The Lily and the Cross: A Tale of Acadia

by James De Mille

"Upon this, fresh charges were made against him, and lettres de cachet were issued. These would have flung him into the Bastile, to rot and die forgotten. But Montresor had effectually concealed himself, together with his wife, and the emissaries of the government were baffled. It was by that time too late for him to defend himself in any way; and the end of it was, that he decided to fly from France. He did so, and succeeded in reaching Quebec in safety. Here he hoped to remain only for a time, and expected that before long a change in the ministry might take place, by means of which he might regain his rights.

"But Fleury was all-powerful with the king, and Cazeneau managed somehow to get into Fleury's good graces, so that Montresor had no chance. The Montresor estates, and all the possessions of his wife, were confiscated, and Laborde and Cazeneau secured much of them. But Montresor had other things to trouble him. His wife grew ill, and died not long after his arrival, leaving an infant son. Montresor now had nothing which seemed to him worth living for. He therefore left his child to the care of the faithful Motier, and disappeared, as you have told me, and has never been heard of since.

"Of course Laborde knew nothing of this, and I only add this to the information which he gave, in order to make it as plain to you as it is to me. Laborde asserted that after the first blow he recoiled, conscience-stricken, and refused further to pursue your father, though Cazeneau was intent upon his complete destruction; and perhaps this is the reason why Montresor was not molested at Quebec. A better reason, however, is to be found in the merciful nature of Fleury, whom I believe at bottom to have been a good man.

"After this, years passed. To Laborde they were years of remorse. Hoping to get rid of his misery, he married. A daughter was born to him. It was of no use. His wife died. His daughter was sent to a convent to be educated. He himself was a lonely, aimless man. What was worse, he was always under the power of Cazeneau, who never would let go his hold. This Cazeneau squandered the plunder of the Montresors upon his own vices, and soon became as poor as he was originally. After this he lived upon Laborde. His knowledge of Laborde's remorse gave him a power over him which his unhappy victim could not resist. The false information which Laborde had sworn to against the Count de Montresor was perjury; and Cazeneau, the very man who had suggested it, was always ready to threaten to denounce him to Fleury.

"So time went on. Laborde grew older, and at last the one desire of his life was to make amends before he died. At length Fleury died. The new ministry were different. All of them detested Cazeneau. One of them—Maurepas—was a friend to Laborde. To this Maurepas, Laborde told his whole story, and Maurepas promised that he would do all in his power to make amends. The greatest desire of Laborde was to discover some one of the family. He had heard that the count and countess were both dead, but that they had left an infant son. It was this that brought him out here. He hoped to find that son, and perhaps the count himself, for the proof of his death was not very clear. He did, indeed, find that son, most wonderfully, too, and without knowing it; for, as you yourself see, there cannot be a doubt that you are that son.

"Now, Laborde kept all this a profound secret from Cazeneau, and hoped, on leaving France, never to see him again. What, however, was his amazement, on reaching the ship, to learn that Cazeneau also was going! He had got the appointment to Louisbourg from Fleury before his death, and the appointment had been confirmed by the new ministry, for some reason or other. I believe that they will recall him at once, and use his absence to effect his ruin. I believe Cazeneau expects this, and is trying to strengthen his resources by getting control of the Laborde estates. His object in marrying Mimi is simply this. This was the chief dread of Laborde in dying, and with his last words he entreated me to watch over his daughter.

"Cazeneau's enmity to you must be accounted for on the ground that he discovered, somehow, your parentage. Mimi told me afterwards, that he was near you one day, concealed, while you were telling her. He was listening, beyond a doubt, and on the first opportunity determined to put you out of the way. He dreads, above all things, your appearance in France as the son of the unfortunate Count de Montresor. For now all those who were once powerful are dead, and the present government would be very glad to espouse the Montresor cause, and make amends, as far as possible, for his wrongs. They would like to use you as a means of dealing a destructive blow against Cazeneau himself. Cazeneau's first plan was to put you out of the way on some charge of treason; but now, of course, the charge against you will be attempt at murder."

To all this Claude listened with much less interest than he would have felt formerly. But the sentence of death seemed impending, and it is not surprising that the things of this life seemed of small moment.

"Well," said he, with a sigh, "I'm much obliged to you for telling me all this; but it makes very little difference to me now."

"Wait till you have heard all," said the priest. "I have come here for something more; but it was necessary to tell you all this at the first. I have now to tell you that—your position is full of hope; in fact—" Here the priest put his head close to Claude's ear, and whispered, "I have come to save you."