The Span o' Life: A Tale of Louisbourg & QuebecMcIlwraith, Jean N. (Jean Newton)
History
The Span o' Life: A Tale of Louisbourg & Quebec
McIlwraith, Jean N. (Jean Newton)
United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Fiction
"Chevalier, I am not only under heavy personal obligation towards
you, but the memory of your friendship for me and mine ties me
closer to you than you know. I stand high in the esteem of my
general, who in turn can command attention to any request. You have
approved of my own conduct in accepting service; let me open the
way for you to the same honourable career. You have abundantly paid
your debt to France; give your arm to your own people. Surely there
come times when you dream of 'home.'"
"Captain Nairn," I answered, "believe me, I can pay you no higher
compliment than in saying I receive your words without offence. I
am sensible, deeply sensible of the kindness, may I say the affection,
which prompts your offer; but 'my people' are wanderers on the face
of the earth; my lot is that of the soldier of fortune. 'Home,'
Nairn! Though I have never set my foot on my own soil save as an
outlaw and a rebel, my heart at times grows faint for it, and the
turn of an old song sets my brain aching and my eyes longing, but
my only inheritance has been the loyalty which has robbed me of it
all. That I am on the losing side is my misfortune; that I have
inspired your respect and affection is my reward. I thank you from
the bottom of my heart, but do not mention the subject again if
you love me."
One personal gratification the siege brought to me was the renewal
of my intercourse with the fair Madame Prevost. Now that I had her
truculent husband under my thumb, for I held exposure over him like
the sword of Damocles, I was free to see as much of her as I chose.
People eat and sleep, breathe and hope, though danger may lie down
with them by night and draw their curtains with the day; at such
times the most marked difference is that life goes with a faster
foot, so that my intimacy with my charming rescuer grew at a pace
altogether disproportionate to the hours.
On the evening of the 24th of July, when capitulation was unavoidable,
when our fire was so weak that it was more like funeral guns than
a defence, and our one anxiety was to obtain honourable terms,
Madame Prevost came to me in a sad state of distraction.
"Chevalier," she said, "it is hopeless! No matter what the commandant
may resolve, we are betrayed. Prevost will force them to accept
any terms, no matter how great the humiliation. It is nothing to
him so long as he escapes; but it is death to me. I have been
despised all these years on account of my connection with him; I
have suffered tortures of shame daily through the siege, and now
all will be crowned with this height of infamy. I cannot bear it!
I cannot look upon it!" And the poor distracted creature fell to
sobbing and weeping as if her very heart would break.
When she had recovered somewhat she revealed her design, which was
that, should Prevost succeed in forcing the commandant to the
disgraceful surrender we all feared, she and I would escape together.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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