Читать книгу Beyond the Frontier - Randall Parrish - Страница 14

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I did not recognize the voice speaking––a husky voice, the words indistinct, yet withal forceful––nor do I know what it was he said. But when the other answered, tapping on the desk with some instrument, I knew the second speaker to be La Barre, and leaned back just far enough to gain glimpse through the opening in the drapery. He sat at the desk, his back toward us, while his companion, a red-faced, heavily-moustached man, in uniform of the Rifles, stood opposite, one arm on the mantel over the fireplace. His expression was that of amused interest.

“You saw the lady?” he asked.

“In the receiving line for a moment only; a fair enough maid to be loved for her own sake I should say. Faith, never have I seen handsomer eyes.”

The other laughed.

“’Tis well Madame does not overhear that confession. An heiress, and beautiful! Piff! but she might find others to her liking rather than this Cassion.”

“It is small chance she has had to make choice, and 62 as to her being an heiress, where heard you such a rumor, Colonel Delguard?”

The officer straightened up.

“You forget, sir,” he said slowly, “that the papers passed through my hands after Captain la Chesnayne’s death. It was at your request they failed to reach the hands of Frontenac.”

La Barre gazed at him across the desk, his brows contracted into a frown.

“No, I had not forgotten,” and the words sounded harsh. “But they came to me properly sealed, and I supposed unopened. I think I have some reason to ask an explanation, Monsieur.”

“And one easily made. I saw only the letter, but that revealed enough to permit of my guessing the rest. It is true, is it not, that La Chesnayne left an estate of value?”

“He thought so, but, as you must be aware, it had been alienated by act of treason.”

“Ay! but Comte de Frontenac appealed the case to the King, who granted pardon, and restoration.”

“So, ’twas rumored, but unsupported by the records. So far as New France knows there was no reply from Versailles.”

The Colonel stood erect, and advanced a step, his expression one of sudden curiosity.

“In faith, Governor,” he said swiftly, “but your 63 statement awakens wonder. If this be so why does Francois Cassion seek the maid so ardently? Never did I deem that cavalier one to throw himself away without due reward.”

La Barre laughed.

“Perchance you do Francois ill judgment, Monsieur le Colonel,” he replied amused. “No doubt ’tis love, for, in truth, the witch would send sluggish blood dancing with the glance of her eyes. Still,” more soberly, his eyes falling to the desk, “’tis, as you say, scarce in accord with Cassion’s nature to thus make sacrifice, and there have been times when I suspected he did some secret purpose. I use the man, yet never trust him.”

“Nor I, since he played me foul trick at La Chine. Could he have found the paper of restoration, and kept it concealed, until all was in his hands?”

“I have thought of that, yet it doth not appear possible. Francois was in ill grace with Frontenac, and could never have reached the archives. If the paper came to his hands it was by accident, or through some treachery. Well,’tis small use of our discussing the matter. He hath won my pledge to Mademoiselle la Chesnayne’s hand, for I would have him friend, not enemy, just now. They marry on his return.”

“He is chosen then for the mission to Fort St. Louis?”

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“Ay, there were reasons for his selection. The company departs at dawn. Tell him, Monsieur, that I await him now for final interview.”

I watched Delguard salute, and turn away to execute his order. La Barre drew a paper from a drawer of the desk, and bent over it pen in hand. My eyes lifted to the face of De Artigny, standing motionless behind me in the deeper shadow.

“You overheard, Monsieur?” I whispered.

He leaned closer, his lips at my ear, his eyes dark with eagerness.

“Every word, Mademoiselle! Fear not, I shall yet learn the truth from this Cassion. You suspected?”

I shook my head, uncertain.

“My father died in that faith, Monsieur, but Chevet called me a beggar.”

“Chevet! no doubt he knows all, and has a dirty hand in the mess. He called you beggar, hey!––hush, the fellow comes.”

