Marguerite De Roberval: A Romance of the Days of Jacques Cartier

by Thomas Guthrie Marquis

  CHAPTER IV

  A few minutes before the hour designated by Roberval, La Pommerayeappeared in front of the house, which had now become a kind of magnetfor his feet. As a general thing his careless nature made himunpunctual, and he had not infrequently kept opponents waiting for himwhen he had a duel on hand. To-night, however, he hoped for a glimpse ofMarguerite, and this made him prompt to keep his appointment. He scannedthe windows as he passed along the opposite side of the street, but noone appeared to meet his eager gaze. With a heart palpitating like aschoolboy's, on whom some fair girl has smiled or frowned, he slowlyretraced his steps to the heavy oaken door. His knock was answered bythe same old servant who had admitted him in the morning, and he wasshown into a large but very plainly furnished room, where De Robervalsat before a table covered with papers and charts. The walls of the roomwere hung with pictures of the hunt, of the battle-field, and ofreligious subjects--the brutality of war strangely ranged side by sidewith the gentle Madonna and the gentler Christ. In one corner stood astatue of Bacchus, in another was a skull and cross-bones. Trophies ofthe hunt were scattered here and there; and a pair of crossed swordssurmounted an ivory crucifix which hung above a well-worn _prie-dieu_.

  "Vanity and ambition," said La Pommeraye to himself as he glanced roundthe room.

  The words well summed up De Roberval's character. He would have no manin the nation greater than himself. When the famous meeting took placeat "The Field of the Cloth of Gold," between Ardres and Guines inPicardy, all the nobles made an effort to rival the splendour of theirkings, Henry VIII. and Francis I., and they came to the meeting, asMartin du Bellay has said, "bearing thither their mills, their forests,and their meadows on their backs." Among them all Jean Francois de laRoque, Sieur de Roberval, was the most resplendent. Small in stature, hewas handicapped in the use of the sword; but by patient practice he hadmade up for this deficiency, and had won for himself the name of themost skilled swordsman in France. This reputation he had maintainedagainst all comers till he met the man now closeted with him. He enviedthe King his poetic talent, and would fain have outdone him in the artof poesy. But even with Clement Marot's help he had been utterly unableto woo the fickle muse. He had so stored his mind, however, that hissovereign, the brilliant Marguerite de Nevarre, and the master intellectof that age, Rabelais, all delighted in his society; and on account ofhis ability in so many directions, and his evident ambition, Francis hadhumorously christened him "The Little King of Vimeu." One thing rankledin his ambitious heart: king he could not be. Let him be as strong, asintellectual, as popular as he might, Francis could always look down onhim from the throne.

  Cartier, although a blunt seaman, had read the man's nature truly, andin endeavouring to win him to his cause, had pointed out the opportunitythe New World would give him of reigning an absolute monarch over not aprovince, but a continent of unlimited extent and wealth. Roberval, likea fool gudgeon, caught at the bait, and had in his own mind fullydecided to try the venture. But to impress them with his importance hehad called De Pontbriand and La Pommeraye to this meeting to argue thematter with them, and to convince them of the sacrifice he was about tomake for his country, and of his reluctance to leave old France.

  Despite the vanity and ambition of the man, the enthusiasm, courage, andwill that De Roberval put into anything that he undertook were admirablequalities, and as La Pommeraye stood looking into his steel-grey eyes,and admiring his smooth high forehead and finely-chiselled mouth, hefelt that he was in the presence of a born leader of men.

  Roberval acknowledged his greeting with a sternness of manner for whichCharles was hardly prepared.

  "Monsieur is welcome to my house," he said frigidly. "But why need hehave taken so long to decide upon entering? I saw you," he added, fixinghis keen glance on the young man, "pass twice on the other side of thestreet."

  The words were simple enough, but the tone told La Pommeraye that therewas a world of meaning in them. If he could be ready with the sword hecould be equally ready with the tongue.

  "Sieur de Roberval," he said, meeting the nobleman's eyes with a frank,straightforward gaze, "I am not dull-witted. I see that you have readthe meaning of my action, and even though it call down your anger on myhead, I will confess myself to you. Your niece was the cause of mywalking past and rudely staring at your windows. I love her, and unlesssome more favoured suitor has already won her heart, I have vowed toprove myself worthy of her hand, if God wills it."

