to the service they rendered tothe little state, because a state it was, organized completely in all itsparts, although composed of only a few hundred human beings. In the bitterweather that came again, Langlade directed the hunting in the adjacentforest and the fishing conducted on the great lake. He also made presentsfrom time to time of gorgeous beads or of huge red or yellow blankets thathad been sent from Montreal. Robert could not keep from admiring hisdiplomacy and tact, and now he understood more thoroughly than ever how theFrench partisans made themselves such favorites with the wild Indians.
His own position in the village was tentative. Langlade still seemeduncertain what to do with him, and held him meanwhile for a possible rewardof great value. He was never allowed to leave the cluster of tepees for theforest, except with the warriors, but he took part in the fishing on thelake, being a willing worker there, because idleness grew terribly irksome,and, when he had nothing to do, he chafed over his long captivity. He sleptin a small tepee built against that of Monsieur and Madame Langlade, andfrom which there was no egress save through theirs.
He was enclosed only within walls of skin, and he believed that he mighthave broken a way through them, but he felt that the eyes of the Dove werealways on him. He even had the impression that she was watching him whilehe slept, and sometimes he dreamed that she was fanged and clawed like atigress.
Langlade went away once, being gone a long time, and while he was absentthe Dove redoubled her watchfulness. Robert's singular impression that hereyes were always on him was strengthened, and these eyes were increased tothe hundred of Argus and more. It became so oppressive that he was alwayseager to go out with the warriors in their canoes for the fishing. On LakeOntario he was sure the eyes of the Dove could not reach him, but the workwas arduous and often perilous. The great lake was not to be treatedlightly. Often it took toll of the Indians who lived around its shores.Winter storms came up suddenly, the waves rolled like those of the sea,freezing spray dashed over them, and it required a supreme exertion ofboth skill and strength to keep the light canoes from being swamped.
Yet Robert was always happier on water than on land. On shore, confinedclosely and guarded zealously, his imaginative temperament suffered and hebecame moody and depressed, but on the lakes, although still a captive, hefelt the winds of freedom. When the storms came and the icy blasts sweptdown upon them he responded, body and soul. Relief and freedom were to befound in the struggle with the elements and he always went back to shorerefreshed and stronger of spirit and flesh. He also had a feeling thatTayoga might come by way of the lake, and when he was with the littleIndian fleet he invariably watched the watery horizon for a lone canoe, buthe never saw any.
The absence of news from his friends, and from the world to which theybelonged, was the most terrible burden of all. If the Indians had news theytold him none. He seemed to have vanished completely. But, however numerousmay have been his moments of despondency, he was not made of the stuff thatyields. The flexible steel always rebounded. He took thorough care of hishealth and strength. In his close little tepee he flexed and tensed hismuscles and went through physical exercises every night and morning, but itwas on the lake in the fishing, where the Indians grew to recognize hishelp, that he achieved most. Fighting the winds, the water and the cold, hefelt his muscles harden and his chest enlarge, and he would say to himselfthat when the spring came and he escaped he would be more fit for the lifeof a free forest runner than he had ever been before. Langlade, when hereturned, took notice of his increased size and strength and did notwithhold approval.
"I like any prisoner of mine to flourish," he laughed. "The more superioryou become the greater will be the reward for me when I dispose of you. Youhave found the Dove all I promised you she should be, haven't you, MonsieurLennox?"
"All and more," replied Robert. "Although she may be out of sight I feelthat her eyes are always on me, and this is true of the night as well asthe day."
"A great woman, the Dove, and a wife to whom I give all credit. If itshould come into the king's mind to call me to Versailles and bestow uponme some kind of an accolade perhaps Madame Langlade would not feel at homein the great palace nor at the Grand Trianon, nor even at the LittleTrianon, and maybe I wouldn't either. But since no such idea will enter HisMajesty's mind, and I have no desire to leave the great forests, the Doveis a perfect wife for me. She is the true wilderness helpmate, accomplishedin all the arts of the life I live and love, and with the eye and soul of awarrior. I repeat, young Monsieur Lennox, where could I find a wife morereally sublime?"
