The Grey Cloak - Page 221/256

"When are we to be returned to Quebec? I am weary, very weary, of all

this. There are no wits; men have no tongues, but purposes."

"Whenever Father Chaumonot thinks it safe and men can be spared, he

will make preparations. It will be before the winter sets in."

Madame sat down upon an adjacent boulder, and reflected.

"Shall I gather you some chestnuts, Madame? They are not so ripe as

they might be, but I daresay the novelty of eating them here in the

wilderness will appeal to your appetite."

"If you will be so kind," grudgingly.

So he set to work gathering the nuts while she secretly took off her

moccasin in a vain attempt to discover the disquieting bur-needles. He

returned presently and deposited a hatful of nuts in her lap. Then he

went back to his seat from where he watched her calmly as she munched

the starchy meat. It gradually dawned on him that the situation was

absurd; and he permitted a furtive smile to soften his firm lips. But

furtive as it was, she saw it, and colored, her quick intuition

translating the smile.

"It is absurd; truthfully, it is." She swept the nuts to the ground.

"But supposing I change all this into something more than absurd?

Supposing I should suddenly take you in my arms? There is no one in

sight. I am strong. Supposing, then, I kissed you, taking a tithe of

your promises?"

She looked at him uneasily. Starting a fire was all very well, but the

touch of it!

"Supposing that I took you away somewhere, alone, with me, to a place

where no one would find us? I do not speak, you say; but I am

thinking, thinking, and every thought means danger to you, to myself,

to the past and the future. How do these suppositions appeal to you,

Madame?"

Had he moved, madame would have been frightened; but as he remained in

the same easy attitude, her fear had no depths.

"But I shall do none of these things because . . . because it would be

hardly worth while. I tried to win your love honestly; but as I

failed, let us say no more about it. I shall make no inquiries into

your peculiar purpose; since you have accomplished it, there is nothing

more to be said, save that you are not honest."

"Let us be going," she said, standing. "It will be twilight ere we

reach the settlement."

"Very well;" and he halloed for Victor.

The way back to the fort was one of unbroken silence. Neither madame

nor the Chevalier spoke again.

The Chevalier had some tasks to perform that evening which employed his

time far beyond the meal hour. When he entered the mess-room it was

deserted save for the presence of Corporal Frémin, one of the

dissatisfied colonists. Several times he had been found unduly under

the influence of apricot brandy. Du Puys had placed him in the

guardhouse at three different periods for this misdemeanor. Where he

got the brandy none could tell, and the corporal would not confess to

the Jesuit Fathers, nor to his brother, who was a priest.

Unfortunately, he had been drinking again to-day. He sat opposite the

Chevalier, smoking moodily, his little eyes blinking, blinking.