Brother Jacques saw nothing in the velvet glooms but the figure of
Monsieur le Marquis as it lay that night after the duel.
Whenever the Senecas came to a habitation, they drew up the canoes and
carried them overland, far distant into the forest, making a
half-circuit of the point. During these portages the fatigue of the
women was great. Several times Anne broke down, unable to proceed.
Sometimes the savages waited patiently for her to recover, at other
times they were cruel in their determination to go on. Once Brother
Jacques took Anne's slight figure in his strong arms and carried her a
quarter of a mile. She hung upon his neck with the content of a weary
child, and the cool flesh of her cheek against his neck disturbed the
tranquillity of his dreams for many days to come.
Madame, on her part, struggled on without complaint. If she stumbled
and fell, no sound escaped her lips. She regained her feet without
assistance. Madame's was a great spirit; she knew the strength of
resignation.
It was after two o'clock when the Iroquois signified their intention of
pitching camp till dawn. They were far away from the common track now.
The last portage had carried them across several small streams. They
were in the heart of the forest. All night Brother Jacques sat at the
side of the women, guarding with watchful eyes. How the spirit and the
flesh of this man warred! And all the while his face in the filtered
moonlight was marbled and set of expression. He was made of iron,
constitutionally; his resolution, tempered steel.
Anne slept, but not so madame. She listened and listened: to the stir
of the leaves, to the dim murmur of running water, to the sighs of the
night wind, to the crackling of a dry twig when Anne turned uneasily in
her sleep. She listened and listened, but the sound she hungered for
never came.
At Quebec the news of the calamity did not become known till near
midnight. As the wind-drifted pleasure-boat told its grim story,
desolation fell upon the hearts of four men, each being conscious in
his own way that some part of the world had shifted from under his
feet. The governor recommended patience; he was always recommending
that attribute; he was always practising it, and fatally at times. The
four men shook their heads. The Chevalier and Victor bundled together
a few necessities, such as cloaks, blankets and arms. They set out at
once while the moon was yet high; set out in silence and with sullen
rage.
Jean Pauquet and the vicomte were in the act of following, when
D'Hérouville, disheveled and breathing heavily from his run down from
the upper town, arrested them.
"Vicomte," he cried, "you must take me with you. I can find no one to
go with me."