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  MARGUERITE DE ROBERVAL

  _A ROMANCE OF THE DAYS OF JACQUES CARTIER_

  By

  T. G. MARQUIS

  TORONTOTHE COPP CLARK COMPANY LIMITED1899

  MARGUERITE DE ROBERVAL

  CHAPTER I

  "These narrow, cramped streets torture me! I must get out of this placeor I shall go mad. The country, with its rolling fields and greatstretches of calm sky helps a little, but nothing except the ocean willsatisfy my spirit. Five years have gone now, and I am still penned up inthis miserable hole, with no power to go abroad, save for a cruise upthe Channel, or a run south along the coast. If matters do not change, Ithink I shall quietly weigh anchor on La Hermine and slip across theAtlantic without leave of King or blessing of priest. I tell you,Claude, it would be rare sport to go that way, without a good-bye wordto friend or lover. Gold is there in plenty, and diamonds are there, anda road to the Indies; and if we should bring back riches and newdiscoveries the King would forgive our boldness."

  The speaker was a middle-aged man, with jet-black hair and beard, andpiercing black eyes. He was as straight as a mid-forest pine, and tannedand wrinkled with years of exposure to sun and wind, but was ahandsome, commanding fellow withal. His name was Jacques Cartier. He wasthe most famous seaman in France, and had already made two trips acrossthe stormy Atlantic in boats in which nineteenth-century sailors wouldfear to cross the Channel.

  His companion was Claude de Pontbriand, a young man of gentle birth, whohad been with him on his second voyage. He was as dark as Cartier, witha lion-like neck and shoulders, a resolute mouth and chin, and a kindlyeye, whose expression had a touch of melancholy. Among his companions hewas known as their Bayard; and the purity of his life, the generosity ofhis disposition, and his dauntless courage made the title a fitting one.

  The two men were walking along one of the winding thoroughfares of theFrench seaport of St Malo, on a glorious moonlight evening in the autumnof 1539. The hour, though still early, was an unusual one in those daysfor anybody to be abroad simply for pleasure; and the little town wasquiet and deserted save for an occasional pedestrian whom business, ofone kind or another, had compelled to leave his home.

  There was a short silence after Cartier's remarks, before De Pontbriandreplied:

  "I thought you had had enough of the New World."

  "Enough!" exclaimed Cartier. "That New World is mine. I first tookpossession of it. My cross still stands guarding my interests at Gaspe,and my memory is still dear to the red men from Stadacona to Hochelaga."

  "I am not so certain of the friendship of the Indians," interrupted hiscompanion. "If we had not carried off old Donnacona and hisfellow-chiefs it might have been so, but now that they are dead you willhave some difficulty in inventing a story that will regain you theconfidence of their tribesmen. Ah! Cartier, I warned you then; and now Ionly regret that I did not oppose your action with my very sword. Poordevils! It was pitiful to see them droop and droop like caged birds, andfinally die one by one. Poor old Donnacona! I expect we shall find hisspirit back on the heights of Stadacona if we ever cross the oceanagain."

  "That was a mistake," replied Cartier, "but one never knows just whatwill be the results of an action. I did it for the best. I thought theIndians would enjoy a visit to Europe as much as did the two lads Ibrought over on my first voyage. They were too old, however, and seem tohave been rooted to the soil. I am afraid we shall have to invent a wayof explaining their absence should we return to Hochelaga. Would it notbe well to marry them to noble ladies, and give them dukedoms in Franceto govern?"

  "A good idea, with the one drawback that it is false; and there areenough false men already in France without an honest seaman swellingtheir numbers. But my impression of the savages is, that you will have ahard time to make them believe your story. They are a deep people, and,as we found them, a generous people; and once deceived, you will findthat they will never again have perfect confidence in their betrayers."

  "Perhaps so; I daresay you are right. But why borrow trouble that isyears and leagues away from us? We are here in old France, and likely tostay here."

  "I am not so sure of that."

  "What!"

  "I am not so sure of that. I had a long _tete-a-tete_ with Jean Francoisde la Roque to-day, and he is wavering. He has much influence inPicardy, and King Francis is greatly indebted to him. He declares thatif he wants a ship, or indeed a fleet, he can have it. He professes tobe anxious to win souls in the new land of darkness, as he calls it; butdo not lay too much stress on the darkness when you meet him. The goldand the diamonds and the furs will touch his heart much quicker thananything else. He is a shrewd fellow, and if you can get himenthusiastic over your New World you will soon be at your belovedStadacona, and have a chance to stay there too. His idea is to plant acolony there, develop the resources of the country, and, I have nodoubt, save the souls of the inhabitants at his leisure. I wish we couldget together some of our old friends. A few of the men who pulled safelythrough the scurvy would be a great help on another such expedition."

