Le chien d'or. English
CHAPTER XXXVI. THE BROAD, BLACK GATEWAY OF A LIE.
The Count de la Galissoniere was seated in his cabinet a week after thearrival of La Corriveau on her fatal errand. It was a plain, comfortableapartment he sat in, hung with arras, and adorned with maps andpictures. It was there he held his daily sittings for the ordinarydespatch of business with a few such councillors as the occasionrequired to be present.
The table was loaded with letters, memorandums, and bundles of paperstied up in official style. Despatches of royal ministers, bearing thebroad seal of France. Reports from officers of posts far and near in NewFrance lay mingled together with silvery strips of the inner bark of thebirch, painted with hieroglyphics, giving accounts of war parties onthe eastern frontier and in the far west, signed by the totems of Indianchiefs in alliance with France. There was a newly-arrived parcelof letters from the bold, enterprising Sieur de Verendrye, who wasexploring the distant waters of the Saskatchewan and the land of theBlackfeet, and many a missive from missionaries, giving account of wildregions which remain yet almost a terra incognita to the governmentwhich rules over them.
At the Governor's elbow sat his friend Bishop Pontbriand with asecretary immersed in papers. In front of him was the Intendant withVarin, Penisault, and D'Estebe. On one side of the table, La CorneSt. Luc was examining some Indian despatches with Rigaud de Vaudreuil;Claude Beauharnais and the venerable Abbe Piquet overlooking with deepinterest the rude pictorial despatches in the hands of La Corne. Twogentlemen of the law, in furred gowns and bands, stood waiting at oneend of the room, with books under their arms and budgets of papersin their hands ready to argue before the Council some knotty pointof controversy arising out of the concession of certain fiefs andjurisdictions granted under the feudal laws of the Colony.
The Intendant, although personally at variance with several of thegentlemen sitting at the council table, did not let that fact be visibleon his countenance, nor allow it to interfere with the despatch ofpublic business.
The Intendant was gay and easy to-day, as was his wont, whollyunsuspecting the foul treason that was plotting by the woman headmired against the woman he loved. His opinions were sometimes loftilyexpressed, but always courteously as well as firmly.
Bigot never drooped a feather in face of his enemies, public or private,but laughed and jested with all at table in the exuberance of a spiritwhich cared for no one, and only reined itself in when it was politic toflatter his patrons and patronesses at Versailles.
The business of the Council had begun. The mass of papers which layat the left hand of the Governor were opened and read seriatim by hissecretary, and debated, referred, decided upon, or judgment postponed,as the case seemed best to the Council.
The Count was a man of method and despatch, clear-headed and singularlyfree from prejudice, ambiguity, or hesitation. He was honest and frankin council, as he was gallant on the quarter-deck. The Intendant wasnot a whit behind him in point of ability and knowledge of the politicalaffairs of the colony, and surpassed him in influence at the courtof Louis XV., but less frank, for he had much to conceal, and keptauthority in his own hands as far as he was able.
Disliking each other profoundly from the total divergence of theircharacters, opinions, and habits, the Governor and Intendant still metcourteously at the council-table, and not without a certain respect forthe rare talents which each recognized in the other.
Many of the papers lying before them were on subjects relating tothe internal administration of the Colony,--petitions of the peoplesuffering from the exactions of the commissaries of the army,remonstrances against the late decrees of the Intendant, and arrets ofthe high court of justice confirming the right of the Grand Company toexercise certain new monopolies of trade.
The discussions were earnest, and sometimes warm, on these importantquestions. La Corne St. Luc assailed the new regulations of theIntendant in no measured terms of denunciation, in which he wassupported by Rigaud de Vaudreuil and the Chevalier de Beauharnais. ButBigot, without condescending to the trouble of defending the ordinanceson any sound principle of public policy, which he knew to be useless andimpossible with the clever men sitting at the table, contented himselfwith a cold smile at the honest warmth of La Corne St. Luc, and simplybade his secretary read the orders and despatches from Versailles, inthe name of the royal ministers, and approved of by the King himself ina Lit de Justice which had justified every act done by him in favor ofthe Grand Company.
The Governor, trammelled on all sides by the powers conferred upon theIntendant, felt unable to exercise the authority he needed to vindicatethe cause of right and justice in the colony. His own instructionsconfirmed the pretensions of the Intendant, and of the Grand Company.The utmost he could do in behalf of the true interests of the peopleand of the King, as opposed to the herd of greedy courtiers and selfishbeauties who surrounded him, was to soften the deadening blows theydealt upon the trade and resources of the Colony.
A decree authorizing the issue of an unlimited quantity of paper bills,the predecessors of the assignats of the mother country, was stronglyadvocated by Bigot, who supported his views with a degree of financialsophistry which showed that he had effectively mastered the science ofdelusion and fraud of which Law had been the great teacher in France,and the Mississippi scheme, the prototype of the Grand Company, thegreat exemplar.
