CHAPTER XXI. SIC ITUR AD ASTRA.
The old hall of Belmont had been decorated for many a feast since thetimes of its founder, the Intendant Talon; but it had never contained anobler company of fair women and brave men, the pick and choice of theirrace, than to-day met round the hospitable and splendid table of theBourgeois Philibert in honor of the fete of his gallant son.
Dinner was duly and decorously despatched. The social fashion of NewFrance was not for the ladies to withdraw when the wine followedthe feast, but to remain seated with the gentlemen, purifying theconversation, and by their presence restraining the coarseness which wasthe almost universal vice of the age.
A troop of nimble servitors carried off the carved dishes and fragmentsof the splendid patisseries of Maitre Guillot, in such a state ofdemolition as satisfied the critical eye of the chief cook that theefforts of his genius had been very successful. He inspected the dishesthrough his spectacles. He knew, by what was left, the ability of theguests to discriminate what they had eaten and to do justice to hisskill. He considered himself a sort of pervading divinity, whoseculinary ideas passing with his cookery into the bodies of the guestsenabled them, on retiring from the feast, to carry away as part ofthemselves some of the fine essence of Maitre Gobet himself.
At the head of his table, peeling oranges and slicing pineapples for theladies in his vicinity, sat the Bourgeois himself, laughing, jesting,and telling anecdotes with a geniality that was contagious. "'The godsare merry sometimes,' says Homer, 'and their laughter shakes Olympus!'"was the classical remark of Father de Berey, at the other end ofthe table. Jupiter did not laugh with less loss of dignity than theBourgeois.
Few of the guests did not remember to the end of their lives themajestic and happy countenance of the Bourgeois on this memorable day.
At his right hand sat Amelie de Repentigny and the Count de laGalissoniere. The Governor, charmed with the beauty and agreeableness ofthe young chatelaine, had led her in to dinner, and devoted himselfto her and the Lady de Tilly with the perfection of gallantry of agentleman of the politest court in Europe. On his left sat the radiant,dark-eyed Hortense de Beauharnais. With a gay assumption of independenceHortense had taken the arm of La Corne St. Luc, and declared she wouldeat no dinner unless he would be her cavalier and sit beside her! Thegallant old soldier surrendered at discretion. He laughingly consentedto be her captive, he said, for he had no power and no desire but toobey. Hortense was proud of her conquest. She seated herself by hisside with an air of triumph and mock gravity, tapping him with her fanwhenever she detected his eye roving round the table, compassionating,she affirmed, her rivals, who had failed where she had won in securingthe youngest, the handsomest, and most gallant of all the gentlemen atBelmont.
"Not so fast, Hortense!" exclaimed the gay Chevalier; "you have capturedme by mistake! The tall Swede--he is your man! The other ladies all knowthat, and are anxious to get me out of your toils, so that you may befree to ensnare the philosopher!"
"But you don't wish to get away from me! I am your garland, Chevalier,and you shall wear me to-day. As for the tall Swede, he has no idea of afair flower of our sex except to wear it in his button-hole,--thisway!" added she, pulling a rose out of a vase and archly adorning theChevalier's vest with it.
"All pretence and jealousy, mademoiselle. The tall Swede knows howto take down your pride and bring you to a proper sense of your falseconceit of the beauty and wit of the ladies of New France."
Hortense gave two or three tosses of defiance to express her emphaticdissent from his opinions.
"I wish Herr Kalm would lend me his philosophic scales, to weigh yoursex like lambs in market," continued La Corne St. Luc; "but I fear I amtoo old, Hortense, to measure women except by the fathom, which is themeasure of a man."
"And the measure of a man is the measure of an angel too scriptum est,Chevalier!" replied she. Hortense had ten merry meanings in her eye,and looked as if bidding him select which he chose. "The learned Swede'sphilosophy is lost upon me," continued she, "he can neither weigh bysample nor measure by fathom the girls of New France!" She tapped himon the arm. "Listen to me, chevalier," said she, "you are neglecting mealready for sake of Cecile Tourangeau!" La Corne was exchanging somegay badinage with a graceful, pretty young lady on the other side of thetable, whose snowy forehead, if you examined it closely, was marked witha red scar, in figure of a cross, which, although powdered and partiallyconcealed by a frizz of her thick blonde hair, was sufficiently distinctto those who looked for it; and many did so, as they whispered to eachother the story of how she got it.
