The Forge in the Forest Read online

  Chapter VIII

  The Black Abbe Comes to Dinner

  Of the pleasant but something irrelevant matter of how merrily wesupped that night with de Ramezay and his officers,--many of whom Iknew, all of whom knew me or my adventurous repute,--I will not lingerto discourse. Nor of the costly dainties from France which enrichedthe board, side by side with fair salmon from the Tantramar andbursting-fat plover from the Joli-Coeur marshes. Nor of the good redwine of Burgundy which so enhanced the relish of those delectablebirds,--and of which I might perhaps have drunk more sparingly had goodProvidence but made me more abstemious. Let it suffice to say, therewas wit enough to spice plainer fare, and courtesy that had shone atVersailles. The long bare room, with its low, black-raftered ceilingand polished floor, its dark walls patterned with shelves, was lit bythe smoky flames of two-score tallow candles.

  By and by chairs were pushed back, the company sat with less ceremony,the air grew clouded with the blue vapours of the Virginia weed, andtongues wagged something more loosely than before. There weresongs,--catches from the banks of Rhone, rolling ballads of our ownvoyageurs. A young captain quite lately from Versailles, the Sieur deVille d'Avray, had an excellent gift of singing.

  But now, just when the Sieur de Ville d'Avray was rendering, with mostcommendable taste and spirit, the ballade of "Frere Lubin," there camean interruption.

  "Il presche en theologien, Mais pour boire de belle eau claire, Faictes la boire a vostre chien, Frere Lubin ne le peult faire,"--

  sang the gay voice,--we all nodding our heads in intent approval, oreven, maybe, seeing that the wine was generous, tapping the measureopenly with our fingers. But suddenly, though there was no noise todraw them, all eyes turned to the doorway, and the singer paused in hissong. I tipped my chair back into the shadow of a shelf, as did Marc,who sat a little beyond me. For the visitor, who thus boldly enteredunannounced, was none other than the Black Abbe himself.

  For the visitor was none other than the Black Abbehimself.]

  I flung de Ramezay a swift glance of anticipation, which he caught ashe arose in his place to greet the new-comer. On the faces around thetable I took note of an ill-disguised annoyance. The Abbe, it wasplain, found small favour in that company. But to do him justice, heseemed but little careful to court favour. He stood in the doorway,frowning, a piercing and bitter light in his close-set eyes. He waitedfor de Ramezay to come forward and give him welcome,--which de Ramezaypresently did, and would have led him to a seat at the table.

  But "No!" said the grim intruder. "With all thanks for your courtesy,Monsieur, I have no time, nor am I in the temper, for revellings. WhenI have said my word to you I will get me to the house of one of myflock, and sup plainly, and take what rest I may, for at dawn I mustset out for the Shubenacadie. There is much to be done, and few to doit, and the time grows short!" and he swept a look of reprimand aboutthe circle.

  "Would you speak with me in private, Father?" asked de Ramezay, withgreat civility.

  "It is not necessary, Monsieur!" replied the Abbe. "I have but to saythat I arrested the pestilent young traitor, Marc de Mer, on hisfather's estate at Canard, and left him under guard while I went toattend to other business. I found upon his person clear proofs of histreachery, which would have justified his hanging on the instant. ButI preferred that you should be the judge!"

  "You did well!" said de Ramezay, gravely. "I must ask even you,Monsieur l'Abbe, to remember on all occasions that I, and I only, amthe judge, so long as I remain in Acadie!"

  To this rebuke, courteous though it was, the priest vouchsafed no replybut a slight smile, which uncovered his strong yellow teeth on oneside, like a snarl. He continued his report as if there had been nointerruption.

  "In my brief absence his father, with some disaffected habitants,deceived my faithful followers by a trick, and carried off theprisoner. But I have despatched a strong party on the trail of thefugitives. They will certainly be captured, and brought at once--"

  But at this point his voice failed him. His face worked violently withmingled rage and amazement, and following his gaze I saw Marc standingand bowing with elaborate courtesy.

  "They are already here, Sir Abbe," said he, "having made haste thatthey might give you welcome!"

  A ripple of laughter went around the table, as the company, recoveringfrom some moments of astonishment, began to understand the situation.I, too, rose to my feet, smiling expectantly. The priest's narrow eyesmet mine for a second, with a light that was akin to madness. Thenthey shifted. But he found his voice again.

  "I denounce that man as a proved spy and traitor!" he shouted, stridingforward, and pointing a yellow finger of denunciation across the tableat Marc, while the revellers over whom he leaned made way for himresentfully. "I demand his instant arrest."

  "Gently, Monsieur l'Abbe," said de Ramezay. "These are serious chargesto bring against French gentlemen, and friends of the Commander; haveyou proofs--such as will convince me after the closest scrutiny?" headded, with unmistakable significance.

  "I have myself seen the proofs, I tell you," snarled the Abbe,beginning to exert more self-control, but still far unlike the cool,inexorable, smiling cynic who had so galled my soul with hisimperturbability when I lay in his bonds beside the Forge.

  "I would fain see them, too," insisted de Ramezay.

  The priest glared at me, and then at Marc, baffled.

  "I have them not," said he, in his slow and biting tones; "but if youwould do your duty as the King's servant, Monsieur de Ramezay, andarrest yonder spy, you would doubtless find the proofs upon his person,if he has not taken the pains to dispose of them." Upon this insolentspeech, de Ramezay took his seat, and left the priest standing alone.When, after a pause, he spoke, his voice was stern and masterful, as ifhe were addressing a contumacious servant, though he retained the formsof courtesy in his phrases.

