Surely some good spirit was with me then to prompt me, for, with a careless laugh, as though I had not before finished the countersign, “Christ,” I added—“Jesu Christ!”
With an oath the soldier let go the bridle-rein, the other opened the gates, and I passed through. I heard the first fellow swearing roundly to the others that he would “send yon courier to fires of hell, if he played with him again so.”
The gates closed behind me, and I was in the town which had seen the worst days and best moments of my life. I rode along at a trot, and once again beyond the citadel was summoned by a sentinel. Safely passed on, I came down towards the Chateau St. Louis. I rode boldly up to the great entrance door, and handed the packet to the sentinel.
“From whom?” he asked.
“Look in the corner,” said I. “And what business is’t of yours?”
“There is no word in the corner,” answered he doggedly. “Is’t from Monsieur le General at Cap Rouge?”
“Bah! Did you think it was from an English wolf?” I asked.
His dull face broke a little. “Is Jean Labrouk with Bougainville yet?”
“He’s done with Bougainville; he’s dead,” I answered.
“Dead! dead!” said he, a sort of grin playing on his face.