Fort Amity

  CHAPTER XIV.

  AGAIN THE WHITE TUNIC.

  "But touching this polygon of M. de Montcalm's--"

  Within the curtain-wall facing the waterside the ground had beenterraced up to form a high platform or _terre-plein_, whence sixguns, mounted in embrasures, commanded the river. Hither John hadcrept, with the support of a stick, to enjoy the sunshine and theview, and here the Commandant had found him and held him in talk,walking him to and fro, with pauses now and again beside a gun for afew minutes' rest.

  "But touching this polygon of M. de Montcalm's, he would doubtlessfollow Courmontaigne rather than Vauban. The angles, you say, wereboldly advanced?"

  "So they appeared to me, monsieur; but you understand that I took nopart--"

  "By advancing the angles boldly"--here the Commandant pressed hisfinger-tips together by way of illustration--"we allow so much moreplay to enfilading fire. I speak only of defence against directassault; for of opposing such a structure to artillery the Generalcould have had no thought."

  "Half a dozen six-pounders, well directed, could have knocked itabout his ears in as many minutes."

  "That does not detract from his credit. Every general fights withtwo heads--his own and his adversary's; and, for the rest, we have todo what we can do with our material." The Commandant halted andgazed down whimsically upon the courtyard, in the middle of which histwenty-five militiamen were being drilled by M. Etienne and SergeantBedard. "My whole garrison, sir! Eh? you seem incredulous.My whole garrison, I give you my word! Five-and-twenty militiamen todefend a post of this importance; and up at Fort Frontenac, the verykey of the West, my old friend Payan de Noyan has but a hundred incommand! I do not understand it, sir. Stores we have in abundance,and ammunition and valuable presents to propitiate the Indians who nolonger exist in this neighbourhood. Yes, and--would you believeit?--no longer than three months ago the Governor sent up a boatloadof women. It appeared that his Majesty had forwarded them all theway from France, for wives for his faithful soldiers. I packed themoff, sir, and returned them to M. de Vaudreuil. 'With all submissionto his Majesty's fatherly wisdom,' I wrote, 'the requirements of NewFrance at this moment are best determined by sterner considerations';and I asked for fifty regulars to man our defences. M. de Vaudreuilreplied by sending me up one man, and _he_ had but one arm! I madeNoyan a present of him; his notions of fortification wererudimentary, not to say puerile."

  The Commandant paused and dug the surface of the _terre-plein_indignantly with his heel. "As for fortification, do I not knowalready what additional defences we need? Fort Amitie, monsieur, wasconstructed by the great Frontenac himself, and with wonderfulsagacity, if we consider the times. Take, for example, the towers.You are acquainted, of course, with the modern rule of giving thebastions a salient angle of fifteen degrees in excess of half theangle of the figure in all figures from the square up to thedodecagon? Well, Fort Amitie being a square--or rather aright-angled quadrilateral--the half of its angle will be forty-fivedegrees; add fifteen, and we get sixty; which is as nearly aspossible the salience of our flanking towers; only they happen to beround. So far, so good; but Frontenac had naturally no opportunityof studying Vauban's masterpieces, and perhaps as the older man henever digested Vauban's theories. He did not see that aquadrilateral measuring fifty toises by thirty must need someprotection midway in its longer curtains, and more especially on theriverside. A ravelin is out of the question, for we have nocounterscarp to stand it on--no ditch at all in fact; our glacisslopes straight from the curtain to the river. I have thought of atenaille--of a flat bastion. We could do so much if onlyM. de Vaudreuil would send us men!--but, as it is, on what are werelying? Simply, M. a Clive, on our enemies' ignorance of ourweakness."

  John turned his face away and stared out over the river. The wallsof the fort seemed to stifle him; but in truth his own breast was theprison.

  "Well now," the Commandant pursued, "your arrival has set methinking. We cannot strengthen ourselves against artillery; but theysay that these English generals learn nothing. They may come againstus with musketry, and what served Fort Carillon may also serve FortAmitie. A breastwork--call it a lunette--half-way down the slopeyonder, so placed as to command the landing-place at close musketrange--it might be useful, eh? There will be trouble with PolyphileCartier--'Sans Quartier,' as they call him. He is proud of hiscabbages, and we might have to evict them; yes, certainly our lunettewould impinge upon his cabbages. But the safety of the Fort would,of course, override all such considerations."