  "Silence!" almost shouted De Roberval. "If God wills it a thousandtimes, it shall never be. I will oppose it. But why waste words?" headded in a quieter tone. "My niece would spurn you as she would one ofCartier's savages."

  "At first, I have no doubt," returned Charles with great suavity. "But,as you say, we waste words. We are met to consult on a greatundertaking, and I have told you my intentions that there may be nodouble-dealing between us. You know me, and you know what I haveresolved to do, and if you should not wish to have me join you in thisenterprise you can exclude me now. There is plenty of work, or will besoon, for my sword in France, without my taking it to a land where itwill only rust in the scabbard."

  Before De Roberval could make any reply, a heavy knock resounded throughthe house, and Cartier's voice was heard enquiring of Jean: "Is yourmaster within?"

  "Ay, that he is, Monsieur, but I doubt if he will receive you. Eitherthe Emperor or our beloved King Francis is with him."

  "What makes you think that, honest Jean?" said De Pontbriand's voice.

  "Why," replied the old servant, "he spoke back to my master! I heard himwith my own ears, and I thought that even the King himself would not dothat."

  "Well, Jean, he has promised to meet with us to-night; so, King or noKing, show us to his room."

  Not waiting for an answer they pushed towards the door of Roberval'sroom, which stood slightly ajar. Before they could knock De Robervalthrew it open, exclaiming as he did so: "Welcome to our conference."

  "Behold the King!" he continued, laughingly pointing to La Pommeraye."Jean is a strange fellow. I am afraid I should have left him inPicardy; his tongue wags too much. But he is not far wrong this time.The man who could defeat De Roberval is indeed a monarch among men."

  There was a steel-like ring in his voice as he spoke; Cartier and DePontbriand looked at each other, and both wondered what fate he had instore for La Pommeraye.

  "But," he continued, "we have much work before us to-night, let ussettle down to it at once. I hope, Cartier, you have brought your chartswith you, and you, De Pontbriand, your notes."

  "We have," said the two men in chorus; "and," added Cartier, "what wehave omitted La Pommeraye, who, in search of adventures, wandered aboutfor several months in the primeval forests, will be able to supply."

  The four heads were soon assiduously studying a rude map which Cartierhad spread on the table. Intently they scanned it: Charles and Claudewith the fond remembrance of men who had visited those distant, almostunknown, lands; Cartier with the delight of a man who had before him thecontinent he had claimed for his King; and Roberval with the eagernessof one who is about to venture on a mighty undertaking that may ruin hisfortunes, or make him the most renowned man in his country.

  The nobleman's sharp eyes noted the mighty rivers and broad gulfs,feeling that already they were his own. The vastness of the greatunknown world took hold on him. The forests of Picardy were like stubblebeside these unbroken stretches of wooded country; and the mightiestriver of France was but as a purling brook when compared with thegigantic sweep of the river of Hochelaga, which stretched inland forunknown leagues.

  Cartier had been watching his countenance, and saw that he wascompletely won to the enterprise; but Roberval feigned a lack ofenthusiasm. He turned from the map, and with assumed indifference said:"I like not the look of the country. Woods and water, water and woods,are all you have marked on it. I prefer a land of fertile fields andcivilised society."

  "But, noble Sieur, you mistake. It is not all woods and water. Thismigh
ty Baie des Chaleurs teems with fish. We filled our boats as wepassed along; and did all Europe take to a fish diet that one bay couldsupply them. And the woods, Sieur! They swarm with animals. Mink, otter,beaver, fox, are as plentiful there as sheep and goats are with us, andas easily captured. There would be no trouble to get their skins, ortime lost in hunting them either. The Indians would bring in pelts byhundreds, and all we should need to give them in return would be a fewglass beads, metal rings, leaden images, or some gaudy apparel."

  "Enough, enough!" said De Roberval impatiently. "You talk as if you werein the establishment of a St Malo merchant instead of in the house of anobleman of Picardy."

  Claude saw that Cartier had over-shot the mark, and so came to therescue.

  "The Sieur de Roberval," he said, "must pardon good Master Cartier. Hehas so long been bringing home the wealth of other lands that he isinclined to think of the value of a country by the amount of wealth itcan put into the treasury of France."

  "A very laudable way of thinking, and one of which good King Franciswould be the first to approve," replied the nobleman in a gentler tone.

