Le chien d'or. English
CHAPTER XXIV. THE HURRIED QUESTION OF DESPAIR.
Le Gardeur plunged headlong down the silent street, neither knowing norcaring whither. Half mad with grief, half with resentment, he ventedcurses upon himself, upon Angelique, upon the world, and looked uponProvidence itself as in league with the evil powers to thwart hishappiness,--not seeing that his happiness in the love of a woman likeAngelique was a house built on sand, which the first storm of life wouldsweep away.
"Holla! Le Gardeur de Repentigny! Is that you?" exclaimed a voice in thenight. "What lucky wind blows you out at this hour?" Le Gardeur stoppedand recognized the Chevalier de Pean. "Where are you going in such adesperate hurry?"
"To the devil!" replied Le Gardeur, withdrawing his hand from De Pean's,who had seized it with an amazing show of friendship. "It is the onlyroad left open to me, and I am going to march down it like a garde ducorps of Satan! Do not hold me, De Pean! Let go my arm! I am going tothe devil, I tell you!"
"Why, Le Gardeur," was the reply, "that is a broad and well-travelledroad--the king's highway, in fact. I am going upon it myself, as fastand merrily as any man in New France."
"Well, go on it then! March either before or after me, only don't gowith me, De Pean; I am taking the shortest cuts to get to the end ofit, and want no one with me." Le Gardeur walked doggedly on; but De Peanwould not be shaken off. He suspected what had happened.
"The shortest cut I know is by the Taverne de Menut, where I am goingnow," said he, "and I should like your company, Le Gardeur! Our set arehaving a gala night of it, and must be musical as the frogs of Beauportby this hour! Come along!" De Pean again took his arm. He was notrepelled this time.
"I don't care where I go, De Pean!" replied he, forgetting his disliketo this man, and submitting to his guidance,--the Taverne de Menut wasjust the place for him to rush into and drown his disappointment inwine. The two moved on in silence for a few minutes.
"Why, what ails you, Le Gardeur?" asked his companion, as they walked onarm in arm. "Has fortune frowned upon the cards, or your mistress proveda fickle jade like all her sex?"
His words were irritating enough to Le Gardeur. "Look you, De Pean," saidhe, stopping, "I shall quarrel with you if you repeat such remarks.But you mean no mischief I dare say, although I would not swear it!" LeGardeur looked savage.
De Pean saw it would not be safe to rub that sore again. "Forgive me,Le Gardeur!" said he, with an air of sympathy well assumed. "I meant noharm. But you are suspicious of your friends to-night as a Turk of hisharem."
"I have reason to be! And as for friends, I find only such friends asyou, De Pean! And I begin to think the world has no better!" The clockof the Recollets struck the hour as they passed under the shadow ofits wall. The brothers of St. Francis slept quietly on their peacefulpillows, like sea birds who find in a rocky nook a refuge from theocean storms. "Do you think the Recollets are happy, De Pean?" asked he,turning abruptly to his companion.
"Happy as oysters at high water, who are never crossed in love, exceptof their dinner! But that is neither your luck nor mine, Le Gardeur!" DePean was itching to draw from his companion something with reference towhat had passed with Angelique.
"Well, I would rather be an oyster than a man, and rather be dead thaneither!" was the reply of Le Gardeur. "How soon, think you, will brandykill a man, De Pean?" asked he abruptly, after a pause of silence.
"It will never kill you, Le Gardeur, if you take it neat at MasterMenut's. It will restore you to life, vigor, and independence of man andwoman. I take mine there when I am hipped as you are, Le Gardeur. It isa specific for every kind of ill-fortune,--I warrant it will cure andnever kill you."
They crossed the Place d'Armes. Nothing in sight was moving except thesentries who paced slowly like shadows up and down the great gateway ofthe Castle of St. Louis.
"It is still and solemn as a church-yard here," remarked De Pean; "allthe life of the place is down at Menut's! I like the small hours," addedhe as the chime of the Recollets ceased. "They are easily counted,and pass quickly, asleep or awake. Two o'clock in the morning isthe meridian of the day for a man who has wit to wait for it atMenut's!--these small hours are all that are worth reckoning in a man'slife!"
Without consenting to accompany De Pean, Le Gardeur suffered himself tobe led by him. He knew the company that awaited him there--the wildestand most dissolute gallants of the city and garrison were usuallyassembled there at this hour.
