Part 5 (2/2)
”But what brings a man from Fort Orange here?”
”There be nearly a hundred men in Fort Orange,” whispered Antonia.
”He says,” announced the Swiss, ”that he is cousin and agent of the seignior they call the patroon, and his name is Van Corlaer.”
”Do you know him, Antonia?”
”Yes.”
”And is he kindly disposed to you?”
”He was the friend of my husband, Jonas Bronck,” trembled Antonia.
”Admit him,” said Marie to her lieutenant.
”Alone, madame?”
”With all his followers, if he wills it. And bring him as quickly as you can to this table.”
”We need Edelwald to manage these affairs,” added the lady of the fort, as her subaltern went out. ”The Swiss is faithful, but he has manners as rugged as his mountains.”
IV.
THE WIDOW ANTONIA.
Antonia sat in tense quiet, though whitened even across the lips where all the color of her face usually appeared; and a stalwart and courtly man presented himself in the hall. Some of the best blood of the Dutch Republic had evidently gone to his making. He had the vital and reliable presence of a master in affairs, and his clean-shaven face had firm mouth-corners. Marie rose up without pause to meet him. He was freshly and carefully dressed in clothes carried for this purpose across the wilderness, and gained favor even with Lady Dorinda, as a man bearing around him in the New World the atmosphere of Europe. He made his greeting in French, and explained that he was pa.s.sing through Acadia on a journey to Montreal.
”We stand much beholden to monsieur,” said Marie with a quizzical face, ”that he should travel so many hundred leagues out of his way to visit this poor fort. I have heard that the usual route to Montreal is that short and direct one up the lake of Champlain.”
Van Corlaer's smile rested openly on Antonia as he answered,--
”Madame, a man's most direct route is the one that leads to his object.”
”Doubtless, monsieur. And you are very welcome to this fort. We have cause to love the New Netherlanders.”
Marie turned to deliver Antonia her guest, but Antonia stood without word or look for him. She seemed a scared Dutch child, bending all her strength and all her inherited quiet on maintaining self-control. He approached her, searching her face with his near-sighted large eyes.
”Had Madame Bronck no expectation of seeing Arendt Van Corlaer in Acadia?”
”No, mynheer,” whispered Antonia.
”But since I have come have you nothing to say to me?”
”I hope I see you well, mynheer.”
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