CHAPTER XI
NEWS OF THE FIERY FRENCHMAN.
"Below me winds the river to the sea, On whose brown slope stood wailing, homeless maids; Stood exiled sons; unsheltered hoary heads; And sires and mothers dumb in agony. The awful glare of burning homes, where free And happy late they dwelt, breaks on the shades, Encompassing the sailing fleet; then fades, With tumbling roof, upon the night-bound sea. How deep is hope in sorrow sunk! How harsh The stranger voice; and loud the hopeless wail! Then silence came to dwell; the tide fell low; The embers died. On the deserted marsh, Where grain and grass stirred only to the gale, The moose unchased dare cross the Gaspereau."
J. F. HERBIN.
An extraordinary change came over the aged woman at Agapit's words. Somecolor crept to her withered cheeks. She straightened herself, and, nolonger leaning on her cane, said, in a loud, firm voice, to Vesper, "TheAcadiens were not all stolen from Annapolis at the derangement. Did youthink they were?"
"I don't know that I ever thought about it, madame," he said,courteously; "but I should like to know."
"About fifty families ran to the wood," she said, with mournfulvivacity; "they spent the winter there; I have heard the old people talkof it when I was young. They would sit by the fire and cry. I would trynot to cry, but the tears would come. They said their good homes wereburnt. Only at night could they revisit them, lest soldiers would catchthem. They dug their vegetables from the ground. They also got one cowand carried her back. Ah, she was a treasure! There was one man amongthem who was only half French, and they feared him, so they watched. Oneday he went out of the woods,--the men took their guns and followed.Soon he returned, fifty soldiers marching behind him. 'Halt!' cried theAcadiens. They fired, they killed, and the rest of the soldiers ran.'Discharge me! discharge me!' cried the man, whom they had caught. 'Yes,we will discharge you,' they said, and they put his back against a tree,and once more they fired, but very sadly. At the end of the winter somefamilies went away in ships, but the Comeaus, Thibaudeaus, and Melanconssaid, 'We cannot leave Acadie; we will find a quiet place.' So theybegan a march, and one could trace them by the graves they dug. I willnot tell you all, for why should you be sad? I will say that theIndians were good, but sometimes the food went, and they had to boiltheir moccasins. One woman, who had a young baby, got very weak. Theylifted her up, they shook the pea-straw stuffing from the sack she layon, and found her a handful of peas, which they boiled, and she gotbetter.
"They went on and on, they crossed streams, and carried the little ones,until they came here to the Bay,--to Grosses Coques,--where they foundbig clams, and the tired women said, 'Here is food; let us stay.'
"The men cut a big pine and hollowed a boat, in which they went to thehead of the Bay for the cow they had left there. They threw her down,tied her legs, and brought her to Grosses Coques. Little by little theycarried also other things to the Bay, and made themselves homes.
"Then the families grew, and now they cover all the Bay. Do youunderstand now about the march from Annapolis?"
"Thank you, yes," said Vesper, much moved by the sight of tearstrickling down her faded face.
"What reason did the old people give for this expulsion from theirhomes?"
"Always the same, always, always," said Madame Kessy, with energy. "Theywould not take the oath, because the English would not put in it thatthey need not fight against the French."
"But now you are happy under English rule?"
"Yes, now,--but the past? What can make up for the weeping of the oldpeople?"
Nothing could, and Vesper hastened to introduce a new subject ofconversation. "I have heard much about the good Abbe that you speak of.Did you ever see him?"
"See him,--ah, sir, he was an angel of God, on this Bay, and he agentleman out of France. We were all his children, even the poorIndians, whom he gathered around him and taught our holy religion, tilltheir fine voices would ring over the Bay, in hymns to the ever blessedVirgin. He denied himself, he paid our doctors' bills, even to twentypounds at a time,--ah, there was mourning when he died. When my banswere published in church the good Abbe rode no more on horseback alongthe Bay. He lay a corpse, and I could scarcely hold up my head to bemarried."
"In speaking of those old days," said Vesper, "can you call to mind everhearing of a LeNoir of Grand Pre called the Fiery Frenchman?"
"Of Etex LeNoir," cried the old woman, in trumpet tones, "of the martyrwho shamed an Englishman, and was murdered by him?"
"Yes, that is the man."