The famous old hostelry was kept by Master Menut, a burly Bretonwho prided himself on keeping everything full and plenty about hishouse--tables full, tankards full, guests full, and himself very full.The house was to-night lit up with unusual brilliance, and was fullof company--Cadet, Varin, Mercier, and a crowd of the friends andassociates of the Grand Company. Gambling, drinking, and conversing inthe loudest strain on such topics as interested their class, were theamusements of the night. The vilest thoughts, uttered in the low argotof Paris, were much affected by them. They felt a pleasure in thissort of protest against the extreme refinement of society, just as thecollegians of Oxford, trained beyond their natural capacity in morals,love to fall into slang and, like Prince Hal, talk to every tinker inhis own tongue.
De Pean and Le Gardeur were welcomed with open arms at the Taverne deMenut. A dozen brimming glasses were offered them on every side. De Peandrank moderately. "I have to win back my losses of last night," said he,"and must keep my head clear." Le Gardeur, however, refused nothingthat was offered him. He drank with all, and drank every description ofliquor. He was speedily led up into a large, well-furnished room, wheretables were crowded with gentlemen playing cards and dice for pilesof paper money, which was tossed from hand to hand with the greatestnonchalance as the game ended and was renewed.
Le Gardeur plunged headlong into the flood of dissipation. He played,drank, talked argot, and cast off every shred of reserve. He doubled hisstakes, and threw his dice reckless and careless whether he lost or won.His voice overbore that of the stoutest of the revellers. He embraced DePean as his friend, who returned his compliments by declaring Le Gardeurde Repentigny to be the king of good fellows, who had the "strongesthead to carry wine and the stoutest heart to defy dull care of any manin Quebec."
De Pean watched with malign satisfaction the progress of Le Gardeur'sintoxication. If he seemed to flag, he challenged him afresh to drink tobetter fortune; and when he lost the stakes, to drink again to spite illluck.
But let a veil be dropped over the wild doings of the Taverne de Menut.Le Gardeur lay insensible at last upon the floor, where he would haveremained had not some of the servants of the inn who knew him lifted himup compassionately and placed him upon a couch, where he lay, breathingheavily like one dying. His eyes were fixed; his mouth, where the kissesof his sister still lingered, was partly opened, and his hands wereclenched, rigid as a statue's.
"He is ours now!" said De Pean to Cadet. "He will not again put his headunder the wing of the Philiberts!"
The two men looked at him, and laughed brutally.
"A fair lady whom you know, Cadet, has given him liberty to drinkhimself to death, and he will do it."
"Who is that? Angelique?" asked Cadet.
"Of course; who else? and Le Gardeur won't be the first or last manshe has put under stone sheets," replied De Pean, with a shrug of hisshoulders.
"Gloria patri filioque!" exclaimed Cadet, mockingly; "the Honnetes Genswill lose their trump card. How did you get him away from Belmont, DePean?"
"Oh, it was not I! Angelique des Meloises set the trap and whistled thecall that brought him," replied De Pean.
"Like her, the incomparable witch!" exclaimed Cadet with a hearty laugh."She would lure the very devil to play her tricks instead of his own.She would beat Satan at his best game to ruin a man."
"It would be all the same, Cadet, I fancy--Satan or she! But where isBigot? I expected him here."
"Oh, he is in a tantrum to-night, and would not come. That piece of hisat Beaumanoir is a thorn in his flesh, and a sn
ow-ball on his spirits.She is taming him. By St. Cocufin! Bigot loves that woman!"
"I told you that before, Cadet. I saw it a month ago, and was sure of iton that night when he would not bring her up to show her to us."
"Such a fool, De Pean, to care for any woman! What will Bigot do withher, think you?"
"How should I know? Send her adrift some fine day I suppose, down theRiviere du Loup. He will, if he is a sensible man. He dare not marry anywoman without license from La Pompadour, you know. The jolly fish-womanholds a tight rein over her favorites. Bigot may keep as many women asSolomon--the more the merrier; but woe befall him if he marries withoutLa Pompadour's consent! They say she herself dotes on Bigot,--that isthe reason." De Pean really believed that was the reason; and certainlythere was reason for suspecting it.
"Cadet! Cadet!" exclaimed several voices. "You are fined a basket ofchampagne for leaving the table."
"I'll pay it," replied he, "and double it; but it is hot as Tartarus inhere. I feel like a grilled salmon." And indeed, Cadet's broad, sensualface was red and glowing as a harvest moon. He walked a little unsteadytoo, and his naturally coarse voice sounded thick, but his hard brainnever gave way beyond a certain point under any quantity of liquor.
"I am going to get some fresh air," said he. "I shall walk as far as theFleur-de-Lis. They never go to bed at that jolly old inn."
