Part 3 (1/2)
”A mother and two sisters--one married, the other at a convent in Quebec. My brother-in-law a.s.sists my father. We are very humble people.”
”Why have you come to France?”
”Because I have admired it since a child, from my mother's stories at her knee.”
”She came from France, then?”
”No, sir, but she was housekeeper in the house of Governor the Marquis de Beauharnois.”
When he said this the youth blushed.
”How is it your accent is so good? It is quite that of our gentry.”
”I learnt it at the Little Seminary, from the priests, who are gentlemen of Paris. There also the best families send their boys, and we young men grew up together. I have lived a little in Montreal too.”
”Ah, what is Montreal now like? Are the town walls still standing?”
”They surround the city, but the commander-in-chief talks of replacing them by avenues and a Champ de Mars.”
”The British garrison of course occupies the a.r.s.enal, the British flag flies from the Citadel. Where does the British Governor reside?”
”At the Chateau de Ramezay.”
”But why not at the Chateau de Vaudreuil, where Governor de Vaudreuil dwelt? It was larger and its gardens finer.”
”That now belongs to Monsieur de Lotbiniere.”
”De Lotbiniere! the new Marquis! Lucky devil; but blue death, what changes!”
They rose and strayed into the gardens.
”I seem to find in you already,” said the warm-hearted old Chevalier, ”one whom I love. There is something frank in your eyes which raises memories of my dead son. In you I see both my offspring's and my own youth recalled to me. You are Canadian--in you I can banish the coldness, hollowness, and degeneracy of Europe. Replace my boy. Let me call you 'Germain' and 'son.'”
The bar of evening glow was fading in the west and twilight falling on the walks. A chill breeze seemed to inspire a question, which Germain began.
”But----?”
”There is some hindrance then?” exclaimed the Chevalier in a disappointed voice.
”Alas, does your honour, perhaps, forget the differences of birth?”
”Differences of birth, my Germain, are illusions; you have the reality.”
”Would that I had the illusion,” thought poor Lecour.
CHAPTER V
MONSIEUR DE RePENTIGNY