"I have heard of him often, often. The old ones spoke of it to me. Hisheart was broken,--the captain, who was more cruel than Winslow, calledhim a papist dog, and struck him down, and the sailors threw him intothe sea. He laid a curse on the wicked captain, but I cannot rememberhis name."
"Did you ever hear anything of the wife and child of Etex LeNoir?"
"No," she said, absently, "there was only the husband Etex that I hadheard of. Would not his wife come back to the Bay? I do not know," andshe relapsed into the dullness from which her temporary excitement hadroused her.
"He was called the Fiery Frenchman," she muttered, presently, but so lowthat Vesper had to lean forward to hear her. "The old ones said thatthere was a mark like flame on his forehead, and he was like firehimself."
"Agapit, is it not time that we embark?" said Rose, gliding from aninner room. "It will soon be dark."
Agapit sprang up. Vesper shook hands with Madame Kessy and her daughter,and politely assured them, in answer to their urgent request, that hewould be sure to call again, then took his seat in the dog-cart, wherein company with his new friends he was soon bowling quickly over a bitof smooth and newly repaired road.
Away ahead, under the trees, they soon heard snatches of a lively song,and presently two young men staggered into view supporting each other,and having much difficulty in keeping to their side of the road.
Agapit, with angry mutterings, drove furiously by the young men, withhis head well in the air, although they saluted him as their dear cousinfrom the Bay.
Rose did not speak, but she hung her head, and Vesper knew that she wasblushing to the tips of the white ears inside her black handkerchief.
No one ventured a remark until they reached a place where four roadsmet, when Agapit ejaculated, desperately, "The devil is also here!"
Vesper turned around. The sun had gone down, the twilight was nearlyover, but he possessed keen sight and could plainly discover against thedull blue evening sky the figures of a number of men and boys, some ofwhom were balancing themselves on the top of a zigzag fence, whileothers stood with hands in their pockets,--all vociferously laughing andjeering at a man who staggered to and fro in their midst with clenchedfists, and light shirt-sleeves spotted with red.
"This is abominable," said Agapit, in a rage, and he was about to layhis whip on Toochune's back when Vesper suggested mildly that he was indanger of running down some of his countrymen.
Agapit pulled up the horse with a jerk, and Rose immediately sprang tothe road and ran up to the young man, who had plainly been fighting andwas about to fight again.
Vesper slipped from his seat and stood by the wheel.
"Do not follow her," exclaimed Agapit; "they will not hurt her. Theywould beat you."
"I know it."
"She is my cousin, thou impatient one," pursued Agapit, irritably. "Iwould not allow her to be insulted."
"I know that, too," said Vesper, calmly, and he watched the young menspringing off the fences and hurrying up to Rose, who had taken thepugilist by the hand.
"Isidore," she said, sorrowfully, and as unaffectedly as if they hadbeen alone, "hast thou been fighting again?"
"It is her second cousin," growled Agapit; "that is why she interferes."
"_Ecoute-moi, ecoute-moi_, Rose" (listen to me), stammered the young manin the blood-stained shi
rt. "They all set upon me. I was about to bemassacred. I struck out but a little, and I got some taps here andthere. I was drunk at first, but I am not very drunk now."
"Poor Isidore, I will take thee home; come with me."
The crowd of men and boys set up a roar. They were quarrelsome andmischievous, and had not yet got their fill of rowdyism.
"_Va-t'ang, va-t'ang_" (go away), "Rose a Charlitte. We want no womenhere. Go home about thy business. If Big Fists wishes to fight, we willfight."
Among all the noisy, discordant voices this was the only insulting one,and Rose turned and fixed her mild gaze on the offender, who was one ofthe oldest men present, and the chief mischief-maker of theneighborhood. "But it is not well for all to fight one man," she said,gently.
"We fight one by one. Isidore is big,--he has never enough. Go away, orthere will yet be a bigger row," and he added a sentence of gross abuse.
Vesper made a step forward, but Isidore, the young bully, who was ofimmense height and breadth, and a son of the old Acadienne that they hadjust quitted, was before him.
"You wish to fight, my friends," he said, jocularly; "here, take this,"and, lifting his big foot, he quickly upset the offender, and kicked himtowards some men in the crowd who were also relatives of Rose.
One of them sprang forward, and, with his dark face alight with glee atthe chance to avenge the affront offered to his kinswoman, at onceproceeded to beat the offender calmly and systematically, and to rollhim under the fence.