  "Where is Charles de la Pommeraye?" interrupted Cartier.

  "De la Pommeraye! Have you not heard the last news of him?"

  "No; what fresh scrape has he been getting into? There is no braverfellow alive; and if he does get into a few more quarrels than the restof us, it is merely because of his excessive gallantry. A petticoat willalways bring him to his knees. Why man, at Hochelaga he doffed hisplumed hat to every fair savage who attracted his eye. If I get a chanceto go again I will find him, though I have to search every hole andcorner in France."

  "I am much afraid you will have some trouble in finding him. The lastreport I had of him was, that he was seen lying in the streets of Pariswith several daggers gracing his breast. He was my friend, as you know,and, despite his foolhardiness and follies, the only man in whom I couldever have perfect confidence. I had always expected he would meet justsuch an end; but I have shed more tears for him than I ever thought toshed for any man."

  "Charles de la Pommeraye dead!" exclaimed Cartier. "I cannot believeit!"

  "Neither can I!" interrupted a sturdy voice that made both men leap backand lay their hands on their weapons. "Neither can I! And if any onedoubts my word, here's my sword to prove it!"

  "La Pommeraye!" cried Claude. "Where in Heaven's name did you springfrom?" and the two men seized the hands of the young giant who, in theattire of a fashionable gallant of the day, with gay-coloured doubletand hose, richly plumed hat, and surtout trimmed with gold lace, stoodlaughing before them.

  "Paris, where I was seen lying dead in the streets. How long is it,Claude, since you have had such a poor opinion of me? I have been put tostrange straits in my day, but I have never yet slept in the streets. Bethankful I did not leave the two of you to be carried out of thissquare in the morning. I came here spoiling for a fight, and had mysword all ready to begin carving you when Cartier's voice struck me likea whiff of bracing, salt-sea air. But what great enterprise have you onhand? Your serious looks bespeak some weighty scheme. Whatever it is, mysword is at your service."

  "I doubt if it would be wise to take such a fire-eating duellist intoour confidence," said Claude, regarding his friend with a smile.

  "Now, Claude, that is hardly fair. You know I am no duellist. I merelyfight when I am compelled to, and never without just provocation. Forinstance, I had a delightful p
assage-at-arms last night, but it was nofault of mine. I was coming across the Sillon when a pretty girl cametowards me with a leisurely step that seemed to say: "I have just beenwatching for you." She had a face like a flower, in the moonlight, and Icould not resist snatching a kiss. That was all: but it acted like amatch in a powder magazine. She started back with a cry. Evidently shehad not been waiting for me; and before I could apologise, or take backthe kiss, her lover swooped down upon me with drawn sword."

  "I trust," exclaimed Claude, "he let a little of the impudence out ofyour gallant hide."

  "Not a drop. I know the danger of kissing pretty girls in the publicthoroughfare, and never do it without having my hand on my sword-hilt.He sprang forward, and I sprang back. The girl was between us, and inhis haste to spit me, he pushed her roughly aside. The slight pausegave me time to draw my sword. He came at me, blind with fury, but Iwas on my guard. A pass or two showed me that I could disarm the fellowin five minutes. The fair one stood by, mutely wringing her hands, andas I wished to stand well in her opinion, I resolved to show her what Icould do. I have been learning some cuts and thrusts and guards inParis, and now was my chance to put them in practice. I bewildered thefellow, and when I thought her highness must have seen that I was thebetter man, and the more worthy, I let out with a rapidity rarely seenin musty old St Malo, and my opponent's sword went clanging against thewall.

  "The man was no coward. No sooner was his sword out of his hand than hetore open his shirt, crying: 'Stab, villain, insulter of women!' But ifI had attempted to take him at his word, and punch a hole or two in him,I could not have done so, for even while he spoke his beloved sprangbetween us, and hissing the epithet 'Coward!' in my face, flashed adagger towards my breast. So quick was the stroke that I am afraid onlya miracle could have prevented a woman from at last making a permanentimpression on the heart of Charles de la Pommeraye, but I was once moreto be saved from the base designs of the sex. My antagonist seized herhand from behind with a vice-like grip; and there we all stood--a mostinteresting group of enemies. He was the first to speak.

  "'Put up your toy,' he said sternly to the girl, who, except for thatone word 'Coward!' had never uttered a sound since the beginning of thestruggle. 'Put up your toy; my life is in his hand. He has won it withthe sword.'

  "'Charles de la Pommeraye,' I answered, 'never strikes a weaponless man.Take up your sword, my friend, and let us give this fair Amazon a littlemore worthy entertainment.'

  "But he would not even look at the weapon that had failed him.

  "'Here it is,' said I, lifting it from the ground. 'But I am very muchafraid we shall both have to sheathe our swords for to-night. Yours haslost a good foot. That wall has excellent granite in it. But meet mehere to-morrow with a fresh weapon, and we can finish our littledifference by the light of yonder moon.'