  "Yes," said Claude, "but not the only thing to consider. This commercegives us the greatest opportunity any people has ever had. The whole NewWorld is steeped in the most degrading paganism. The Indians have nonotion of God, or the Blessed Virgin, or of Christ. And, Sieur, whilethe treasure from the streams and the forest may bring us reward onearth, the countless souls we may lead to heaven will win us crowns ineternity."

  Claude was not a hypocrite. He had begun to speak of the spiritual sideof the enterprise with the special purpose of buttressing Cartier'sargument; but he was a devout Catholic, and his lips only echoed whatwas in his heart.

  "Pontbriand," replied Roberval, "you plead like a holy father. We shallhave to shave your head and give you a black robe. But there issomething in what you say; though to propagate Christianity effectivelyin such a land would require enormous wealth."

  "True, most noble Sieur," said Cartier hastily, "and if the forest andthe stream do not yield sufficient we must dig it out of the earth."

  "What mean you? Have you further information about the mineral wealth ofthe New World? The last you gave me was of little value. Your preciousmetal has proved to be less valuable than lead, and your diamonds butquartz. See," he said, rising, "how this acid affects your gold."

  He took from a shelf a piece of metal which Cartier had sent to him.

  "La Pommeraye," he said, "you will have to be a right hand for me, anduncork this vial."

  A drop of the liquid was allowed to fall upon the metal, which at oncebecame discoloured.

  "No, no!" exclaimed Roberval. "You will have to try some other bait. Iwill not go to Canada hoping for gold."

  "I do not wish to contradict you, Sieur, but test this lump;" andCartier, as he spoke, handed him a nugget the size of an egg.

  Nervously Roberval seized it. It stood the test.

  "Where!" he exclaimed in an excited voice, "did you get this?"

  "From Donnacona, of whom you have heard, and whom indeed you have seenfor yourself."

  "And where did Donnacona get it?"

  "Far west of his home at Stadacona, and of Hochelaga, too."

  "I must see him at once," said Roberval.

  "That will be difficult, Sieur," replied Cartier. "He is in Heaven."

  "Dead, is he? Well, what good will that nugget do us?" said Roberval, indisgust and disappointment. "We might search for centuries before wecould find its mate."

  "True, Sieur, but where one was found there are likely to be others.Besides, I have here something that may help us in our search."

  As he spoke he unrolled a precious chart, scratched on birch bark withsome rude weapon, such as a flint arrow-head.

  "I got this from Donnacona five years ago, and I have kept it from theworld till this moment, fearing that calamity might befall it."

  He spread it on the table, and on one corner rested the tempting nugget.

  It was a marvellous map; the map of an unknown world of wonders.

  "I can swear to the truth of this part at least," said Cartier. "This isHochelaga, and here are marked the difficult rapids above it. These fiveinland seas are without doubt in existence. Many Indians have told me ofthem; and see, Sieur, this one is incomplete. Donnacona told me that noIndian had ever reached its end; and yet there are tales among theIndians of richly-robed men of another race and colour who live beyondthese vast western waters. I do not like to conjecture in so great anundertaking, but does it not seem probable that we have at last beforeus the road to the East, and to the Kingdom of the Grand Khan?"

  "Enough, enough, Cartier!" said Roberval, laughing. "You are tooenthusiastic. What next will you have to offer? Already we have hadfurs, fish, timber, gold, silver, precious stones, and Indian souls. Youmust think I need great temptation to be lured into this enterprise. Butwhat have we here, to the north of this ocean?"

  "I am glad you have noticed that," replied Cartier. "Those rude marksare the mines. They are of great antiquity; and Donnacona, who had noidea of the value of the precious metals, spoke of the men of old whodug for metal such as we wore on our fingers, and about our necks. Hehad a fine scorn for such baubles; and, as if to impress us with theirworthlessness, stood on the heights of Stadacona, and pointed with prideto the wigwams of his tribe clustering at the foot of the cliff: 'But,'he said, 'the men who wrought the metal are no more. Mighty oaks growfrom the earth in which they toiled.'"

  Roberval seemed scarcely to heed this long harangue. He gazed intentlyat the map, and did not raise his eyes till the voice of La Pommeraye,who had hitherto been silent, broke upon his ear.

