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"It was an epic march!" cried Zulma rising from her seat and pouring out wine into the glasses on the table. Sieur Sarpy pledged his guest in a bumper of Burgundy. And the compliment was deserved. That march of the Continental army was one of the most remarkable and heroic on record. In the fortnight that followed, Zulma and Cary met nearly every day, sometimes more than once a day.
"Blanche," said Zulma at length in a voice whose musical softness was as that of a mother's appeal. "Bon jour, Blanche. You do not know me. My name is Zulma Sarpy." There was no fear in the child's face from the first. Now all doubt and hesitation disappeared from it. She did not smile, but a beautiful serenity spread over it.
Who can tell what will happen? War is a whirlwind. It may blow him out of sight and remembrance before we know it." "Never fear," interrupted Zulma with a magnificent wave of her white arm. "I have a presentiment that we shall meet again. I have my eye on him and " "He has his eye on you," added Sieur Sarpy, breaking out into a little merriment which was unusual with him.
On their way, they heard the confused mutter of the streets: "The Bastonnais have come!" Yes, there they were. Arnold's men stood like a spectral army on the Heights of Levis. It was a damp bleak morning, and the snow was falling fast. Zulma Sarpy sat in her bedroom, indolently stretched upon a rocking chair before a glowing fire.
The contrast between the styles of these prayers impressed Zulma very strongly. The former were such as she herself knew, complete, appropriate and pathetic in their very phraseology.
Those who were opposed to them broke out into acclamations, while the large number who sympathized with them were thrown into consternation. Bad news always travels fast. Long before sunset of that day, the event was known at Valcartier, and on the little cottage occupied by M. Belmont, the intelligence fell like a thunder clap. It was useless for Zulma to attempt mastering her feelings.
Suffice it to say that the note had informed her of Cary Singleton's fall. Zulma had not forgotten her promise to Batoche concerning little Blanche. The last time she had met the old man, the subject was mooted and the answer she received was that possibly within a few days he would have occasion to demand her good services in favour of his granddaughter.
The soldiers consulted together a moment, then the elder signified to Zulma that she would have to return to the city. She replied in the same language that she must go on. They insisted with some seriousness. She insisted with a show of rising temper.
Thus Marcel was cursing love, when Zulma came and knocked at his door. "As soon as she comes The Hostess looks hard: My beauty no ceremony, The supper is ready; Come in, come in, my beauty Come in, and no more noise With three gallant captains You shall spend the night."
He is especially aware that you are a rebel, and is much grieved thereat." "Rebel! There is that hateful word again." "I thought you liked it, when applied to yourself. You told me as much the last time." Zulma laughed and seemed propitiated, but she said no more. Her brother then told her that their father was considerably agitated at the news.
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