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Updated: May 2, 2025
If we poor Acadians did not help each other, I'd like to know who'd help us, anyway!" It was with a light heart that Pierre slept that night, and joyfully in the morning he put away the last trace of his hated disguise. His little charge showed plainly that she considered the change an improvement. At this Breboeuf was surprised, for, as he said to Pierre, there were no Howes at Kenneticook.
"Jean Breboeuf!" called Du Mesne; and in response there arose from the shadows a wiry little Frenchman, who might have been of any age from twenty to forty-five, so sun-burnt and wrinkled, yet so active and vigorous did he seem. "Mon ami," said Du Mesne to him, chidingly, "see now, here is your flint all but out of its engagement. Pray you, have better care of your piece.
It was a mighty thing, this gathering of the Great Peace, this time when colonists and their king were seeing the first breaking of the wave on the shore of an empire alluring, wonderful, unparalleled. Into this wild rabble of savages and citizens, of priest and soldier and coureur, Law's friends, Pierre Noir and Jean Breboeuf, swiftly disappeared, naturally, fitly and unavoidably.
Zotique's duty of directing the actual carrying out of the campaign made him an authority on the "feel" of the constituency. "Breboeuf will give you figures," replied he, reticently, for the struggle had proved grave. The Curé had almost succeeded, so far, in keeping his vow. "Eh bien, ma brebis?" "From the lists as Zotique has marked them I compute a majority of 28."
He half raised himself in the boat and threw himself against its side. It was overset. For one instant the cold sun shone glistening on the wet bark of the upturned craft. It was but a moment, and then there was no dot upon the solemn flood. "Monsieur! Madame! Pierre Noir! Listen to me! I have saved you! I, Jean Breboeuf, I have rescued you!"
"But, but why what is all this? Why do we not hasten away?" broke in Jean Breboeuf. "Pish! We do not go away. We remain where we are." "Remain? Stay here, and be eaten by the Iroquois? Nay! not Jean Breboeuf." Du Mesne smiled broadly at his terrors, and a dry grin even broke over the features of the impassive old trapper, Tête Gris.
At sunset of the day before the Election, Chamilly came over very tired from the Institution and ordered tea to be brought out on the lawn. Little Breboeuf sat with them; the visiting politicians also; and last, least, and highly delighted at the honor, Francois Vadeboncoeur dit Le Brun. To-morrow is the election day. "How do we stand, Zotique?" Chamilly asked, with some air of fatigue.
"Why, where did the baby learn her English?" asked the soldier in a tone of surprise. "You never taught her, I'll be bound." "Her mother taught her. Her mother speaks the English better than you yourself," was Breboeuf's ready reply. Later in the day that soldier suddenly remembered that the good wife Breboeuf did not speak a word of English, and he was properly mystified.
"Nay, now, I can live as long on fish and flesh as any man," replied Jean Breboeuf, stoutly, "nor do I hold myself, Monsieur Tête Gris, one jot in courage back of any man upon the trail." "Of course not, save in time of storm," grinned Tête Gris. "Then, it is 'Holy Mary, witness my vow of a bale of beaver! It is " "Well, so be it," said Jean Breboeuf, stoutly.
Motioning to the others of the party to remain outside the gate, Law led him within the stockade. On one hand stood Pierre Noir, tall, silent, impassive as a savage, leaning upon his gun and fixing on the red coat of the English uniform an eye none too friendly. Jean Breboeuf, his piece half ready and his voluble tongue half on the point of breaking over restraint, Law quieted with a gesture.
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