“Perhaps so, but he does not shew it; but all this is nothing to his singing.”
“Tell me of that.”
“Only the other night, at Mme. de Lanaudière's, he sang so that even the players stopped in their game to listen. I know nothing of music, but I could have cried before he ended; and when he had sung again, as every one wished, Mme. de Lanaudière cried, before us all; 'Chevalier, you must not sing again or we cannot call our hearts our own!' And every one laughed and clapped their hands. That is what I call a triumph!”
“Yes, Angélique, I know. One of the dearest things I can remember is a loved voice singing.”
Only those who have known the hunger of the heart can realise the sweet comfort these innocent words brought to me. They pictured the Hugh I had carried all these years in my heart. How readily I could conceive the gentle consideration and the charm which won the gratitude of this simple girl as they had won my own!
As we settled down to our regular life, Angélique's one distress was that I would not go with her into the society she so dearly loved. She could not understand my refusal, and even her mother thought it would be well that I should shew myself, if merely to establish my position and put an end to the annoying questionings which began to circulate concerning my station and intentions. But on this point I was firm, and the only concession I would make was to send a note to M. de Montcalm, begging he would pay me the honour of a visit.
He came on the morrow, and his respect and courtesy towards me went far to establish my position in the eyes of Mme. de Sarennes, for he treated me with all the consideration one would shew towards an equal.
He informed me that his aide, M. de Bougainville, would sail for France almost immediately—we were then at the beginning of November—and if I would brave the discomforts of so late a passage, he would place me under his care; but Mme. de Sarennes protested so firmly against my undertaking such a voyage that I was spared a decision.
In truth I did not know what to do. My pride urged me to go; but my love, in spite of what had passed, drew me closer and closer to Quebec. I could not go without learning the truth, and yet I could not bring myself to meet Hugh at the moment, which I should have to do if I accepted M. de Montcalm's offer; so I allowed matters to shape themselves without my interference.
“Peace may be proclaimed this winter, and if so, Mme. de St. Just can go without danger in the spring. Besides, she cannot go until she knows of the safety of one she is interested in,” said Mme. de Sarennes, decidedly; and her reminder of my duty towards Lucy ended the discussion.