La Corne St. Luc opposed the measure forcibly. "He wanted no paperlies," he said, "to cheat the husbandman of his corn and the laborer ofhis hire. If the gold and silver had all to be sent to France to pamperthe luxuries of a swarm of idlers at the Court, they could buy and sellas they had done in the early days of the Colony, with beaver skins forlivres, and muskrat skins for sous. These paper bills," continued he,"had been tried on a small scale by the Intendant Hoquart, and ona small scale had robbed and impoverished the Colony. If this newMississippi scheme propounded by new Laws,"--and here La Corne glancedboldly at the Intendant,--"is to be enforced on the scale proposed,there will not be left in the Colony one piece of silver to rub againstanother. It will totally beggar New France, and may in the end bankruptthe royal treasury of France itself if called on to redeem them."
The discussion rolled on for an hour. The Count listened in silentapprobation to the arguments of the gentlemen opposing the measure, buthe had received private imperative instructions from the King to aidthe Intendant in the issue of the new paper money. The Count reluctantlysanctioned a decree which filled New France with worthless assignats,the non-redemption of which completed the misery of the Colony and aidedmaterially in its final subjugation by the English.
The pile of papers upon the table gradually diminished as they wereopened and disposed of. The Council itself was getting weary of a longsitting, and showed an evident wish for its adjournment. The gentlemenof the law did not get a hearing of their case that day, but were wellcontent to have it postponed, because a postponement meant new feesand increased costs for their clients. The lawyers of Old France, whomLaFontaine depicts in his lively fable as swallowing the oyster andhanding to each litigant an empty shell, did not differ in any essentialpoint from their brothers of the long robe in New France, and differednothing at all in the length of their bills and the sharpness of theirpractice.
The breaking up of the Council was deferred by the Secretary openinga package sealed with the royal seal, and which contained other sealedpapers marked SPECIAL for His Excellency the Governor. The Secretaryhanded them to the Count, who read over the contents with deep interestand a changing countenance. He laid them down and took them up again,perused them a second time, and passed them over to the Intendant,who read them with a start of surprise and a sudden frown on hisdark eyebrows. But he instantly suppressed it, biting his nether lip,however, with anger which he could not wholly conceal.
He pushed the papers back to the Count with a nonchalant air, as ofa man who had quite made up his mind about them, saying in a carelessmanner,--
"The commands of Madame la Marquise de Pompadour shall be complied
with," said he. "I will order strict search to be made for the missingdemoiselle, who, I suspect, will be found in some camp or fort, sharingthe couch of some lively fellow who has won favor in her bright eyes."
Bigot saw danger in these despatches, and in the look of the Governor,who would be sure to exercise the utmost diligence in carrying out thecommands of the court in this matter.
Bigot for a few moments seemed lost in reflection. He looked round thetable, and, seeing many eyes fixed upon him, spoke boldly, almost with atone of defiance.
"Pray explain to the councillors the nature of this despatch, yourExcellency!" said he to the Count. "What it contains is not surprisingto any one who knows the fickle sex, and no gentleman can avoid feelingfor the noble Baron de St. Castin!"
"And for his daughter, too, Chevalier!" replied the Governor. "It isonly through their virtues that such women are lost. But it is thestrangest tale I have heard in New France!"
The gentlemen seated at the table looked at the Governor in somesurprise. La Corne St. Luc, hearing the name of the Baron de St. Castin,exclaimed, "What, in God's name, your Excellency,--what is there in thatdespatch affecting my old friend and companion in arms, the Baron de St.Castin?"
"I had better explain," replied the Count; "it is no secret in France,and will not long be a secret here.
"This letter, gentlemen," continued he, addressing the councillors, andholding it open in his hand, "is a pathetic appeal from the Baron deSt. Castin, whom you all know, urging me by every consideration offriendship, honor, and public duty, to aid in finding his daughter,Caroline de St. Castin, who has been abducted from her home in Acadia,and who, after a long and vain search for her by her father in France,where it was thought she might have gone, has been traced to thisColony, where it is said she is living concealed under some strangealias or low disguise.
"The other despatch," continued the Governor, "is from the Marquise dePompadour, affirming the same thing, and commanding the most rigoroussearch to be made for Mademoiselle de St. Castin. In language hardlyofficial, the Marquise threatens to make stockfish, that is her phrase,of whosoever has had a hand in either the abduction or the concealmentof the missing lady."
The attention of every gentleman at the table was roused by the wordsof the Count. But La Corne St. Luc could not repress his feelings. Hesprang up, striking the table with the palm of his hand until it soundedlike the shot of a petronel.