"Nowhere, Monsieur Langlade. The more I see you two together the morenearly I think you are perfectly matched."
The Owl seemed pleased with the recognition of his marital felicity, andgrew gracious, dropping some crumbs of information for Robert. He had beento Montreal and the arrival of the great soldier, the Marquis de Montcalm,with fresh generals and fresh troops from France, was expected daily atQuebec. The English, although their fleets were larger, could not interceptthem, and it was now a certainty that the spring campaign would sweep overAlbany and almost to New York. He spoke with so much confidence, in truthwith such an absolute certainty, that Robert's heart sank and then cameback again with a quick rebound.
After a winter that had seemed to the young captive an age, spring camewith a glorious blossoming and blooming. The wilderness burst into greenand the great lake shining in the sun became peaceful and friendly. Warmwinds blew out of the west and the blood flowed more swiftly in humanveins. But spring passed and summer came. Then Langlade announced that hewould depart with the best of the warriors, and that Robert would go withhim, although he refused absolutely to say where or for what purpose.
Robert's joy was dimmed in nowise by his ignorance of his des
tination. Hehad not found the remotest chance to escape while in the village, but itmight come on the march, and there was also a relief and pleasantexcitement in entering the wilderness again. He joyously made ready, theDove gave her lord and equal, not her master, a Spartan farewell, and theformidable band, Robert in the center, plunged into the forest.
When the great mass of green enclosed them he felt a mighty surge of hope.His imaginative temperament was on fire. A chance for him would surelycome. Tayoga might be hidden in the thickets. Action brought renewedcourage. Langlade, who was watching him, smiled.
"I read your mind, young Monsieur Lennox," he said. "Have I not told youthat I, Charles Langlade, have the perceptions? Do I not see and interpreteverything?"
"Then what do you see and interpret now?"
"A great hope in your heart that you will soon bid us farewell. You thinkthat when we are deep in the forest it will not be difficult to elude ourwatch. And yet you could not escape when we were going through this sameforest to the village. Now why do you think it will be easier when you aregoing through it again, but away?"
"The Dove is not at the end of the march. Her eyes will no longer be uponme."
The Owl laughed deeply and heartily.
"You're a lad of sense," he said, "when you lay such a tribute at the feetof that incomparable woman, that model wife, that true helpmate in everysense of the word. Why should you be anxious to leave us? I could have youadopted into the tribe, and you know the ceremony of adoption is sacredwith the Indians. And let me whisper another little fact in your ear whichwill surely move you. The Dove has a younger sister, so much like her thatthey are twins in character if not in years. She will soon be ofmarriageable age, and she shall be reserved for you. Think! Then you willbe my brother-in-law and the brother-in-law of the incomparable Dove."
"No! No!" exclaimed Robert hastily.
Now the laughter of the Owl was uncontrollable. His face writhed and hissides shook.
"A lad does not recognize his own good!" he exclaimed, "or is itbashfulness? Nay, don't be afraid, young Monsieur Lennox! Perhaps I couldget the Dove to intercede for you!"
Robert was forced to smile.
"I thank you," he said, "but I am far from the marriageable age myself."
"Then the Dove and I are not to have you for a brother-in-law?" saidLanglade. "You show little appreciation, young Monsieur Lennox, when it isso easy for you to become a member of such an interesting family."
Robert was confirmed in his belief that there was much of the wild man inthe Owl, who in many respects had become more Indian than the Indians. Hewas a splendid trailer, a great hunter, and the hardships of the forestwere nothing to him. He read every sign of the wilderness and yet heretained all that was French also, lightness of manner, gayety, quick witand a politeness that never failed. It is likely that the courage andtenacity of the French leaders were never shown to better advantage than inthe long fight they made for dominion in North America. Despite the factthat he was an enemy, and his belief that Langlade could be ruthless, onoccasion, Robert was compelled to like him.