  "'I am no duellist,' he cried, 'but I accept your offer. Your name isknown to me, Charles de la Pommeraye, and I know you as a man of honour,despite your unknightly conduct towards a defenceless woman. See, shehas fainted! Help me with her to my house, and to-morrow at this samehour I will meet you at this spot without seconds or witnesses. Lift hergently,' he added, as he raised the girl's shoulders. 'Put your armabout her on the left, and we can carry her between us.'

  "But she was perfectly limp. We were really dragging her through thestreet, when I said: 'This will never do. Lead the way. I will followyou.' As I spoke, I raised her from the ground, and although he resistedmy action, he soon saw that there was no help for it, and strode beforeme in silence. The moon shone full in the girl's face as she lay in myarms, pale and lifeless, and I saw the error I had committed. She wasunmistakably of high-born lineage, and I would have given worlds to undomy rash action; though what she was doing at that place and at that houris beyond me to conjecture. But we were at the door of my antagonist'shouse in a few moments, and he bade me hand over my burden. As he tookher in his arms he exclaimed: 'To-morrow night, remember. The Sillon:and come without witnesses.'"

  "Quite a romance," said Cartier; "but you are never long in a placewithout picking up something of the sort. How long have you been in StMalo?"

  "Since yesterday afternoon. I had gone out for a moonlight stroll, andwas crossing the Sillon, dreaming of that glorious voyage we hadtogether up the Hochelaga."

  "Well, Charles," said Claude, "have a care! If you keep up this sort ofthing you are never likely to have another such voyage. But, by the way,did not your adversary act in rather a strange way for a lover? Heallowed you to carry the fair one, did you say?"

  "Yes, and walked ahead, as if he had been her father."

  "I am inclined to think you have been mistaken. No lover would havebehaved in that manner. He is probably her father or elder brother."

  "Neither, neither, Claude? He was too young to be her father, unless themoonlight greatly deceived me, and he resembled her as much as I do oneof the gargoyles on Notre Dame de Paris. But I am glad you have thrownout the hint. I will diligently enquire of him if he is her lover, andif he is not, I will be satisfied with disarming and humiliating him alittle for his boldness. If he is, however, I am much afraid I shallhave to despatch him to Heaven, as an obstacle in the way of my winningthe lady of the dagger. I have felt the charms of many a fair womanbefore, but none ever had power to move me as did that helpless girllast night as I carried her to her home. She is an angel, Claude, withthe face of a Madonna!"

  "Well done, Charles!" exclaimed Claude, laughing. "I am glad to hearthat you are caught at last. Hear him, Jacques; how delightful it is tohear him confess that he has felt his heart burn before now. But this isthe one, only, and lasting affection. Ah! Charles, you are still a saddog! In this same town six years ago I heard you swear that you wouldlive and die true to the beautiful daughter of the Sieur des Ormeaux; injust one week you were on your knees to Cosette, the daughter of thedrunken captain of a fishing smack; and in two months after that I sawyou myself, in the shadow of Mont Royal, wildly gesticulating yourundying devotion to the daughter of old Adario, that greasy potentatewhose warriors were filled with awe at the imposing way in which youbellowed a 'Te Deum.'"

  "Silence, Claude, or, by Heaven, I shall forget that we are swornfriends in love, in war, and in peace, and challenge you to fight assoon as I have finished with the fool whom I must now hasten to meet. Donot follow me, I beg of you; I would not have him think I had friendsstanding by to witness our struggle. Good-bye; and if I am not back inhalf an hour you will find an account of all my worldly possessions inan iron box, about six inches square, in my room at the old inn."

  Without another word he strode away from them, and a few paces broughthim to the end of the street, where the buildings ceased at thebeginning of the neck of land known as "The Sillon," which connects StMalo with the mainland. At that time this strip of land was not nearlyso wide as it has since become, and was merely a narrow causeway,protected from the encroachment of the tides by a stone wall on the sidetowards the sea. The two men followed him no further than the end of thestreet, and stood in the shadow of the last house, waiting to learn theresult of the encounter.

  "There goes the bravest fellow in France," said Claude, as they watchedhim disappear. "I only wish there were more like him. He was born tofight; and he has done so much of it that he has at last come to lookupon a duel as a necessary part of his day's amusement. And the bestthing about him is that he has killed fewer men than any other duellistin France. He has the heart of a child, and the arm of a giant. Buthark! Stand close. His opponent comes this way. He is past. Listen! ByHeaven, but they have lost no time. They are at it already. I only wishhe had not insisted on our staying concealed. I would rather see him atsword play than watch an army in action. But what is that? A woman'sscream, as I live!"