Rose à Charlitte

by Marshall Saunders

  CHAPTER VIII.

  FAIRE BOMBANCE.

  "Could but our ancestors retrieve their fate, And see their offspring thus degenerate, How we contend for birth and names unknown; And build on their past acts, and not our own; They'd cancel records and their tombs deface, And then disown the vile, degenerate race; For families is all a cheat, 'Tis personal virtue only, makes us great."

  THE TRUE BORN ENGLISHMAN. DEFOE.

  Bidiane was late for supper, and Claudine was regretfully remarking thatthe croquettes and the hot potatoes in the oven would all be burnt tocinders, when the young person herself walked into the kitchen, her facea fiery crimson, a row of tiny beads of perspiration at the conjunctionof her smooth forehead with her red hair.

  "I have had a glorious ride," she said, opening the door of the big ovenand taking out the hot dishes.

  Claudine laid aside the towel with which she was wiping the cups andsaucers that Mirabelle Marie washed. "Go sit down at the table,Bidiane; you must be weary."

  The girl, nothing loath, went to the dining-room, while Claudine broughther in hot coffee, buttered toast, and preserved peaches and cream, andthen returning to the kitchen watched her through the open door, as shesatisfied the demands of a certainly prosperous appetite.

  "And yet, it is not food I want, as much as drink," said Bidiane, gaily,as she poured herself out a second glass of milk. "Ah, the bicycle,Claudine. If you rode, you would know how one's mouth feels like a drybone."

  "I think I would like a wheel," said Claudine, modestly. "I have enoughmoney saved."

  "Have you? Then you must get one, and I will teach you to ride."

  "How would one go about it?"

  "We will do it in this way," said Bidiane, in a business-like manner,for she loved to arrange the affairs of other people. "How much moneyhave you?"

  "I have one hundred dollars."

  "'Pon me soul an' body, I'd have borrered some if I'd known that,"interrupted Mirabelle Marie, with a chuckle.

  "Good gracious," observed Bidiane, "you don't want more than half that.We will give fifty to one of the men on the schooners. Isn't _LaSauterelle_ going to Boston, to-morrow?"

  "Yes; the cook was just in for yeast."

  "Has he a head for business?"

  "Pretty fair."

  "Does he know anything about machines?"

  "He once sold sewing-machines, and he also would show how to work them."

  "The very man,--we will give him the fifty dollars and tell him to pickyou out a good wheel and bring it back in the schooner."

  "Then there will be no duty to pay," said Claudine, joyfully.

  "H'm,--well, perhaps we had better pay the duty," said Bidiane; "itwon't be so very much. It is a great temptation to smuggle things fromthe States, but I know we shouldn't. By the way, I must tell MirabelleMarie a good joke I just heard up the Bay. My aunt,--where are you?"

  Mirabelle Marie came into the room and seated herself near Claudine.

  "Marc a Jaddus a Dominique's little girl gave him away," said Bidiane,laughingly. "She ran over to the custom-house in Belliveau's Cove andtold the man what lovely things her papa had brought from Boston, in hisschooner, and the customs man hurried over, and Marc had to pay--I musttell you, too, that I bought some white ribbon for Alzelie Gauterot,while I was in the Cove," and Bidiane pulled a little parcel from herpocket.

  Mirabelle Marie was intensely interested. Ever since the affair of theghosts, which Bidiane had given up trying to persuade her was notghostly, but very material, she had become deeply religious, and tookher whole family to mass and vespers every Sunday.

  Just now the children of the parish were in training for their firstcommunion. She watched the little creatures daily trotting up the roadtowards the church to receive instruction, and she hoped that her boyswould soon be among them. In the small daughter of her next-doorneighbor, who was to make her first communion with the others, she tooka special interest, and in her zeal had offered to make the dress, whichkind office had devolved upon Bidiane and Claudine.

  "Also, I have been thinking of a scheme to save money," said Bidiane."For a veil we can just take off this fly screen," and she pointed towhite netting on the table. "No one but you and Claudine will know. Itis fine and soft, and can be freshly done up."

  "_Mon jheu!_ but you are smart, and a real Acadien brat," said her aunt."Claudine, will you go to the door? Some divil rings,--that is, somelady or gentleman," she added, as she caught a menacing glance fromBidiane.

  "If you keep a hotel you must always be glad to see strangers," saidBidiane, severely. "It is money in your pocket."

  "But such a trouble, and I am sleepy."

  "If you are not careful you will have to give up this inn,--however, Imust not scold, for you do far better than when I first came."

  "It is the political gentleman," said Claudine, entering, andnoiselessly closing the door behind her. "He who has been going up anddown the Bay for a day or two. He wishes supper and a bed."

  "_Sakerje!_" muttered Mirabelle Marie, rising with an effort. "If I wasa man I guess I'd let pollyticks alone, and stay to hum. I s'ppose he'sgot a nest with some feathers in it. I guess you'd better ask him out,though. There's enough to start him, ain't there?" and she waddled outto the kitchen.

  "Ah, the political gentleman," said Bidiane. "It was he for whom Ihelped Maggie Guilbaut pick blackberries, yesterday. They expected himto call, and were going to offer him berries and cream."

  Mirabelle Marie, on going to the kitchen, had left her niece sittingcomposedly at the table, only lifting an eyelid to glance at the door bywhich the stranger would enter; but when she returned, as she almostimmediately did, to ask the gentleman whether he would prefer tea tocoffee, a curious spectacle met her gaze.

  Bidiane, with a face that was absolutely furious, had sprung to her feetand was grasping the sides of her bicycle skirt with clenched hands,while the stranger, who was a lean, dark man, with a pale, ratherpleasing face, when not disfigured by a sarcastic smile, stood staringat her as if he remembered seeing her before, but had some difficulty inlocating her among his acquaintances.

  Upon her aunt's appearance, Bidiane found her voice. "Either I or thatman must leave this house," she said, pointing a scornful finger at him.

  "'EITHER THAT MAN OR I MUST LEAVE THIS HOUSE.'"]

  Mirabelle Marie, who was not easily shocked, was plainly so on thepresent occasion. "Whist, Bidiane," she said, trying to pull her down onher chair; "this is the pollytickle genl'man,--county member they call'im."

  "I do not care if he is member for fifty counties," said Bidiane, inconcentrated scorn. "He is a libeller, a slanderer, and I will not stayunder the same roof with him,--and to think it was for him I picked theblackberries,--we cannot entertain you here, sir."

  The expression of disagreeable surprise with which the man with theunpleasant smile had regarded her gave way to one of cool disdain. "Thisis your house, I think?" he said, appealing to Mirabelle Marie.

  "Yessir," she said, putting down her tea-caddy, and arranging both herhands on her hips, in which position she would hold them until thedispute was finished.

  "And you do not refuse me entertainment?" he went on, with the sameunpleasant smile. "You cannot, I think, as this is a public house, andyou have no just reason for excluding me from it."

  "My aunt," said Bidiane, flashing around to her in a towering passion,"if you do not immediately turn this man out-of-doors, I shall neverspeak to you again."

  "I be _deche_," sputtered the confused landlady, "if I see into thishash. Look at 'em, Claudine. This genl'man'll be mad if I do one thing,an' Biddy'll take my head off if I do another. _Sakerje!_ You've got tofit it out yourselves."

  "Listen, my aunt," said Bidiane, excitedly, and yet with an effort tocontrol herself. "I will tell you what happened. On my way here
I was ina hotel in Halifax. I had gone there with some people from the steamerwho were taking charge of me. We were on our way to our rooms. We wereall speaking English. No one would think that there was a French personin the party. We passed a gentleman, this gentleman, who stood outsidehis door; he was speaking to a servant. 'Bring me quickly,' he said,'some water,--some hot water. I have been down among the evil-smellingFrench of Clare. I must go again, and I want a good wash first.'"

  Mirabelle Marie was by no means overcome with horror at the recitationof this trespass on the part of her would-be guest; but Claudine's eyesblazed and flashed on the stranger's back until he moved slightly, andshrugged his shoulders as if he felt their power.

  "Imagine," cried Bidiane, "he called us 'evil-smelling,'--we, the besthousekeepers in the world, whose stoves shine, whose kitchen floors areas white as the beach! I choked with wrath. I ran up to him and said,'_Moi, je suis Acadienne_'" (I am an Acadienne). "Did I not, sir?"

