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Updated: July 14, 2025
The town was afoot, and he had earned a halter for his pains. He was by no means certain that he could kill this champion and carry off the girl. Moreover, he did not want Iberville's life, for such devils have their likes and dislikes, and he had fancied the chivalrous youngster from the first. But he doubted only for an instant. What was such a lad's life compared with his revenge?
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.
"And to-morrow?" he asked, inwardly determining to stay in the port of New York and to carry her off as his wife; but, unlike Bucklaw, with her consent. At that moment the governor returned, and Iberville's question was never answered. Nor did he dine at Government House, for word came secretly that English ships were coming from Boston to capture him.
If we can't be loyal to our first loves, why to anything?" "Even so, Pierre; but few at your age arrive at that. Most people learn it when they have bartered away every dream. It is enough to have a few honest emotions very few and stand by them till all be done." "Even hating?" Iberville's eyes were eager. "There is such a thing as a noble hate."
He was not understood, but he had pointed to the white standard of France flaring with the golden lilies; and perhaps the drawn swords and the martial manner of the little band who had donned gay trappings, it being Iberville's birthday conveyed in some way his meaning. The bows of the strangers stayed drawn, awaiting word from the leader.
Iberville, seeing that Walley would not attack, joined Sainte-Helene and Maricourt at the battery, and one of Iberville's shots brought down the admiral's flagstaff, with its cross of St. George. It drifted towards the shore, and Maurice Joval went out in a canoe under a galling fire and brought it up to Frontenac.
What crowding emotions must have filled up the breast of Sauvolle, Bienville, and their handful of companions, when they beheld the sails of Iberville's fleet fading in the distance, like transient clouds!
Wherever those four maskers went there were cries of delight: "Ho, ho, ho! see there! here! there! a group of first colonists! One of Iberville's Dragoons! don't you remember great-great grandfather Fusilier's portrait the gilded casque and heron plumes? And that one behind in the fawn-skin leggings and shirt of birds' skins is an Indian Queen.
Through Iberville's mind there ran a hundred incidents of his life, one chasing upon the other without sequence phantasmagoria out of the scene house of memory: The light upon the arms of De Tracy's soldiers when they marched up Mountain Street many years before The frozen figure of a man standing upright in the plains A procession of canoes winding down past Two Mountains, the wild chant of the Indians joining with the romantic songs of the voyageurs A girl flashing upon the drawn swords of two lads King Louis giving his hand to one of these lads to kiss A lady of the Court for whom he might easily have torn his soul to rags, but for a fair-faced English girl, ever like a delicate medallion in his eye A fight with the English in the Spaniards' country His father blessing him as he went forth to France A dark figure taking a hundred shapes, and yet always meaning the same as when he Iberville said over the governor's table in New York, "Foolish boy!"
You got it; and almost in your own harbour I found you, and fought you and a greater ship with you, and ran you down. As your ship sank you sprang from it to my own ship a splendid leap. Then you were my guest, and we could not fight; all all unfortunate." He paused. Gering was cool; he saw Iberville's purpose, and he was ready to respond to it. "And then?" asked Gering.
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