Le Gardeur de Repentigny sat by Cecile, talking in a very sociablemanner, which was also commented on. His conversation seemed to bevery attractive to the young lady, who was visibly delighted with theattentions of her handsome gallant.
At this moment a burst of instruments from the musicians, who occupied agallery at the end of the hall, announced a vocal response to the toastof the King's health, proposed by the Bourgeois. "Prepare yourself forthe chorus, Chevalier," exclaimed Hortense. "Father de Berey is going tolead the royal anthem!"
"Vive le Roi!" replied La Corne. "No finer voice ever sang Mass, orchanted 'God Save the King!' I like to hear the royal anthem from thelips of a churchman rolling it out ore rotundo, like one of the Psalmsof David. Our first duty is to love God,--our next to honor the King!and New France will never fail in either!" Loyalty was ingrained inevery fibre of La Corne St. Luc.
"Never, Chevalier. Law and Gospel rule together, or fall together! Butwe must rise," replied Hortense, springing up.
The whole company rose simultaneously. The rich, mellow voice ofthe Rev. Father de Berey, round and full as the organ of Ste. Marie,commenced the royal anthem composed by Lulli in honor of Louis Quatorze,upon an occasion of his visit to the famous Convent of St. Cyr, incompany with Madame de Maintenon.
The song composed by Madame Brinon was afterwards translated intoEnglish, and words and music became, by a singular transposition, thenational hymn of the English nation.
"God Save the King!" is no longer heard in France. It was buried withthe people's loyalty, fathoms deep under the ruins of the monarchy. Butit flourishes still with pristine vigor in New France, that olive branchgrafted on the stately tree of the British Empire. The broad chest andflexile lips of Father de Berey rang out the grand old song in tonesthat filled the stately old hall:
"'Grand Dieu! Sauvez le Roi! Grand Dieu! Sauvez le Roi! Sauvez le Roi! Que toujours glorieux. Louis Victorieux, Voye ses ennemis Toujours soumis!'"
The company all joined in the chorus, the gentlemen raising their cups,the ladies waving their handkerchiefs, and male and female blending ina storm of applause that made the old walls ring with joy. Songs andspeeches followed in quick succession, cutting as with a golden bladethe hours of the dessert into quinzaines of varied pleasures.
The custom of the times had reduced speechmaking after dinner to aminimum. The ladies, as Father de Berey wittily remarked, preferredprivate confession to public preaching; and long speeches, withoutinlets for reply, were the eighth mortal sin which no lady wouldforgive.
The Bourgeois, however, felt it incumbent upon himself to express hisdeep thanks for the honor done his house on this auspicious occasion.And he remarked that the doors of Belmont, so long closed by reason ofthe absence of Pierre, would hereafter be ever open to welcome allhis friends. He had that day made a gift of Belmont, with all itsbelongings, to Pierre, and he hoped,--the Bourgeois smiled as hesaid this, but he would not look in a quarter where his words struckhome,--he hoped that some one of Quebec's fair daughters would assistPierre in the menage of his home and enable him to do honor to hishousekeeping.
Immense was the applause that followed the short, pithy speech of theBourgeois. The ladies blushed and praised, the gentlemen cheered andenjoyed in anticipation the renewal of the old hospitalities of Belmont.
"The skies are raining plum cakes!" exclaimed the Chevalier La Corneto his
lively companion. "Joy's golden drops are only distilled in thealembic of woman's heart! What think you, Hortense? Which of Quebec'sfair daughters will be willing to share Belmont with Pierre?"
"Oh, any of them would!" replied she. "But why did the Bourgeoisrestrict his choice to the ladies of Quebec, when he knew I came fromthe Three Rivers?"
