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Then the Governor understood: he remembered that the name just given by the Sheriff and himself was the name of the Englishman who had carried off Grassette's wife years ago. He stepped forward and was about to speak, but changed his mind. He would leave it all to Grassette; he would not let the Sheriff know the truth, unless Grassette himself disclosed the situation.
Never had a prisoner been more self-contained, or rejected more completely all those ministrations of humanity which relieve the horrible isolation of the condemned cell. Grassette's isolation was complete.
"I have come," said the Governor, "to say to you, Grassette, that you have still a chance of life." He paused, and Grassette's face took on a look of bewilderment and vague anxiety. A chance of life what did it mean? "Reprieve?" he asked in a hoarse voice. The Governor shook his head. "Not yet; but there is a chance. Something has happened.
Have you forgotten God, Grassette? We used to remember Him in the Church of St. Francis down there at home." There was a moment's silence, in which Grassette's head was thrust forwards, his eyes staring into space. The old Seigneur had touched a vulnerable corner in his nature. Presently he said in a low voice: "To be free altogether. . . . What is his name? Who is he?"
Have you forgotten God, Grassette? We used to remember Him in the Church of St. Francis down there at home." There was a moment's silence, in which Grassette's head was thrust forward, his eyes staring into space. The old Seigneur had touched a vulnerable corner in his nature. Presently he said in a low voice: "To be free altogether!... What is his name? Who is he?"
"Jacques Grassette!" he cried in consternation and emotion, for under another name the murderer had been tried and sentenced, nor had his identity been established the case was so clear, the defence had been perfunctory, and Quebec was very far away. "M'sieu'!" was the respectful response, and Grassette's fingers twitched.
"I have come," said the Governor, "to say to you, Grassette, that you have still a chance of life." He paused, and Grassette's face took on a look of bewilderment and vague anxiety. A chance of life what did it mean? "Reprieve?" he asked in a hoarse voice. The Governor shook his head. "Not yet; but there is a chance. Something has happened.
"It was my sister's son you killed, Grassette," said the Governor in a low, strained voice. "Nom de Dieu!" said Grassette hoarsely. "I did not know, Grassette," the Governor went on "I did not know it was you." "Why did you come, m'sieu'?" "Call him 'your Honour," said the Sheriff sharply. Grassette's face hardened, and his look turned upon the Sheriff was savage and forbidding.
"Jacques Grassette!" he cried in consternation and emotion, for under another name the murderer had been tried and sentenced, nor had his identity been established the case was so clear, the defence had been perfunctory, and Quebec was very far away. "M'sieu'!" was the respectful response, and Grassette's fingers twitched.
"Hold you does he need a Sheriff to tell him when to spik?" was Grassette's surly comment. Then he turned to the Governor. "Let us speak in French," he said in patois. "This rope-twister will not understan'. He is no good I spit at him." The Governor nodded, and, despite the Sheriff's protest, they spoke in French, Grassette with his eyes intently fixed on the other, eagerly listening.
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