The last night, under the inspiration drawn from sundry bottles which had been smuggled in to celebrate the occasion, a plan was concocted in the stables to humble "the nobility" with a grand display of humour.Jean was to be crowned as marquis with a bridle and blinders:
Pierre was to be anointed as count, with a dipperful of harness-oil;after that the fun would be impromptu.
The impromptu part of the programme began earlier than it was advertised.Some whisper of the plan had leaked through the chinks of the wall between the shanty and the stable.When the crowd came shambling into the cabin, snickering and nudging one another, Jean and Pierre were standing by the stove at the upper end of the long table.
"Down with the canaille!" shouted Jean.
"Clean out the gang!" responded Pierre.
Brandishing long-handled frying-pans, they charged down the sides of the table.The mob wavered, turned, and were lost! Helter-skelter they fled, tumbling over one another in their haste to escape.The lamp was smashed.The benches were upset.In the smoky hall a furious din arose,--as if Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale were once more hewing their way through the castle of Carteloise.Fear fell upon the multitude, and they cried aloud grievously in their dismay.
The blows of the weapons echoed mightily in the darkness, and the two knights laid about them grimly and with great joy.The door was too narrow for the flight.Some of the men crept under the lowest berths; others hid beneath the table.Two, endeavouring to escape by the windows, stuck fast, exposing a broad and undefended mark to the pursuers.Here the last strokes of the conflict were delivered.
"One for the marquis!" cried Jean, bringing down his weapon with a sounding whack.
"Two for the count!" cried Pierre, making his pan crack like the blow of a beaver's tail when he dives.
Then they went out into the snowy night, and sat down together on the sill of the stable-door, and laughed until the tears ran down their cheeks.
"My faith!" said Jean."That was like the ancient time.It is from the good wood that strong paddles are made,--eh, cousin?" And after that there was a friendship between the two men that could not have been cut with the sharpest axe in Quebec.
III
A HAPPY ENDING WHICH IS ALSO A BEGINNING
The plan of going back to St.Gedeon, to wait for the return of the lawyer, was not carried out.Several of the little gods that use their own indiscretion in arranging the pieces on the puzzle-map of life, interfered with it.
The first to meddle was that highly irresponsible deity with the bow and arrows, who has no respect for rank or age, but reserves all his attention for sex.
When the camp on the St.Maurice dissolved, Jean went down with Pierre to Three Rivers for a short visit.There was a snug house on a high bank above the river, a couple of miles from the town.Awife and an armful of children gave assurance that the race of La Motte de la Luciere should not die out on this side of the ocean.
There was also a little sister-in-law, Alma Grenou.If you had seen her you would not have wondered at what happened.Eyes like a deer, face like a mayflower, voice like the "D" string in a 'cello,--she was the picture of Drummond's girl in "The Habitant":
"She's nicer girl on whole Comte, an' jus' got eighteen year--Black eye, black hair, and cheek rosee dat's lak wan Fameuse on de fall;But don't spik much,--not of dat kin',--I can't say she love me at all."With her Jean plunged into love.It was not a gradual approach, like gliding down a smooth stream.It was not a swift descent, like running a lively rapid.It was a veritable plunge, like going over a chute.He did not know precisely what had happened to him at first; but he knew very soon what to do about it.
The return to Lake St.John was postponed till a more convenient season: after the snow had melted and the ice had broken up--probably the lawyer would not make his visit before that.If he arrived sooner, he would come back again; he wanted his money, that was certain.Besides, what was more likely than that he should come also to see Pierre? He had promised to do so.At all events, they would wait at Three Rivers for a while.
The first week Jean told Alma that she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.She tossed her head and expressed a conviction that he was joking.She suggested that he was in the habit of saying the same thing to every girl.
The second week he made a long stride in his wooing.He took her out sleighing on the last remnant of the snow,--very thin and bumpy,--and utilized the occasion to put his arm around her waist.
She cried "Laisse-moi tranquille, Jean!" boxed his ears, and said she thought he must be out of his mind.
The following Saturday afternoon he craftily came behind her in the stable as she was milking the cow, and bent her head back and kissed her on the face.She began to cry, and said he had taken an unfair advantage, while her hands were busy.She hated him.
"Well, then," said he, still holding her warm shoulders, "if you hate me, I am going home tomorrow."The sobs calmed down quickly.She bent herself forward so that he could see the rosy nape of her neck with the curling tendrils of brown hair around it.
"But," she said, "but, Jean,--do you love me for sure?"After that the path was level, easy, and very quickly travelled.On Sunday afternoon the priest was notified that his services would be needed for a wedding, the first week in May.Pierre's consent was genial and hilarious.The marriage suited him exactly.It was a family alliance.It made everything move smooth and certain.The property would be kept together.
But the other little interfering gods had not yet been heard from.
One of them, who had special charge of what remained of the soul of the dealer in unclaimed estates, put it into his head to go to Three Rivers first, instead of to St.Gedeon.
