“The inheritance of my race, Monsieur.”
“Well, we’ll test it then, but not in the form you anticipate.” He smiled, but not pleasantly, and 71 resumed his seat at the desk. “I propose closing your mouth, Mademoiselle, and placing you beyond temptation. Monsieur Cassion, have the lieutenant at the door enter.”
I stood in silence, wondering at what was about to occur; was I to be made prisoner? or what form was my punishment to assume? The power of La Barre I knew, and his stern vindictiveness, and well I realized the fear and hate which swept his mind, as he recalled the conversation I had overheard. He must seal my lips to protect himself––but how? As though in a daze I saw Cassion open the door, speak a sharp word to one without, and return, followed by a young officer, who glanced curiously aside at me, even as he saluted La Barre, and stood silently awaiting his orders. The latter remained a moment motionless, his lips firm set.
“Where is Father Le Guard?”
“In the Chapel, Monsieur; he passed me a moment ago.”
“Good; inform the père that I desire his presence at once. Wait! know you the fur trader, Hugo Chevet?”
“I have seen the man, Monsieur––a big fellow, with a shaggy head.”
“Ay, as savage as the Indians he has lived among. He is to be found at Eclair’s wine shop in the Rue St. 72 Louis. Have your sentries bring him here to me. Attend to both these matters.”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
La Barre’s eyes turned from the disappearing figure of the officer, rested a moment on my face, and then smiled grimly as he fronted Cassion. He seemed well pleased with himself, and to have recovered his good humor.