and found you a sly minx––when my back was turned––but this time it is not I alone who will watch your actions. I have pledged you a husband.”
I got to my feet, staring at him, the indignant words stifled in my throat. He laughed coarsely, and resumed his meal.
“A husband, Monsieur? You have pledged me?”
“Ay! why not? You are seventeen, and ’tis my place to see you well settled.”
“But I have no wish to marry, Monsieur,” I protested. “There is no man for whom I care.”
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He shrugged his shoulders indifferently, and laughed.
“Pooh! if I waited for that no doubt you would pick out some cockerel without so much as a spur to his heel. ’Tis my choice, not yours, for I know the world, and the man you need. Monsieur Cassion has asked me to favor him, and I think well of it.”
“Cassion! Surely, you would not wed me to that creature?”
He pushed back his chair, regarding me with scowling eyes.
“And where is there a better? Sacre! do you think yourself a queen to choose? ’Tis rare luck you have such an offer. Monsieur Cassion is going to be a great man in this New France; already he has the Governor’s ear, and a commission, with a tidy sum to his credit in Quebec. What more could any girl desire in a husband?”
“But, Monsieur, I do not love him; I do not trust the man.”
“Pah!” He burst into a laugh, rising from the table. Before I could draw back he had gripped me by the arm. “Enough of that, young lady. He is my choice, and that settles it. Love! who ever heard of love nowadays? Ah, I see, you dream already of the young gallant De Artigny. Well, little good that will do you. Why what is he? a mere ragged adventurer, 23 without a sou to his name, a prowling wolf of the forest, the follower of a discredited fur thief. But enough of this; I have told you my will, and you obey. Tomorrow we go to Quebec, to the Governor’s ball, and when Monsieur Cassion returns from his mission you will marry him––you understand?”
The tears were in my eyes, blotting out his threatening face, yet there was naught to do but answer.
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“And this De Artigny; if the fellow ever dares come near you again I’ll crush his white throat between my fingers.”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“To your room then, and think over all I have said. You have never found me full of idle threats I warrant.”
“No, Monsieur.”
I drew my arm from his grasp, feeling it tingle with pain where his fingers had crushed the flesh, and crept up the narrow stairs, glad enough to get away and be alone. I had never loved Chevet, but he had taught me to fear him, for more than once had I experienced his brutality and physical power. To him I was but a chattel, an incumbrance. He had assumed charge of me because the law so ordained, but I had found nothing in his nature on which I could rely for sympathy. I was his sister’s child, yet no more to him than some 24 Indian waif. More, he was honest about it. To his mind he did well by me in thus finding me a husband. I sank on my knees, and hid my face, shuddering at the thought of the sacrifice demanded. Cassion! never before had the man appeared so despicable. His face, his manner, swept through my memory in review. I had scarcely considered him before, except as a disagreeable presence to be avoided as much as possible. But now, in the silence, the growing darkness of that little chamber, with Chevet’s threat echoing in my ears, he came to me in clear vision––I saw his dull-blue, cowardly eyes, his little waxed mustache, his insolent swagger, and heard his harsh, bragging voice.
Ay! he would get on; there was no doubt of that, for he would worm his way through where only a snake could crawl. A snake! that was what he was, and I shuddered at thought of the slimy touch of his hand. I despised, hated him; yet what could I do? It was useless to appeal to Chevet, and the Governor, La Barre, would give small heed to a girl objecting to one of his henchmen. De Artigny! The name was on my lips before I realized I had spoken it, and brought a throb of hope. I arose to my feet, and stared out of the window into the dark night. My pulses throbbed. If he cared; if I only knew he cared, I would fly with him anywhere, into the wilderness depths, to escape Cassion. I could think of no other 25 way, no other hope. If he cared! It seemed to me my very breath stopped as this daring conception, this mad possibility, swept across my mind.
I was a girl, inexperienced, innocent of coquetry, and yet I possessed all the instincts of a woman. I had seen that in his eyes which gave me faith––he remembered the past; he had found me attractive; he felt a desire to meet me again. I knew all this––but was that all? Was it a mere passing fervor, a fleeting admiration, to be forgotten in the presence of the next pretty face? Would he dare danger to serve me? to save me from the clutches of Cassion? A smile, a flash of the eyes, is small foundation to build upon, yet it was all I had. Perchance he gave the same encouragement to others, with no serious thought. The doubt assailed me, yet there was no one else in all New France to whom I could appeal.
But how could I reach him with my tale? There was but one opportunity––the Governor’s ball. He would be there; he had said so, laughingly glancing toward me as he spoke the words, the flash of his eyes a challenge. But it would be difficult. Chevet, Cassion, not for a moment would they take eyes from me, and if I failed to treat him coldly an open quarrel must result. Chevet would be glad of an excuse, and Cassion’s jealousy would spur him on. Yet I must try, and, in truth, I trusted not so much in Monsieur 26 de Artigny’s interest in me, as in his reckless love of adventure. ’Twould please him to play an audacious trick on La Salle’s enemies, and make Cassion the butt of laughter.
Once he understood, the game would prove much to his liking, and I could count on his aid, while the greater the danger the stronger it would appeal to such a nature as his. Even though he cared little for me he was a gallant to respond gladly to a maid in distress. Ay, if I might once bring him word, I could rely on his response; but how could that be done? I must trust fortune, attend the ball, and be ready; there was no other choice.
’Tis strange how this vague plan heartened me, and gave new courage. Scarce more than a dream, yet I dwelt upon it, imagining what I would say, and how escape surveillance long enough to make my plea for assistance. Today, as I write, it seems strange that I should ever have dared such a project, yet at the time not a thought of its immodesty ever assailed me. To my mind Rene de Artigny was no stranger; as a memory he had lived, and been portion of my life for three lonely years. To appeal to him now, to trust him, appeared the most natural thing in the world. The desperation of my situation obscured all else, and I turned to him as the only friend I knew in time of need. And my confidence in his fidelity, his careless 27 audacity, brought instantly a measure of peace. I crept back and lay down upon the bed. The tears dried upon my lashes, and I fell asleep as quietly as a tired child.
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CHAPTER III
I APPEAL FOR AID
It had been two years since I was at Quebec, and it was
