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Updated: June 25, 2025
At the moment that the Cure and Medallion the auctioneer came down the street together towards the Louis Quinze, talking amiably, this singular gentleman was throwing out hot pennies, with a large spoon, from a tray in his hand, calling on the children to gather them, in French which was not the French of Pontiac or Quebec; and this refined accent the Cure was quick to detect, as Monsieur Garon the avocat, standing on the outskirts of the crowd, had done, some moments before.
You have not seen the matter in the true light. Madame, I bid you good-day." That night the Avocat, true to his promise, called on Sergeant Kilquhanity. Kilquhanity was alone in the house. His wife had gone to the village for the Little Chemist. She had been roused at last to the serious nature of Kilquhanity's illness. M. Garon knocked. There was no answer.
Medallion began with the parish, passed to the law, from the law to Napoleon, from Napoleon to France, and from France to the world, drawing out from the Avocat something of his old vivacity and fire. At last Medallion, seeing that the time was ripe, turned his glass round musingly in his fingers before him and said: "Benoit, Annette's husband, died to-day, Garon. You knew him.
The Cure, as he turned to leave, with Monsieur Garon, shook his head in bewilderment; but even he did not smile, for the man's eloquence had impressed him; and more than once he looked back at the dispersing crowd and the quaint figure posing on the veranda.
She could not resist the delicate malice of the exclamation, she imitated the gaucherie so delightfully. Valmond did not fail to see her meaning, but he was too wise to show it. He hardly knew how it was he had answered her unhesitatingly in English, for it had been his purpose to avoid speaking English in Pontiac. Presently Madame Chalice caught sight of Monsieur Garon coming from the house.
B. E. Garon; and, between the Honbles. L. H. La Fontaine and A. N. Morin, Montreal, 1840. The Rev. John Ryerson to Egerton Ryerson, February, 1844, in The Story of my Life. Metcalfe to Stanley, 23 December, 1843. Montreal Gazette, 23 April, 1844. Montreal Daily Witness, 7 March, 1896, containing reminiscences by Dr. William Kingsford. Young, Early History of Galt and Dumfries, p. 193.
Valmond took the seat offered him beside the Cure, who remarked presently: "My dear friend, Monsieur Garon, was saying just now that the spirit of France has ever been the Captain of Freedom among the nations." Valmond glanced quickly from the Cure to the others, a swift, inquisitive look, then settled back in his chair, and turned, bowing, towards Monsieur Garon.
Only in one quarter was there hesitation, added to an anxiety almost painful; for to doubt Monsieur Valmond would have shocked the sense of courtesy so dear to Monsieur the Cure, Monsieur Garon, the Little Chemist, and even Medallion the auctioneer, who had taken into his bluff, odd nature something of the spirit of those old-fashioned gentlemen.
Monsieur Garon and Valmond talked on, eager, responsive, Valmond lost in the discussion of Napoleon, Garon in the man before him. By pregnant allusions, by a map drawn hastily on the ground here, and an explosion of secret history there, did Valmond win to a sort of worship this fine little Napoleonic scholar, who had devoured every book on his hero which had come in his way since boyhood.
It looked peaceful enough, the little house lying there in the waste of snow, banked up with earth, and sheltered on the northwest by a little grove of pines. At last M. Garon rose, and lifting himself up and down on his toes as if about to deliver a legal opinion, he coughed slightly, and then said in a dry little voice: "Madame, I shall have pleasure in calling on your husband.
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