The Lane That Had No Turning | Page 9

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.