The French emigrant, when he quits his country, retains always, not only the desire, but the intention of seeing it again some day. All his efforts tend to acquire the necessary sum to return to the village or town where he was born. No matter whether chance deserts him, he ever regards himself as a traveller and not as a sojourner; whatever be the position he may achieve, his eyes are incessantly fixed on France, the only country, in his opinion, where men can live and die happily.
Infatuated by his nationality, never willing to make the slightest concession to the habits, creeds, and manners of the people, with whom he is temporarily obliged to live, esteeming them as far beneath himself in intelligence and civilisation, the Frenchman passes through foreign nations with a sardonic smile on his lips, and a mocking glance—shrugging his shoulders in contempt at all that he sees, without trying to explain it, and preferring a sarcasm to a good lesson. Hence it generally happens that the Frenchman is not only not loved; but in spite of his open, frank, and merry character, is almost detested, by foreigners.
At San Francisco, the French emigrants—being without any socialities, and composed of individuals of every description, who shunned or tried to injure each other, instead of affording mutual aid—were, we are forced to confess, very slightly esteemed by the Americans, those colonisers par excellence. A few energetic men had contrived individually to make the French name respected.
Count de Prébois' expedition was consequently, in every respect, a blessing for his unhappy countrymen: in the first place by delivering them from the frightful want that held them in its iron clutches; and secondly by elevating them in their own eyes, and in those of the adventurers of every country whom the mineral yellow fever had attracted to these parts.
The count's enterprise had the result of rendering the French colony, at first so despised, highly respectable; and the Americans now began to feel secretly jealous of it. The enlistment of the French company to work the rich placers of Apacheria, was the important event of the day; it was spoken of everywhere. A number of adventurers burnt to take part in the expedition, and employed every means to gain acceptance.
But, as we have said, the count had laid down in this respect a line of conduct from which he would not deviate: the principal condition of enlistment was the fact of being a Frenchman; thus any number of poor fellows was rejected by the count, and many a violent enmity did he collect on his head, but the count cared little for all the disturbance; he continued his work imperturbably. Thus, as we have said, when Valentine arrived at San Francisco, the company was almost complete, and composed of picked men.
The hunter heard the news from his friend's lips, with the greatest satisfaction.
"Come," he said; "you have lost no time."
"Have I?"
"By Jove! To form a mining company, and collect a body of men in less than two months, is no trifle. I congratulate you with all my heart."