The journey, the destination yet unknown to him, was long, but it was nottedious to the young prisoner. He watched the summer progress and thecolors deepen and he was cheered continually by the hope of escape, a factthat Langlade recognized and upon which he commented in a detached manner,from time to time. Now and then the leader himself went ahead with a scoutor two and one morning he said to Robert:
"I saw something in the forest last night."
"The forest contains much," said Robert.
"But this was of especial interest to you. It was the trace of a footstep,and I am convinced it was made by your friend Tayoga, the Onondaga.Doubtless he is seeking to effect your escape."
Robert's heart gave a leap, and there was a new light in his eyes, of whichthe shrewd Owl took notice.
"I have heard of the surpassing skill of the Onondaga," he continued, "butI, Charles Langlade, have skill of my own. It will be some time before wearrive at the place to which we are going, and I lay you a wager thatTayoga does not rescue you."
"I have no money, Monsieur Langlade," said Robert, "and if I had I couldnot accept a wager upon such a subject."
"Then we'll let it be mental, wholly. My skill is matched against thecombined knowledge of Tayoga and yourself. He'll never be able, no matterhow dark the night, to get near our camp and communicate with you."
Although Robert hoped and listened often in the dusk for the sound of asignal from Tayoga, Langlade made good his boast. The two were able toestablish no communication. It was soon proved that he was in the forestnear them, one of the warriors even catching a sufficient glimpse of hisform for a shot, which, however, went wild. The Onondaga did not reply,and, despite the impossibility of reaching him, Robert was cheered by theknowledge that he was near. He had a faithful and powerful friend who wouldhelp him some day, be it soon or late.
The summer was well advanced when Langlade announced that their journey wasdone.
"Before night," he said triumphantly, "we will be in the camp of theMarquis de Montcalm, and we will meet the great soldier himself. I, CharlesLanglade, told you that it would be so, and it is so."
"What, Montcalm near?" exclaimed Robert, aflame with interest.
"Look at the sky above the tops of those trees in the east and you will seea smudge of smoke, beneath which stand the tents of the French army."
"The French army here! And what is it doing in the wilderness?"
"That, young Monsieur Lennox, rests on the knees of the gods. I have somecuriosity on the subject myself."
An hour or two later they came within sight of the French camp, and Robertsaw that it was a numerous and powerful force for time and place. The tentsstood in rows, and soldiers, both French and Canadian, were everywhere,while many Indian warriors were on the outskirts. A large white marqueenear the center he was sure was that of the commander-in-chief, and he waseager to see at once the famous Montcalm, of whom he was hearing so much.But to his intense disappointment, Langlade went into camp with theIndians.
"The Marquis de Montcalm is a great man," he said, "the commander-in-chiefof all the forces of His Majesty, King Louis, in North America, and even I,Charles Langlade, will not approach him without ceremony. We will rest inthe edge of the forest, and when he hears that I have come he will send forme, because he will want to know many things which none other can tell him.And it may be, young Monsieur Lennox, that, in time, he will wish to seeyou also."
So Robert waited with as much patience as he could muster, although heslept but little that night, the noises in the great French camp and hisown curiosity keeping him awake. What was Montcalm doing so far from thechief seats of the French power in Canada, and did the English andAmericans know that he was here?
Curiously enough he had little apprehension for himself, it was rather afeeling of joy that he had returned to the world of great affairs. Soon hewould know what had been occurring during the long winter when he wasburied in an Indian village, and he might even hear of Willet. Toward dawnhe slept a little, and after daylight he was awakened by Langlade who wasas assured and talkative as usual.
