Her interrogator nodded in the direction of M. Dupont, who said, “By your favor, mademoiselle, we will discuss this in private, and to spare you the situation let me lead you to the other room.” Again Alaine by a gesture refused his escort, and walked out with head carried high. In the hall she paused uncertainly, but M. Dupont, with a quick movement, opened a door on the opposite side and ushered her into a room sweet with newly gathered flowers, and silent but for the steady tick of an old Dutch clock which hung against the wall.
The door shut, Alaine again demanded, “The alternative.”
“So short you are, fair mademoiselle; then short must I be. An’ you answer not these questions you will be sent to Canada, placed in a nunnery there till your cousin Étienne comes to claim you.”
“And if I refuse him.”
“You remain in the nunnery.”
Alaine pondered the situation gravely. “But why? What good are these questions? Alas! why do they distress a forlorn maid so sorely for the sake of such scant information as she can give?”
“Because—it is for France. Do you not love France, Alaine Hervieu, the dear place of your birth?”
She was silent a moment, then she said, slowly, “I love France.”
“It is for France you will do this; not for faith, nor for freedom, nor for favor, but for France. She is at war with England, and for her honor, her glory, we would know how stands this colony of Yorke. You know as well any other—you are not wanting in wit and wisdom and experience—that disaffection is at work in the colony; that Leisler holds the fort; that Nicholas Bayard and Phillipse and Van Cortlandt are his enemies; at such a time, when all is confusion and there is no unity at home, it is the time for a blow to be struck from the outside. Think of this as a French colony, of the peace and content and glory for those you love, for you do love them still, those in your old home. Think of being reunited to your father, when he shall occupy a place of honor in this new country. No longer a peasant, you; no longer associating with servants, but lady of your own manor, an honored wife, a happy daughter. You will do this for France and for your father?” He spoke with rapid intensity, his brilliant black eyes fixed on her face.
Alaine listened with parted lips. “My father!” she cried. “Where is he? Does he live?”