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That Luzanne was French helped greatly, for it would be used by Carnac's foes as an insult to French Canada, and his pulses throbbed as he thought of the possible turmoil in the constituency. Fortunately the girl was handsome, had ability, and spoke English with a French accent, and she was powerful for his purposes.
"Come, Monsieur Roudin, tell us about the woman, and bring her to the polls. There is yet time, if you're telling the truth. Who is she? Where does she live? What's her name?" "Mrs. Carnac Grier that's her name," responded Roudin with a snarl, and the crowd laughed, for Carnac's boldness gave them a sense of security. "What was her maiden name?" "Larue," answered the other sharply.
"A great hulking figure like that!" he said in disapproval. "All bone and muscle and flesh and physical show! It wouldn't weigh with her. She's too fine. It isn't the animal in a man she likes. It's what he can do, and what he is, and where he's going." Then he thought of Carnac's new outburst, and his veins ran cold.
Perhaps it was imperative instinct that brought Junia back in an hour coincident with Carnac's return perhaps. In any case, there it was. They had both returned, as it were, in the self-same hour, each having endured a phase of emotion not easy to put on paper. Denzil told her of Carnac's return, and she went to the house where Carnac's mother lived, and was depressed at what she saw and felt.
"If you could have Fabian back," she remarked, "but you can't! It's been coming for a long time. He's got your I.O.U. and he won't return; but Carnac's got plenty of stuff in him. He never was afraid of anything or anybody, and if he took a notion, he could do this business as well as yourself by and by. It's all a chance, but if he comes in he'll put everything else aside."
These were Tarboe's words when Carnac's candidature came first to him in the press. "He's 'broke' out in a new place," he added. Tarboe loved the spectacular, and this was indeed spectacular. Yet he had not the mental vision of Junia who saw how close, in one intimate sense, was the relation between the artist life and the political life.
He would give his right hand to help Carnac win against the danger Junia had suggested. It could not be aught to Carnac's discredit, or Junia would not have tried to get the danger out of Montreal; he had seen Luzanne, and she might be deadly, if she had a good weapon! Presently, he saw Barouche and his agent stop at the door of a livery- stable, and were told that no cabs were available.
He had even bought, not from Carnac, but from a dealer, two of Carnac's pictures and a statue of a riverman. Somehow the years had had their way with him. He had at long last realized that material things were not the great things of life, and that imagination, however productive, should be guided by uprightness of soul. One thing was sure, the boy had never been told who his father was.
Just a word for a good cause. "They're waiting for you, and your hand on it! Here's a place for you on the roost. Come up." The "roost" was an upturned tub lying face down on the ground, and in the passion of the moment, the little man gripped Carnac's hand and stood on the tub to great cheering; for if there was one thing the French-Canadians love, it is sensation, and they were having it.
"Come, Monsieur Roudin, tell us about the woman, and bring her to the polls. There is yet time, if you're telling the truth. Who is she? Where does she live? What's her name?" "Mrs. Carnac Grier that's her name," responded Roudin with a snarl, and the crowd laughed, for Carnac's boldness gave them a sense of security. "What was her maiden name?" "Larue," answered the other sharply.
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