The False Chevalier

  CHAPTER XXXV

  AT ST. ELPHEGE

  All afternoon of the day of his arrival at St. Elphege, lofty clouds hadbeen moving in threatening masses across the sky. When the Lecours wererejoicing together at supper, a storm came on, producing a raw, wetevening, which was not unwelcome to the reunited family, for it keptthem undisturbed.

  Old Lecour, to denote his satisfaction at his son's return, broughtforth his fiddle and played some of the merry airs of the Province, anaction which touched Germain's heart.

  "Is this the noble," exclaimed he to himself, as he looked, with a heartfull of affection, at the roughly-dressed, homely figure, "whom I wouldproduce to the Noailles, the Montmorencys and the Vaudreuils, as myfather? Perhaps not; but I would offer him before sounder judges astheir superior." But notwithstanding his goodwill, there is a limitwhere content is impossible in such things.

  The Versailles _elegant_ could not but see in everything about him aninevitable contrast with his late life. He felt unable to re-accustomhimself to the low-ceiled chambers, the rude appliances, the roughdress, the country manners, the accent and phrases of hisfamily--things in respect of which he had at one time believed themquite superior. Whole-heartedly concealing his impressions and hisdejection, however, he made himself as pleasant as possible. Madame hadthrown open her parlour, a rare occurrence.

  When the rain began to beat against the windows, the old man called inthe Indian dwarf, and with his assistance made a fire of logs whichcrackled merrily in the fireplace and threw cheerful, light and warmthupon the circle.

  Madame lit her precious sconces of wax tapers for the first time sinceher daughter's wedding, and all drew closer to listen to the accountswhich came from the lips of the long-absent son. The father put hisviolin aside, seated himself in his tall-backed arm-chair and gazedalternately into the fire and at his son's face. The mother hung uponher favourite's words and movements as mothers ever will. The conventgirl, his youngest sister, worshipped him with eyes and ears--to her hewas the hero of her family, whom she could measure in the lists againstthe vaunted brothers of her proud Quebec school-mates, Lanaudieres,Bleurys, la Gorgendieres, Tonnancours and those others, who, familiarwith the doings of the Castle, looked down upon the trader's daughter.

  "What about this new name?" said the mother at length; "they have givenyou a title in France?"

  "Not at all, mother," he replied.

  "But they call you 'Monsieur de Lincy,' you say."

  "It is not a new name; it is the real one of the family--you areentitled to it as well as I."

  "What does that mean, son Germain? Have we been ignorant of our ownname?"

  "It means that we are gentlepeople--and that in my father there, youbehold the real or principal Chevalier de Lincy. I am but the youngerChevalier."

  The family, at this announcement, gave voice to a mutual cry. The fatherlooked up and said soberly--

  "You mistake, my son."

  "In no respect, dear father. I have learnt our descent in France, and amglad to inform you that you are what you deserve to be--a noble."

  "There, Francois Xavier!" exclaimed the wife. "You are not going to denyit."

  "Many good stocks forget their origin in going out to the colonies,"added Germain. "You, sir, crossed the sea at a very early age."

  "At twelve years old," asserted the merchant.

  "You were too young to make those inquiries which I have completed. Youknew little of your parents."

  "My father was a butcher of Paris; I know that."

  "That is an error, sir. Those you regarded as your parents were butfoster-parents, though they bore the same name."

  "Who, then, do you pretend was my father?" cried the merchant inamazement. "There was no question of that matter before I left France."

  "Because your mother had died, and your father, who was a poor man,though a gentleman, had departed for service in the East Indies, andthere was heard of no more."

  "In any event I do not care about these things. I shall always remainthe Merchant Lecour," the old man said, with steady-going pride.

  "But Francois Xavier!" cried his wife. "Have you no care about yourchildren and me? Is it nothing to us if we are _noblesse_? Will you beforever turning over skins and measuring groceries when you ought tohave a grand house and a grand office, like the gentry of the North-WestCompany at Montreal, who dine with the Governor, and are yet no betteroff than you? I am sure _they_ are no Chevaliers de Lincy".

  "I cannot believe it, wife. I know where I came from, and that I wasnothing but a boy sent out with the troops by the magistrates ofParis"--Germain started--"then a poor private, and by good conduct atlength a _cantineer_ of the liquor. Chevaliers are not of those grades,as I well enough know, and I never heard of any good from a man gettingout of his place."

  The convent girl looked up in suspense at her hero for reply.

  "Listen, father," exclaimed Germain with a kind of gaiety, appreciatingthe melancholy humour of the situation, "I have not only traced you up,but shall show you the evidence. Carry in my little box while I bringthe black one."

  They brought the boxes in, and the small one--that with the gilt coat ofarms, from which Germain had taken his passport at Quebec--was put onthe table. Germain unlocked it, and brought out the de Lincygenealogical tree.

  "Here," said he to his father, while the family crowded to look overtheir shoulders, "you are the son of this one; I have seen and read yourbaptismal register which records it, in the Church of St.Germain-des-Pres."

  "True--that was my parish," the old man answered. "Are you certain thatmy father was not----?"

  "Positive."

  "Very well, then," old Lecour answered, somewhat reluctantly.

  "What a romance!" the married daughter cried.

  "I am about to show you some precious relics of our past," Germaincontinued. "See what a store of parchments. Here are grants of_noblesse_ from the King, grants of titles, dispensations signed by thePopes--do you know what these are?" he cried, taking out and putting onhis breast a couple of beautiful jewels, standing up as he did so.

  "Tell us!"

  "This," said he, "is the Commander's Cross of St. Louis; and that theOrder of the Holy Ghost."

  While they pushed forward in excitement to look closer at thedecorations, he bent, lifted the lid of the large black box and withboth hands raised before them an oil portrait of a gentleman in fullwig, velvet coat and ruffles.

  "That," said he, surveying it with becoming pride, "is our ancestorHypolite LeCour de Lincy. Sir," said he, laughingly turning to hisparent, "behold your father against your will."

  "Bravo, Monsieur my son," cried Madame Lecour.

  "Now I can make my old man dress like a gentleman. The next time I go toMontreal, Lecour--or rather my Chevalier--I shall spend some of yourmoney on a peruke and a scarlet coat for you."

  "Holy Mary, save me!"

  "About that please the ladies, father," Germain put in; "but there isanother matter. Who drew your marriage contract?"

  "D'Aguilhe, the notary," his mother returned.

  "Is he of St. Elphege?"

  "Yes."

  "He has, of course, omitted mention of your nobility."

  "He knew of none," said the merchant.

  "Then we must go to him with our titles, and he must rectify itto-morrow."

  "As you please, if it will suit you better," the merchant murmured.

  "I must be a Prince, for I create nobles," pronounced Germain, shakingwith fevered laughter, as he drew the sheets over him in the state bedthat night. His merriment was a pitiful cover for his desperation. Inhis favour it is well to remember the dictum of Schopenhauer: that theEnglish are the only nation who thoroughly realise the immorality oflying; and we must also keep in mind that the extent of his disorder wasa measure of the power of that passion which was its cause. Betterthings were yet in him.