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"It says a lot for Miss Forty, then," Hannah put in indignantly, "to think you're goin' into your teens before long and that's all you know how to do!" "Miss de Fortier did not come to teach me sewing and knitting, Hannah. She taught me lessons." "Lessons how are you! And what's become of them if she did?
It is strange what a peculiar power of fascination former haunts have for the human mind. The criminal, after he has fled from justice, steals back and skulks about the scene of his crime; the employee thrown from work hangs about the place of his former industry; the schoolboy, truant or expelled, peeps in at the school-gate and taunts the good boys within. M'sieu Fortier was no exception.
On the 15th of March, 1877, Miss Fortier, a pupil of the Laval Normal School, Quebec, deposed that her brother Emilius Fortier, eighteen years of age, and subject for two years to epileptic fits, had been cured the preceding September by a Novena to the Venerable Mother, and the use of the miraculous water.
"Fifty dollars, you know," continued Courcey, taking no heed of his friend's interpolation. M'sieu Fortier made a courtly bow. "Eef Monsieur will call at my 'ouse on de morrow, he may have mon violon," he said huskily; then turned abruptly on his heel, and went down Bourbon Street, his shoulders drawn high as though he were cold.
From around Toulouse Street, where led the entrance to the troisiemes, from the grand stairway, from the entrance to the quatriemes, the human stream poured into the street, nearly all with a song on their lips. M'sieu Fortier stood at the corner, blinking at the beautiful ladies in their carriages.
Then M'sieu Fortier would do jobs of playing here and there, one night for this ball, another night for that soiree dansante, and in the day, work at his trade, that of a cigar-maker. But now for seven years there had been no break in the season, and the little old violinist was happy.
So he stayed outside until all the beautiful women in their warm wraps, a bright-hued chattering throng, came down the grand staircase to their carriages. It was on one of these nights that Courcey and Martel found him shivering at the corner. "Hello, M'sieu Fortier," cried Courcey, "are you ready to let me have that violin yet?" "For shame!" interrupted Martel.
M'sieu Fortier turned back into the room, after bowing his visitors out with old-time French courtliness, and turning to the sleepy white cat, said with a dry sob: "Minesse, dere's only me an' you now." About six days later, Courcey's morning dreams were disturbed by the announcement of a visitor.
As for M'sieu Fortier, he went right on with his song and turned into Bayou Road, his shoulders still shrugged high as though he were cold, and into the quaint little house, where Ma'am Jeanne and the white cat, who always waited up for him at nights, were both nodding over the fire. It was not long after this that the opera closed, and M'sieu went back to his old out-of-season job.
Where Montgomery and his officers held their mess in the winter of 1775. Little or nothing is known of what happened in Montreal during the autumn of 1775, when the Army of Congress held possession of the town. There may, and doubtless were, some sympathizers in the city who frequented the Château Fortier, but the loyalists avoided its vicinity as much as policy permitted.
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