CHAPTER XXI
THE SHADOW OF THE GOLDEN DOG
Two old marquises sat together in a parlour in Paris.
"Bring us the best wine in the house," exclaimed one of them, a bronzedand dried soldier in a maroon coat, waving his hand to his lackey, whoresponded and disappeared.
"Nothing," continued the soldier, turning to his friend, "could be toogood for my schoolmate Lotbiniere. Here are two chairs worthy of us,generals among this spindle-shanked regiment. Sit down in that one whileI draw up here opposite. Throw off the wigs; there. We shall see now howmuch of each other remains after our long parting. In India I never worea wig except to receive the Maharajah."
"Excellent, Pierre! There goes mine. Let us sit back and talk ourselvesinto the good old days when you and I were youngsters."
"And a French king ruled Canada."
"And the French regiments marched its soil. Do you remember the hotmorning we stood hand in hand watching the Royal Rousillons wheel intothe Place d'Armes in front of the church?"
"How old were we then?"
"I was eleven; it was my birthday. Don't you remember?"
The wine came in and was set on a little table. The first speaker openeda bottle and poured out two glasses.
Pierre le Gardeur, Knight of St. Louis, Brigadier-General, Governor ofMahe and Marquis de Repentigny--for this was he--was a tall, spare manwhose complexion the suns of the tropics had browned, whose hair waswhitened with foreign service, and whose blue eyes and sensitive,handsome features wore a strange, settled look of melancholy. Evidentlysome long-standing sorrow threw its shadow over his spirit.
His friend, the Marquis de Lotbiniere, was a person of much more worldlyaspect, of largish build and beginning to incline to flesh, but whosedark eyes were steady with the air of business capability andself-possession. The care and finish of his dress and manner showedpronounced pride of rank--a kind of well-regulated ostentation. Hisfamily were descended from the best of the half-dozen petty gentry inthe rude, early days of the colony of his origin. He had by his abilitybecome engineer-in-chief under Montcalm. Yet from the point of view ofthe Versailles nobility--the standard he himself was most ambitious toapply--he was but an obscure colonel, and his title a questionableaffair. He acquired it in this wise.
At the fall of New France the last French Governor, Vaudreuil, passedover to Europe and sold out his Canadian properties. De Lotbiniere, whoremained, bought them for a song, including the chateau in Montreal andseveral large seigniories, chiefly wild lands, but growing in value. Inthe original grant of one of them to the Marquis de Vaudreuil, he foundthat it had been intended as a Canadian marquisate, an honoraryappellation, however, which the Vaudreuils never pursued any further.This lapsed marquisate of the former proprietors gave Lotbiniere hisidea; proprietor of a marquisate, he ought to be a marquis. Hedetermined to find some way of procuring the title for himself. Hevisited Paris as much and long as possible, and, by various devices,kept his name and services before the War Office. During the AmericanRevolution he conceived the project of secretly negotiating with theRevolutionists for the re-transfer of Canada to the French. He persuadedthe War Office to permit him to try his hand in the matter withoutpublicly compromising Versailles, and received, on pressing his request,an equivocal grant of the coveted title, to be attached to his Canadianseigniory, _but only if held of the Crown of France, and not of anyforeign power_. His secret negotiations at Washington failed and werenever heard of. He nevertheless called himself Marquis.
The two gentlemen were united by relationship, for besides theinextricable genealogical links which bound together the chief familiesof the colony, each had espoused a daughter of the Chevalier Chaussegrosde Lery, king's engineer, an excellent gentleman, who, like deLotbiniere, had returned to Canada after its cession and become asubject, a truly loyal one, of the English Crown.
"I expect our good nephew, Louis de Lery, here in a few minutes," saidRepentigny. "He is in the Bodyguard, his father wrote."
"Yes, the company de Villeroy--a fine position."
"I wonder what the boy is like. Has he grown up tall like the de Lerys?"
"Yes, he does them credit, is very distinguished looking, with an airwhich does not allow everybody to be familiar. Some call Louis cold, butwe _noblesse_ ought to have a little of that."
"No, no, Lotbiniere, none of it to white men. Not even to blacks andcoolies, but certainly none of it to white men."
"You speak from India where all French naturally are high-caste."
A look of pain came over Repentigny's features.
"No, Michel, that is not the reason. Alas! I once despised a man oflower degree. My God, how could I do it again!" And his head droppedupon his breast in profound dejection.
Lotbiniere started and paused, looking at him with great sympathy, acruel old remembrance awaking.
"By the curse of heaven, I have never forgotten it," continued theother.
"Stay, stay," said Lotbiniere, leaning over and softly laying a hand onhis arm, "you were blameless; young blood was not to be controlled."
"It haunts me for ever," Repentigny went on; "in my wanderings allaround the world I see the blood of poor Philibert. I see again thatsteep street of old Quebec. I hold again in my hand the requisition forhis rooms. I see the anger on his face, high-spirited citizen that hewas, that I should choose me out the best in his house and treat itsmaster as I did. I feel again my inconsiderate arrogance swelling myveins. I hear his merited reproaches and maledictions. Rage and evilpride overpower me, I draw and lunge. Alas! the flood of life-bloodrushes up the blade and warms my hand here, _here_."
"Calm yourself."
"He follows me."
"Nonsense, Pierre. No one is present," exclaimed Lotbiniere in a tone ofdecision.
"Philibert's son. I met him in Quebec before I fled to France. I met himin Paris before I fled to the East. I met him in Pondicherry. He settlednear me in Mahe. Now he is in Paris again. It is dreadful to bereminded of your crime by an avenger. My death, when it comes, will beby his hand, Michel."