  "Monsieur," said he, "when I wish to learn my duty, it will not be thesomewhat well-known Abbe la Garne whom I will ask to teach me. I mustrequire you not to presume further upon the sacredness of your office.Your soutane saves you from being called to account by the gentlemanwhose honour you have aspersed. Monsieur Marc de Mer is the son of myfriend. He is also one of my aides-de-camp. I beg that you willunderstand me without more words when I say that I have examined thewhole matter to which you refer. For your own credit, press it nofurther. I trust you catch my meaning!"

  "On the contrary," said the Abbe, coolly, being by this time quitehimself again, and seemingly indifferent to the derisive facesconfronting him--"on the contrary, your meaning altogether escapes me,Monsieur. All that I understand of your singular behaviour is what theGovernor and the Intendant, not I their unworthy instrument, will becalled to pass judgment upon."

  "I will trouble you to understand also, Sir Priest," said de Ramezay,thoroughly aroused, his tones biting like acid, "that if this young manis further troubled by any of your faithful Shubenacadie flock, I willhold you responsible; and the fact that you are useful, having fewerscruples than trouble a mere layman, shall not save you."

  "Be not disturbed for your spy, Monsieur," sneered the Abbe, now finelytranquil. "I wash my hands of all responsibility in regard to him;look you to that."

  For the space of some seconds there was silence all about that table offeasting, while the Abbe swept a smiling, bitter glance around theroom. Last, his eyes rested upon mine and leaped with a sudden lightof triumph, so that one might have thought not he but I had beenworsted in the present encounter. Then he turned on his heel and wentout, scornful of courtesy.

  A clamour of talk arose upon this most cherished departure; but I heardit as in a dream, being wrapped up in wonder as to the meaning of thatlook of triumph.

  "Has the Black Abbe cast a spell upon you, Father?" I heard Marcinquiring presently. Whereupon I came to myself with a kind of start,and made merry with the rest of them.

  It was late when Marc and I went to the little chamber where ourpallets were
stretched. There we found Tamin awaiting us. He was in asweat of fear.

  "What is it, my Tamin?" asked Marc.

  "The Black Abbe," he grunted, the drollness all chased out of thelittle wrinkles about his eyes.

  "Well," said I, impatiently. "The Black Abbe; and what of him? He isrepenting to-night that he ever tried conclusions with me, I'll wager."

  I spoke the more confidently because in my heart I was still troubledto know the meaning of the Abbe's glance.

  "Hein," said Tamin. "He looked--his eyes would lift a scalp! I wasstanding in the light just under the window, when of a sudden the doorclosed; and there he stood beside me, with no sound, and still as aheron. He looked at me with those two narrow eyes, as if he would eatmy heart out: and I stood there, and shook. Then, of a sudden, hisface changed. It became like a good priest's face when he says theprayer for the soul that is passing; and he looked at me with solemneyes. And I was yet more afraid. 'It is not for me to rebuke you,' hesaid, speaking so that each word seemed an hour long; 'red runs yourblood on the deep snow beneath the apple tree.' And before I couldsteady my teeth to ask him what he meant, he was gone. 'Red runs yourblood beneath the apple tree.' What did he mean by that?"

  "Oh," said I, speaking lightly to encourage him, though in truth thewords fell on me with a chill, "he said it to spoil your sleep andpoison your content. It was a cunning revenge, seeing that he dare notlift a hand to punish you otherwise."

  "To be sure, my Tamin, that is all of it," added Marc. "Who has everheard that the Black Abbe was a prophet? Faith, 'tis as Father says, acunning and a devilish revenge. But you can balk it finely by payingno heed to it."

  Tamin's face had brightened mightily, but he still looked serious.

  "Do you think so?" he exclaimed with eagerness. "'Tis as you sayindeed,--the Black Abbe is no prophet. Had it been Grul, now, thatsaid it, there were something to lie awake for, eh?"

  "Yes, indeed, if Grul had said it," muttered Marc, contemplating himstrangely.

  But for me, I was something impatient now to be asleep.

  "Think no more of it, my friend," said I, and dismissed him. Yetsleepy as I was, I thought of it, and even I must have begun to dreamof it. The white sheet of moonlight that lay across my couch became adrift of snow with blood upon it, and the patterned shadow upon thewall an apparition leaning over,--when out of an immense distance, asit were, I heard Marc's voice.

  "Father," he cried softly, "are you awake?"

  "Yes, dear lad," said I. "What is it?"

  "I have been wondering," said he, "why the Black Abbe looked at you,not me, in his going. He had such a countenance as warns me that hepurposes some cunning stroke. But I fear his enmity has turned from meto you."

  "Well, lad, it was surely I that balked him. What would you have?" Iasked.

  "Oh," said he, heavily, "that I should have turned that bloodhound ontoyour trail!"

  "Marc, if it will comfort you to know it, carry this in your memory,"said I, with a cheerful lightness, like froth upon the strong emotionthat flooded my heart. "When the Black Abbe strikes at me, it will bethrough you. He knows where I am like to prove most vulnerable!"

  "'Tis all right, then, so as we sink or swim together, Father," saidMarc, quietly.

  "That's the way of it now, dear lad! Sweet sleep to you, and dreams ofred hair!" said I. And I turned my face drowsily to the wall.