The Refugees | Page 3

charge first, for I fear
to leave you alone when these troopers may come. And yet no excuse
will avail me if I am not at Versailles. But see, a horseman has stopped
before the door. He is not in uniform. Perhaps he is a messenger from
your father."
The girl ran eagerly to the window, and peered out, with her hand
resting upon her cousin's silver-corded shoulder.
"Ah!" she cried, "I had forgotten. It is the man from America. Father
said that he would come to-day."

"The man from America!" repeated the soldier, in a tone of surprise,
and they both craned their necks from the window. The horseman, a
sturdy, broad-shouldered young man, clean-shaven and crop-haired,
turned his long, swarthy face and his bold features in their direction as
he ran his eyes over the front of the house. He had a soft-brimmed gray
hat of a shape which was strange to Parisian eyes, but his sombre
clothes and high boots were such as any citizen might have worn. Yet
his general appearance was so unusual that a group of townsfolk had
already assembled round him, staring with open mouth at his horse and
himself. A battered gun with an extremely long barrel was fastened by
the stock to his stirrup, while the muzzle stuck up into the air behind
him. At each holster was a large dangling black bag, and a gaily
coloured red-slashed blanket was rolled up at the back of his saddle.
His horse, a strong-limbed dapple-gray, all shiny with sweat above, and
all caked with mud beneath, bent its fore knees as it stood, as though it
were overspent. The rider, however, having satisfied himself as to the
house, sprang lightly out of his saddle, and disengaging his gun, his
blanket, and his bags, pushed his way unconcernedly through the
gaping crowd and knocked loudly at the door.
"Who is he, then?" asked De Catinat. "A Canadian? I am almost one
myself. I had as many friends on one side of the sea as on the other.
Perchance I know him. There are not so many white faces yonder, and
in two years there was scarce one from the Saguenay to Nipissing that I
had not seen."
"Nay, he is from the English provinces, Amory. But he speaks our
tongue. His mother was of our blood."
"And his name?"
"Is Amos--Amos--ah, those names! Yes, Green, that was it--Amos
Green. His father and mine have done much trade together, and now his
son, who, as I understand, has lived ever in the woods, is sent here to
see something of men and cities. Ah, my God! what can have happened
now?"
A sudden chorus of screams and cries had broken out from the passage

beneath, with the shouting of a man and the sound of rushing steps. In
an instant De Catinat was half-way down the stairs, and was staring in
amazement at the scene in the hall beneath.
Two maids stood, screaming at the pitch of their lungs, at either side. In
the centre the aged man-servant Pierre, a stern old Calvinist, whose
dignity had never before been shaken, was spinning round, waving his
arms, and roaring so that he might have been heard at the Louvre.
Attached to the gray worsted stocking which covered his fleshless calf
was a fluffy black hairy ball, with one little red eye glancing up, and
the gleam of two white teeth where it held its grip. At the shrieks, the
young stranger, who had gone out to his horse, came rushing back, and
plucking the creature off, he slapped it twice across the snout, and
plunged it head-foremost back into the leather bag from which it had
emerged.
"It is nothing," said he, speaking in excellent French; "it is only a bear."
"Ah, my God!" cried Pierre, wiping the drops from his brow. "Ah, it
has aged me five years! I was at the door, bowing to monsieur, and in a
moment it had me from behind."
"It was my fault for leaving the bag loose. The creature was but pupped
the day we left New York, six weeks come Tuesday. Do I speak with
my father's friend, Monsieur Catinat?"
"No, monsieur," said the guardsman, from the staircase. "My uncle is
out, but I am Captain de Catinat, at your service, and here is
Mademoiselle Catinat, who is your hostess."
The stranger ascended the stair, and paid his greetings to them both
with the air of a man who was as shy as a wild deer, and yet who had
steeled himself to carry a thing through. He walked with them to the
sitting-room, and then in an instant was gone again, and they heard his
feet thudding upon the stairs. Presently he was back, with a lovely
glossy