"It may be, my gallant young prisoner," he said, ruffling and strutting,"that I am about to lose you, but if it is so it will be for valuereceived. I, Charles Langlade, have seen the great Marquis de Montcalm, butit was an equal speaking to an equal. It was last night in his grandmarquee, where he sat surrounded by his trusted lieutenants, De Levis, St.Luc, Bourlamaque, Coulon de Villiers and the others. But I was not dauntedat all. I repeat that it was an equal speaking to an equal, and the Marquiswas pleased to commend me for the work I have already done for France."
"And St. Luc was there?"
"He was. The finest figure of them all. A brave and generous man and agreat leader. He stood at the right hand of the Marquis de Montcalm, whileI talked and he listened with attention, because the Chevalier de St. Lucis always willing to learn from others. No false pride about him
! And theMarquis de Montcalm is like him. I gave the commander-in-chief muchexcellent advice which he accepted with gratitude, and in return for you,whom he expects to put to use, he has raised me in rank, and has extendedmy authority over the western tribes. Ah, I knew that you were a prize whenI captured you, and I was wise to save you as a pawn."
"How can I be of any value to the Marquis de Montcalm?"
"That is to be seen. He knows his own plans best. You are to come with meat once into his presence."
Robert was immediately in a great stir. He straightened out, and, with hishands, brushed his own clothing, smoothed his hair, intending, with hisusual desire for neatness, to make the best possible appearance before theFrench leader.
After breakfast Langlade took him to the great marquee in which Montcalmsat, as the morning was cool, and when their names had been taken in ayoung officer announced that they might enter, the officer, to Robert'sgreat surprise, being none other than De Galissonniere, who showed equalamazement at meeting him there. The Frenchman gave him a hearty grasp ofthe hand in English fashion, but they did not have time to say anything.
Robert, walking by the side of Langlade, entered the great tent with sometrepidation, and beheld a swarthy man of middle years, in the uniform of ageneral of France, giving orders to two officers who stood respectfully atattention. Neither of the officers was St. Luc, nor were they among thosewhom Robert had seen at Quebec. He surmised, however, that they were DeLevis and Bourlamaque, and he learned soon that he was right. Langladepaused until Montcalm was ready to speak to him, and Robert stood insilence at his side. Montcalm finished what he had to say and turned hiseyes upon the young prisoner. His countenance was mild, but Robert feltthat his gaze was searching.
"And this, Captain Langlade," he said, "is the youth of whom you werespeaking?"
So the Owl had been made a captain, and the promotion had been one of hisrewards. Robert was not sorry.
"It is the one, sir," replied Langlade, "young Monsieur Robert Lennox. Hehas been a prisoner in my village all the winter, and he has as friendssome of the most powerful people in the British Colonies."
Montcalm continued to gaze at Robert as if he would read his soul.
"Sit down, Mr. Lennox," he said, not unkindly, motioning him to a littlestool. Robert took the indicated seat and so quick is youth to warm tocourtesy that he felt respect and even liking for the Marquis, official andable enemy though he knew him to be. De Levis and Bourlamaque also werewatching him with alert gaze, but they said nothing.
"I hear," continued Montcalm, with a slight smile, "that you have notsuffered in Captain Langlade's village, and that you have adapted yourselfwell to wild life."
"I've had much experience with the wilderness," said Robert. "Most of myyears have been passed there, and it was easy for me to live as CaptainLanglade lived. I've no complaint to make of his treatment, though I willsay that he has guarded me well."
Montcalm laughed.
"It agrees with Captain Langlade's own account," he said. "I suppose thatone must be born, or at least pass his youth in it, to get the way of thisvast wilderness. We of old Europe, where everything has been ruled andmeasured for many centuries, can have no conception of it until we see it,and even then we do not understand it. Although with an army about me Ifeel lost in so much forest. But enough of that. It is of yourself and notof myself that I wish to speak. I have heard good reports of you from oneof my own officers, who, though he has been opposed to you many times,nevertheless likes you."
"The Chevalier de St. Luc!"