"Oh, he was afraid of you, Hortense; you would make Belmont too goodfor this world! What say you, Father de Berry? Do you ever walk on thecape?"
The friar, in a merry mood, had been edging close to Hortense. "I love,of all things, to air my gray gown on the cape of a breezy afternoon,"replied the jovial Recollet, "when the fashionables are all out, andevery lady is putting her best foot foremost. It is then I feel surethat Horace is the next best thing to the Homilies:
"'Teretesque suras laudo, et integer ego!'"
The Chevalier La Corne pinched the shrugging shoulder of Hortense as heremarked, "Don't confess to Father de Berey that you promenade on thecape! But I hope Pierre Philibert will soon make his choice! We areimpatient to visit him and give old Provencal the butler a run everyday through those dark crypts of his, where lie entombed the choicestvintages of sunny France."
The Chevalier said this waggishly, for the benefit of old Provencal, whostood behind his chair looking half alarmed at the threatened raid uponhis well-filled cellars.
"But if Pierre should not commit matrimony," replied Hortense, "whatwill become of him? and especially what will become of us?"
"We will drink his wine all the same, good fellow that he is! But Pierrehad as lief commit suicide as not commit matrimony; and who would not?Look here, Pierre Philibert," continued the old soldier, addressing him,with good-humored freedom. "Matrimony is clearly your duty, Pierre;but I need not tell you so: it is written on your face plain as the waybetween Peronne and St. Quintin,--a good, honest way as ever was trodby shoe leather, and as old as Chinon in Touraine! Try it soon, my boy.Quebec is a sack full of pearls!" Hortense pulled him mischievouslyby the coat, so he caught her hand and held it fast in his, while heproceeded: "You put your hand in the sack and take out the first thatoffers. It will be worth a Jew's ransom! If you are lucky to find thefairest, trust me it will be the identical pearl of great price forwhich the merchant went and sold all that he had and bought it. Is notthat Gospel, Father de Berey? I think I have heard something like thatpreached from the pulpit of the Recollets?"
"Matter of brimborion, Chevalier! not to be questioned by laymen! Wordsof wisdom for my poor brothers of St. Francis, who, after renouncing theworld, like to know that they have renounced something worth having!But not to preach a sermon on your parable, Chevalier, I willpromise Colonel Philibert that when he has found the pearl of greatprice,"--Father de Berey, who knew a world of secrets, glanced archly atAmelie as he said this,--"the bells of our monastery shall ring out sucha merry peal as they have not rung since fat Brother Le Gros broke hiswind, and short Brother Bref stretched himself out half a yard pullingthe bell ropes on the wedding of the Dauphin."
Great merriment followed the speech of Father de Berey. Hortense ralliedthe Chevalier, a good old widower, upon himself not travelling the plainway between Peronne and St. Quintin, and jestingly offered herselfto travel with him, like a couple of gypsies carrying their budget ofhappiness pick-a-back through the world.
"Better than that!" La Corne exclaimed. Hortense was worthy to ride onthe baggage-wagons in his next campaign! Would she go? She gave him herhand. "I expect nothing else!" said she. "I am a soldier's daughter, andexpect to live a soldier's wife, and die a soldier's widow. But a truceto jest. It is harder to be witty than wise," continued she. "What isthe matter with Cousin Le Gardeur?" Her eyes were fixed upon him as heread a note just handed to him by a servant. He crushed it in his handwith a flash of anger, and made a motion as if about to tear it, but didnot. He placed it in his bosom. But the hilarity of his countenance wasgone.
There was another person at the table whose quick eye, drawn by sisterlyaffection, saw Le Gardeur's movement before even Hortense. Amelie wasimpatient to leave her seat and go beside him, but she could not at themoment leave the lively circle around her. She at once conjectured thatthe note was from Angelique des Meloises. After drinking deeply twoor three times Le Gardeur arose, and with a faint excuse that did notimpose on his partner left the table. Amelie rose quickly also, excusingherself to the Bourgeois, and joined her brother in the park, where thecool night air blew fresh and inviting for a walk.