"I will go with you!" "And I!" exclaimed a dozen voices.
"Come on then; we will all go to the old dog-hole, where they keep thebest brandy in Quebec. It is smuggled of course, but that makes it allthe better."
Mine host of the Taverne de Menut combatted this opinion of the goodnessof the liquors at the Fleur-de-Lis. His brandy had paid the King'sduties, and bore the stamp of the Grand Company, he said; and heappealed to every gentleman present on the goodness of his liquors.
Cadet and the rest took another round of it to please the landlord, andsallied out with no little noise and confusion. Some of them struckup the famous song which, beyond all others, best expressed the gay,rollicking spirit of the French nation and of the times of the oldregime:
"'Vive Henri Quatre! Vive le Roi vaillant! Ce diable a quatre A le triple talent, De boire et de battre, Et d'etre un vert galant!'"
When the noisy party arrived at the Fleur-de-Lis, they entered withoutceremony into a spacious room--low, with heavy beams and with roughlyplastered walls, which were stuck over with proclamations of governorsand intendants and dingy ballads brought by sailors from French ports.
A long table in the middle of the room was surrounded by a lot offellows, plainly of the baser sort,--sailors, boatmen, voyageurs,--inrough clothes, and tuques--red or blue,--upon their heads. Every one hada pipe in his mouth. Some were talking with loose, loquacious tongues;some were singing; their ugly, jolly visages--half illumined by thelight of tallow candles stuck in iron sconces on the wall--were worthyof the vulgar but faithful Dutch pencils of Schalken and Teniers. Theywere singing a song as the new company came in.
At the head of the table sat Master Pothier, with a black earthen mug ofNorman cider in one hand and a pipe in the other. His budget of law hungon a peg in the corner, as quite superfluous at a free-and-easy at theFleur-de-Lis.
Max Grimeau and Blind Bartemy had arrived in good time for the eel pie.They sat one on each side of Master Pothier, full as ticks and merry asgrigs; a jolly chorus was in progress as Cadet entered.
The company rose and bowed to the gentlemen who had honored them witha call. "Pray sit down, gentlemen; take our chairs!" exclaimed MasterPothier, officiously offering his to Cadet, who accepted it as well asthe black mug, of which he drank heartily, declaring old Norman cidersuited his taste better than the choicest wine.
"We are your most humble servitors, and highly esteem the honor of yourvisit," said Master Pothier, as he refilled the black mug.
"Jolly fellows!" replied Cadet, stretching his legs refreshingly,"this does look comfortable. Do you drink cider because you like it, orbecause you cannot afford better?"
"There is nothing better than Norman cider, except Cognac brandy,"replied Master Pothier, grinning from ear to ear. "Norman cider is fitfor a king, and with a lining of brandy is drink for a Pope! It willmake a man see stars at noonday. Won't it, Bartemy?"
"What! old turn-penny! are you here?" cried Cadet, recognizing the oldbeggar of the gate of the Basse Ville.
"Oh, yes, your Honor!" replied Bartemy, with his professional whine,"pour l'amour de Dieu!"
"Gad! you are the jolliest beggar I know out of the Friponne," repliedCadet, throwing him a crown.
"He is not a jollier beggar than I am, your Honor," said Max Grimeau,grinning like an Alsatian over a Strasbourg pie. "It was I sang bass inthe ballad as you came in--you might have heard me, your Honor?"
"To be sure I did; I will be sworn there is not a jollier beggar inQuebec than you, old Max! Here is a crown for you too, to drink theIntendant's health and another for you, you roving limb of the law,Master Pothier! Come, Master Pothier! I will fill your ragged gownfull as a demijohn of brandy if you will go on with the song you weresinging."
"We were at the old ballad of the Pont d'Avignon, your Honor," repliedMaster Pothier.
"And I was playing it," interrupted Jean La Marche; "you might haveheard my violin, it is a good one!" Jean would not hide his talent ina napkin on so auspicious an occasion as this. He ran his bow over thestrings and played a few bars,--"that was the tune, your Honor."
"Ay, that was it! I know the jolly old song! Now go on!" Cadet thrusthis thumbs into the armholes of his laced waistcoat and listenedattentively; rough as he was, he liked the old Canadian music.
Jean tuned his fiddle afresh, and placing it with a knowing jerk underhis chin, and with an air of conceit worthy of Lulli, began to sing andplay the old ballad:
"'A St. Malo, beau port de mer, Trois navires sont arrives, Charges d'avoine, charges de bled; Trois dames s'en vont les merchander!'"
