“Madame,” said one of them, bowing, “I am Monsieur de Montcalm, and, believe me, my best endeavours are entirely at your service. We have heard something of your adventure from our good Maître Gabriel here.”
“Monsieur le marquis, it is to your friend le père Jean we owe our safety, and he has added to my obligation by commending me to your care in this letter,” said, handing him the precious billet.
“Any lady in your position, madame, would command my service of right, but such a recommendation makes it obligatory; there is little I would not do to please my friend le père Jean.”
As he glanced over the note, I had opportunity to observe him more closely. I had often heard of him from Gaston in the old days, for they had been friends from boyhood, and had done much campaigning together in Germany and elsewhere. He looked worn, like a man who had grown old before his time, but I could trace the likeness to the warm-hearted, hot-headed young officer whom I had so often pictured, in his large eyes, which had lost nothing of their youthful fire, and in his smile, which had the charm that does not disappear with years.
“Madame de St. Just,” he said, when he had finished reading, “I can spare you the necessity of even asking my help, and must not lay you under any obligation greater than this little voyage from your boat to mine, to which you would not have been subject had I known of your relation to my friend le père Jean. He tells me your intention was to have gone to Louisbourg. If that be still your desire, madame, I can at least spare you the journey to Quebec, and can promise you an easy passage to Louisbourg as soon as the snow makes good travelling, for, in Canada, summer is no time for a long journey across country. But let us be seated and talk this matter over quietly,” and he waved his hand towards the stern of the yacht, where some of the officers hastened to arrange their cloaks into comfortable seats.
My heart was in the strangest commotion as I saw the drift of circumstance that was sweeping me onward, without effort on my part, towards the end I most desired; I had not spoken, and here was the arbiter of my fate putting into words all that I dared not ask. I resolved not even to think, but to leave the issue in his hands.
“Had you ever met le père Jean before, madame?” he resumed.
“No, monsieur. How could I? But I cannot help feeling I have met you. I was wont to hear your name very often when a young girl?”
“Indeed? And to whom did I owe that favour?”