D’Orvilliers was gazing at the floor.
“What do you mean by that?” he said slowly, and then suddenly he got up. “My God, Menard, you don’t mean that you would––”
“Yes.”
“That can’t be! I can’t allow it.”
“It may not be necessary. I hope you are mistaken about the Governor.”
“I hope I am––but no; he won’t help you. He’s not in the mood for paying debts to a 387 weakened enemy. And––Menard, sit down. I must talk plainly to you. I can’t go on covering things up now. I don’t believe you see the matter clearly. If it were a plain question of your mission to the Onondagas––if it were––Well, I want you to tell me in what relation you stand to Mademoiselle St. Denis.”
The Captain was standing by the chair. He rested his arms on the high back, and looked over them at d’Orvilliers.
“She is to be my wife,” he said.
D’Orvilliers leaned back and slowly shook his head.
“My dear fellow,” he said, “when your story goes to Quebec, when the Château learns that you have promised the punishment of La Grange in the name of France, and then of this,––of Mademoiselle and her relations to yourself and to La Grange,––do you know what they will do?”