Pretty Cecile Touraugeau had caught a glimpse of the handwriting as shesat by the side of Le Gardeur, and guessed correctly whence it had comeand why her partner so suddenly left the table.
She was out of humor; the red mark upon her forehead grew redder as shepouted in visible discontent. But the great world moves on, carryingalternate storms and sunshine upon its surface. The company rose fromthe table--some to the ball-room, some to the park and conservatories.Cecile's was a happy disposition, easily consoled for her sorrows. Everytrace of her displeasure was banished and almost forgotten from themoment the gay, handsome Jumonville de Villiers invited her out to thegrand balcony, where, he said, the rarest pastime was going on.
And rare pastime it was! A group of laughing but half-serious girls weregathered round Doctor Gauthier, urging him to tell their fortunes byconsulting the stars, which to-night shone out with unusual brilliancy.
At that period, as at the present, and in every age of the world, thefemale sex, like the Jews of old, asks signs, while the Greeks--that is,the men--seek wisdom.
The time never was, and never will be, when a woman will cease to becurious,--when her imagination will not forecast the decrees of fatein regard to the culminating event of her life and her wholenature--marriage. It was in vain Doctor Gauthier protested his inabilityto read the stars without his celestial eye-glasses.
The ladies would not accept his excuses: he knew the heavens by heart,they said, and could read the stars of destiny as easily as the Bishophis breviary.
In truth the worthy doctor was not only a believer but an adept inastrology. He had favored his friends with not a few horoscopes andnativities, when pressed to do so. His good nature was of the substanceof butter: any one that liked could spread it over their bread. Manygood men are eaten up in that way by greedy friends.
Hortense de Beauharnais urged the Doctor so merrily and soperseveringly, promising to marry him herself if the stars said so, thathe laughingly gave way, but declared he would tell Hortense's fortunefirst, which deserved to be good enough to make her fulfil her promisejust made.
She was resigned, she said, and would accept any fate from the rank of aqueen to a cell among the old maids of St. Cyr! The girls of Quebec hungall their hopes on the stars, bright and particular ones especially.They were too loving to live single, and too proud to live poor. But shewas one who would not wait for ships to land that never came, and plumsto drop into her mouth that never ripened. Hortense would be ruled bythe stars, and wise Doctor Gauthier should to-night declare her fate.
They all laughed at this free talk of Hortense. Not a few of the ladiesshrugged their shoulders and looked askance at each other, but manypresent wished they had courage to speak like her to Doctor Gauthier.
"Well, I see there is nothing else for it but to submit to my rulingstar, and that is you, Hortense!" cried the Doctor; "so please stand upbefore me while I take an inventory of your looks as a preliminary totelling your fortune."
Hortense placed herself instantly before him. "It is one of theprivileges of our dry study," remarked he, as he looked admiringly onthe tall, charming figure and frank countenance of the girl before him.
"The querent," said he gravely, "is tall, straight, slender, arms long,hands and feet of the smallest, hair just short of blackness,piercing, roving eyes, dark as night and full of fire, sight quick, andtemperament alive with energy, wit, and sense."
"Oh, tell my fortune, not my character! I shall shame of energy, wit,and sense, if I hear such flattery, Doctor!" exclaimed s
he, shakingherself like a young eagle preparing to fly.
"We shall see what comes of it, Hortense!" replied he gravely, as withhis gold-headed cane he slowly quartered the heavens like an ancientaugur, and noted the planets in their houses. The doctor was quiteserious, and even Hortense, catching his looks, stood very silent as hestudied the celestial aspects,
"Carrying through ether in perpetual round Decrees and resolutions of the Gods."
"The Lord of the ascendant," said he, "is with the Lord of the seventhin the tenth house. The querent, therefore, shall marry the man made forher, but not the man of her youthful hope and her first love.
