The père must have interpreted the expression of my face.
“’Tis regular, Monsieur?” he asked.
“By order of the King,” returned La Barre sternly. “Beyond that it is not necessary that you inquire. Ah! Monsieur Chevet! they found you then? I have a pleasant surprise for you. ’Tis hereby ordered that you accompany Commissaire Cassion to the Illinois country as interpreter, to be paid from my private fund.”
Chevet stared into the Governor’s dark face, scarce able to comprehend, his brain dazed from heavy drinking.
“The Illinois country! I––Hugo Chevet? ’Tis some joke, Monsieur.”
“None at all, as you will discover presently, my man. I do not jest on the King’s service.”
“But my land, Monsieur; my niece?”
La Barre permitted himself a laugh.
“Bah! let the land lie fallow; ’twill cost little while you draw a wage, and as for Mademoiselle, ’tis that you may accompany her I make choice. Stand back; you have your orders, and now I’ll show you good reason.” He stood up, and placed his hand on Cassion’s arm. “Now my dear, Francois, if you will join the lady.”