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"Our troops are advancing and might arrest you." The old man only smiled. "I will give you a pass." Batoche took off his glove and produced from his pocket a folded paper. Cary opened it, and recognizing the signature of Colonel Meigs, returned it with a smile. "I thankfully accept your offer," said he. "Here is a little message which you will deliver to Mademoiselle Zulma."
Mademoiselle's chief regret is that she cannot be at your side." A radiance passed over the sufferer's face, and he said: "Does she know in whose kind hands I am?" "She does and that is her only consolation." It was Pauline's turn to betray her emotion, by averting her head and wiping the tears from her eyes. "Here are a few lines from her pen," continued Batoche, "written not many hours ago."
The presence of her father would have been rather an incentive. But at the supreme moment, the shadow of Batoche fell upon the lighted door, like a blight of fate, the current of all their thoughts were turned elsewhere, and the exquisite opportunity was lost. And now he was gone. Alas! It was only too true to say that neither he nor she knew what future lay in store for him.
When Roderick took his departure, Pauline accompanied him to the outer door, but she was not long away, being desirous to assist at the interview between Cary and Batoche. The old man stood by the bedside of his friend keenly observant of the symptoms which presented themselves to his practised eye.
When she was seated, Batoche immediately resumed: "You are aware that Governor Carleton has arrived in Quebec?" "Yes, we heard the guns of the Citadel proclaiming the event," replied Sieur Sarpy. "That happened just ten days ago. It was the most terrible blow yet struck against our cause." "Your cause, Batoche?" said Sieur Sarpy, looking up. "Aye, my cause, your cause, the cause of us all.
Zulma finished her letter with a flourish, folded it, addressed it, and, rising, handed it to Batoche. "I did not keep you waiting, you see. Deliver this at your earliest opportunity and accept my thanks. Is there anything that I can do for you in return?" Batoche drooped his eyes and hesitated. "Do not fear to speak. We are perfect friends now."
That Frenchman is planning a big coup in the spring. You know they presented him with a house the other day, ready furnished, at Batoche, to keep him in the country. Oh, the half-breeds are very keen on this. And what is worse, I believe a lot of whites are in with them too. A chap named Jackson, and another named Scott, and Isbister and some others.
This, however, does not prevent him from striving to help his friend. He said to me, 'Batoche, if you must make a prisoner of Joseph Bouchette, go first to Sieur Sarpy and ask him whether he would receive him in his house on parole.
From his solitary little window Batoche could see these Falls at all times, and under all circumstances in day time, and in night time; glistening like diamonds in the sunlight, flashing like silver in the moonbeams, and breaking through the shadow of the deepest darkness with the corruscations of their foam. Their music, too, was ever in his ears, forming a part of his being.
He had not been two hours in the American camp, when he met Batoche. It goes without saying that the meeting was of the heartiest, and, between them, a visit to Pointe-aux-Trembles was planned for that same evening.
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