THE TWO MEN MEET
I could not have slept, although I must have lost consciousness of our surroundings, for I was aroused by Cassion’s voice shouting some command, and became aware that we were making landing on the river bank. The sun was two hours high, and the spot selected a low grass-covered point, shaded by trees. Chevet had awakened, sobered by his nap, and the advance canoe had already been drawn up on the shore, the few soldiers it contained busily engaged in starting fires with which to cook our morning meal.
I perceived De Artigny with my first glance, standing erect on the bank, his back toward us, directing the men in their work. As we shot forward toward the landing he turned indifferently, and I marked the sudden straightening of his body, as though in surprise, although the distance gave me no clear vision of his face. As our canoe came into the shallows, he sprang down the bank to greet us, hat in hand, his eyes on me. My own glance fell before the eagerness in his face, and I turned away.
“Ah! Monsieur Cassion,” he exclaimed, the very 88 sound of his voice evidencing delight. “You have guests on the journey; ’tis unexpected.”
Cassion stepped over the side, and fronted him, no longer a smiling gallant of the court, but brutal in authority.
“And what is that to you, may I ask, Sieur de Artigny?” he said, coldly contemptuous. “You are but our guide, and it is no concern of yours who may compose the company. ’Twill be well for you to remember your place, and attend to your duties. Go now, and see that the men have breakfast served.”
There was a moment of silence, and I did not even venture to glance up to perceive what occurred, although I felt that De Artigny’s eyes shifted their inquiry from Cassion’s face to mine. There must be no quarrel now, not until he knew the truth, not until I had opportunity to explain, and yet he was a firebrand, and it would be like him to resent such words. How relieved I felt, as his voice made final answer.
“Pardon, Monsieur le Commissaire,” he said, pleasantly enough. “It is true I forgot my place in this moment of surprise. I obey your orders.”
I looked up as he turned away, and disappeared. Cassion stared after him, smothering an oath, and evidently disappointed at so tame an ending of the affair, for it was his nature to bluster and boast. Yet as his 89 lips changed to a grin, I knew of what the man was thinking––he had mistaken De Artigny’s actions for cowardice, and felt assured now of how he would deal with him. He turned to the canoe, a new conception of importance in the sharp tone of his voice.
“Come ashore, men; ay! draw the boat higher on the sand. Now, Monsieur Chevet, assist your niece forward to where I can help her to land with dry feet––permit me, Adele.”