The Grey Cloak - Page 38/256

"Father Chaumonot, who knows his Indian as a Turk knows his Koran."

"And does his Majesty intend to make Frenchmen of these savages?"

"They are already Frenchmen," was the answer. "There remains only to

teach them how to speak and pray like Frenchmen."

"And he will be quiet and docile?" ventured the inn-keeper, who still

entertained some doubts.

"If no one offers him an indignity. The Iroquois is a proud man. But

I see Monsieur Nicot calling to you; Monsieur Nicot, whose ancestor,

God bless him! introduced this weed into France;" and Du Puys refilled

his pipe, applied an ember, took off his faded baldric and rapier, and

reclined full length on the bench. Maître le Borgne hurried away to

attend to the wants of Monsieur Nicot. Presently the soldier said:

"Shall we sail to-morrow, Master Mariner?"

"As the weather wills." Bouchard bent toward the fire and with the aid

of a pair of tongs drew forth the end of a broken spit, white with

heat. This he plunged into a tankard of spiced port; and at once there

arose a fragrant steam. He dropped the smoking metal to the floor, and

drank deeply from the tankard. "Zachary, we shall see spring all

glorious at Quebec, which is the most beautiful promontory in all the

world. Upon its cliffs France will build her a new and mighty Paris.

You will become a great captain, and I shall grow as rich as our host's

cousin."

"Amen; and may the Holy Virgin speed us to the promised land." Du Puys

blew above his head a winding cloud of smoke. "A brave race, these

black cassocks; for they carry the Word into the jaws of death. Ad

majorem Dei gloriam. There was Father Jogues. What privations, what

tortures he endured! And an Iroquois sank a hatchet into his brain. I

have seen the Spaniard at his worst, the Italian, the Turk, but for

matchless cruelty the Iroquois has no rival. And this cunning Mazarin

promises and promises us money and men, while those who reckon on his

word struggle and die. Ah well, monseigneur has the gout; he will die

of it."

"And this Marquis de Périgny; will not Father Chaumonot waste his

time?" asked the mariner.

"Who can say? The marquis is a strange man. He is neither Catholic

nor Huguenot; he fears neither God nor the devil. He laughs at death,

since to him there is no hereafter. Yet withal, he is a man of justice

and of many generous impulses. But woe to the man who crosses his

path. His peasants are well fed and clothed warmly; his servants

refuse to leave him. He was one of the gayest and wildest courtiers in

Paris, a man who has killed twenty men in duels. There are two things

that may be said in his favor; he is without hypocrisy, and is an

honest and fearless enemy. Louis XIII was his friend, the Duc de Rohan

his comrade. He has called Gaston of Orléans a coward to his face.