The Lily and the Cross: A Tale of Acadia — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
The Lily and the Cross: A Tale of Acadia
John Stuart Mill · en
"You have also complained, monsieur, of the arrest of your captain.
That was done on account of his unfortunate connection with you. He
may be innocent, but that remains to be seen. At present appearances
are against him, and he must take his share of the guilt which
attaches to you. His arrest was a political necessity."
After this the captain left; and, as Claude saw how useless it was to
attempt to plead his cause to this man, he made no further attempt to
detain him.
Left once more to his own reflections, Claude recalled all that the
captain had said, and at first was lost in wonder at the gravity of
the charges that had been raised up against him. Nor could he conceal
from himself that, though they were based on nothing, they still were
serious and formidable. Even in France charges of a political kind
would lead to serious consequences; and here in the colonies he felt
less sure of justice. Indeed, as far as justice was concerned, he
hardly hoped to experience anything of the kind, for his judge would
be the very man who had got up these charges, and had treated him
with such baseness and treachery. The fact was, that he would be
called before a court where accuser, witness, and judge would all be
one and the same person, and, what was more, the person who for some
reason had chosen to become his bitterest enemy. Dark indeed and
gloomy was the prospect that now lowered before him.
Before an impartial court the charges against him might be answered
or refuted; but where could he find such a court? Cazeneau had
created the charges, and would know how to make them still more
formidable. And now he felt that behind these charges there must lurk
something more dangerous still.
Already there had arisen in his mind certain suspicions as to
Cazeneau's designs upon Mimi. These suspicions he had hinted at in
conversation with her, and his present circumstances deepened them
into convictions. It began now to seem to him that Cazeneau had
designs to make the beautiful, high-born girl his wife. Everything
favored him. He was supreme in authority out here; the old Laborde
was under his influence; the daughter's consent alone was wanting. Of
that consent, under ordinary circumstances, he could make sure. But
he had seen a close and strong friendship arising between Mimi and
her preserver. This Claude considered as a better and more probable
cause for his hate. If this were indeed so, and if this hate grew up
out of jealousy, then his prospects were indeed dark, for jealousy is
as cruel as the grave.