"Have no fear. In twenty hours we can have him safe in a place whencesuch as he never come out."
"That would be more terrible still. Shall I further wrong the wronged?God would be against me as well as remorse. No, when he strikes it willbe just. I do not fear his sword, but the memory of his father's blood,and that would grow redder on my hand if I injured the son. Oh, Michel,is the Golden Dog still over the door of Philibert's house in Quebec?"
"Yes, Pierre; forget these things. Take a glass of wine."
"I remember its inscription"--
"_I am a dog gnawing a bone: In gnawing it I take my repose. A day will come which has not come, When I will bite him who bit me._"
"Philibert, the son, has cut the same on his house at Mahe."
"There, there, we must be bright when young Louis comes."
"With you too, good Michel, I should be brighter. Well, I have spoken ofmy sorrow for the first time in years, and now I feel freer. Yes, thewine is good, better than any they ship to India."
Repentigny and Lotbiniere had just begun to regain their composure whenLouis de Lery entered.
He wore the uniform of the Gardes-du-Corps, the same as Germain'scompany, except that his cross-belt, instead of being of pale blue silkwas of green, the distinguishing mark of the company of Villeroy, ofwhich he was a private. But then it must be remembered that with hiscommission of private in the Bodyguard went the rank and prerogatives ofa lieutenant of cavalry.
On crossing the threshold he stood poised perfectly, and and bowed a bowwhich was a masterpiece. His greetings, though so painfully accurate,were obviously cordial, and after the first were over he smiled andsaid--
"I now, sir, do myself the additional honour of presenting to you myfelicitations upon the happy event which has doubtless brought you toParis."
"Dear nephew, it is the serious state of our possessions in India, owingto the advances of the English there, that brings me to
France. PerhapsI misunderstand."
"I mean, sir, the addition to our family alliances of a Montmorency."
"Indeed, I am unaware of such a distinction. Pray inform me. I have solately arrived."
"Is it so lately, sir, that you have not heard of the forthcomingmarriage of your son, my cousin, with Madame the Baroness de la RocheVernay? Pardon, if you please, my surprise."
"Still more mysterious to me! Of a certainty, my son Charles, yourcousin, is at this moment with his vessel and the Biscay fleet off thecoast of Portugal. I do not understand the chance which can have broughthim to Paris, however much I desire it, nor his alliance to any onehere, for I saw him in person three weeks ago at Lisbon, where he nevermade the slightest reference to any such matter. There is some mistake,I am certain."
"Is he not the only Chevalier de Repentigny?"
"There, can be but one of the name. It is rare."
"Has he not been lately appointed to a lieutenancy in the King'sBodyguard, company of Noailles?"
"Impossible. I left him captain of the ship _La Minerve_. He has not, Iregret to say, the influence to become an officer of the Bodyguard."
"This is something strange," remarked the Marquis de Lotbiniere. "Didyou inquire who this officer was? Suppose, Repentigny, he should be somedistant relative of yours: he might be an addition to our influence atCourt. An officer of the Bodyguard, if we can claim him as a relative,would be better than any alliance we possess, except Vaudreuil, who doesnothing for us."
"There can be no harm in Louis making inquiries."
"I will call upon him. Trust _me_ to find some connection and make useof it."
"Are you still the marvel you were at genealogies, Michel!"
"Genealogy is a power. Louis, I am interested in this new relative. Canyou tell us more about him? Do you know his Province?"
"He is said to be a Canadian."
"A Canadian! Does he say so himself?"
"So report goes."
"Astonishing. How could any Canadian but de Vaudreuil--who owes it tohis exceptional gifts--acquire such influence?"
"They say this Sieur de Repentigny is extraordinarily handsome andagreeable."
"But his name! There are so few Canadian families, you can almost countthem on your fingers--Fleurys, Bleurys, de Lerys, de Lanaudieres, leGardeurs, le Moynes, Beaujeus, Lotbinieres, la Cornes, Salaberrys, andso forth. Can he be of these? He is not a le Gardeur, who alone inCanada could have a right to the appellation 'Repentigny.' Have youheard his family name?"
"He calls himself 'Le Cour de Repentigny.'"
The Marquis quitted his tone of alert judicial inquiry, and thunderedout, like a criminal prosecutor--
"Heavens, I have it!"
"What, Uncle."
"He is an _impostor_. No Canadian named Lecour can be what hepretends--nay, not even a petty gentleman, for I know the whole list byheart to its obscurest members. No Lecour whatever is on it. Who of thatname is at Repentigny? Only the merchant of St. Elphege, my old_protege_. Can it be any of his people! What is the appearance of thisfellow?"
"He is about middle height, cheerful, graceful, hair and eyes black."
"It is that well-looking boy of Lecour's--no other. His father wouldkill himself if he heard of his son duping the highest circles ofVersailles. Poor man, he was the least of the very least when I knew himfirst--a private in my corps. I made him keeper of the canteen. How canthe son of such a one be more than a 'pea-soup.' What insolence andfolly! He shall learn that this kind of rascality is not permitted bythe nobles of France. Beast! animal!"
"See that you make no mistake, Michel. If he is only some foolish youngCanadian, would not a private monition be well?" said Repentigny.
"There is no mistake," answered Lotbiniere, decidedly. "As for lenientdealings, do you think that is the way to keep down the lower classes?The strong hand and the severe example are the only guarantees of socialorder."
The irate Marquis rose from his chair and paced the room.
"Villain! The thought of him drives me beyond myself."
De Lery said little, but noted every word of his uncle's statement, andit slowly took shape in his mind in a steel-cold deadly contempt forLecour.
The true Repentigny alone, his nature long purified of pride, felt nomalice nor indignation against this usurper of his name.