Chapter VIII
The Black Abbé Comes to Dinner
Of the pleasant but something irrelevant matter of how merrily we supped that night with de Ramezay and his officers,—many of whom I knew, all of whom knew me or my adventurous repute,—I will not linger to discourse. Nor of the costly dainties from France which enriched the board, side by side with fair salmon from the Tantramar and bursting-fat plover from the Joli-Coeur marshes. Nor of the good red wine of Burgundy which so enhanced the relish of those delectable birds,—and of which I might perhaps have drunk more sparingly had good Providence but made me more abstemious. Let it suffice to say, there was wit enough to spice plainer fare, and courtesy that had shone at Versailles. The long bare room, with its low, black-raftered ceiling and polished floor, its dark walls patterned with shelves, was lit by the smoky flames of two-score tallow candles.
By and by chairs were pushed back, the company sat with less ceremony, the air grew clouded with the blue vapours of the Virginia weed, and tongues wagged something more loosely than before. There were songs,—catches from the banks of Rhone, rolling ballads of our own voyageurs. A young captain quite lately from Versailles, the Sieur de Ville d'Avray, had an excellent gift of singing.
But now, just when the Sieur de Ville d'Avray was rendering, with most commendable taste and spirit, the ballade of "Frère Lubin," there came an interruption.
"Il presche en theologien,
Mais pour boire de belle eau claire,
Faictes la boire a vostre chien,
Frère Lubin ne le peult faire,"—
sang the gay voice,—we all nodding our heads in intent approval, or even, maybe, seeing that the wine was generous, tapping the measure openly with our fingers. But suddenly, though there was no noise to draw them, all eyes turned to the doorway, and the singer paused in his song. I tipped my chair back into the shadow of a shelf, as did Marc, who sat a little beyond me. For the visitor, who thus boldly entered unannounced, was none other than the Black Abbé himself.
