"It was paper," said the count impatiently. What was this man
D'Halluys driving at?
"Well, as I said;" and the vicomte twisted the ends of his mustache and
gnawed it between his teeth. "There is a ghost upon this ship. There
was nothing in that pocket, not even a piece of paper as large as your
thumb-nail."
"You lie!" roughly.
Their faces came close together.
"If Monsieur le Chevalier leaves enough of you, Monsieur," said the
vicomte. His tone was gentle. "When I gave you my word it was given
honestly, without reservation. There were no papers in that cloak.
Some one has gone before us, or rather, some one has gone before me.
You spoke of papers: what gave you to believe there was more than one?
Monsieur, is not the lie on your side? Have you not had access to the
Chevalier's room? You say that I lie; is not your own tongue crooked?
Besides, let us not forget the poet, who, while he may be unaware of
the commercial value of that paper, has no less an interest in it. You
have given me the lie: go about your affairs as you please, and I shall
do likewise. When we land, if the Chevalier does not kill you, I will."
"Why?"
"You tell me that I lie."
"Bah! Monsieur, under all circumstances there would be cause for war
between us. Do you not love Madame de Brissac? Heigho! she has given
the motley to us all. Are we not fine fools? It is droll. Well, I
will write the Chevalier's discharge, and you shall go out by the same
order. We are all cats in the bags, and some of us are likely to be
scratched."
"It will be an exciting day, no doubt;" and the vicomte turned on his
heel.
"There was nothing in the pockets of the cloak," said Victor, a while
later.
On the second day of June the Saint Laurent dropped anchor before
Quebec. The voyage had come to an end, and a prosperous voyage,
indeed. There had been only one death at sea; they had encountered
neither the Spaniard nor the outlaw; the menace of ice they had slipped
past. What a welcome was roared to them from Fort Louis, from the
cannon and batteries, high up on the cliffs! The echoes rolled across
the river and were lost in the mighty forests beyond. Again and again
came the flash, and the boom. It was wondrous to see the fire and
smoke so far above one's head. Flags fluttered in the sunshine; all
labor was stopped, and the great storehouses were closed for the
remainder of the day. Canoes filled with peaceful Hurons sallied
forth, and the wharves were almost blotted out of sight with crowding
humanity.
Many notable faces could be identified here and there among the
pressing throng on the wharves. Some were there to meet friends or
relatives; some wanted the news from France; some came for mail to be
delivered to the various points along the river. Prominent among them
was Governor Lauson, a grey-haired, kindly civilian, who, though a
shrewd speculator, was by no means the man to be at the head of the
government in Canada. He was pulled this way and that, first by the
Company, then by the priests, then by the seigneurs. Depredations by
the Indians remained unpunished; and the fear of the great white father
grew less and less. Surrounding Monsieur de Lauson was his staff and
councillors, and the veterans Du Puys had left behind while in France.
There were names which in their time were synonyms for courage and
piety. The great Jesuits were absent in the south, in Onondaga, where
they had erected a mission: Father Superior le Mercier, and Fathers
Dablon and Le Moyne.