“Monsieur has nothing for which to make amends. He is all honor and generosity.”
Cornwallis bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment, then continued:
“There are many, however, of whom it would be as well for these simple Acadians as for helpless English settlers that the oath of allegiance to my king were demanded. This Abbé Le Loutre, for example, he is a very firebrand. Nay, rather a wolf in sheep’s clothing, working havoc in the poor, silly flock. Know you him, M. le Curé?”
The priest lowered his eyes.
“M. le Gouverneur,” he replied in a constrained tone, “it is contrary to the habit of my order to say of our superior, He is wrong or he is right.”
“Once more, pardon!” cried the younger man frankly. “I made an error. Tell me, M. Girard, on your return to Cobequid, what course will you pursue?”
“In accordance with my oath, M. le Gouverneur, I shall inform M. Longueuil that I can make no effort to prevent my people from submitting to you, according to their own desires.”
“And what, think you, your governor will reply?”
“I know not, monsieur, but it is probable that I shall be compelled to retire from my position.”
The two men, of different creed and antagonistic blood, looked each other full in the face. Then, with manifestations of mutual respect, clasped hands.