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I never draw my sword in pothouses; I simply dine in them; otherwise I should be tempted to find out why a gentleman can not be left in peace." "Your reply, Monsieur," returned Du Puys, coloring, "would be entirely just were it not for the fact that a messenger from Paris directly concerns me. I am Captain Zachary du Puys, of Fort Louis, Quebec."
I see yonder a gentleman with a haunch of venison on his shoulder." "One would think that you had had no duck or deer since we passed Acadia," laughed Du Puys. "But, patience, lad; Monsieur de Lauson invites all the gentlemen to the Fort at six to partake of his table. You have but four hours to wait for a feast such as will make your Paris eyes bulge." "Praise be!"
Certainly, a man as rich as yourself . . ." "I have not a denier in my pockets," said the Chevalier, with a short laugh. "Not at present, perhaps," replied Du Puys. "But one does not lose forty thousand livres in a night, and that, I understand, is your revenue." "I lost them to-night," quietly. "Forty thousand livres?" gasped the soldier. "You have lost a fortune, then?" annoyed.
"As soon as you have completed your supper," said Du Puys. Then lowering his voice: "The marquis's son is in yonder room." "Then the marquis has a son?" said Brother Jacques, with an indescribable smile. "And by what name is he known?" "The Chevalier du Cévennes." Strange fires glowed in the young Jesuit's eyes. He plucked at his rosary.
The Chevalier threw the cloak around his shoulders and closed his eyes. The wind, blowing forcefully and steadily into his face produced a drowsiness. Du Puys looked from one to the other. A grey cloak? All this was outside the circle of his understanding. When Victor returned the old soldier rose and made his way to the cabin. As he disappeared, D'Hérouville moved toward the wheel.
I must see the Chevalier to-night." "I will myself show you the way," said Du Puys, standing. "But wait a while. The Chevalier usually spends the evening here." "Drinking?" "Drinking and dicing." Victor rose just as a small uproar occurred in the hallway. The door opened and a dozen cavaliers and officers came crowding in. All made for the fire, stamping and jostling and laughing.
But, word of honor, I do not understand . . ." "It is not necessary that you should. The question is, is my past record as a soldier sufficient?" "Your courage is well known, Monsieur." "That is all. Good night, Major. I shall sign your papers at nine to-morrow." Du Puys returned to his party. They asked questions mutely. "Father," he said to Chaumonot, "here is a coil.
He was pulled this way and that, first by the Company, then by the priests, then by the seigneurs. Depredations by the Indians remained unpunished; and the fear of the great white father grew less and less. Surrounding Monsieur de Lauson was his staff and councillors, and the veterans Du Puys had left behind while in France. There were names which in their time were synonyms for courage and piety.
Only that morning he had romped about the mess-room like a boy escaped from the school-room; imitated Mazarin, Uncle Gaston, the few great councillors, and the royal actors themselves. Even the austere visage of the Father Superior had relaxed and Du Puys had roared with laughter. What was this sudden chill? Or was it his fancy? He stepped into the open again, and found it warm.
The youth renewed his gaze at the fire, this time attracted by the chimney soot as it wavered above the springing flames, now incandescent, now black as jet, now tearing itself from the brick and flying heavenward. Sometimes the low, fierce music of the storm could be heard in the chimney. Du Puys, glancing over the lid of his pewter pot, observed the young man kindly.