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This new noise may have aroused her, for Rene lifted her head as though suddenly startled and glanced about in my direction. "We have passed the village?" she asked, rather listlessly. "Yes; it is already out of sight. From the number of lights burning I imagine our escape has been discovered." "And what will they do?" an echo of dismay in her voice.
I wonder whether it occurred to Sir Adrian, as it did to me, that, if we had been so very anxious that I should be restored to the care of Pulwick with the briefest delay, I might have gone with René that same day, wrapped up in a certain cloak which had done good warming service already; and that, as René had constructed with his cunning hands a sufficient if not very pretty sandal for my damaged foot out of some old piece of felt, I might have walked from the beach to the fishing village; and that there, no doubt, a cart or a donkey might have conveyed me home in triumph.
René of Lorraine was formally admitted to the League of Constance on April 18, 1475, and was now ready openly to abjure the "protection" he had once accepted from Burgundy. There was a touch of old King René's theatrical taste in his grandson's method of despatching the herald who rode up to the duke's gorgeous tent of red velvet on May 10th.
Personally courageous, his bravery was of a high order, if the spirit of self-devotion called it into existence. In this his courage was more akin to that of women than of men. If duty drove him he would go where the devil drags most people, and Rene Drucquer was not by any means the first man or woman whose life has been wrecked, wasted, and utterly misled by a blind devotion to duty.
This was done under the superintendence of René, man of all work, and with the mechanical intermediary of rollers and capstan, by a small white horse shackled to a lever, and patiently grinding his steady rounds on the sand. His preliminary task achieved, the man, after a few friendly smacks, set the beast free to trot back to his loose pasture: proceeding himself to unship his cargo.
They sat together in the main room of the house where M. Roussillon kept his books, his curiosities of Indian manufacture collected here and there, and his surplus firearms, swords, pistols, and knives, ranged not unpleasingly around the walls. Of course, along with the letter, Rene bore the news, so interesting to himself, of the boat's tempting cargo just discharged at the river house.
"Who is here, and what is thy business with me at this hour?" "Sh!" replied Réné, in a whisper. "It is I, Réné de Veaux. Ask me nothing, but admit me, that I may instantly communicate with my uncle the commandant. I have tidings of the utmost importance for him alone."
"Yes, I believe I am." "I saw Steve Elliott and 'Rene Burnham driving that way a few minutes ago. I thought they was over at the camp." Mrs. Wickersham had resumed her work and had her back toward her daughter. "They weren't there to-day," said Em listlessly. "Does she go with him much?" There was a rising resentment in Mrs. Wickersham's voice. Em glanced at her anxiously.
Ever since the days of Cartier the French had known that savages inhabited the banks of the St Lawrence, but Champlain is the pioneer in that great body of literature on the North American Indian, which thenceforth continued without interruption in France to the René and Atala of Chateaubriand. Above all other subjects, the Indians are Champlain's chief theme.
"You sign it," he said, pushing the letter toward me; and I got one of those sudden inspirations that there is no explaining the right idea for handling fox Rene the banker. "So you're afraid to sign that, are you? All right; give it here, I'll sign it; pass me your pen. But you'll come along with me tonight, my lad, and make your explanations to the French in the morning!"
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