"Aye, the Chevalier de St. Luc. I know, also, that you have been in thecouncils of some of the Colonial leaders. You are a friend of Sir WilliamJohnson."
"Colonel William Johnson?"
"No, Sir William Johnson. In reward for the affair at Lake George, in whichour Dieskau was unfortunate, he has been made a baronet by the Britishking."
"I am glad."
"And doubtless Sir William is also. You know him well, I understand, and hewas still at the lake when you left on the journey that led to yourcapture."
Robert was silent.
"I have not asked you to answer," continued Montcalm, "but I assume that itis so. His army, although it was victorious in the battle there, did notadvance. There was much disagreement among the governors of the BritishColonies. The provinces could not be induced to act together?"
Robert was still silent.
"Again I say I am not asking you to answer, but your silence confirms thetruth of our reports."
Robert flushed, and a warm reply trembled on his lips, but he restrainedthe words. A swift smile passed over the dark face of Montcalm.
"You see, Mr. Lennox," he continued, "I am not asking you to say anything,but there was great disappointment among the British Colonials becausethere was no advance after the battle at the lake. It has also cooled theenthusiasm of the Iroquois, many of whom have gone home and who perhapswill take no further part in the war as the allies of the English."
Again Robert flushed and again he bit back the hot reply. He lookeduneasily at De Levis and Bourlamaque, but their faces expressed nothing.Then Montcalm suddenly changed the subject.
"I am going to make you a very remarkable offer," he said, "and do notthink for a moment it is going to imply any change of colors on your part,or the least suspicion of treason, which I could not ask of the gentlemanyou obviously are. I request of you your parole, your word of honor thatyou will not take any further part in this war."
"I can't do it! As I have often told Captain Langlade, I intend to escape."
"That is impossible. If you could not do so when you were in CaptainLanglade's village, you have no chance at all now that you are surroundedby an army. But since you will not give me your parole it will becomenecessary to keep you as a prisoner of war, and to send you to a safeplace."
"Many of our people in this and former wars with the French have been heldprisoners in the Province of Quebec. I know somewhat of the city of Quebec,and it is not wholly an unpleasant place."
"I did not have Quebec, either the province or the city, in mind so far asconcerns you, Mr. Lennox. Three of our ships are to return shortly toFrance, and, not wishing to give us your parole, you are to go to France."
"To France?"
"Yes, to France. Where else? And you should rejoice. It is a fair andglorious land. And I have heard there is a spirit in you, Mr. Lennox, whichis almost French, a kindred touch, a Gallic salt and savor, so to speak."
"I'm wholly American and British."
"Perhaps there are others who know you better than you know yourself. Irepeat, there is about you a French finish. Why should you deny it? Youshould be proud of it. We are the oldest of the great civilized nations,and the first in culture. Your stay in France should be very pleasant. Youcan drink there at the fountain of ancient culture and glory. Thewilderness is magnificent in its way, but high civilization is magnificentalso in its own and another way. You can see Paris, the city of light, thecenter of the world, and you can behold the splendid court of His Majesty,King Louis. That should appeal to a young man of taste and discernment."
Robert felt a thrill and his pulses leaped, but the thrill lasted only amoment. It was clearly impossible that he should go even as a prisoner,though a willing one, to France, and he did not see any reason why theMarquis de Montcalm should take any personal interest in his future. Butresponding invariably to the temperature about him his manner was now aspolite as that of the French general.
"You have my thanks, sir," he said, "for the kindly way in which you offerto treat a prisoner, but it is impossible for me to go to France, unlessyou should choose to send me there by sheer force."
The slight smile passed again over the face of the Marquis de Montcalm.
"I fancied, young sir," he said, "that this would be your answer, and,being what it is, I cannot say that it has lowered you aught in my esteem.For the present, you abide with us."
Robert bowed. Montcalm inspired in him a certain l
iking, and a decidedrespect. Then, still under the escort of Langlade, he withdrew.