“ ‘And thou wilt make me traitor too,’ he cried.”
Gabriel was silent.
“It is as I say. I know where Margot is to be found, but——” Marin paused expressively.
Gabriel still did not answer. When at last he spoke, his voice was low and stern.
“Marin, I owe thee somewhat in that thou didst open thy doors to my cousin and her friends in their time of stress. Thou hast said that I am Acadian. True! But also am I English, and an English soldier and a Protestant. There is my faith and my honor—both forbid a lie. Not even for Margot can I do this thing.”
His voice broke, and he turned away. Well, he knew the combined obstinacy and ignorance of the typical Acadian peasant, such as in some sort Marin was, and he hoped nothing. Marin, on the contrary, not understanding the situation, would not give up, and, in the few remaining minutes left uninterrupted, worked his hardest. The temptation was sore indeed, and by the time his tormentor was summoned to accompany the deputies, Gabriel’s young face was pale and drawn with the struggle.
“Tell me but one thing,” he said ere they parted, “is it well with her?”
“Well? How know I?” retorted the Acadian, surveying the result of his work with mingled complacency and disgust. “Perhaps!”