  He caught John by the arm and hurried him along for a better view ofSans Quartier's cabbage-patch. And just then Mademoiselle Diane camewalking swiftly towards them from the end of the _terre-plein_ by theflagstaff tower. An instant later the head and shoulders ofDominique Guyon appeared above the ascent.

  Clearly he was following her; and as she drew near John read, orthought he read, a deep trouble in the child's eyes. But from hereyes his glance fell upon a bundle that she carried, and his owncheek paled. For the bundle was a white tunic, and it took a secondglance to assure him that the tunic was a new one and not SergeantBarboux's!

  "Eh? What did I tell you? She has been rifling the stores already!"Here the Commandant caught sight of Dominique and hailed him."Hola, Dominique!"

  Dominique halted for a moment and then came slowly forward; while thegirl, having greeted John with a grown woman's dignity, stood closeby her father's elbow.

  "Dominique, how many men can you spare me from Boisveyrac, now thatthe harvest is over?"

  "For what purpose do you wish men, Monseigneur?"

  "Eh? That is my affair, I hope."

  The young man's face darkened, but he controlled himself to sayhumbly, "Monseigneur rebukes me with justice. I should not havespoken so; but it was in alarm for his interests."

  "You mean that you are unwilling to spare me a single man?Come, come, my friend--the harvest is gathered; and, apart from that,my interests are the King's. Positively you must spare me half adozen for his Majesty's _corvee_."

  "The harvest is gathered, to be sure; but no one at Boisveyrac can betrusted to finish the stacks. They are a good-for-nothing lot; andnow Damase, the best thatcher among them, has, I hear, been sent upto Fort Frontenac along with 'Polyte Latulippe."

  "By my orders."

  Dominique bent his eyes on the ground.

  "Monseigneur's orders shall be obeyed. May I have his permission toreturn at once to Boisveyrac?--at least, as soon as we have discussedcertain matters of business?"

  "Business? But since it is not convenient just now--" It seemed toJohn that the old gentleman had suddenly grown uneasy.

  "I speak only of certain small repairs: the matter of Lagasse'sholding, for example," said Dominique tranquilly. "The whole willnot detain Monseigneur above ten minutes."

  "Ah, to be sure!" The Commandant's voice betrayed relief. "Come tomy orderly-room, then. You will excuse me, M. a Clive?"

  He turned to go, and Dominique stepped aside to allow the girl toaccompany her father. But she made no sign. He shot a look at herand sullenly descended the terrace at his seigneur's heels.

  Mademoiselle Diane's brow grew clear again as the sound of hisfootsteps died away, and presently she faced John with a smile so gayand frank that (although, quite involuntarily, he had been watchingher) the change startled him. There was something in this girl atonce innocently candid and curiously elusive; to begin with, he couldnot decide whether to think of her as child or woman. Last night hereyes had rested on him with a child's open wonder, and a minute agoin Dominique's presence she had seemed to shrink close to her fatherwith a child's timidity. Now, gaily as she smiled, her bearing hadgrown dignified and self-possessed.

  "You are not to leave me, please, M. a Clive--seeing that I cameexpressly to find you."

  John lifted his hat with mock gravity. "You do me great honour,mademoiselle. And Dominique?" he added. "Was he also coming insearch of me?"

  She frowne
d, and turning towards a cannon in the embrasure behindher, spread the white tunic carefully upon it. "Dominique Guyon istiresome," she said. "At times, as you have heard, he speaks withtoo much freedom to my father; but it is the freedom of old service.The Guyons have farmed Boisveyrac for our family since first theSeigniory was built." She seemed about to say more, but checkedherself, and stood smoothing an arm of the tunic upon the gun."Ah, here is Felicite!" she exclaimed, as a stout middle-aged womancame bustling along the terrace towards them. "You have kept mewaiting, Felicite. And, good heavens! what is that you carry?Did I not tell you that I would get Jeremie to find me a tunic fromthe stores? See, I have one already."

  "But this is not from the stores, mademoiselle!" panted Felicite, asshe came to a halt. "It appears that monsieur brought his tunic withhim--Jeremie told me he had seen it hanging by his bed in the sickward--and here it is, see you!" She displayed it triumphantly,spreading its skirts to the sunshine. "A trifle soiled! but it willsave us all the trouble in the world with the measurements--eh,mademoiselle?"

