Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 29, 2025
Mass was celebrated, and a strange, rude picture was presented to those eyes accustomed to the interior of lofty cathedrals: the smoky lanterns, the squat ceiling, the tawdry woodwork, the kneeling figures involuntarily jostling one another to the rolling of the ship, the resonant voice of Father Chaumonot, the frequent glitter of a breast-plate, a sword-hilt, or a helmet.
"What is the meaning of all this?" cried Chaumonot. "Tell him, Monsieur le Chevalier," laughed the vicomte; "tell him!" The Chevalier was mute; but his chest heaved and his eyes glowed with a terrible fury. "Monsieur," continued the vicomte, "you and I will step outside. There is moonlight." "You will do nothing of the sort, Monsieur le Vicomte," said Brother Jacques coolly.
After visiting nineteen towns, meeting everywhere maledictions and threats, Brebeuf and Chaumonot returned to Ste Marie. The good work went on, notwithstanding trials and reverses. The story of the Cross was being carried even to the Algonquins and Nipissings of the upper Ottawa and Georgian Bay.
"What! two of them?" sarcastically. "I compliment you both upon risking my good will for an idea." Chaumonot sighed more deeply. The marquis motioned him to his chair. "Sit down, Monsieur; you have gained my respect. Frankness in a Jesuit? Come; what has the Society come to that frankness replaces cunning and casuistry? Bah!
I am come from America, my son, to see his Eminence in regard to the raising of funds for some new missions we have in mind; but I have been indifferently successful, due possibly to my lack of eloquence and to the fact that my superior, Father Chaumonot, was unable to accompany me to Paris. I shall meet him in Rouen."
An answering hail came back. "Father Chaumonot?" "Who calls me by name?" asked the Jesuit. "Brother Jacques!" Brother Jacques! The human mind moves quickly from one thing to another. For the time being all antagonism was gone; a single thought bound the four men together again. "Are you alone?" asked Chaumonot. His voice quavered in spite of his effort.
"What do you call him?" indicating the Indian, whose dark eyes were constantly roving. "The Black Kettle is his Indian name; but I have baptized him as Dominique." "Tell him for me that he is a man." "My son," said Chaumonot, speaking slowly in French, "the white chief says that you are a man." The Iroquois expanded under this flattery. "The white chief has the proud eye of the eagle."
Breton was permitted to accompany his master with the understanding that he was to entail no extra expense. Father Chaumonot was delighted; Brother Jacques was thoughtful; the major was neutral and incurious. As yet no rumor stirred its ugly head; the Chevalier's reasons for going were still a matter of conjecture. None had the courage to approach the somber young man and question him.
Chaumonot opened his plan to his brother Jesuits, who were delighted with it, and the chapel was begun at once, not without the intervention of miracle to aid in raising the necessary funds.
She was merely tired; but he accepted this as an affirmative answer. "It would have been well, Madame, had I died in his place." "Let us go," she said; "they are calling." That was all. Victor lay in the living-room of the fort. A shroud covered all but his face. A little gold crucifix, belonging to Father Chaumonot, lay against his lips. Candles burned at his head and at his feet.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking