Rose à Charlitte

by Marshall Saunders

  CHAPTER XIV.

  WITH THE OLD ONES.

  "The fresh salt breezes mingle with the smell Of clover fields and ripened hay beside; And Nature, musing, happy and serene, Hath here for willing man her sweetest spell."

  J. F. H.

  After lunch, the Sleeping Water party separated. The Pitres found someold friends from up the Bay. Agapit wandered away with some young men,and Vesper, lazily declining to saunter with them, stood leaning againsta tree behind a bench on which his mother and Rose were seated.

  The latter received and exchanged numerous greetings with heracquaintances who passed by, sometimes detaining them for anintroduction to Mrs. Nimmo, who was making a supreme effort to begracious and agreeable to the woman that the fates had apparentlydestined to be her daughter-in-law.

  Vesper looked on, well pleased. "Why do you not introduce me?" he said,mischievously, while his mother's attention was occupied with twoAcadien girls.

  Rose gave him a troubled glance. She took no pleasure in his presencenow,--his mother had spoiled all that, and, although naturally simpleand unaffected, she was now tortured by self-consciousness.

  "I think that you do not care," she said, in a low voice.

  Vesper did not pursue the subject. "Have all Acadien women gentlemanners?" he asked, with a glance at the pair of shy, retiring onestalking to his mother.

  A far-away look came into Rose's eyes, and she replied, with morecomposure: "The Abbe Casgrain says--he who wrote 'A Pilgrimage to theLand of Evangeline'--that over all Acadiens hangs a quietness andmelancholy that come from the troubles of long ago; but Agapit does notfind it so."

  "What does Agapit say?"

  "He finds," and Rose drew her slight figure up proudly, "that we areborn to good manners. It was the best blood of France that settledAcadie. Did our forefathers come here poor? No, they brought much money.They built fine houses of stone, not wood; Grand Pre was a very finevillage. They also built chateaux. Then, after scatteration, we becamepoor; but can we not keep our good manners?"

  Vesper was much diverted by the glance with which his mother, havingbowed farewell to her new acquaintances, suddenly favored Rose. Therewas pride in it,--pride in the beauty and distinction of the womanbeside her who was scarcely more than a girl; yet there was also in herglance a jealousy and aversion that could not yet be overcome. Timealone could effect this; and smothering a sigh, Vesper lifted his headtowards Narcisse, who had crawled from his shoulder to a mostuncomfortable seat on the lower limb of a pine-tree, where, however, heprofessed to be most comfortable, and sat with his head against therough bark as delightedly as if it were the softest of cushions.

  "I am quite right," said Narcisse, in English, which language he waslearning with astonishing rapidity, and Vesper again turned hisattention to the picturesque, constantly changing groups of people. Heliked best the brown and wrinkled old faces belonging to farmers andtheir wives who were enjoying a well-earned holiday. The young men ingray suits, he heard Rose telling his mother, were sailors from up theBay, whose schooners had arrived just in time for them to throwthemselves on their wheels and come to the picnic. The smooth-facedgirls in blue, with pink handkerchiefs on their heads, were from asettlement back in the woods. The dark-eyed maidens in sailor hats, wholooked like a troop of young Evangelines, were the six demoisellesAucoin, the daughters of a lawyer in Meteghan, and the tall lady in bluewas an Acadienne from New York, who brought her family every summer toher old home on the Bay.

  "And that tall priest in the distance," said Rose, "is the father inwhose parish we are. Once he was a colonel in the army of France."

  "There is something military in his figure," murmured Mrs. Nimmo.

  "He was born among the Acadiens in France. They did not need him toministrate, so when he became a priest he journeyed here," continuedRose, hurriedly, for the piercing eyes of the kindly-faced ecclesiastichad sought out Vesper and his mother, and he was approaching them withan uplifted hat.

  Rose got up and said, in a fluttering voice, "May I present you, FatherLa Croix, to Mrs. Nimmo, and also her son?"

  The priest bowed gracefully, and begged to assure madame and her sonthat their fame had already preceded them, and that he was deeplygrateful to them for honoring his picnic with their presence.

  "I suppose there are not many English people here to-day," said Mrs.Nimmo, smiling amiably, while Vesper contented himself with a silentbow.

  Father La Croix gazed about the crowd, now greatly augmented. "As far asI can see, madame, you and your son are the only English that we havethe pleasure of entertaining. You are now in the heart of the Frenchdistrict of Clare."

  "And yet I hear a good deal of English spoken."

  Father La Croix smiled. "We all understand it, and you see here a goodmany young people employed in the States, who are home for theirholidays."

  "And I suppose we are the only Protestants here," continued Mrs. Nimmo.

  "The only ones,--you are also alone in the parish of Sleeping Water. Ifat any time a sense of isolation should prey upon madame and her son--"

  He did not finish his sentence except by another smile of infiniteamusement, and a slight withdrawal of his firm lips from his set ofremarkably white teeth.

  Rose was disturbed. Vesper noticed that the mention of the wordProtestant at any time sent her into a transport of uneasiness. She wasterrified lest a word might be said to wound his feelings or those ofhis mother.

  "_Monsieur le cure_ is jesting, Madame de Foret," he said, reassuringly."He is quite willing that we should remain heretics."

  Rose's face cleared, and Vesper said to the priest, "Are there any oldpeople here to-day who would be inclined to talk about the earlysettlers?"

  "Yes, and they would be flattered,--up behind the lunch-tables is aknot of old men exchanging reminiscences of early days. May I have thepleasure of introducing you to them?"

  "I shall be gratified if you will do so," and both men lifted their hatsto Mrs. Nimmo and Rose, and then disappeared among the crowd.

  Narcisse immediately demanded to be taken from the tree, and, uponreaching the ground, burst into tears. "Look, my mother,--I did not seebefore."

  Rose followed the direction of his pointing finger. He pretended to havejust discovered that under the feet of this changeful assemblage weremillions of crushed and suffering grass-blades.

  Rose exchanged a glance with Mrs. Nimmo. This was a stroke of childishdiplomacy. He wished to follow Vesper.

  "Show him something to distract his attention," whispered the elderwoman. "I will go talk to Madame Pitre."

  "See, Narcisse, this little revolver," said Rose, leading him up to abig wheel of fortune, before which a dozen men sat holding numberedsticks in their hands. "When the wheel stops, some men lose, othersgain."

  "I see only the grass-blades," wailed Narcisse. "My mother, does it hurtthem to be trampled on?"

  "No, my child; see, they fly back again. I have even heard that it madethem grow."

  "Let us walk where there is no grass," said Narcisse, passionately, and,drawing her along with him, he went obliviously past the fruit and candybooths, and the spread tables, to a little knoll where sat three old menon rugs.

  Vesper lay stretched on the grass before them, and, catching sight ofNarcisse, who was approaching so boldly, and his mother, who was holdingback so shyly, he craved permission from the old men to seat them on oneof the rugs.

  The permission was gladly given, and Rose shook hands with the three oldmen, whom she knew well. Two of them were brothers, from Meteghan, theother was a cousin, from up the Bay, whom they rarely saw. The brotherswere slim, well-made, dapper old men; the cousin was a fat, jollyfarmer, dressed in homespun.

  "I can tell you one of olden times," said this latter, in a thick,syrupy voice, "better dan dat last."

  "Suppose we have it then," said Vesper.
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  "Dere was Pierre Belliveau,--Pierre aged dwenty-one and a half at dedrama of 1755. His fadder was made prisoner. Pierre, he run to de fores'wid four,--firs' Cyprian Gautreau and de tree brudders, Joseph _dit_Coudgeau, Charlitte _dit_ Le Fort--"

  "Is that where the husband of Madame de Foret got his name?" interruptedVesper, indicating his landlady by a gesture.

  "Yes," said the old man, "it is a name of long ago,--besides Charlittewas Bonaventure, an' dese five men suffered horrible, mos' horrible, forwinter came on, an' dey was all de time hungry w'en dey wasn't eatin',an' dey had to roam by night like dogs, to pick up w'at dey could. Butdey live till de spring, an' dey wander like de wile beasties roun' defores' of Beausejour, an' dey was well watched by de English. If dey hadbeen shot, dis man would not be talkin' to you, for Bonaventure was myancessor on my modder's side. On a day w'en dey come to Tintamarre--youknow de great ma'sh of Tintamarre?"

  "No; I never heard of it."

  "Well, it big ma'sh in Westmoreland County. One day dey come dere, an'dey perceive not far from dem a _goelette_,--a schooner. De sea was low,an' all de men in de schooner atten' de return of de tide, for dey washigh an' dry. Dose five Acadiens look at dat schooner, den deyw'isper,--den dey wander, as perchance, near dat schooner. De cap'enlook at dem like a happy wile beas', 'cause he was sent from Port Royalto catch the runawoods. He call out, he invite dose Acadiens, he say,'Come on, we make you no harm,' an' dey go, meek like sheep; soon de seamount, de cap'en shout, 'Raise de anchor,' but Pierre said, 'We mus' goashore.' 'Trow dose Romans in _la cale_,' say dat bad man. _La calec'est_--"

  "In the hold," supplied the two other eager old men, in a breath.

  "Yes, in de hole,--but tink you dey went? No; Charlitte he was big, hehad de force of five men, he look at Pierre. Pierre he shout, '_Fesse_,Charlitte,' and Charlitte he snatch a bar from de deck, he bang it on dehead of de Englishman an' massacre him. 'Debarrass us of anoder,' criedPierre. Charlitte he raise his bar again,--an' still anoder, an' treeEnglishmen lay on de deck. Only de cap'en remain, an' a sailor verybig,--mos' as big as Charlitte. De cap'en was consternate, yet he made asign of de han'. De sailor jump on Pierre an' try to pitch him in dehole. Tink you Charlitte let him go? No; he runs, he chucks dat sailorin de sea. Den de cap'en falls on his knees. 'Spare me de life an' Iwill spare you de lives.' 'Spare us de lives!' said Pierre, 'did youspare de lives of dose unhappy ones of Port Royal whom you sen' toexile? No; an' you would carry us to Halifax to de cruel English. Dat ishow you spare. Where are our mudders an' fadders, our brudders an'sisters? You carry dem to a way-off shore w'ere dey cry mos' all detime. We shall see dem never. Recommen' your soul to God.' Den after alittle he say very low, 'Charlitte _fesse_,' again. An' Charlitte he_fesse_, an' dey brush de han' over de eyes an' lower dat cap'en in desea.

  "Den Pierre, who was fine sailor, run de schooner up to Petitcodiac.Later on, de son of Bonaventure come to dis Bay, an' his daughter was mymudder."

  When the old man finished speaking, a shudder ran over the little group,and Vesper gazed thoughtfully at the lively scene beyond them. This wasa dearly bought picnic. These quiet old men, gentle Mrs. Rose, theprattling children, the vivacious young men and women, were alldescendants of ancestors who had with tears and blood sought aresting-place for their children. He longed to hear more of theirexploits, and he was just about to prefer a request when littleNarcisse, who had been listening with parted lips, leaned forward andpatted the old man's boot. "Tell Narcisse yet another story with treesin it."

  The fat old man nodded his head. "I know anodder of a Belliveau, dis oneCharles. He was a carpenter an' he made ships from trees. At de greatderangement de English hole him prisoner at Port Royal. One of de shipsto take away de Acadiens had broke her mas' in a tempes'. Charles hemake anodder, and w'en he finish dat mas' he ask his pay. One refuse himdat. Den de mas' will fall,' he say. 'I done someting to it.' De cap'enhurry to give him de price, an' Charlie he say, 'It all right.' W'en deyembark de prisoners dey put Charles on dat schooner. Dey soon leave dewar-ship dat go wid dem, but de cap'en of de war-ship he say to decap'en of de schooner, 'Take care, my fren', you got some good sailors'mong dose Acadiens.' De cap'en of de schooner laugh. He was like dosetrees, Narcisse, dat is rooted so strong dey tink dat no ting can neverupset dem. He still let dose Acadiens come on deck,--six, seven at atimes, cause de hole pretty foul, an' dey might die. One day, w'en deorder was given, 'Go down, you Acadiens, an' come up seven odder,' defirs' lot dey open de hatch, den spring on de bridge. Dey garrotte decap'en and crew, an' Charles go to turn de schooner. De cap'en call,'Dat gran' mas' is weak,--you go for to break it.' 'Liar,' shoutedCharles, 'dis is I dat make it.' Dose Acadiens mount de River St.John,--I don' know what dey did wid dose English. I hope dey kill 'em,"he added, mildly.

  "Pere Baudouin," said Rose, bending forward, "this is an Englishman fromBoston."

  "I know," said the old man; "he is good English, dose were bad."

  Vesper smiled, and asked him whether he had ever heard of the FieryFrenchman of Grand Pre.

  The old man considered carefully and consulted with his cousins. Neitherof them had ever heard of such a person. There were so many Acadiens,they said, in an explanatory way, so many different bands, so manyscattering groups journeying homeward. But they would inquire.

  "Here comes Father La Croix," said Rose, softly; "will you not ask himto help you?"

  "You are very kind to be so much interested in this search of mine,"said Vesper, in a low voice.

  Rose's lip trembled, and avoiding his glance, she kept her eyes fixedsteadily on the ex-colonel and present priest, who was expressing acourteous hope that Vesper had obtained the information he wished.

  "Not yet," said Vesper, "though I am greatly indebted to thesegentlemen," and he turned to thank the old men.

  "I know of your mission," said Father La Croix, "and if you will favorme with some details, perhaps I can help you."

  Vesper walked to and fro on the grass with him for some minutes, andthen watched him threading his way in and out among the groups of hisparishioners and their guests until at last he mounted the band-stand,and extended his hand over the crowd.

  He did not utter a word, yet there was almost instantaneous silence. Themerry-go-round stopped, the dancers paused, and a hush fell on allpresent.

  "My dear people," he said, "it rejoices me to see so many of you hereto-day, and to know that you are enjoying yourselves. Let us be thankfulto God for the fine weather. I am here to request you to do me a favor.You all have old people in your homes,--you hear them talking of thegreat expulsion. I wish you to ask these old ones whether they remembera certain Etex LeNoir, called the Fiery Frenchman of Grand Pre. He, too,was carried away, but never reached his destination, having died on theship _Confidence_, but his wife and child probably arrived inPhiladelphia. Find out, if you can, the fate of this widow and herchild,--whether they died in a foreign land, or whether she succeeded incoming back to Acadie,--and bring the information to me."

  He descended the steps, and Vesper hastened to thank him warmly for hisinterest.

  "It may result in nothing," said the priest, "yet there is an immenseamount of information stored up among the Acadiens on this Bay; I do notat all despair of finding this family," and he took a kindly leave ofVesper, after directing him where to find his mother.

  "But this is terrible," said Rose, trying to restrain the ardentNarcisse, who was dragging her towards his beloved Englishman. "Mychild, thy mother will be forced to whip thee."

  Vesper at that moment turned around, and his keen glance sought her out."Why do you struggle with him?" he asked, coming to meet them.

  "But I cannot have him tease you."

  "He does not tease me," and in quiet sympathy Vesper endeavored torestore peace to her troubled mind. She, most beautiful flower of allthis show, and most deserving of joy and comfort, had been unhappy andill at ease ever since they entered the gates. The lingering, furtiveglances of several young Acadiens were unheeded by her. Her only thought
was to reach her home and be away from this bustle and excitement, andit was his mother who had wrought this change in her; and in sharpregret, Vesper surveyed the little lady, who, apparently in the mostamiable of moods, was sitting chatting to an Acadien matron to whomFather La Croix had introduced her.

  A slight scuffle in a clump of green bushes beside them distracted hisattention from her. A pleading exclamation from a manly voice wasfollowed by an eloquent silence, a brisk sound like a slap, or a box onthe ears, and a laugh from a girl, with a threatening, "_Tu me paicrasca_" (Thou shalt pay me for that).

  Vesper laughed too. There was something so irresistibly comical in theman's second exclamation of dismayed surprise.

  "It is Perside," said Rose, wearily. "How can she be so gay, in sopublic a place?"

  "Serves the blacksmith right, for trying to kiss her," said Vesper.

  "Perside," said Rose, rebukingly, and thrusting her head through theverdant screen, "come and be presented to Mrs. Nimmo."