  Diane's eyes were on John's face. For a moment or two she did notanswer, but at length said slowly:

  "Nevertheless you shall measure monsieur. Have you the tapes? Good:give me one, with the blue chalk, and I will check off yourmeasurements."

  She seated herself on the gun-carriage and drew the two tunics on toher lap. John shivered as she touched the dead sergeant's.

  Felicite grinned as she advanced with the tape. "Do not be shy ofme, monsieur," she encouraged him affably. "You are a hero, and Imyself am the mother of eight, which is in its way heroic.There should be a good understanding between us. Raise your arms alittle, pray, while I take first of all the measure of your chest."

  Her two arms--and they were plump, not to say brawny--went about him."Thirty-eight," she announced, after examining the tape. It's longsince I have embraced one so slight."

  "Thirty-eight," repeated Mademoiselle Diane, puckering up her lipsand beginning to measure off the _pouces_ across the breast and backof Sergeant Barboux's tunic. "Thirty-eight, did you say?"

  "Thirty-eight, mademoiselle. We must remember that these bravedefenders of ours sometimes pad themselves a little; it will benothing amiss if you allow for forty. Eh, monsieur?" Felicitelaughed up in John's face. "But you find some difficulty,mademoiselle. Can I help you?"

  "I thank you--it is all right," Diane answered hurriedly.

  "Waist, twenty-nine," Felicite continued. "One might even saytwenty-eight, only monsieur is drawing in his breath."

  "Where are the scissors, Felicite?" demanded her mistress, who hadcarefully smuggled them beneath her skirt as she sat.

  "The scissors? Of a certainty now I brought them--but the sightof that heathen Ojibway, when he gave me the tunic, was enough tomake any decent woman faint! I shook like an aspen, if you willcredit me, all the way across the drill-ground, and perhaps thescissors . . . no, indeed, I cannot find them . . . but ifmademoiselle will excuse me while I run back for another pair. . . ."She bustled off towards the Commandant's quarters.

  Mademoiselle Diane reached down a hand to the tunic which had fallenat her feet, and drew it on to her lap again, as if to examine it.But her eyes were searching John's face.

  "Why do you shiver?" she asked.

  "I beg of you not to touch it, mademoiselle. It--it hurts to see youtouching it."

  "Did you kill him?"

  "Of whom is mademoiselle speaking?"

  "Pray do not pretend to be stupid, monsieur. I am speaking of thatother man--the owner of this tunic--the sergeant who took you intothe forest. Did you kill him?"

  "He died in fair fight, mademoiselle."

  "It was a duel, then?" He did not answer, and she continued, "I cantrust your face, monsieur. I am sure it was only in fair fight.But why should you think me afraid to touch _this_? Oh, why,M. a Clive, will men take it so cruelly for granted that we women areafraid of the thought of blood--nay, even that we owe it to ourselvesto be afraid? If we are what you all insist we should be, what righthave we to be born in these times? Think of New France fighting nowfor dear life--ah! why should I ask _you_ to think, who have bled forher? Yet you would have me shudder at the touch of a stained pieceof cloth; and while you hold these foolish prejudices, can you wonderthat New France has no Jeanne d'Arc? When I was at the Ursulines atQuebec, they used to pray to her on this side of sainthood, and askfor her intercession; but what they taught was needlework."

  "The world has altered since her time, mademoiselle," said John,falsely and lamely.

  "Has it? It burnt her; even in those days it did its best accordingto its lights," she answered bitterly. "Only in these days there areno heroines to burn. No heroines . . . no fires . . . and even inour needlework we must be demure, and not touch a garment that hasbeen touched with blood! Monsieur, was this man a coward?"She lifted the tunic.

  "He was a vain fellow and a bully, mademoiselle, but by no means acoward."

  "He fought for France?"

  "Yes; and, I believe, with credit."

  "Then, monsieur, because he was a bully, I commend the man who killedhim fairly. And because he was brave and fought for France, I amproud to handle his tunic."

  As John a Cleeve gazed at her kindled face, the one thought that roseabove his own shame was a thought that her earnestness marvellouslymade her beautiful.