  The stranger lifted his eyebrows indulgently and satirically, but didnot speak.

  "And he was astonished," continued Bidiane. "_Ma foi_, but he wasastonished! He started, and stared at me, and I said, 'I will tell youwhat you are, sir, unless you apologize.'"

  "I guess yeh apologized, didn't yeh?" said Mirabelle Marie, mildly.

  "The young lady is dreaming," said the stranger, coolly, and he seatedhimself at the table. "Can you let me have something to eat at once,madame? I have a brother who resembles me; perhaps she saw him."

  Bidiane grew so pale with wrath, and trembled so violently that Claudineran to support her, and cried, "Tell us, Bidiane, what did you say tothis bad man?"

  Bidiane slightly recovered herself. "I said to him, 'Sir, I regret totell you that you are lying.'"

  The man at the table surveyed her in intense irritation. "I do not knowwhere you come from, young woman," he said, hastily, "but you lookIrish."

  "And if I were not Acadien I would be Irish," she said, in a low voice,"for they also suffer for their country. Good-by, my aunt, I am going toRose a Charlitte. I see you wish to keep this story-teller."

  "Hole on, hole on," ejaculated Mirabelle Marie in distress. "Look here,sir, you've gut me in a fix, and you've gut to git me out of it."

  "I shall not leave your house unless you tell me to do so," he said, incool, quiet anger.

  Bidiane stretched out her hands to him, and with tears in her eyesexclaimed, pleadingly, "Say only that you regret having slandered theAcadiens. I will forget that you put my people to shame before theEnglish, for they all knew that I was coming to Clare. We will overlookit. Acadiens are not ungenerous, sir."

  "As I said before, you are dreaming," responded the stranger, in arestrained fury. "I never was so put upon in my life. I never saw youbefore."

  Bidiane drew herself up like an inspired prophetess. "Beware, sir, ofthe wrath of God. You lied before,--you are lying now."

  The man fell into such a repressed rage that Mirabelle Marie, who wasthe only unembarrassed spectator, inasmuch as she was weak in racialloves and hatreds, felt called upon to decide the case. The gentleman,she saw, was the story-teller. Bidiane, who had not been particularlytruthful as a child, had yet never told her a falsehood since her returnfrom France.

  "I'm awful sorry, sir, but you've gut to go. I brought up this leetlegirl, an' her mother's dead."

  The gentleman rose,--a gentleman no longer, but a plain, common, veryugly-tempered man. These Acadiens were actually turning him, anEnglishman, out of the inn. And he had thought the whole people so meek,so spiritless. He was doing them such an honor to personally canvassthem for votes for the approaching election. His astonishment almostovermastered his rage, and in a choking voice he said to MirabelleMarie, "Your house will suffer for this,--you will regret it to the endof your life."

  "I know some business," exclaimed Claudine, in sudden and irrepressiblezeal. "I know that you wish to make laws, but will our men send you whenthey know what you say?"

  He snatched his hat from the seat behind him. His election wasthreatened. Unless he chained these women's tongues, what he had saidwould run up and down the Bay like wildfire,--and yet a word now wouldstop it. Should he apologize? A devil rose in his heart. He would not.

  "Do your worst," he said, in a low, sneering voice. "You are a pack ofliars yourselves," and while Bidiane and Claudine stiffened themselveswith rage, and Mirabelle Marie contemptuously muttered, "Get out, olebeast," he cast a final malevolent glance on them, and left the house.

  For a time the three remained speechless; then Bidiane sank into herchair, pushed back her half-eaten supper, propped her red head on herhand, and burst into passionate weeping.

  Claudine stood gloomily watching her, while Mirabelle Marie sat down,and shifting her hands from her hips, laid them on her trembling knees."I guess he'll drive us out of this, Biddy,--an' I like Sleepin' Water."

  Bidiane lifted her face to the ceiling, just as if she were "taking avowel," her aunt reflected, in her far from perfect English. "He shallnot ruin us, my aunt,--we will ruin him."

  "What'll you do, sissy?"

  "I will tell you something about politics," said Bidiane, immediatelybecoming calm. "Mr. Nimmo has explained to me something about them, andif you listen, you will understand. In the first place, do you knowwhat politics are?" and hastily wiping her eyes, she intently surveyedthe two women who were hanging on her words.

