Part 24 (1/2)
”Why, Renot, my lad,” insisted Edelwald, ”we could see her white swan now in this noon of moonlight, if she were abroad. Besides, D'Aulnay has sentinels stationed around this height. They will check her.”
”They will check the wind across Fundy Bay first,” said the other man.
”You cannot think Le Rossignol has risen in the air on her swan's back?
That is too absurd,” said Edelwald. ”No one ever saw her play such pranks. And you could have winged the heavy bird as he rose.”
”I know she is out of Fort St. John at this minute,” insisted Renot Babinet. ”And how are you to wing a bird which gets out of sight before you know what has happened?”
”I say it is no wonder we have trouble in this seigniory,” growled the other man. ”Our lady never could see a mongrel baby or a witch dwarf or a stray black gown anywhere, but she must have it into the fort and make it free of the best here.”
”And G.o.d forever bless her,” said Edelwald, baring his head.
”Amen,” they both responded with force.
The silent cry was mighty behind Edelwald's lips;--the cry which he intrusted not even to his human breath--
”My love--my love! My royal lady! G.o.d, thou who alone knowest my secret, make me a giant to hold it down!”
XVIII.
THE SONG OF EDELWALD.
At daybreak a signal on the wall where it could be seen from D'Aulnay's camp brought an officer and his men to receive Madame La Tour's dispatches. Glaud Burge handed them, down at the end of a ramrod.
”But see yonder,” he said to Francois Bastarack his companion, as they stood and watched the messengers tramp away. He pointed to Klussman below the fort--poor Klussman whom the pearly vapors of morning could not conceal. ”I could have done that myself in first heat, but I like not treating with a man who did it coolly.”
Parleying and demurring over the terms of surrender continued until noon. All that time ax, saw and hammer worked in D'Aulnay's camp as if he had suddenly taken to s.h.i.+p-building. But the pastimes of a victorious force are regarded with dull attention by the vanquished. Finally the papers were handed up bearing D'Aulnay's signature. They guaranteed to Madame La Tour the safety of her garrison, who were to march out with their arms and personal belongings, the household goods of her people; and La Tour's s.h.i.+p with provisions enough to stock it for a voyage. The money, merchandise, stores, jewels and ordnance fell to D'Aulnay with the fort.
D'Aulnay marched directly on his conquest. His drums approached, and the garrison ran to throw into a heap such things as they and their families were to take away. Spotless weather and a dimpled bay adorned this lost seigniory. It was better than any dukedom in France to these first exiled Acadians. Pierre Doucett's widow and another bereaved woman knelt to cry once more over the trench by the powder-house. Her baby, hid in a case like a bolster, hung across her shoulder. Lady Dorinda's belongings, numbered among the goods of the household, were also placed near the gate. She sat within the hall, wrapped for her journey, composed and silent. For when the evil day actually overtook Lady Dorinda, she was too thorough a Briton to cringe. She met her second repulse from Acadia as she had met her first, when Claude La Tour found her his only consolation. In this violent uprooting of family life so long grown to one place, Le Rossignol was scarcely missed. Each one thought of the person dearest to himself and of that person's comfort.
Marie noted her absence, but the dwarf never came to harm. She was certain to rejoin the household somewhere, and who could blame her for avoiding the capitulation if she found it possible? The little Nightingale could not endure pain. Edelwald drew the garrison up in line and the gates were opened.
D'Aulnay entered the fort with his small army. He was splendidly dressed, and such pieces of armor as he wore dazzled the eye. As he returned the salute of Edelwald and the garrison, he paused and whitened with chagrin. Klussman had told him something of the weakness of the place, but he had not expected to find such a pitiful remnant of men.
Twenty-three soldiers and an officer! These were the precious creatures who had cost him so much, and whom their lady was so anxious to save! He smiled at the disproportionate preparations made by his hammers and saws, and glanced back to see if the timbers were being carried in. They were, at the rear of his force, but behind them intruded Father Vincent de Paris wrapped in a blanket which one of the soldiers had provided for him. The scantiness of this good friar's apparel should have restrained him in camp. But he was such an apostle as stalks naked to duty if need be, and he felt it his present duty to keep the check of religion upon the implacable nature of D'Aulnay de Charnisay.
D'Aulnay ordered the gates shut. He would have shut out Father Vincent, but it could not be managed without great discourtesy, and there are limits to that with a churchman. The household and garrison ready to depart saw this strange action with dismay, and Marie stepped directly down from her hall to confront her enemy. D'Aulnay had seen her at Port Royal when he first came to Acadia. He remembered her motion in the dance, and approved of it. She was a beautiful woman, though her Huguenot gown and close cap now gave her a widowed look--becoming to a woman of exploits. But she was also the woman to whom he owed one defeat and much humiliation.
He swept his plume at her feet.
”Permit me, Madame La Tour, to make my compliments to an amazon. My own taste are women who stay in the house at their prayers, but the Sieur de la Tour and I differ in many things.”
”Doubtless, my lord De Charnisay,” responded Marie with the dignity which cannot taunt, though she still believed the outcast child to be his. ”But why have you closed on us the gates which we opened to you?”
”Madame, I have been deceived in the terms of capitulation.”
”My lord, the terms of capitulation were set down plainly and I hold them signed by your hand.”
”But a signature is nothing when gross advantage hath been taken of one of the parties to a treaty.”
The mistake she had made in trusting to the military honor of D'Aulnay de Charnisay swept through Marie. But she controlled her voice to inquire,--