At this point the ladies left the room to make some little toilette before dinner, and as they passed me the sleeve of Alixe’s dress touched my arm. I caught her fingers for an instant, and to this day I can feel that warm, rich current of life coursing from finger-tips to heart. She did not look at me at all, but passed on after her mother. Never till that moment had there been any open show of heart between us. When I first came to Quebec (I own it to my shame) I was inclined to use her youthful friendship for private and patriotic ends; but that soon passed, and then I wished her companionship for true love of her. Also, I had been held back because when I first knew her she seemed but a child. Yet how quickly and how wisely did she grow out of her childhood! She had a playful wit, and her talents were far beyond her years. It amazed me often to hear her sum up a thing in some pregnant sentence which, when you came to think, was the one word to be said. She had such a deep look out of her blue eyes that you scarcely glanced from them to see the warm sweet colour of her face, the fair broad forehead, the brown hair, the delicate richness of her lips, which ever were full of humour and of seriousness—both running together, as you may see a laughing brook steal into the quiet of a river.
Duvarney and I were thus alone for a moment, and he straightway dropped a hand upon my shoulder. “Let me advise you,” he said, “be friendly with Doltaire. He has great influence at the Court and elsewhere. He can make your bed hard or soft at the citadel.”
I smiled at him, and replied, “I shall sleep no less sound because of Monsieur Doltaire.”
“You are bitter in your trouble,” said he.
I made haste to answer, “No, no, my own troubles do not weigh so heavy—but our General’s death!”
“You are a patriot, my friend,” he added warmly. “I could well have been content with our success against your English army without this deep danger to your person.”
I put out my hand to him, but I did not speak, for just then Doltaire entered. He was smiling at something in his thought.
“The fortunes are with the Intendant always,” said he. “When things are at their worst, and the King’s storehouse, the dear La Friponne, is to be ripped by our rebel peasants like a sawdust doll, here comes this gay news of our success on the Ohio; and in that Braddock’s death the whining beggars will forget their empty bellies, and bless where they meant to curse. What fools, to be sure! They had better loot La Friponne. Lord, how we love fighting, we French! And ‘tis so much easier to dance, or drink, or love.” He stretched out his shapely legs as he sat musing.
Duvarney shrugged a shoulder, smiling. “But you, Doltaire—there’s no man out of France that fights more.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “One must be in the fashion; besides, it does need some skill to fight. The others—to dance, drink, love: blind men’s games!” He smiled cynically into the distance.