He was a picture of insolent servility, as he stood there bowing, his gay dress fluttering with ribbons, his face smiling, yet utterly expressionless. La Barre lifted his eyes, and surveyed him coldly.

“You sent for me, sir?”

“Yes, although I scarcely thought at this hour you would appear in the apparel of a dandy. I have chosen you for serious work, Monsieur, and the time 65 is near for your departure. Surely my orders were sufficiently clear?”

“They were, Governor la Barre,” and Cassion’s lips lost their grin, “and my delay in changing dress has occurred through the strange disappearance of Mademoiselle la Chesnayne. I left her with Major Callons while I danced with my lady, and have since found no trace of the maid.”

“Does not Callons know?”

“Only that, seeking refreshments, he left her, and found her gone on his return. Her wraps are in the dressing room.”

“Then ’tis not like she has fled the palace. No doubt she awaits you in some corner. I will have the servants look, and meanwhile pay heed to me. This is a mission of more import than love-making with a maid, Monsieur Cassion, and its success, or failure, will determine your future. You have my letter of instruction?”

“It has been carefully read.”

“And the sealed orders for Chevalier de Baugis?”

“Here, protected in oiled silk.”

“See that they reach him, and no one else; they give him an authority I could not grant before, and should end La Salle’s control of that country. You have met this Henri de Tonty? He was here with his master three years since, and had audience.”

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“Ay, but that was before my time. Is he one to resist De Baugis?”

“He impressed me as a man who would obey to the letter, Monsieur; a dark-faced soldier, with an iron jaw. He had lost one arm in battle, and was loyal to his chief.”

“So I have heard––a stronger man than De Baugis?”

“A more resolute; all depends on what orders La Salle left, and the number of men the two command.”

“In that respect the difference is not great. De Baugis had but a handful of soldiers to take from Mackinac, although his voyageurs may be depended upon to obey his will. His instructions were not to employ force.”

“And the garrison of St. Louis?”

“’Tis hard to tell, as there are fur hunters there of whom we have no record. La Salle’s report would make his own command eighteen, but they are well chosen, and he hath lieutenants not so far away as to be forgotten. La Forest would strike at a word, and De la Durantaye is at the Chicago portage, and no friend of mine. ’Tis of importance, therefore, that your voyage be swiftly completed, and my orders placed in De Baugis’ hands. Are all things ready for departure?”

“Ay, the boats only await my coming.”

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The Governor leaned his head on his hand, crumbling the paper between his fingers.

“This young fellow––De Artigny,” he said thoughtfully, “you have some special reason for keeping him in your company?”

Cassion crossed the room, his face suddenly darkening.

“Ay, now I have,” he explained shortly, “although I first engaged his services merely for what I deemed to be their value. He spoke me most fairly.”

“But since?”

“I have cause to suspect. Chevet tells me that today he had conference with Mademoiselle at the House of the Ursulines.”

“Ah, ’twas for that then you had his ticket revoked. I see where the shoe pinches. ’Twill be safer with him in the boats than back here in Quebec. Then I give permission, and wash my hands of the whole affair––but beware of him, Cassion.”

“I may be trusted, sir.”

“I question that no longer.” He hesitated slightly, then added in lower tone: “If accident occur the report may be briefly made. I think that will be all.”

Both men were upon their feet, and La Barre extended his hand across the desk. I do not know what movement may have caused it, but at that moment, a wooden ring holding the curtain fell, and 68 struck the floor at my feet. Obeying the first impulse I thrust De Artigny back behind me into the shadow, and held aside the drapery. Both men, turning, startled at the sound, beheld me clearly, and stared in amazement. Cassion took a step forward, an exclamation of surprise breaking from his lips.

“Adele! Mademoiselle!”

I stepped more fully into the light, permitting the curtain to fall behind me, and my eyes swept their faces.

“Yes, Monsieur––you were seeking me?”

“For an hour past; for what reason did you leave the ballroom?”

