BEAUMANOIR.
They rode on in silence. A little beyond the village of Charlebourg they suddenly turned into the forest of Beaumanoir, where a well- beaten track, practicable both for carriages and horses, gave indications that the resort of visitors to the Chateau was neither small nor seldom.
The sun's rays scarcely penetrated the sea of verdure overhead.
The ground was thickly strewn with leaves, the memorials of past summers; and the dark green pines breathed out a resinous odor, fresh and invigorating to the passing rider.
Colonel Philibert, while his thoughts were for the most part fixed on the public dangers which led to this hasty visit of his to the Chateau of Beaumanoir, had still an eye for the beauty of the forest, and not a squirrel leaping, nor a bird fluttering among the branches, escaped his notice as he passed by. Still he rode on rapidly, and having got fairly into the road, soon outstripped his guide.
"A crooked road this to Beaumanoir," remarked he at length, drawing bridle to allow Master Pothier to rejoin him. "It is as mazy as the law. I am fortunate, I am sure, in having a sharp notary like you to conduct me through it."
"Conduct you! Your Honor is leading me! But the road to Beaumanoir is as intricate as the best case ever drawn up by an itinerant notary."
"You seldom ride, Master Pothier?" said Philibert, observing his guide jolting with an audible grunt at every step of his awkward nag.
"Ride, your Honor! N--no! Dame Bedard shall call me plaisant Robin if she ever tempts me again to mount her livery horse--'if fools only carried cruppers!' as Panurge says."
"Why, Master Pothier?" Philibert began to be amused at his odd guide.
"Why? Then I should be able to walk to-morrow--that is all! This nag will finish me. Hunc! hanc! hoc! He is fit to be Satan's tutor at the seminary! Hoc! hanc! hunc! I have not declined my pronouns since I left my accidence at the High School of Tours--not till to- day. Hunc! hanc! hoc! I shall be jolted to jelly! Hunc! hanc! hoc!"
Philibert laughed at the classical reminiscences of his guide; but, fearing that Pothier might fall off his horse, which he straddled like a hay-fork, he stopped to allow the worthy notary to recover his breath and temper.
"I hope the world appreciates your learning and talent, and that it uses you more gently than that horse of yours," remarked he.
"Oh, your Honor! it is kind of you to rein up by the way. I find no fault with the world if it find none with me. My philosophy is this, that the world is as men make it."
"As the old saying is,--"'To lend, or to spend, or to give in, 'Tis a very good world that we live in;
But to borrow, or beg, or get a man's own, 'Tis the very worst world that ever was known.'
And you consider yourself in the latter category, Master Pothier?"
Philibert spoke doubtingly, for a more self-complacent face than his companion's he never saw--every wrinkle trembled with mirth; eyes, cheeks, chin, and brows surrounded that jolly red nose of his like a group of gay boys round a bonfire.
"Oh, I am content, your Honor! We notaries are privileged to wear furred cloaks in the Palais de Justice, and black robes in the country when we can get them! Look here at my robe of dignity!" He held up the tattered tail of his gown with a ludicrous air. "The profession of notary is meat, drink, and lodging: every man's house is free to me--his bed and board I share, and there is neither wedding, christening, nor funeral, in ten parishes that can go on without me. Governors and intendants flourish and fall, but Jean Pothier dit Robin, the itinerant notary, lives merrily: men may do without bread, but they will not live without law--at least, in this noble, litigious New France of ours."
"Your profession seems quite indispensable, then!" remarked Philibert.
"Indispensable! I should think so! Without proper actes the world would soon come to an end, as did Adam's happiness in Eden, for want of a notary."
"A notary, Master Pothier?"
"Yes, your Honor. It is clear that Adam lost his first estate de usis et fructibus in the Garden of Eden, simply because there was no notary to draw up for him an indefeasable lease. Why, he had not even a bail a chaptal (a chattel mortgage) over the beasts he had himself named!"
"Ah!" replied Philibert, smiling, "I thought Adam lost his estate through a cunning notary who persuaded his wife to break the lease he held; and poor Adam lost possession because he could not find a second notary to defend his title."
"Hum! that might be; but judgment went by default, as I have read.
It would be different now; there are notaries, in New France and Old, capable of beating Lucifer himself in a process for either soul, body, or estate! But, thank fortune, we are out of this thick forest now."
The travellers had reached the other verge of the forest of Beaumanoir. A broad plain dotted with clumps of fair trees lay spread out in a royal domain, overlooked by a steep, wooded mountain. A silvery brook crossed by a rustic bridge ran through the park. In the centre was a huge cluster of gardens and patriarchal trees, out of the midst of which rose the steep roof, chimneys, and gilded vanes, flashing in the sun, of the Chateau of Beaumanoir.
The Chateau was a long, heavy structure of stone, gabled and pointed in the style of the preceding century--strong enough for defence, and elegant enough for the abode of the Royal Intendant of New France. It had been built, some four-score years previously, by the Intendant Jean Talon, as a quiet retreat when tired with the importunities of friends or the persecution of enemies, or disgusted with the cold indifference of the Court to his statesmanlike plans for the colonization of New France.