The Lane That Had No Turning, Complete. Gilbert Parker

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СКАЧАТЬ or thereabouts. Once, with him that’s dead in the graveyard yonder, it was France we were to save and bring back the Napoleons—I have my sword yet. Now it’s save Quebec. It’s stand alone and have our own flag, and shout, and fight, maybe, to be free of England. Independence—that’s it! One by one the English have had to go from Pontiac. Now it’s M’sieu’ Medallion.”

      “There’s Shandon the Irishman gone too. M’sieu’ sold him up and shipped him off,” said Gingras the shoemaker.

      “Tiens! the Seigneur gave him fifty dollars when he left, to help him along. He smacks and then kisses, does M’sieu’ Racine.”

      “We’ve to pay tribute to the Seigneur every year, as they did in the days of Vaudreuil and Louis the Saint,” said Duclosse. “I’ve got my notice—a bag of meal under the big tree at the Manor door.”

      “I’ve to bring a pullet and a bag of charcoal,” said Muroc. “ ’Tis the rights of the Seigneur as of old.”

      “Tiens! it is my mind,” said Benoit, “that a man that nature twists in back, or leg, or body anywhere, gets a twist in’s brain too. There’s Parpon the dwarf—God knows, Parpon is a nut to crack!”

      “But Parpon isn’t married to the greatest singer in the world, though she’s only the daughter of old leather-belly there,” said Gingras.

      “Something doesn’t come of nothing, snub-nose,” said Lajeunesse. “Mark you, I was born a man of fame, walking bloody paths to glory; but, by the grace of Heaven and my baptism, I became a forgeron. Let others ride to glory, I’ll shoe their horses for the gallop.”

      “You’ll be in Parliament yet, Lajeunesse,” said Duclosse the mealman, who had been dozing on a pile of untired cart-wheels.

      “I’ll be hanged first, comrade.”

      “One in the family at a time,” said Muroc. “There’s the Seigneur. He’s going into Parliament.”

      “He’s a magistrate—that’s enough,” said Duclosse. “He’s started the court under the big tree, as the Seigneurs did two hundred years ago. He’ll want a gibbet and a gallows next.”

      “I should think he’d stay at home and not take more on his shoulders!” said the one-eyed shoemaker. Without a word, Lajeunesse threw a dish of water in Gingras’s face. This reference to the Seigneur’s deformity was unpalatable.

      Gingras had not recovered from his discomfiture when all were startled by the distant blare of a bugle. They rushed to the door, and were met by Parpon the dwarf, who announced that a regiment of soldiers was marching on the village.

      “ ’Tis what I expected after that meeting, and the Governor’s visit, and the lily-flag of France on the Manor, and the body-guard and the carbines,” said Muroc nervously.

      “We’re all in trouble again-sure,” said Benoit, and drained his glass to the last drop. “Some of us will go to gaol.”

      The coming of the militia had been wholly unexpected by the people of Pontiac, but the cause was not far to seek. Ever since the Governor’s visit there had been sinister rumours abroad concerning Louis Racine, which the Cure and the Avocat and others had taken pains to contradict. It was known that the Seigneur had been requested to disband his so-called company of soldiers with their ancient livery and their modern arms, and to give them up. He had disbanded the corps, but he had not given up the arms, and, for reasons unknown, the Government had not pressed the point, so far as the world knew. But it had decided to hold a district drill in this far-off portion of the Province; and this summer morning two thousand men marched ‘upon the town and through it, horse, foot, and commissariat, and Pontiac was roused out of the last-century romance the Seigneur had sought to continue, to face the actual presence of modern force and the machinery of war. Twice before had British soldiers marched into the town, the last time but a few years agone, when blood had been shed on the stones in front of the parish church. But here were large numbers of well-armed men from the Eastern parishes, English and French, with four hundred regulars to leaven the mass. Lajeunesse knew only too well what this demonstration meant.

      Before the last soldier had passed through the street, he was on his way to the Seigneury.

      He found Madelinette alone in the great dining-room, mending a rent in the British flag, which she was preparing for a flag-staff. When she saw him, she dropped the flag, as if startled, came quickly to him, took both his hands in hers, and kissed his cheek.

      “Wonder of wonders!” she said.

      “It’s these soldiers,” he replied shortly. “What of them?” she asked brightly.

      “Do you mean to say you don’t know what their coming here means?” he asked.

      “They must drill somewhere, and they are honouring Pontiac,” she replied gaily, but her face flushed as she bent over the flag again.

      He came and stood in front of her. “I don’t know what’s in your mind; I don’t know what you mean to do; but I do know that M’sieu’ Racine is making trouble here, and out of it you’ll come more hurt than anybody.”

      “What has Louis done?”

      “What has he done! He’s been stirring up feeling against the British. What has he done!—Look at the silly customs he’s got out of old coffins, to make us believe they’re alive. Why did he ever try to marry you? Why did you ever marry him? You are the great singer of the world. He’s a mad hunchback habitant seigneur!”

      She stamped her foot indignantly, but presently she ruled herself to composure, and said quietly: “He is my husband. He is a brave man, with foolish dreams.” Then with a sudden burst of tender feeling, she said: “Oh, father, father, can’t you see, I loved him—that is why I married him. You ask me what I am going to do? I am going to give the rest of my life to him. I am going to stay with him, and be to him all that he may never have in this world, never—never. I am going to be to him what my mother was to you, a slave to the end—a slave who loved you, and who gave you a daughter who will do the same for her husband—”

      “No matter what he does or is—eh?”

      “No matter what he is.”

      Lajeunesse gasped. “You will give up singing! Not sing again before kings and courts, and not earn ten thousand dollars a month—more than I’ve earned in twenty years? You don’t mean that, Madelinette.”

      He was hoarse with feeling, and he held out his hand pleadingly. To him it seemed that his daughter was mad; that she was throwing her life away.

      “I mean that, father,” she answered quietly. “There are things worth more than money.”

      “You don’t mean to say that you can love him as he is. It isn’t natural. But no, it isn’t.”

      “What would you have said, if any one had asked you if you loved my mother that last year of her life, when she was a cripple, and we wheeled her about in a chair you made for her?”

      “Don’t say any more,” he said slowly, and took up his hat, and kept turning it round in his hand. “But you’ll prevent him getting into trouble with the Gover’ment?” he urged at last.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