  Perside came forward. She was a laughing, piquant beauty, smaller andmore self-conscious than Rose. With admirable composure she dismissedher blacksmith-_fiance_, and followed her sister.

  Mrs. Nimmo had been receiving a flattering amount of attention, and washolding quite a small court of Acadien women about her. Among them wasRose's stepmother. Vesper had not met her before, and he gazed at hercalm, statuesque, almost severe profile, under the dark handkerchief.Her hands, worn by honest toil, and folded in her lap, were unmistakablesigns of a long and hard struggle with poverty. Yet her smile wasgentleness and sweetness itself, when she returned Vesper's salutation.A poor farm, many cares, many children,--he knew her history, for Rosehad told him of her mother's death during Perside's infancy, and thegreat kindness of the young woman who had married their father and hadbrought up not only his children, but also the motherless Agapit.

  With a filial courtesy that won the admiration of the Acadiens, amongwhom respect for parents is earnestly inculcated, Vesper asked hismother if she wished him to take her home.

  "If you are quite ready to leave," she replied, getting up and drawingher wrap about her.

  The Acadien women uttered their regrets that madame should leave sosoon. But would she not come to visit them in their own homes?

  "You are very kind," she said, graciously, "but we leavesoon,--possibly in two days," and her inquiring eyes rested on her son,who gravely inclined his head in assent.

  There was a chorus of farewells and requests that madame would, at somefuture time, visit the Bay, and Mrs. Nimmo, bowing her acknowledgments,and singling out Perside for a specially approving glance, took herson's arm and was about to move away when he said, "If you do notobject, we will take the child with us. He is tired, and is wearing outhis mother."

  Mrs. Nimmo could afford to be magnanimous, as they were so soon to goaway, and might possibly shake off all connection with this place.Therefore she favored the pale and suffering Rose with a compassionateglance, and extended an inviting hand to the impetuous boy, who,however, disdained it and ran to Vesper.

  "But why are they going?" cried Agapit, hurrying up to Rose, as shestood gazing after the retreating Nimmos. "Did you tell them of thefireworks, and the concert, and the French play; also that there wouldbe a moon to return by?"

  "Madame was weary."

  "Come thou then with me. I enjoy myself so much. My shirt is wet on myback from the dancing. It is hot like a hay field--what, thou wilt not?Rose, why art thou so dull to-day?"

  She tried to compose herself, to banish the heartrending look of sorrowfrom her face, but she was not skilled in the art of concealing heremotions, and the effort was a vain one.

  "Rose!" said her cousin, in sudden dismay. "Rose--Rose!"

  "What is the matter with thee?" she asked, alarmed in her turn by hisstrange agitation.

  "Hush,--walk aside with me. Now tell me, what is this?"

  "Narcisse has been a trouble," began Rose, hurriedly; then she calmedherself. "I will not deceive thee,--it is not Narcisse, though he hasworried me. Agapit, I wish to go home."

  "I will send thee; but be quiet, speak not above thy breath. Tell me,has this Englishman--"

  "The Englishman has done nothing," said Rose, brokenly, "except that intwo days he goes back to the world."

  "And dost thou care? Stop, let me see thy face. Rose, thou art like asister to me. My poor one, my dear cousin, do not cry. Come, where isthy dignity, thy pride? Remember that Acadien women do not give theirhearts; they must be begged."

  "I remember," she said, resolutely. "I will be strong. Fear not, Agapit,and let us return. The women will be staring."

  She brushed her hand over her face, then by a determined effort of willsummoned back her lost composure, and with a firm, light step rejoinedthe group that they had just left.

  "_Mon Dieu!_" muttered Agapit, "my pleasure is gone, and I was lately sohappy. I thought of this nightmare, and yet I did not imagine it wouldcome. I might have known,--he is so calm, so cool, so handsome. Thatkind charms women and men too, for I also love him, yet I must give himup. Rose, my sister, thou must not go home early. I must keep thee hereand suffer with thee, for, until the Englishman leaves, thou must bekept from him as a little bunch of tow from a slow fire. Does he alreadylove thee? May the holy saints forbid--yes--no, I cannot tell. He isinscrutable. If he does, I think it not. If he does not, I think itso."