[THE UNREMEMBERED BRAVE.]
The snow-storm continued in unabated violence. The low lines of the sky seemed to lie upon the earth, the sounds of nature were deadened to mystical murmurs, the long streams of flakes lay like a white curtain drawn aslant across the face of heaven, and universal silence pervaded the land. Everybody was within doors, where the exterior calm had penetrated, and where the families nestled around the hearth as if conscious of the visible protection of God. It seemed like a desecration that this holy silence should be disturbed by the iron tread of armed men, and that the peace sent down from above with every grain of snow should be violated by designs of vengeance and the thirst of human blood. Unseen through the storm, the riflemen of Virginia advanced towards the grey walls of the devoted town. Unheard through the tempest, the garrison of the ancient capital moved to the gates and ramparts. Unseen and unheard, the armies of Arnold and Montgomery, which had now combined, were making their last preparations to depart from Pointe-aux-Trembles and march for the final catastrophe in this dread tragedy of war.
Sieur Sarpy sat in his arm-chair after dinner absorbed in the reading of a book, and apparently under the blessed influence of the peaceful, noiseless weather. From the staidness of his manner, it was evident that he had forgotten the events of the previous night, and was unconscious or oblivious of what was going on among the belligerents around Quebec.
He was interrupted in his occupation by the entrance of the maid, who announced the arrival of Batoche. The sound of the name surprised him a little, but without moving from his seat, he said quietly:
"Show him up."
The two old men had not been many minutes together before they understood each other well. They were both of an age, and had known one another in former and better days. After the usual preliminaries of recognition were gone through, Batoche said:
"I have been on my legs for fourteen hours, and must return whence I came before night. I am old now and have not the endurance of fifteen years ago. Hence I must be brief, although my business is of the greatest importance. Please give me all your attention for half an hour."
Sieur Sarpy closed his book and holding up his right hand, asked:
"Is the business political or personal."
"Both. There is a question of crime on the one hand, and of mercy on the other. I appeal to your humanity."