"The stars are true," continued he, speaking to himself rather than toher. "Jupiter in the seventh house denotes rank and dignity by marriage,and Mars in sextile foretells successful wars. It is wonderful,Hortense! The blood of Beauharnais shall sit on thrones more than one;it shall rule France, Italy, and Flanders, but not New France, forSaturn in quintile looks darkly upon the twins who rule America!"
"Come, Jumonville," exclaimed Hortense, "congratulate Claude on thegreatness awaiting the house of Beauharnais, and condole with me that Iam to see none of it myself! I do not care for kings and queens in thethird generation, but I do care for happy fortune in the present forthose I know and love! Come, Jumonville, have your fortune told now,to keep me in countenance. If the Doctor hits the truth for you I shallbelieve in him for myself."
"That is a good idea, Hortense," replied Jumonville; "I long ago hung myhat on the stars--let the Doctor try if he can find it."
The Doctor, in great good humor, surveyed the dark, handsome face andlithe, athletic figure of Jumonville de Villiers. He again raised hiscane with the gravity of a Roman pontifex, marking off his templum inthe heavens. Suddenly he stopped. He repeated more carefully his survey,and then turned his earnest eyes upon the young soldier.
"You see ill-fortune for me, Doctor!" exclaimed Jumonville, with bright,unflinching eyes, as he would look on danger of any kind.
"The Hyleg, or giver of life, is afflicted by Mars in the eighth house,and Saturn is in evil aspect in the ascendant!" said the Doctor slowly.
"That sounds warlike, and means fighting I suppose, Doctor. It is abrave fortune for a soldier. Go on!" Jumonville was in earnest now.
"The pars fortunae," continued the Doctor, gazing upward, "rejoices ina benign aspect with Venus. Fame, true love, and immortality will beyours, Jumonville de Villiers; but you will die young under the flag ofyour country and for sake of your King! You will not marry, but all themaids and matrons of New France will lament your fate with tears, andfrom your death shall spring up the salvation of your native land--how,I see not; but decretum est, Jumonville, ask me no more!"
A thrill like a stream of electricity passed through the company. Theirmirth was extinguished, for none could wholly free their minds fromthe superstition of their age. The good Doctor sat down, and wiped hismoistened eye-glasses. He would tell no more to-night, he said. He hadreally gone too far, making jest of earnest and earnest of jest, andbegged pardon of Jumonville for complying with his humor.
The young soldier laughed merrily. "If fame, immortality, and true loveare to be mine, what care I for death? It will be worth giving up lifefor, to have the tears of the maids and matrons of New France to lamentyour fate. What could the most ambitious soldier desire more?"
The words of Jumonville struck a kindred chord in the bosom of Hortensede Beauharnais. They were stamped upon her heart forever. A few yearsafter this prediction, Jumonville de Villiers lay slain under a flag oftruce on the bank of the Monongahela, and of all the maids and matronsof New France who wept over his fate, none shed more and bitterer tearsthan his fair betrothed bride, Hortense de Beauharnais.
The prediction of the Sieur Gauthier was repeated and retold as astrangely true tale; it passed into the traditions of the people, andlingered in their memory generations after the festival of Belmont wasutterly forgotten.
When the great revolt took place in the English Colonies, the death ofthe gallant Jumonville de Villiers was neither forgotten nor forgiven byNew France. Congress appealed in vain for union and help from Canadians.Washington's proclamations were trodden under foot, and his troopsdriven back or captured. If Canada was lost to France partly through thedeath of Jumonville, it may also be said that his blood helped to saveit to England. The ways of Providence are so mysterious in working outthe problems of national existence that the life or death of a singleindividual may turn the scales of destiny over half a continent.
But all these events lay as yet darkly in the womb of the future. Thegallant Jumonville who fell, and his brother Coulon who took his "noblerevenge" upon Washington by sparing his life, were to-day the gayest ofthe gay throng who had assembled to do honor to Pierre Philibert.
While this group of merry guests, half in jest, half in earnest, weretrying to discover in the stars the "far-reaching concords" that mouldedthe life of each, Amelie led her brother away from the busy grounds nearthe mansion, and took a quiet path that led into the great park whichthey entered.
