"What shall I read, Paul?" asked Victor, joyously.
"You will find my Odyssey in the berthroom. Read me of Ulysses when he
finally arrived at Ithaca and found Penelope still faithful."
"Monsieur," said Chaumonot, who overheard the request, "would you not
rather I should read to you from the life of Loyola?"
"No, Father," gently; "I am still pagan enough to love the thunder of
Homer."
"If only I might convince you of the futility of such books!" earnestly.
"Nothing is futile, Father, which is made of grace and beauty."
So Victor read from the immortal epic. He possessed a fine voice, and
being a musician he knew how to use it. The voice of his friend and
the warmth of the sun combined to produce a pleasant drowsiness to
which the Chevalier yielded, gratefully. That night he slept soundly.
The following day was not without a certain glory. The wind was mild
and gentle like that which springs up suddenly during a summer's
twilight and breathes mysteriously among the tops of the pines or stirs
a murmur in the fields of grain. The sea wrinkled and crinkled its
ancient face, not boisterously, but rather kindly; like a giant who had
forgotten his feud with mankind and lay warming himself in the
sunshine. From the unbroken circle of the horizon rose a cup of
perfect turquoise. Victor, leaning against the rail, vowed that he
sniffed the perfume of spices, blown up from the climes of the eternal
summer.
"I feel it in my bones," he said, solemnly, "that I shall write verses
to-day. What is it the presence of spring brings forth from us?--this
lightness of spirit, this gaiety, this flinging aside of worldly cares,
this longing to laugh and sing?"
"Well, Master Poet," and Major du Puys clapped the young man on the
shoulder and smiled into his face. "Let them be like 'Henri at
Cahors,' and, my faith! you may read them all day to me."
"No, I have in mind a happy refrain. 'Where are the belles of the
balconies?' This is the time of year when life awakens in the gardens.
Between four and five the ladies will come out upon the balconies and
pass the time of day. Some one will have discovered a new comfit, and
word will go round that Mademoiselle So-and-So, who is a great lady,
has fallen in love with a poor gentleman. And lackeys will wander
forth with scented notes of their mistresses, and many a gallant will
furbish up his buckles. Heigho! Where, indeed, are the belles of the
balconies? But, Major, I wish to thank you for the privileges which
you have extended the Chevalier and myself."
"Nonsense, my lad!" cried the good major. "What are we all but a large
family, with a worldly and a spiritual father? All I ask of you, when
we are inside the fort at Quebec, is not to gamble or drink or use
profane language, to obey the king, who is represented by Monsieur de
Lauson and myself, to say your prayers, and to attend mass regularly.
And your friend, the Chevalier?"