Rose, in great distress, attempted to go to his rescue, but the younggiant threw his arm around her. "This is only fun, my cousin. Thou mustnot spoil everything. Come, I will return with thee."
"_Nani_" (no), cried Agapit, furiously, "thou wilt not. Fit company artthou for strangers!"
Isidore stared confusedly at him, while Vesper settled the question byinviting him in the back seat and installing Rose beside him. Then heheld out his arms to Narcisse, who had been watching the disturbancewith drowsy interest, fearful only that the Englishman from Boston mightleave him to take a hand in it.
As soon as Vesper mounted the seat beside him, Agapit jerked the reins,and set off at a rapid pace; so rapid that Vesper at first caught onlysnatches of the dialogue carried on behind him, that was tearful on thepart of Rose, and meek on that of Isidore.
Soon Agapit sobered down, and Rose's words could be distinguished. "Mycousin, how canst thou? Think only of thy mother and thy wife; and thegood priest,--suppose he had come!"
"Then thou wouldst have seen running like that of foxes," repliedIsidore, in good-natured, semi-interested tones.
"Thou wast not born a drunkard. When sober thou art good, but therecould not be a worse man when drunk. Such a pile of cursing words to goup to the sky,--and such a volley of fisting. Ah, how thou wast woundingChrist!"
Isidore held on tightly, for Agapit was still driving fast, and utteredan inaudible reply.
"Tell me where thou didst get that liquor," said Rose.
"It was a stolen cask, my cousin."
"Isidore!"
"But I did not steal it. It came from thy charming Bay. Thou didst notknow that, shortly ago, a captain sailed to Sleeping Water with fivecasks of rum. He hired a man from the Concession to help him hide them,but the man stole one cask. Imagine the rage of the captain, but hecould not prosecute, for it was smuggled. Since then we have funoccasionally."
"Who is that bad man? If I knew where was his cask, I would take alittle nail and make a hole in it."
"Rose, couldst thou expect me to tell thee?"
"Yes," she said, warmly. Then, remembering that she had been talkingEnglish to his French, she suddenly relapsed into low, swift sentencesin her own tongue, which Vesper could not understand. He caught theirimport, however. She was still inveighing against the sin of drunkennessand was begging him to reform, and her voice did not flag until theyreached his home, where his wife--a young woman with magnificent eyesand a straight, queenly figure--stood by the gate.
"_Bon soir_ (good evening), Claudine," called out Agapit. "We havebrought home Isidore, who, hearing that a distinguished stranger wasabout to pass through the Concession, thoughtfully put himself onexhibition at the four roads. You had better keep him at home until _LaGuerriere_ goes back to Saint Pierre."
"It was _La Guerriere_ that brought the liquor," said Rose, suddenly, toIsidore.
He did not contradict her, and she said, firmly, "Never shall thatcaptain darken my doors again."
The young Acadien beauty gave Vesper a fleeting glance, then she said,bitterly, "It should rather be Saint Judas, for from there the evil onesends stuff to torture us women--Here enter," and half scornfully, halfaffectionately, she extended a hand to her huge husband, who was makinga wavering effort to reach the gateway.
He clung to her as if she had been an anchor, and when she asked himwhat had happened to his shirt he stuttered, regretfully, "Torn,Claudine,--torn again."
"How many times should one mend a shirt?" she asked, turning her bigblazing eyes on Rose.
"Charlitte never became drunk," said Rose, in a plaintive voice, "but Ihave mended the shirts of my brothers at least a hundred times."
"Then I have but one more time," said the youthful Madame Kessy. "Afterthat I shall throw it in the fire. Go into the house, my husband. I wasa fool to have married thee," she added, under her breath.
Isidore stood tottering on his feet, and regarded her with tipsygravity. "And thou shalt come with me, my pretty one, and make me a hotsupper and sing me a song."
"I will not do that. Thou canst eat cold bread, and I will sing thee asong with my tongue that will not please thee."
"The priest married us," said Isidore, doggedly, and in momentarysobriety he stalked to the place where she stood, picked her up, and,putting her under his arm, carried her into the house, she meanwhileprotesting and laughing hysterically while she shrieked out something toRose about the loan of a sleeve pattern.
"Yes, yes, I understand," called Rose, "the big sleeve, with many folds;I will send it. Make thy husband his supper and come soon to see me."
