The Governor noticed the sudden reticence, and half surmising the cause, remarked playfully, "The Iroquois will hardly dare approach Tilly with such a garrison as Pierre Philibert and Le Gardeur, and with you, my Lady de Tilly, as commandant, and you, Mademoiselle Amelie, as aide-de-camp!"
"To be sure! your Excellency," replied the Lady de Tilly. "The women of Tilly have worn swords and kept the old house before now!" she added playfully, alluding to a celebrated defence of the chateau by a former lady of the Manor at the head of a body of her censitaires; "and depend upon it, we shall neither give up Tilly nor Le Gardeur either, to whatever savages claim them, be they red or white!"
The lady's allusion to his late associates did not offend Le Gardeur, whose honest nature despised their conduct, while he liked their company. They all understood her, and laughed. The Governor's loyalty to the King's commission prevented his speaking his thoughts. He only remarked, "Le Gardeur and Pierre Philibert will be under your orders, my Lady, and my orders are that they are not to return to the city until all dangers of the Iroquois are over."
"All right, your Excellency!" exclaimed Le Gardeur. "I shall obey my aunt." He was acute enough to see through their kindly scheming for his welfare; but his good nature and thorough devotion to his aunt and sister, and his affectionate friendship for Pierre, made him yield to the project without a qualm of regret. Le Gardeur was assailable on many sides,--a fault in his character--or a weakness-- which, at any rate, sometimes offered a lever to move him in directions opposite to the malign influences of Bigot and his associates.
The company rose from the tea-table and moved to the drawing-room, where conversation, music, and a few games of cards whiled away a couple of hours very pleasantly.
Amelie sang exquisitely. The Governor was an excellent musician, and accompanied her. His voice, a powerful tenor, had been strengthened by many a conflict with old Boreas on the high seas, and made soft and flexible by his manifold sympathies with all that is kindly and good and true in human nature.
A song of wonderful pathos and beauty had just been brought down from the wilds of the Ottawa, and become universally sung in New France. A voyageur flying from a band of Iroquois had found a hiding-place on a rocky islet in the middle of the Sept Chutes. He concealed himself from his foes, but could not escape, and in the end died of starvation and sleeplessness. The dying man peeled off the white bark of the birch, and with the juice of berries wrote upon it his death song, which was found long after by the side of his remains. His grave is now a marked spot on the Ottawa. La Complainte de Cadieux had seized the imagination of Amelie. She sang it exquisitely, and to-night needed no pressing to do so, for her heart was full of the new song, composed under such circumstances of woe. Intense was the sympathy of the company, as she began:
"'Petit rocher de la haute montagne, Je viens finir ici cette campagne!
Ah! doux echos, entendez mes soupirs!
En languissant je vais bientot--mourir.'"
There were no dry eyes as she concluded. The last sighs of Cadieux seemed to expire on her lips:
"'Rossignole, va dire a ma maitresse, A mes enfans, qu'un adieu je leur laisse, Que j'ai garde mon amour et ma foi, Et desormais faut renoncer a moi.'"
A few more friends of the family dropped in--Coulon de Villiers, Claude Beauharnais, La Corne St. Luc, and others, who had heard of the lady's departure and came to bid her adieu.
La Corne raised much mirth by his allusions to the Iroquois. The secret was plainly no secret to him. "I hope to get their scalps," said he, "when you have done with them and they with you, Le Gardeur!"
The evening passed on pleasantly, and the clock of the Recollets pealed out a good late hour before they took final leave of their hospitable hostess, with mutual good wishes and adieus, which with some of them were never repeated. Le Gardeur was no little touched and comforted by so much sympathy and kindness. He shook the Bourgeois affectionately by the hand, inviting him to come up to Tilly. It was noticed and remembered that this evening Le Gardeur clung filially, as it were, to the father of Pierre, and the farewell he gave him was tender, almost solemn, in a sort of sadness that left an impress upon all minds. "Tell Pierre--but indeed, he knows we start early," said Le Gardeur, "and the canoes will be waiting on the Batture an hour after sunrise.
The Bourgeois knew in a general way the position of Le Gardeur, and sympathized deeply with him. "Keep your heart up, my boy!" said he on leaving. "Remember the proverb,--never forget it for a moment, Le Gardeur: Ce que Dieu garde est bien garde!"
"Good-by, Sieur Philibert!" replied he, still holding him by the hand. "I would fain be permitted to regard you as a father, since Pierre is all of a brother to me!"
"I will be a father, and a loving one too, if you will permit me, Le Gardeur," said the Bourgeois, touched by the appeal. "When you return to the city, come home with Pierre. At the Golden Dog, as well as at Belmont, there will be ever welcome for Pierre's friend as for Pierre's self."
The guests then took their departure.
The preparations for the journey home were all made, and the household retired to rest, all glad to return to Tilly. Even Felix Baudoin felt like a boy going back on a holiday. His mind was surcharged with the endless things he had gathered up, ready to pour into the sympathizing ear of Barbara Sanschagrin; and the servants and censitaires were equally eager to return to relate their adventures in the capital when summoned on the King's corvee to build the walls of Quebec.