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Updated: May 25, 2025
He was equal to the test, and even Big Moccasin, the chief, grunted sound approval. But every day brought out new capacities for endurance and larger resources; so that Malbrouck, who had known the clash of civilisation with barbarian battle, and deeds both dour and doughty, and who loved a man of might, regarded this youth with increasing favour.
But Malbrouck interrupted: "He lassoed it with his one arm, Margaret. He was determined to do it himself, because, being a superstitious gentleman, as well as a hunter, he had some foolish notion that this capture would propitiate a goddess whom he imagined required offerings of the kind." "It is the privilege of the gods to be merciful," she said.
"Five years later, Pretty Pierre saw them again at Marigold Lake: Malbrouck as agent for the Hudson's Bay Company still poor, but contented. It was at this period that the former visitor again appeared, clothed in purple and fine linen, and, strange as it may seem, succeeded in carrying off the little child, leaving the father and mother broken, but still devoted to each other.
Answer, what art thou?" And he, with a touch of his old insolence, though with something of irony too, for he had hoped for a different fashion of greeting, said: "All, lady, all! The Olympian all! The player of many parts. I am Touchstone, Jacques, and yet Orlando too." "And yet Orlando too, my daughter," said Malbrouck, gravely. "He saved your father from the hoofs of a moose bent on sacrifice.
"The first shot belongs to you, Mr. Thorne," said Malbrouck. "In the shoulder, you know. You have him in good line. I'll take the heifer." Gregory showed all the coolness of an old hunter, though his lips twitched slightly with excitement. He took a short but steady aim, and fired. The beast plunged forward and then fell on his knees. The others broke away.
The Treaty of Utrecht, concluded in 1718, shows that each side was too strong as yet to be crushed. In dismissing Marlborough, Great Britain had lost one of her chief assets. His name had become a terror to France. To this day, both in France and in French Canada, is sung the popular ditty "Monsieur Malbrouck est mort," a song of delight at a report that Marlborough was dead.
Not less gay are they for this deprivation. They are endless talkers, good story tellers, and fond of song and dance. They have preserved some of the popular songs of France, Malbrouck s'en va-t-en guerre, En roulant ma Boule roulant, A la Claire Fontaine, and others and these airs simple, pleasing, a little sad, have become characteristic of French Canada.
These were the words I was maundering with this noble voice of mine: "'The news I bring, fair Lady, Will make your tears run down Put off your rose-red dress so fine And doff your satin gown! Monsieur Malbrouck is dead, alas! And buried, too, for aye; I saw four officers who bore His mighty corse away. ............. We saw above the laurels, His soul fly forth amain.
He was equal to the test, and even Big Moccasin, the chief, grunted sound approval. But every day brought out new capacities for endurance and larger resources; so that Malbrouck, who had known the clash of civilisation with barbarian battle, and deeds both dour and doughty, and who loved a man of might, regarded this youth with increasing favour.
As this thought grew he looked at the face of the girl, then at the faces of the father and mother, and the memory of his boast came back that he would win the stake he laid, to know the story of John and Audrey Malbrouck before this coming Christmas morning. With a faint smile at his own past insolent self, he glanced at the clock. It was eleven. "I have lost my bet," he unconsciously said aloud.
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