A cool salt-water breeze, following the flood tide that was coming upthe broad St. Lawrence, swept their faces as Amelie walked by the sideof Le Gardeur, talking in her quiet way of things familiar, and of homeinterests until she saw the fever of his blood abate and his thoughtsreturn into calmer channels. Her gentle craft subdued his impetuousmood--if craft it might be called--for more wisely cunning than allcraft is the prompting of true affection, where reason responds likeinstinct to the wants of the heart.
They sat down upon a garden seat overlooking the great valley. None ofthe guests had sauntered out so far, but Amelie's heart was full; shehad much to say, and wished no interruption.
"I am glad to sit in this pretty spot, Amelie," said he, at last, forhe had listened in silence to the sweet, low voice of his sister as shekept up her half sad, half glad monologue, because she saw it pleasedhim. It brought him into a mood in which she might venture to talk ofthe matter that pressed sorely upon her heart.
"A little while ago, I feared I might offend you, Le Gardeur," said she,taking his hand tenderly in hers, "if I spoke all I wished. I never didoffend you that I remember, brother, did I?"
"Never, my incomparable sister; you never did, and never could. Saywhat you will, ask me what you like; but I fear I am unworthy of youraffection, sister."
"You are not unworthy; God gave you as my only brother, you will neverbe unworthy in my eyes. But it touches me to the quick to suspect othersmay think lightly of you, Le Gardeur."
He flinched, for his pride was touched, but he knew Amelie was right."It was weakness in me," said he, "I confess it, sister. To pour wineupon my vexation in hope to cure it, is to feed a fire with oil. Tothrow fire into a powder magazine were wisdom compared with my folly,Amelie: I was angry at the message I got at such a time. Angelique desMeloises has no mercy upon her lovers!"
"Oh, my prophetic heart! I thought as much! It was Angelique, then, sentyou the letter you read at table?"
"Yes, who else could have moved me so? The time was ill-chosen, but Isuspect, hating the Bourgeois as she does, Angelique intended to call mefrom Pierre's fete. I shall obey her now, but tonight she shall obeyme, decide to make or mar me, one way or other! You may read the letter,Amelie, if you will."
"I care not to read it, brother; I know Angelique too well not to fearher influence over you. Her craft and boldness were always a terror toher companions. But you will not leave Pierre's fete tonight?" addedshe, half imploringly; for she felt keenly the discourtesy to PierrePhilibert.
"I must do even that, sister! Were Angelique as faulty as she is fair, Ishould only love her the more for her faults, and make them my own. Wereshe to come to me like Herodias with the Baptist's head in a charger, Ishould outdo Herod in keeping my pledge to her."
Amelie uttered a low, moaning cry. "O my dear infatuated brother, it isnot in nature for a De Repentigny to love irrationally like that! Whatmaddening philtre have you
drank, to intoxicate you with a woman whouses you so imperiously? But you will not go, Le Gardeur!" addedshe, clinging to his arm. "You are safe so long as you are with yoursister,--you will be safe no longer if you go to the Maison des Meloisestonight!"
"Go I must and shall, Amelie! I have drank the maddening philtre,--Iknow that, Amelie, and would not take an antidote if I had one! Theworld has no antidote to cure me. I have no wish to be cured of love forAngelique, and in fine I cannot be, so let me go and receive the rodfor coming to Belmont and the reward for leaving it at her summons!" Heaffected a tone of levity, but Amelie's ear easily detected the falsering of it.
"Dearest brother!" said she, "are you sure Angelique returns, or iscapable of returning, love like yours? She is like the rest of us, weakand fickle, merely human, and not at all the divinity a man in his fancyworships when in love with a woman." It was in vain, however, for Amelieto try to persuade her brother of that.
"What care I, Amelie, so long as Angelique is not weak and fickle tome?" answered he; "but she will think her tardy lover is both weak andfickle unless I put in a speedy appearance at the Maison des Meloises!"He rose up as if to depart, still holding his sister by the hand.