"By St. Christopher the Strong!" exclaimed he, "I would cheerfully havelost a limb rather than heard such a tale told by my dear old friend andcomrade, about that angelic child of his, whom I have carried in my armslike a lamb of God many and many a time!
"You know, gentlemen, what befell her!" The old soldier looked as if hecould annihilate the Intendant with the lightning of his eyes. "I affirmand will maintain that no saint in heaven was holier in her purity thanshe was in her fall! Chevalier Bigot, it is for you to answer thesedespatches! This is your work! If Caroline de St. Castin be lost, youknow where to find her!"
Bigot started up in a rage mingled with fear, not of La Corne St. Luc,but lest the secret of Caroline's concealment at Beaumanoir shouldbecome known. The furious letter of La Pompadour repressed the promptingof his audacious spirit to acknowledge the deed openly and defy theconsequences, as he would have done at any less price than the loss ofthe favor of his powerful and jealous patroness.
The broad, black gateway of a lie stood open to receive him, and angryas he was at the words of St. Luc, Bigot took refuge in it--and lied.
"Chevalier La Corne!" said he, with a tremendous effort at self-control,"I do not affect to misunderstand your words, and in time and place willmake you account for them! but I will say, for the contentment ofHis Excellency and of the other gentlemen at the council-table, thatwhatever in times past have been my relations with the daughter of theBaron de St. Castin, and I do not deny having shown her many courtesies,her abduction was not my work, and if she be lost, I do not know whereto find her!"
"Upon your word as a gentleman," interrogated the Governor, "will youdeclare you know not where she is to be found?"
"Upon my word as a gentleman!" The Intendant's face was suffused withpassion. "You have no right to ask that! Neither shall you, Count deLa Galissoniere! But I will myself answer the despatch of Madame laMarquise de Pompadour! I know no more, perhaps less, than yourself orthe Chevalier La Corne St. Luc, where to look for the daughter of theBaron de St. Castin; and I proclaim here that I am ready to cross swordswith the first gentleman who shall dare breathe a syllable of doubtagainst the word of Francois Bigot!"
Varin and Penisault exchanged a rapid glance, partly of doubt, partly ofsurprise. They knew well, for Bigot had not concealed from his intimateassociates the fact that a strange lady, whose name they had not heard,was living in the secret chambers of the Chateau of Beaumanoir. Bigotnever told any who she was or whence she came. Whatever suspicion theymight entertain in their own minds, they were too wary to express it.On the contrary, Varin, ever more ready with a lie than Bigot, confirmedwith a loud oath the statement of the Intendant.
La Corne St. Luc looked like a baffled lion as Rigaud de Vaudreuil,with the familiarity of an old friend, laid his hand over his mouth,and would not let him speak. Rigaud feared the coming challenge, andwhispered audibly in the ear of St. Luc,--
"Count a hundred before you speak, La Corne! The Intendant is to betaken on his word just at present, like any other gentleman! Fightfor fact, not for fancy! Be prudent, La Corne! we know nothing to thecontrary of what Bigot swears to!"
"But I doubt much to the contrary, Rigaud!" replied La Corne, withaccent of scorn and incredulity.
The old soldier chafed hard under the bit, but his suspicions were notfacts. He felt that he had no solid grounds upon which to accuse theIntendant in the special matter referred to in the letters. He was,moreover, although hot in temperament, soon master of himself, and usedto the hardest discipline of self-control.
"I was, perhaps, over hasty, Rigaud!" replied La Corne St. Luc,recovering his composure; "but when I think of Bigot in the past, how canI but mistrust him in the present? However, be the girl above ground orunder ground, I will, par Dieu, not leave a stone unturned in New Franceuntil I find the lost child of my old friend! La Corne St. Luc pledgeshimself to that, and he never broke his word!"
He spoke the last words audibly, and looked hard at the Intendant. Bigotcursed him twenty times over between his teeth, for he knew La Corne'sindomitable energy and sagacity, that was never at fault in findingor forcing a way to whatever he was in search of. It would not be longbefore he would discover the presence of a strange lady at Beaumanoir,thought Bigot, and just as certain would he be to find out that she wasthe lost daughter of the Baron de St. Castin.
The good Bishop rose up when the dispute waxed warmest between theIntendant and La Corne St. Luc. His heart was eager to allay the strife;but his shrewd knowledge of human nature, and manifold experience ofhuman quarrels, taught him that between two such men the intercession ofa priest would not, at that moment, be of any avail. Their own notionsof honor and self-respect would alone be able to restrain them fromrushing into unseemly excesses of language and act; so the goodBishop stood with folded arms looking on, and silently praying foran opportunity to remind them of the seventh holy beatitude, "Beatipacifici!"
Bigot felt acutely the difficulty of the position he had been placedin by the act of La Pompadour, in sending her despatch to the Governorinstead of to himself. "Why had she done that?" said he savagely tohimself. "Had she suspected him?"