With no purpose in my mind but to gain time in which to collect my thought and protect De Artigny from discovery, I made answer, assuming a carelessness of demeanor which I was far from feeling.

“Has it been so long, Monsieur?” I returned in apparent surprise. “Why I merely sought a breath of fresh air, and became interested in the scene without.”

La Barre stood motionless, just as he had risen to his feet at the first alarm, his eyes on my face, his heavy eyebrows contracted in a frown.

“I will question the young lady, Cassion,” he said sternly, “for I have interests here of my own. Mademoiselle!”

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“Yes, Monsieur.”

“How long have you been behind that curtain?”

“Monsieur Cassion claims to have sought me for an hour.”

“Enough of that,” his voice grown harsh, and threatening. “You address the Governor; answer me direct.”

I lifted my eyes to his stern face, but they instantly fell before the encounter of his fierce gaze.

“I do not know, Monsieur.”

“Who was here when you came in?”

“No one, Monsieur; the room was empty.”

“Then you hid there, and overheard the conversation between Colonel Delguard and myself?”

“Yes, Monsieur,” I confessed, feeling my limbs tremble.

“And also all that has passed since Monsieur Cassion entered?”

“Yes, Monsieur.”

He drew a deep breath, striking his hand on the desk, as though he would control his anger.

“Were you alone? Had you a companion?”

I know not how I managed it, yet I raised my eyes to his, simulating a surprise I was far from feeling.

“Alone, Monsieur? I am Adele la Chesnayne; if you doubt, the way of discovery is open without word from me.”

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His suspicious, doubting eyes never left my face, and there was sneer in his voice as he answered.

“Bah! I am not in love to be played with by a witch. Perchance ’tis not easy for you to lie. Well, we will see. Look within the alcove, Cassion.”

The Commissaire was there even before the words of command were uttered, and my heart seemed to stop beating as his heavy hand tore aside the drapery. I leaned on the desk, bracing myself, expecting a blow, a struggle; but all was silent. Cassion, braced, and expectant, peered into the shadows, evidently perceiving nothing; then stepped within, only to instantly reappear, his expression that of disappointment. The blood surged back to my heart, and my lips smiled.

“No one is there, Monsieur,” he reported, “but the window is open.”

“And not a dangerous leap to the court below,” returned La Barre thoughtfully. “So far you win, Mademoiselle. Now will you answer me––were you alone there ten minutes ago?”

“It is useless for me to reply, Monsieur,” I answered with dignity, “as it will in no way change your decision.”

“You have courage, at least.”

“The inheritance of my race, Monsieur.”

“Well, we’ll test it then, but not in the form you anticipate.” He smiled, but not pleasantly, and 71 resumed his seat at the desk. “I propose closing your mouth, Mademoiselle, and placing you beyond temptation. Monsieur Cassion, have the lieutenant at the door enter.”

I stood in silence, wondering at what was about to occur; was I to be made prisoner? or what form was my punishment to assume? The power of La Barre I knew, and his stern vindictiveness, and well I realized the fear and hate which swept his mind, as he recalled the conversation I had overheard. He must seal my lips to protect himself––but how? As though in a daze I saw Cassion open the door, speak a sharp word to one without, and return, followed by a young officer, who glanced curiously aside at me, even as he saluted La Barre, and stood silently awaiting his orders. The latter remained a moment motionless, his lips firm set.

“Where is Father Le Guard?”

“In the Chapel, Monsieur; he passed me a moment ago.”

“Good; inform the père that I desire his presence at once. Wait! know you the fur trader, Hugo Chevet?”

“I have seen the man, Monsieur––a big fellow, with a shaggy head.”

“Ay, as savage as the Indians he has lived among. He is to be found at Eclair’s wine shop in the Rue St. 72 Louis. Have your sentries bring him here to me. Attend to both these matters.”

“Yes, Monsieur.”

La Barre’s eyes turned from the disappearing figure of the officer, rested a moment on my face, and then smiled grimly as he fronted Cassion. He seemed well pleased with himself, and to have recovered his good humor.