"Tut!" exclaimed Varin, "who cares for things that have no more point inthem than a dumpling! give us a madrigal, or one of the devil's dittiesfrom the Quartier Latin!"
"I do not know a 'devil's ditty,' and would not sing one if I did,"replied Jean La Marche, jealous of the ballads of his own New France."Indians cannot swear because they know no oaths, and habitans cannotsing devil's ditties because they never learned them; but 'St. Malo,beau port de mer,'--I will sing that with any man in the Colony!"
The popular songs of the French Canadians are simple, almost infantine,in their language, and as chaste in expression as the hymns of othercountries. Impure songs originate in classes who know better, and revelfrom choice in musical slang and indecency.
"Sing what you like! and never mind Varin, my good fellow," said Cadet,stretching himself in his chair; "I like the old Canadian ballads betterthan all the devil's ditties ever made in Paris! You must sing yourdevil's ditties yourself, Varin; our habitans won't,--that is sure!"
After an hour's roystering at the Fleur-de-Lis the party of gentlemenreturned to the Taverne de Menut a good deal more unsteady and moreobstreperous than when they came. They left Master Pothier seated inhis chair, drunk as Bacchus, and every one of the rest of his companionsblind as Bartemy.
The gentlemen, on their return to the Taverne de Menut, found De Pean ina rage. Pierre Philibert had followed Amelie to the city, and learningthe cause of her anxiety and unconcealed tears, started off with thedetermination to find Le Gardeur.
The officer of the guard at the gate of the Basse Ville was able todirect him to the right quarter. He hastened to the Taverne de Menut,and in haughty defiance of De Pean, with whom he had high words, he gotthe unfortunate Le Gardeur away, placed him in a carriage, and took himhome, receiving from Amelie such sweet and sincere thanks as he thoughta life's service could scarcely have deserved.
"Par Dieu! that Philibert is a game-cock, De Pean," exclaimed Cadet, tothe savage annoyance of the Secretary. "He has pluck and impu
dence forten gardes du corps. It was neater done than at Beaumanoir!" Cadet satdown to enjoy a broad laugh at the expense of his friend over the secondcarrying off of Le Gardeur.
"Curse him! I could have run him through, and am sorry I did not,"exclaimed De Pean.
"No, you could not have run him through, and you would have been sorryhad you tried it, De Pean," replied Cadet. "That Philibert is not assafe as the Bank of France to draw upon. I tell you it was well foryourself you did not try, De Pean. But never mind," continued Cadet,"there is never so bad a day but there is a fair to-morrow after it,so make up a hand at cards with me and Colonel Trivio, and put moneyin your purse; it will salve your bruised feelings." De Pean failed tolaugh off his ill humor, but he took Cadet's advice, and sat down toplay for the remainder of the night.
"Oh, Pierre Philibert, how can we sufficiently thank you for yourkindness to my dear, unhappy brother?" said Amelie to him, her eyestremulous with tears and her hand convulsively clasping his, as Pierretook leave of her at the door of the mansion of the Lady de Tilly.
"Le Gardeur claims our deepest commiseration, Amelie," replied he; "youknow how this has happened?"
"I do know, Pierre, and shame to know it. But you are so generous ever.Do not blame me for this agitation!" She strove to steady herself, as aship will right up for a moment in veering.
"Blame you! what a thought! As soon blame the angels for being good! ButI have a plan, Amelie, for Le Gardeur--we must get him out of thecity and back to Tilly for a while. Your noble aunt has given me aninvitation to visit the Manor House. What if I manage to accompany LeGardeur to his dear old home?"
"A visit to Tilly in your company would, of all things, delight LeGardeur," said she, "and perhaps break those ties that bind him to thecity."
These were pleasing words to Philibert, and he thought how delightfulwould be her own fair presence also at Tilly.
"All the physicians in the world will not help Le Gardeur as will yourcompany at Tilly!" exclaimed she, with a sudden access of hope. "LeGardeur needs not medicine, only care, and--"
"The love he has set his heart on, Amelie! Men sometimes die when theyfail in that." He looked at her as he said this, but instantly withdrewhis eyes, fearing he had been overbold.
She blushed, and only replied, with absolute indirection, "Oh, I am sothankful to you, Pierre Philibert!" But she gave him, as he left, a lookof gratitude and love which never effaced itself from his memory. Inafter-years, when Pierre Philibert cared not for the light of the sun,nor for woman's love, nor for life itself, the tender, impassionedglance of those dark eyes wet with tears came back to him like a breakin the dark clouds, disclosing the blue heaven beyond; and he longed tobe there.