Bigot could not but conclude that La Pompadour suspected him in thismatter. He saw clearly that she would not trust the search after thisgirl to him, because she knew that Caroline de St. Castin had formerlydrawn aside his heart, and that he would have married her but for theinterference of the royal mistress. Whatever might have been done beforein the way of sending Caroline back to Acadia, it could not be done now,after he had boldly lied before the Governor and the honorable Council.
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One thing seemed absolutely necessary, however. The presence of Carolineat Beaumanoir must be kept secret at all hazards, until--until,--andeven Bigot, for once, was ashamed of the thoughts which rushed into hismind,--until he could send her far into the wilderness, among savagetribes, to remain there until the search for her was over and the affairforgotten.
This was his first thought. But to send her away into the wilderness wasnot easy. A matter which in France would excite the gossip and curiosityof a league or two of neighborhood would be carried on the tongues ofIndians and voyageurs in the wilds of North America for thousands ofmiles. To send her away without discovery seemed difficult. To retainher at Beaumanoir in face of the search which he knew would be made bythe Governor and the indomitable La Corne St. Luc, was impossible. Thequandary oppressed him. He saw no escape from the dilemma; but, to thecredit of Bigot be it said, that not for a moment did he entertain athought of doing injury to the hapless Caroline, or of taking advantageof her lonely condition to add to her distress, merely to save himself.
He fell into a train of sober reflections unusual to him at any time,and scarcely paid any attention to the discussion of affairs at thecouncil-table for the rest of the sitting. He rose hastily at last,despairing to find any outlet of escape from the difficulties whichsurrounded him in this unlucky affair.
With His Excellency's consent, he said, they would do no more businessthat day. He was tired, and would rise. Dinner was ready at the Palace,where he had some wine of the golden plant of Ay-Ay, which he wouldmatch against the best in the Castle of St. Louis, if His Excellency andthe other gentlemen would honor him with their company.
The Council, out of respect to the Intendant, rose at once. Thedespatches were shoved back to the secretaries, and for the presentforgotten in a buzz of lively conversation, in which no man shone togreater advantage than Bigot.
"It is but a fast-day, your Reverence," said he, accosting the AbbePiquot, "but if you will come and say grace over my graceless table, Iwill take it kindly of you. You owe me a visit, you know, and I owe youthanks for the way in which you looked reproof, without speaking it,upon my dispute with the Chevalier La Corne. It was better than words,and showed that you know the world we live in as well as the world youteach us to live for hereafter."
The Abbe was charmed with the affability of Bigot, and nourishing somehope of enlisting him heartily in behalf of his favorite scheme ofIndian policy, left the Castle in his company. The Intendant alsoinvited the Procureur du Roi and the other gentlemen of the law, whofound it both politic, profitable, and pleasant to dine at the bountifuland splendid table of the Palace.
The Governor, with three or four most intimate friends, the Bishop, LaCorne St. Luc, Rigaud de Vaudreuil, and the Chevalier de Beauharnais,remained in the room, conversing earnestly together on the affair ofCaroline de St. Castin, which awoke in all of them a feeling of deepestpity for the young lady, and of sympathy for the distress of her father.They were lost in conjectures as to the quarter in which a search forher might be successful.
"There is not a fort, camp, house, or wigwam, there is not a hole orhollow tree in New France where that poor broken-hearted girl may havetaken refuge, or been hid by her seducer, but I will find her out,"exclaimed La Corne St. Luc. "Poor girl! poor hapless girl! How can Iblame her? Like Magdalene, if she sinned much, it was because she lovedmuch, and cursed be either man or woman who will cast a stone at her!"
"La Corne," replied the Governor, "the spirit of chivalry will notwholly pass away while you remain to teach by your example the duty ofbrave men to fair women. Stay and dine with me, and we will considerthis matter thoroughly! Nay, I will not have an excuse to-day. Myold friend, Peter Kalm, will dine with us too; he is a philosopher asperfectly as you are a soldier! So stay, and we will have somethingbetter than tobacco-smoke to our wine to-day!"
"The tobacco-smoke is not bad either, your Excellency!" replied LaCorne, who was an inveterate smoker. "I like your Swedish friend. Hecracks nuts of wisdom with such a grave air that I feel like a boysitting at his feet, glad to pick up a kernel now and then. My practicalphilosophy is sometimes at fault, to be sure, in trying to fit histheories but I feel that I ought to believe many things which I do notunderstand."
The Count took his arm familiarly, and, followed by the other gentlemen,proceeded to the dining-hall, where his table was spread in a stylewhich, if less luxurious than the Intendant's, left nothing to bedesired by guests who were content with plenty of good cheer, admirablecooking, adroit service, and perfect hospitality.