  "Yes, I know," said her aunt, joyfully. "It's when men quit work, an'gab, an' git red in the face, an' pass the bottle, an' pick rows, tofine out which shall go up to the city of Boston to make laws an' sit ina big room with lots of other men."

  Bidiane, with an impatient gesture, turned to Claudine. "You know betterthan that?"

  "Well, yes,--a little," said the black-eyed beauty, contemptuously.

  "My aunt," said Bidiane, solemnly, "you have been out in the world, andyet you have many things to learn. Politics is a science, and deep, verydeep."

  "Is it?" said her aunt, humbly. "An' what's a science?"

  "A science is--well, a science is something wonderfully clever--when oneknows a great deal. Now this Dominion of Canada in which we live islarge, very large, and there are two parties of politicians in it. Youknow them, Claudine?"

  "Yes, I do," said the young woman, promptly; "they are Liberals andConservatives."

  "That is right; and just now the Premier of the Dominion is a Frenchman,my aunt,--I don't believe you knew that,--and we are proud of him."

  "An' what's the Premier?"

  "He is the chief one,--the one who stands over the others, when theymake the laws."

  "Oh, the boss!--you will tell him about this bad man."

  "No, it would grieve him too much, for the Premier is always a good man,who never does anything wrong. This bad man will impose on him, and tryto get him to promise to let him go to Ottawa--oh, by the way, Claudine,we must explain about that. My aunt, you know that there are two citiesto which politicians go to make the laws. One is the capital."

  "Yes, I know,--in Boston city."

  "Nonsense,--Boston is in the United States. We are in Canada. Halifax isthe capital of Nova Scotia."

  "But all our folks go to Boston when they travels," said MirabelleMarie, in a slightly injured tone.

  "Yes, yes, I know,--the foolish people; they should go to Halifax. Well,that is where the big house is in which they make the laws. I saw itwhen I was there, and it has pictures of kings and queens in it. Now,when a man becomes too clever for this house, they send him to Ottawa,where the Premier is."

  "Yes, I remember,--the good Frenchman."

  "Well, this bad man now wishes to go to Halifax; then if he isambitious,--and he is bad enough to be anything,--he may wish to go toOttawa. But we must stop him right away before he does more mischief,for all men think he is good. Mr. Guilbaut was praising him yesterday."

  "He didn't say he is bad?"

  "No, no, he thinks him very good, and says he will be elected; but weknow him to be a liar, and should a liar make l
aws for his country?"

  "A liar should stay to hum, where he is known," was the decisiveresponse.

  "Very good,--now should we not try to drive this man out of Clare?"

  "But what can we do?" asked Mirabelle Marie. "He is already out an'lying like the divil about us--that is, like a man out of the woods."

  "We can talk," said her niece, seriously. "There are women's rights, youknow."

  "Women's rights," repeated her aunt, thoughtfully. "It is not in theprayer-book."

  "No, of course not."

  "Come now, Biddy, tell us what it is."

  "It is a long subject, my aunt. It would take too many words to explain,though Mr. Nimmo has often told me about it. Women who believe that--cando as men. Why should we not vote,--you, and I, and Claudine?"

  "I dunno. I guess the men won't let us."

  "I should like to vote," said Bidiane, stoutly, "but even though wecannot, we can tell the men on the Bay of this monster, and they willsend him home."

  "All right," said her aunt; while Claudine, who had been sitting withknitted brows during the last few minutes, exclaimed, "I have it,Bidiane; let us make _bombance_" (feasting). "Do you know what itmeans?"

  No, Bidiane did not, but Mirabelle Marie did, and immediately began tomake a gurgling noise in her throat. "Once I helped to make it in thehouse of an aunt. Glory! that was fun. But the tin, Claudine, where'llyou git that?"

  "My one hundred dollars," cried the black-eyed assistant. "I will givethem to my country, for I hate that man. I will do without the wheel."

  "But what is this?" asked Bidiane, reproachfully. "What are you agreeingto? I do not understand."

  "Tell her, Claudine," said Mirabelle Marie, with a proud wave of herhand. "She's English, yeh know."

  Claudine explained the phrase, and for the next hour the three, withchairs drawn close together, nodded, talked, and gesticulated, whilelaying out a feminine electioneering campaign.