  "What Cartier has told you, Sieur, is true. I too have heard the sametales from very different sources. But, to my mind, Cartier and DePontbriand, in advocating their expedition, have left out the mostimportant consideration. Spain is already in the New World. Cortez hasbrought shiploads of gold from Mexico; Ponce de Leon, Garay, Vasquez deAyllon, and Hernando de Soto have all brought home tales of treasure andwonder; and if France does not make haste she will find herself one ofthe least among European Powers. Besides, let us build up a nation inthe New World, and we may have some more fighting. The rumours of warthat flit up and down in France are mere woman's talk. My blade isrusting in the scabbard, and now that the Emperor and King Francis arecomplimenting each other like two schoolgirls, it is long likely toremain so. But in the New World there will be a glorious opportunity fora struggle with Spain. The Spaniard already claims the whole of America,and will fight for every inch of it. A strong man could found a mightyempire on the banks of the Hochelaga, and have all the fighting hisheart could desire. I should like to be lieutenant to such a man."

  "And you shall be," said De Roberval, firmly. "Gentlemen, I havedecided. To-morrow I depart to hold an interview with King Francis. Meetme here in three weeks, and I will report my success. He owes me a heavydebt, and will, I have no doubt, fit out and man a fleet for us, andgive me full power over Canada."

  The three men rose. Cartier and De Pontbriand made their adieus and leftthe room; but before La Pommeraye could follow them, the touch ofRoberval's hand on his shoulder arrested him. The door closed on theother two, and Roberval, without resuming his seat, remarked, in a notunkindly tone:

  "You are a brave youth! I admire your courage, and shall be glad to haveyou join me in this expedition. But one thing I must have distinctlyunderstood: This romantic attachment you fancy you have conceived for myniece--I must hear no more of it. You have seen her but once, and undercircumstances which make it unlikely that you will ever meet her again.Your time will be fully occupied in preparations for our departure; asfor her, I shall see that she leaves St Malo at once. Go, now, and proveyourself indeed a man of honour by attempting to see no more of her. Iwarn you, you will rue the day you cross my will."

  The young soldier merely bowed in silence and left the room. As hestepped into the long hall he noticed two figures standing close
to eachother in the dim light at the farther end. They seemed to be engaged inclose conversation. He recognised Claude, and his heart sank within him,for he thought the second figure was Marguerite. De Roberval wasfollowing close behind him, and, with a generous impulse to shield hisfriend, Charles placed his giant proportions immediately in front of thelittle nobleman. But when they reached the street door he was rejoicedto find Marie standing there, apparently bidding good-bye to Claude.

  "Where is Marguerite?" said De Roberval sternly.

  "In her room, Sieur."

  "I thought I saw her here a moment ago."

  "You must have mistaken me for her, Sieur," replied Marie,unhesitatingly, "as I but this moment left her."

  "Strange," thought La Pommeraye, as the two young men left the housetogether, "that we should both have made the same mistake; butdoubtless we were both thinking of her. But that fair damsel in the hallis not the style of beauty by which I should have thought Claude wouldbe attracted. However, so much the better for me. The coast is nowclear, I hope."

  "Claude," he said, after they had walked a little distance in silence,"I saw you as I came out into the hall. You seemed to be holding a veryabsorbing conversation with that fair lady--a friend of Mdlle deRoberval's, I conclude. May I be permitted to ask her name?"

  Claude did not answer for a few moments, and La Pommeraye noticed thathis face wore an expression of anxiety and doubt. At length he said:

  "That is Mdlle de Vignan--the Sieur de Roberval's ward. She lives withhim, and is the constant companion of his niece."

  "Marie de Vignan?" exclaimed Charles. "The daughter of Aubrey de Vignanwho was killed in action five years ago?"

  "The same."

  "I would I had known it was she! Yet how could I recognise her?--I havenot seen her since I held her in my arms, a mischievous little elf offive years old, when I used to be a constant visitor at her father'shouse. It was a second home to me--indeed, more of a home than I haveever known elsewhere, before or since. And that is my little friend andplaymate! I congratulate you, Claude. If she has inherited anything ofher father's nature and her mother's sweetness she will be indeed ajewel."

  To his surprise Claude made no reply; and the two friends walked on insilence. La Pommeraye asked no more questions, and his friend wasevidently not desirous of volunteering any further information. Theyshortly overtook Cartier, who was waiting for them, and the incident wasforgotten for the present in the discussion of their plans for theproposed voyage.