“As to that, good wife, I cannot tell thee,” answered Louis. “When we left that villainous fort M. l’Abbé was nowhere to be seen. Depend on it, he was with the commandant. All was hurry and confusion from the moment the shell fell upon the officers’ table while they sat at meat, killing six of them, yes, six!” Here he crossed himself, shuddering, and Marin took up the tale:
“Yes, and the bon Dieu alone knows how great was the wonder of the English, who expected to fight many more days, when the white flag flew from the ramparts. M. l’Abbé I beheld everywhere then. He ran from one to the other, pleading that the flag of the coward, for so our brave abbé called it, be taken in. Well, we Acadians know that he hath the gift of speech, but now it was in vain. The French were glad to cease this foolish killing of men for naught, glad even as we were. So presently it was arranged that they should march out with the honors of war,—whatever honor there be in slaying and quarreling,—and proceed at once to Louisbourg. Then the officers fell to drinking and plundering ere they departed, and we gathered up what little we could lay hands on, and so took leave with our pardon. Of the priest I saw no more. That is all that has happened.”
Margot, who during this recital had been leaning forward with clasped hands, at last ventured timidly, addressing Louis Herbes:
“And mon cousin; of him you saw nothing?”
“No, little one,” replied Louis kindly; “but, I learned that one Gabriel, with another name that cracks the jaws even to think of, was much spoken of during the attack by reason of his valor, and that he fought well. Rather he than I,” he concluded with a grimace.
Margot fell back and said no more. She had all for which she had dared to hope; again she must wait, it was true, but this time not wholly uncheered.
The sun sank and the moon rose and the wearied household was wrapped in slumber, all but Margot, who leaned from the window of the shedroom she occupied apart from the common sleeping apartment, which according to Acadian custom also served for a kitchen. She had tried to sleep and had failed.
Secure in the pardon granted them by the English, heedless of the future, the Acadians were once more collected under their own rooftrees, and as Margot’s eyes roamed along the banks of the Missaguash they rested with a sense of sympathetic peace upon the little farmhouses containing so many re-united families.
Yet it was strange how constantly on this night of apparent peace her mind reverted to the relentless priest who had caused herself and others so much misery. Involuntarily her mind strayed backward to the days when they had all hung on every glance of that strong, imperious man, whose word was law to a weak and vacillating people, and who represented to the simple villagers salvation here and hereafter. Now, in his hour of defeat, how would it be? His influence had already waned, she thought.
Her window was raised only a few feet from the ground and, unseen by her, a figure came gliding along in the shadow of the wide eaves. Another moment and her quick ear had caught the sound of hushed steps, but before the flashing thought had had time to concentrate in the cry, “Gabriel!” a grasp of iron was laid upon her shoulder and a hand crushed down upon her mouth.