The black wolf's breed : $b A story of France in the Old world and the New, happening in the reign of Louis XIVDickson, Harris
History
The black wolf's breed : $b A story of France in the Old world and the New, happening in the reign of Louis XIV
Dickson, Harris
France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715 -- Fiction
"A mere private matter of honor, sire."
"Are there so few enemies of France with whom to fight that you must
needs turn your swords at each other to rob me of a good soldier when I
need every one?"
By this time Boisbriant and Jacques had come up, and Bienville
commanded:
"Major, do you accompany the Chevalier de la Mora to his quarters. You
will take his parole to remain there during the night, and he will
report to me at ten to-morrow. Placide, do you come with me."
He gave up his horse to Jacques, and taking me by the arm led me in the
direction of the garrison. Truly, I was in no better plight, for I
feared reproof from the Governor more than the steel of de la Mora.
During all this time I said no word. We returned to Biloxi in absolute
silence. Bienville, with all a gentleman's instinct, recognized the
delicacy of my position.
The Governor took me at once to his own room, and sat me down at the
table.
"Now, Placide, tell me all about this miserable affair,"
"I can not, sire; believe me, I can not. I beg of you not to put upon
me a command I must disobey. This wretched matter is not for me to
tell, even to you."
"A woman?"
I held my peace.
"Yes, I thought as much. Is it your fault or his, Placide?"
"Mine."
He drummed on the table with his fingers a while before he spoke again.
"Then, my lad, there is but one thing I can do, that is to send you
away from here at once. You can leave this place to-night, seek out
Tuskahoma, make your way to Pensacola, thence to Havana, where I
warrant you will find other occupation. Or, if you so desire, I will
accredit you to Governor Frontenac in the north."
I chose Havana, there being the greater prospect of active service
there. It took the methodical Governor but brief space to give me such
letters as would insure me fitting reception from our brave fellows at
Pensacola. He placed them in my hand, and I quietly rose to bid him
good-night, and good-bye. I would not have ventured upon anything more
than a formal word of parting, for I had the consciousness of having
done much to forfeit his regard. But the old man came over and put his
arms about me as he might a beloved son.
"Placide," he said, "it grieves me to the soul for you to leave me. I
love you, boy, as I do my own flesh. You have served me truly, always
with affection and honor. I respect your silence now, and ask you for
no confidences not your own. Serigny has told me how faithful you were
in Paris, and what he heard from others of your interview with the
King. Placide, my lad, even now it fires my blood to think of a boy of
mine standing before the mighty Louis, surrounded by our enemies, and
daring to tell the truth. It was glorious, glorious, and it saved your
Governor. I had minded me in an idle day to hear it all from your own
lips. Perhaps, some day, who knows, it may yet come. You will lose
not an hour in leaving Biloxi, and I have your word to engage in no
encounter?"
"Aye, sire, you have my word."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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