"Rose," said Agapit, severely, as they drove away, "is it a good thingto make light of that curse of curses?"
"To make light of it! _Mon Dieu_, you do not understand. It is men whomake women laugh even when their hearts are breaking."
Agapit did not reply, and, as they were about to enter a thick wood, hepassed the reins to Vesper and got out to light the lamps.
While he was fidgeting with them, Rose moved around so that she couldlook into the front seat.
"Your child is all right," said Vesper, gazing down at the head laidconfidingly against his arm. "He is sound asleep,--not a bit alarmed bythat fuss."
"It does not frighten him when human beings cry out. He only sorrows forthings that have no voices, and he is always right when with you. It isnot that; I wish to ask you--to ask you to forgive me."
"For what?"
"But you know--I told you what was not true."
"Do not speak of it. It was a mere bagatelle."
"It is not a bagatelle to make untruths," she said, wearily, "but Ioften do it,--most readily when I am frightened. But you did notfrighten me."
Vesper did not reply except by a reassuring glance, which in herpreoccupation she lost, and, catching her breath, she went on, "I thinkso often of a sentence from an Englishman that the sisters of a conventused to say to us,--it is about the little lies as well as the big onesthat come from the pit."
"Do you mean Ruskin?" said Vesper, curiously, "when he speaks of 'onefalsity as harmless, and another as slight, and another asunintended,--cast them all aside; they may be light and accidental, butthey are ugly soot from the smoke of the pit for all that?'"
"Yes, yes, it is that,--will you write it for me?--and remember," shecontinued, hurriedly, as she saw Agapit preparing to reenter the cart,"that I did not say what I did to make a fine tale, but for my peoplewhom I love. You were a stranger, and I supposed you would linger but aday and then pr
oceed, and it is hard for me to say that the Acadiens areno better than the English,--that they will get drunk and fight. I didnot imagine that you would see them, yet I should not have told thestory," and with her flaxen head drooping on her breast she turned awayfrom him.
"When is lying justifiable?" asked Vesper of Agapit.
The young Acadien plunged into a long argument that lasted until theyreached the top of the hill overlooking Sleeping Water. Then he paused,and as he once more saw above him the wide expanse of sky to which hewas accustomed, and knew that before him lay the Bay, wide, open, andfree, he drew a long breath.
"Ah, but I am glad to arrive home. When I go to the woods it is as if alarge window through which I had been taking in the whole world hadbeen closed."
No one replied to him, and he soon swung them around the corner and upto the inn door. Rose led her sleepy boy into the kitchen, where brightlights were burning, and where the maid Celina seemed to be entertainingcallers. Vesper took the lantern and followed Agapit to the stable.
"Is it a habit of yours to give your hotel guests drives?" he asked,hanging the lantern on a hook and assisting Agapit in unbuckling straps.
"Yes, whenever it pleases us. Many, also, hire our horse and pony. Yousee that we have no common horse in Toochune."
"Yes, I know he is a thoroughbred."
"Rose, of course, could not buy such an animal. He was a gift from heruncle in Louisiana. He also sent her this dog-cart and her organ. He isrich, very rich. He went South as a boy, and was adopted by an oldfarmer; Rose is the daughter of his favorite sister, and I tell her thatshe will inherit from him, for his wife is dead and he is alone, but shesays not to count on what one does not know."
Vesper had already been favored with these items of information by hismother, so he said nothing, and assisted Agapit in his task of makinglong-legged Toochune comfortable for the night. Having finished, andbeing rewarded by a grateful glance from the animal's lustrous eyes,they both went to the pump outside and washed their hands.
"It is too fine for the house," said Agapit. "Are you too fatigued towalk? If agreeable I will take you to Sleeping Water River, where youhave not yet been, and tell you how it accumulated its name. There is noone inside," he continued, as Vesper cast a glance at the kitchenwindows, "but the miller and his wife, in whom I no longer takepleasure, and the mail-driver who tells so long stories."
"So long that you have no chance."
"Exactly," said Agapit, fumbling in his pocket. "See what I boughtto-day of a travelling merchant. Four cigars for ten cents. Two for you,and two for me. Shall we smoke them?"
Vesper took the cigars, slipped them in his pocket, and brought out oneof his own, then with Agapit took the road leading back from the villageto the river.