“I will treat him as well as he will let me, sweetheart.” Two hours afterwards, Iberville came up the street with Sainte-Helene, De Casson, and Perrot,—De Troyes had gone to Quebec,—courteously accompanied by Morris and an officer of the New York Militia. There was no enmity shown the Frenchmen, for many remembered what had once made Iberville popular in New York. Indeed, Iberville, whose memory was of the best, now and again accosted some English or Dutch resident, whose face he recalled.
The governor was not at first cordial; but Iberville’s cheerful soldierliness, his courtier spirit, and his treatment of the English prisoners, soon placed him on a footing near as friendly as that of years before. The governor praised his growing reputation, and at last asked him to dine, saying that Mistress Leveret would no doubt be glad to meet her rescuer again.
“Still, I doubt not,” said the governor, “there will be embarrassment, for the lady can scarce forget that you had her lover prisoner. But these things are to be endured. Besides, you and Mr. Gering seem as easily enemies as other men are friends.”
Iberville was amazed. So, Jessica and Gering were affianced. And the buckle she had sent him he wore now in the folds of his lace! How could he know what comes from a woman’s wavering sympathies, what from her inborn coquetry, and what from love itself? He was merely a man with much to learn.
He accepted dinner and said: “As for Monsieur Gering, your excellency, we are as easily enemies as he and Radisson are comrades-in-arms.”
“Which is harshly put, monsieur. When a man is breaking prison he chooses any tool. You put a slight upon an honest gentleman.”
“I fear that neither Mr. Gering nor myself is too generous with each other, your excellency,” answered Iberville lightly.
This frankness was pleasing, and soon the governor took Iberville into the drawing-room, where Jessica was. She was standing by the great fireplace, and she did not move at first, but looked at Iberville in some thing of her old simple way. Then she offered him her hand with a quiet smile.
“I fear you are not glad to see me,” he said, with a smile. “You cannot have had good reports of me—no?”
“Yes, I am glad,” she answered gently. “You know, monsieur, mine is a constant debt. You do not come to me, I take it, as the conqueror of Englishmen.”