Canada -- History -- To 1763 (New France) -- Fiction; United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Fiction
It was not to be. Here Doltaire, seeing that my words had indeed
affected my opponent, said: "A double retreat! He swore to give a
challenge to-night, and he cries off like a sheep from a porcupine;
his courage is so slack, he dares not move a step to his liberty.
It was a bet, a hazard. He was to drink glass for glass with any
and all of us, and fight sword for sword with any of us who gave
him cause. Having drunk his courage to death, he'd now browse at
the feet of those who give him chance to win his stake."
His words came slowly and bitingly, yet with an air of damnable
nonchalance. I looked round me. Every man present was full-sprung
with wine; and a distance away, a gentleman on either side of him,
stood the Intendant, smiling detestably, a keen, houndlike look
shooting out of his small round eyes.
I had had enough; I could bear no more. To be baited like a bear
by these Frenchmen--it was aloes in my teeth! I was not sorry then
that these words of Juste Duvarney's gave me no chance of escape
from fighting; though I would it had been any other man in the room
than he. It was on my tongue to say that if some gentleman would
take up his quarrel I should be glad to drive mine home, though
for reasons I cared not myself to fight Duvarney. But I did not,
for I knew that to carry that point farther might rouse a general
thought of Alixe, and I had no wish to make matters hard for her.
Everything in its own good time, and when I should be free! So,
without more ado, I said to him:
"Monsieur, the quarrel was of your choosing, not mine. There was no
need for strife between us, and you have more to lose than I: more
friends, more years of life, more hopes. I have avoided your bait,
as you call it, for your sake, not mine own. Now I take it, and you,
monsieur, show us what sort of fisherman you are."
All was arranged in a moment. As we turned to pass from the room
to the courtyard, I noted that Bigot was gone. When we came
outside, it was just one, as I could tell by a clock striking in a
chamber near. It was cold, and some of the company shivered as we
stepped upon the white, frosty stones. The late October air bit the
cheek, though now and then a warm, pungent current passed across
the courtyard--the breath from the people's burnt corn. Even yet
upon the sky was the reflection of the fire, and distant sounds of
singing, shouting, and carousal came to us from the Lower Town.
We stepped to a corner of the yard and took off our coats; swords
were handed us--both excellent, for we had had our choice of many.
It was partial moonlight, but there were flitting clouds. That we
should have light, however, pine torches had been brought, and
these were stuck in the wall. My back was to the outer wall of the
courtyard, and I saw the Intendant at a window of the palace looking
down at us. Doltaire stood a little apart from the other gentlemen
in the courtyard, yet where he could see Duvarney and myself at
advantage.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account