The old chateau—old even in 1756—stood upon a gentle slope looking down upon the little fishing village of Étaples. Such a tiny village it was, with its one-story huts,—you could scarcely call them more,—set upon the banks of the Canache, a broad shallow river so influenced by the ocean that when the tide was low the fisher-girls kilted up their scant skirts and waded across with their baskets of shrimps upon their strong young shoulders.
Such a little village, and so poor!
“Petit sou, petit sou, donnez-moi un petit sou!” That was the cry heard on every side. There was hardly a hand in the hamlet which would not be held out in expectation of a small copper coin, should anyone from the chateau chance to pass through its one ill-paved street.
Every year the poverty seemed to increase. Every year the revenues of the chateau grew less,—which was but another reason why Pierre, young and strong, should seek a home where those of gentle birth were made welcome, and where the Crown gave broad acres of land to each and all who would go and settle there.
Still, even with Hope and Courage beckoning, the parting was sad for all. Monsieur Bienville, the father of Clemence, was a soldier of the old régime. Tall, elegant, with the true air of grandeur which is born, not bred, he watched with sad eyes the preparations for departure. Madame his wife could not suppress her grief, and declared that never, never again should she see her loved ones.
“Ah,” cried she, “the poor children will be devoured by frightful beasts, I know it well,—if not by those that roam on land, by those more awful ones which dwell in the sea!”
The distant land was to her a wilderness, a desert; and, in truth, a few miles away from the city of New Orleans it was little else.
II
The rain was falling heavily as the old travelling carriage, drawn by four horses, lumbered up to the door of the chateau the next morning. Into it had been packed the necessaries for the journey to Calais, and two heavy wains had been sent off some days previously, laden with such goods as the young people were to take with them to the New World.
Within doors the daughter was taking leave of her parents, and as if to shorten the sad moment, her father took her hand, and placed within it a packet carefully bound in silk.