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Updated: June 28, 2025
There was a kind of devilry at Iberville's large and sensuous mouth, but his eyes were steady and provoking, and while Gering's words went forth pantingly, Iberville's were slow and concise, and chosen with the certainty of a lapidary. It is hard to tell which had started the quarrel, but an edge was on their talk from the beginning.
"Stop! stop!" cried a voice behind these. "I am the governor. We surrender." There was nothing else to do: in spite of Gering's show of defiance, though death was above him if he resisted. He was but half-way up. "It is no use, Mr. Gering," urged the governor; "they have us like sheep in a pen." "Very well," said Gering suddenly, handing up his, sword and stepping up himself.
You and Monsieur Iberville saved the maid I meant no harm to her; 'twas but for ransom. I am atoning now to make your fortune, give you glory. Shall by-gones be by-gones, Mr. Gering? What say you?" Bucklaw stood still at the head of the table. But he was very watchful. What the end might have been it is hard to tell, but a thing occurred which took the affair out of Gering's hands.
When they crossed swords again, Iberville, whether by chance or by momentary want of skill, parried Gering's disengage from tierce to carte on to his own left shoulder. Both had now got a taste of blood, and there is nothing like that to put the lust of combat into a man.
"Alas! I wish it were. This morning the poor fellow, while engaged in his duties at Gering's office, met with the temptation for which he was so ripe. It was a horrible one. He knew that your mother had not a penny. His feeling for her I need not enter upon. He found himself in the room with an open till, and took fifty pounds out of it. Soon afterwards, he made an excuse to leave the office.
But you have eloquence, madame, and he knew, no doubt, that you would always be welcome to my home." There was that in his voice which sent the blood stinging through Gering's veins. He half came to his feet, but his wife's warning, pleading glance brought him to his chair again. "Monsieur, tell me," she said, "will you give my husband his freedom?" "Madame, his life is the State's."
More than once both had Gering within range of their muskets, but they held their hands, nor indeed did Gering himself, who once also had a chance of bringing Iberville down, act on his opportunity. Gering's men were badly exposed, and he sent them hard at the thickets, clearing the outposts at some heavy loss.
But she saw the hopelessness of the thing, everything was steadily acting in Gering's favour, and her father's trouble decided her at last. When Gering arrived at New York and told his story to his credit with no dispraise of Iberville, rather as a soldier she felt a pang greater than she ever had known.
Iberville was the taller of the two, Gering the stouter. Iberville's eye was slow, calculating, penetrating; Gering's was swift, strangely vigilant. Iberville's hand was large, compact, and supple; Gering's small and firm. They drew and fell on guard. Each at first played warily. They were keen to know how much of skill was likely to enter into this duel, for each meant that it should be deadly.
A soldier can appreciate bravery, and Gering had been courageous. But he had killed one of the most beloved of Canadian officers, the gallant Sainte-Helene! Frontenac, who foresaw an end of which the council could not know, summed up, not unfairly, against Gering. Gering's defence was able, proud, and sometimes passionate. Once or twice his words stung his judges like whips across their faces.
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