Part 2 (2/2)

”Here he is, papa, dearest,” said she,--”our n.o.ble deliverer.--And, O, monsieur, how can we ever find words to thank you?”

”Dear monsieur,” said the old count, embracing Claude, ”Heaven will reward you; our words are useless.--Mimi,” he continued, turning to his daughter, ”your dream was a true one.--You must know, monsieur, that she dreamed that a young Frenchman came in an open boat to save us. And so it really was.”

Mimi smiled and blushed.

”Ah, papa, dear,” she said, ”I dreamed because I hoped. I always hoped, but you always desponded. And now it has been better than our hopes.--But, monsieur, may we not know the name of our deliverer?”

She held out her little hand as she said this. Claude raised it respectfully to his lips, bowing low as he did so. He then gave his name, but hastened to a.s.sure them that he was not their preserver, insisting that Zac had the better claim to that t.i.tle. To this, however, the others listened with polite incredulity, and Mimi evidently considered it all the mere expression of a young man's modesty. She waved her little hand with a sunny smile.

”_Eh bien_,” she said, ”I see, monsieur, it pains you to have people too grateful; so we will say no more about it. We must satisfy ourselves by remembering and by praying.”

Here the conversation was interrupted by the interposition of the Count de Cazeneau, who came forward to add his thanks to those of Laborde. He made a little set speech, to which Claude listened with something of chagrin, for he did not like being placed in the position of general savior and preserver, when he knew that Zac deserved quite as much credit for what had been done as he did. This was not un.o.bserved by Mimi, who appreciated his feelings and came to his relief.

”M. Motier does not like being praised,” said she. ”Let us respect his delicacy.”

But Cazeneau was not to be stopped so easily. He seemed like one who had prepared a speech carefully and with much labor, and was, accordingly, bound to give it all; so Claude was forced to listen to an eloquent and inflated panegyric about himself and his heroism, without being able to offer anything more than an occasional modest disclaimer. And all the time the deep, dark glance of Mimi was fixed on him, as though she would read his soul. If, indeed, he had any skill in reading character, it was easy enough to see in the face of that young man a pure, a lofty, and a generous nature, unsullied by anything mean or low, a guileless and earnest heart, a soul _sans peur et sans reproche_; and it did seem by the expression of her own face as though she had read all this in Claude.

Further conversation of a general nature followed, which served to explain the position of all of them with reference to one another.

Claude was the virtual master of the schooner, since he had chartered it for his own purposes. To all of them, therefore, he seemed first their savior, and secondly their host and entertainer, to whom they were bound to feel chiefly grateful. Yet none the less did they endeavor to include the honest skipper in their grat.i.tude; and Zac came in for a large share of it. Though he could not understand any of the words which they addressed to him, yet he was easily able to guess what they were driving at, and so he modestly disclaimed it all with the expression,--

”O, sho! sho, now! sho, sho!”

They now learned that Claude was on his way to Louisbourg, and that they would thus be able to reach their original destination. They also learned the circ.u.mstances of Zac, and his peculiar unwillingness to trust his schooner inside the harbor of Louisbourg. Zac's scruples were respected by them, though they all declared that there was no real danger. They were sufficiently satisfied to be able to reach any point near Louisbourg, and did not seek to press Zac against his will, or to change his opinion upon a point where it was so strongly expressed.

No sooner had these new pa.s.sengers thus unexpectedly appeared, than a very marked change came over Pere Michel, which to Claude was quite inexplicable. To him and to Zac the good priest had thus far seemed everything that was most amiable and companionable; but now, ever since the moment when he had turned away at the sight of the face of Laborde, he had grown strangely silent, and reticent, and self-absorbed. Old Laborde had made advances which had been coldly repelled. Cazeneau, also, had tried to draw him out, but without success. To the lieutenant only was he at all inclined to unbend. Yet this strange reserve did not last long, and at length Pere Michel regained his old manner, and received the advances of Laborde with sufficient courtesy, while to Mimi he showed that paternal gentleness which had already endeared him to Claude and to Zac.

Several days thus pa.s.sed, during which but little progress was made.

The schooner seemed rather to drift than to sail. Whenever a slight breeze would arise, it was sure to be adverse, and was not of long duration. Then a calm would follow, and the schooner would lie idle upon the bosom of the deep.

During these days Mimi steadily regained her strength; and the bloom and the sprightliness of youth came back, and the roses began to return to her cheeks, and her wan face resumed its plumpness, and her eyes shone with the light of joyousness. Within the narrow confines of a small schooner, Claude was thrown in her way more frequently than could have been the case under other circ.u.mstances; and the situation in which they were placed towards one another connected them more closely, and formed a bond which made an easy way to friends.h.i.+p, and even intimacy. As a matter of course, Claude found her society pleasanter by far than that of any one else on board; while, on the other hand, Mimi did not seem at all averse to his companions.h.i.+p. She seemed desirous to know all about him.

”But, monsieur,” she said once, in the course of a conversation, ”it seems strange to me that you have lived so long among the English here in America.”

”It is strange,” said Claude; ”and, to tell the truth, I don't altogether understand myself how it has happened.”

”Ah, you don't understand yourself how it has happened,” repeated Mimi, in a tone of voice that was evidently intended to elicit further confidences.

”No,” said Claude, who was not at all unwilling to receive her as his confidante. ”You see I was taken away from France when I was an infant.”

”When you were an infant!” said Mimi. ”How very, very sad!” and saying this, she turned her eyes, with a look full of deepest commiseration, upon him. ”And so, of course, you cannot remember anything at all about France.”

Claude shook his head.

”No, nothing at all,” said he. ”But I'm on my way there now; and I hope to see it before long. It's the most beautiful country in all the world--isn't it?'

”Beautiful!” exclaimed Mimi, throwing up her eyes; ”there are no words to describe it. It is heaven! Alas! how can I ever bear to live here in this wild and savage wilderness of America!”

”You did not wish to leave France then?” said Claude, who felt touched by this display of feeling.

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