“A delightful surprise for you, Monsieur Cassion,” he said genially, “and let us hope no less a pleasure for the fair lady. Be seated, Mademoiselle; there may be a brief delay. You perceive my plan, no doubt?”

Cassion did not answer, and the Governor looked at me.

“No, Monsieur.”

“And yet so simple, so joyful a way out of this unfortunate predicament. I am surprised. Cassion here might not appreciate how nicely this method will answer to close your lips, but you, remembering clearly the private conference between myself and Colonel Delguard, should grasp my purpose at once. Your marriage is to take place tonight, Mademoiselle.”

“Tonight! my marriage! to whom?”

“Ah! is there then more than one prospective bridegroom? Monsieur Cassion surely I am not in error that you informed me of your engagement to Mademoiselle la Chesnayne?”

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“She has been pledged me in marriage, Monsieur––the banns published.”

I sat with bowed head, my cheeks flaming.

“’Tis then as I understood,” La Barre went on, chuckling. “The lady is over modest.”

“I have made no pledge,” I broke in desperately. “Monsieur spoke to my Uncle Chevet, not I!”

“Yet you were told! You made no refusal?”

“Monsieur, I could not; they arranged it all, and, besides, it was not to be until Monsieur returned from the West. I do not love him; I thought––”

“Bah! what is love? ’Tis enough that you accepted. This affair is no longer one of affection; it has become the King’s business, a matter of State. I decide it is best for you to leave Quebec; ay! and New France, Mademoiselle. There is but one choice, imprisonment here, or exile into the wilderness.” He leaned forward staring into my face with his fierce, threatening eyes. “I feel it better that you go as Monsieur Cassion’s wife, and under his protection. I decree that so you shall go.”

“Alone––with––with––Monsieur Cassion?”

“One of his party. ’Tis my order also that Hugo Chevet be of the company. Perchance a year in the wilderness may be of benefit to him, and he might be of value in watching over young De Artigny.”

Never have I felt more helpless, more utterly alone. 74 I knew all he meant, but my mind grasped no way of escape. His face leered at me as through a mist, yet as I glanced aside at Cassion it only brought home to me a more complete dejection. The man was glad––glad! He had no conscience, no shame. To appeal to him would be waste of breath––a deeper humiliation. Suddenly I felt cold, hard, reckless; ay! they had the power to force me through the unholy ceremony. I was only a helpless girl; but beyond that I would laugh at them; and Cassion––if he dared––

The door opened, and a lean priest in long black robe entered noiselessly, bending his shaven head to La Barre, as his crafty eyes swiftly swept our faces.

“Monsieur desired my presence?”

“Yes, Père le Guard, a mission of happiness. There are two here to be joined in matrimony by bonds of Holy Church. We but wait the coming of the lady’s guardian.”

The père must have interpreted the expression of my face.

“’Tis regular, Monsieur?” he asked.

“By order of the King,” returned La Barre sternly. “Beyond that it is not necessary that you inquire. Ah! Monsieur Chevet! they found you then? I have a pleasant surprise for you. ’Tis hereby ordered that you accompany Commissaire Cassion to the Illinois country as interpreter, to be paid from my private fund.”

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Chevet stared into the Governor’s dark face, scarce able to comprehend, his brain dazed from heavy drinking.

“The Illinois country! I––Hugo Chevet? ’Tis some joke, Monsieur.”

“None at all, as you will discover presently, my man. I do not jest on the King’s service.”

“But my land, Monsieur; my niece?”

La Barre permitted himself a laugh.

“Bah! let the land lie fallow; ’twill cost little while you draw a wage, and as for Mademoiselle, ’tis that you may accompany her I make choice. Stand back; you have your orders, and now I’ll show you good reason.” He stood up, and placed his hand on Cassion’s arm. “Now my dear, Francois, if you will join the lady.”

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