Amelie's tears flowed silently in the darkness. She was not willing toplant a seed of distrust in the bosom of her brother, yet she rememberedbitterly and indignantly what Angelique had said of her intentionstowards the Intendant. Was she using Le Gardeur as a foil to set off herattractions in the eyes of Bigot?
"Brother!" said Amelie, "I am a woman, and comprehend my sex better thanyou. I know Angelique's far-reaching ambition and crafty ways. Are yousure, not in outward persuasion but in inward conviction, that she lovesyou as a woman should love the man she means to marry?"
Le Gardeur felt her words like a silver probe that searched his heart.With all his unbounded devotion, he knew Angelique too well not to feela pang of distrust sometimes, as she showered her coquetries upon everyside of her. It was the overabundance of her love, he said, but hethought it often fell like the dew round Gideon's fleece, refreshing allthe earth about it, but leaving the fleece dry. "Amelie!" said he, "youtry me hard, and tempt me too, my sister, but it is useless. Angeliquemay be false as Cressida to other men, she will not be false to me! Shehas sworn it, with her hand in mine, before the altar of Notre Dame. Iwould go down to perdition with her in my arms rather than be a crownedking with all the world of women to choose from and not get her."
Amelie shuddered at his vehemence, but she knew how useless wasexpostulation. She wisely refrained, deeming it her duty, like a goodsister, to make the best of what she could not hinder. Some jasminesoverhung the seat; she plucked a handful, and gave them to him as theyrose to return to the house.
"Take them with you, Le Gardeur," said she, giving him the flowers,which she tied into a wreath; "they will remind Angelique that she has apowerful rival in your sister's love."
He took them as they walked slowly back. "Would she were like you,Amelie, in all things!" said he. "I will put some of your flowers in herhair to-night for your sake, sister."
"And for her own! May they be for you both an augury of good! Mind andreturn home, Le Gardeur, after your visit. I shall sit up to await yourarrival, to congratulate you;" and, after a pause, she added, "or toconsole you, brother!"
"Oh, no fear, sister!" replied he, cheeringly. "Angelique is true assteel to me. You shall call her my betrothed tomorrow! Good-by! And nowgo dance with all delight till morning." He kissed her and departed forthe city, leaving her in the ball-room by the side of the Lady de Tilly.
Amelie related to her aunt the result of her conversation with LeGardeur, and the cause of his leaving the fete so abruptly. The Lady deTilly listened with surprise and distress. "To think," said she, "ofLe Gardeur asking that terrible girl to marry him! My only hope is, shewill refuse him. And if it be as I hear, I think she will!"
"It would be the ruin of Le Gardeur if she did, aunt! You cannot thinkhow determined he is on this marriage."
"It would be his ruin if she accepted him!" replied the Lady de Tilly."With any other woman Le Gardeur might have a fair chance of happiness;but none with her! More than one of her lovers lies in a bloody graveby reason of her coquetries. She has ruined every man whom she hasflattered into loving her. She is without affection. Her thoughts arecovered with a veil of deceit impenetrable. She would sacrifice thewhole world to her vanity. I fear, Amelie, she will sacrifice Le Gardeuras ruthlessly as the most worthless of her admirers."
"We can only hope for the best, aunt; and I do think Angelique loves LeGardeur as she never loved any other."
They were presently rejoined by Pierre Philibert. The Lady de Tilly andAmelie apologized for Le Gardeur's departure,--he had been compelled togo to the city on an affair of urgency, and had left them to make hisexcuses. Pierre Philibert was not without a shrewd perception of thestate of affairs. He pitied Le Gardeur, and excused him, speaking mostkindly of him in a way that touched the heart of Amelie. The ball wenton with unflagging spirit and enjoyment. The old walls fairly vibratedwith the music and dancing of the gay company.
The music, like the tide in the great river that night, reached itsflood only after the small hours had set in. Amelie had given herhand to Pierre for one or two dances, and many a friendly, many a halfenvious guess was made as to the probable Chatelaine of Belmont.