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Updated: June 21, 2025
"No victory is worth that," I heard him say, and I listened as if he spoke of another's sorrow. "It is not necessary, Montlivet." "It is absolutely necessary. The war chiefs are jealous. Without a leader they will fall on one another and we shall have sickening massacre. You cannot lead them, for you do not speak their language." "But even granting that" I touched his sleeve.
I want some one to win at this, since I must lose. I will take the prisoner west with me." Cadillac seized me. "Montlivet, you mean this?" he demanded. His grip ate into my arm. I reached up, and unclasped his fingers. "Unhand me!" I grumbled. "I must be on my way." But he paid no heed. "You mean this?" he reiterated, taking a fresh grip. "The prisoner will hamper you." I tore my arm away.
He spoke rapidly, his hand on his sword, and his great shoulders lifted as if eager to meet their new burden. He turned to me with a smile that would have conquered enmity in a wolf. "This is great news, Montlivet. I could almost ask you to drink the health of the Baron, and all his scurvy, seditious crew.
And then I lay alone with myself and my beliefs, and fought to know where my feet were set. There was tempest without my tent, but not within. In the valleys where I struggled there was great quiet. And at last I found certainty. In an hour I went to find Cadillac. He would not let me speak. "Montlivet, we will stop this attack if we can hold the Indians." "It is not possible to hold the Indians.
I had been long and openly in Madame Bertheau's train, and this was a land of gossips. I turned to the lieutenant. "Madame de Montlivet, where is she housed?" He looked relieved. "She has a room next door. Starling we have taken in with us. I would rather have a tethered elk. He is so big he fills the whole place." Now, square issues please me.
The chiefs had come to me with their hands out, and I had thrown water in their faces. They had reason for their anger. Cadillac saw the pantomime and lumbered from his seat. He seized my arm. "Montlivet, you are insane! You are insane!" I pointed him to the woods. "Monsieur, I have dropped my sword. I shall go into the forest for a time." He shook me as if I were in a torpor. "Your wife"
He hailed me without preface. "Where do you find food for your laughter in this forsaken country, Montlivet? I have watched you swagger up and down with a smile on your face for the last hour. What is the jest?" In truth, there was no jest in me by the time he finished. My own thought had just called him a swaggerer, and now he clapped the same phrase back at me.
Cadillac pushed me out of earshot of the men. "Montlivet, you cannot understand. Listen to me." I tried to shake him away. "There is nothing more that you can say. Monsieur, unhand me. My wife left with Starling. She is undoubtedly in the Seneca camp. Pemaou and Starling are in league, and they go to the Senecas because they hope to make terms on behalf of the English with the western tribes.
Keep watch of Pemaou. He will make trouble if he can." Cadillac looked at the horizon. "Montlivet, I have bad news. Pemaou has gone." "Gone! Where?" "I don't know. To the Seneca camp, probably. His canoes have just left." I tapped the ground. I was tired and angry. "You should have prevented such a possibility," I let myself say. But he kept his temper. "What could I have done?" he asked quietly.
"And a good cook will catch his hare before he talks of putting it in the pot. Where is your Iroquois hare, Monsieur de la Mothe-Cadillac?" The commandant shook his head. "My hare is still at large," he confessed. "Though just now Come, Monsieur de Montlivet, let us to plain speech. We are talking as slantingly as savages. I have a Huron messenger at my quarters. Come with me, and interpret."
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