The Black Colonel

by James Milne

  _XV.--News from Somewhere_

  "Quebec," the Black Colonel had written above the first sheet of hisletter and he had forgotten to put any date, so I was left to guess howlong it had taken to reach me. Nor did it bear any form of address tomyself, but just began abruptly, "I do not suppose you will bespecially glad to hear of me in this land of New France. There was,however, an understanding that I should write you, and I am doing it bya sure and confidential messenger." Then it went on as follows, for Itranscribe it fully, as is needful for the conveyance of its atmosphereand even a certain quality of elegance natural to the writer:

  "No man is happy who has had disappointments like me, but, at least, Isurvive and am usefully occupied. If I may say it, my notinconsiderable fame in our native Highlands had gone ahead of me tothis country. That made it easy to secure service in one of the Frenchcorps in Quebec, for I speak the language, as you know, with no unduestranger accent, and it always brings me gay memories of hours in OldFrance.

  "The regimental wages are not great, and they are not paid with exactpunctuality, because there are too many empty hands waiting between hisFrench Christian Majesty's coffers and his soldiers in Canada. Butthat, to a man like myself who wants little of the so-called comfortsof life, and has, moreover, other sources, is no great hardship, andthere are comfortings, sometimes, in unexpected quarters.

  "The French, who know the art of romance, and how to spin it to thelast drop without getting to the dregs, have already peopled this newland of theirs with colour, but I doubt me if it will last, which istheir affair, not mine, or yours. King Louis himself is indulgent tothe human colouring of his dominion, in that he sends out shipments ofwives from the Old Country for the French settlers.

  "Therefore they are called 'King's girls,' and being flowers of akingdom which has bloomed rarely with women, they are in much demand.It is a joke, when a ship-load arrives, that the plumpest are marriedfirst, and this, I gather, for two reasons: Being less active, it isthought they will more readily stay at home, as honest married womenshould, and, being well covered--not fat, oh no! not that--that theywill the better resist the icy cold of New France in the winter. Formyself they do not interest me, not on account of the reason whichdrove my late Count Frontenac here, he having in the Old Country ashrewish wife whose temper he could not bear, but because I have foundattractions more to my taste, of which you shall know something.

  "I may admit, with some assurance, that my luck in the regard of thesweet sex, holds amid the altered conditions in which I find myself.Those French women have not the freshness, and I am certain not theinnocence--you will admit me a judge on both counts--of my owncountry-women in the Scots Highlands. But they have a wondrous charm,a quality of attractiveness which is as deadly to a Highlander as if adirk slit his heart. I speak, you may think, in poetry numbers, butyou must do that, if, speaking of women, you would do them justice,and, incidentally, yourself. We have all sorts and most conditions ofwomen, and the trade in laces and ribbons and the gew-gaws with whichthey adorn themselves, is wonderful for so small a place as Quebec. Nosooner does a consignment of finery come in than it is snapped up, andthe men, too, are admirable dandies, ruffling it, some of them, as ifLouis Quatorze himself were here with his Court.

  "Now, only last night I was at the party of the Intendant Bigot, and agay crowd we were until the small hours of the morning grew again. HisExcellency, the Marquis Montcalm, has the Frenchman's natural love forpleasure, but he is a serious, honest man who resolutely puts his dutybefore it. Monsieur Vaudreuil is more the gentleman of pleasure, agovernor with a large token of the gallant in him, but for chicane,knavery and devilry commend me to this fellow the Intendant Bigot.They say he grows richer every day by robbing his gracious master, theKing, first, and the King's subjects next. I cannot speak withauthority of that, and it matters not, but I can tell you of what goeson at his chateau, the Chateau Bigot, because, as I write, I amscarcely cool from its doings.

  "There was Bigot himself as master of the revels, a short, stout,awkward man of more than middle-age, who did not well become the part.He is, I must add, coarse for my taste, and by his appearance you mightjudge him capable of any venture in the getting of money. He would sayin his cynical, loud way that the end justifies the means, and with himthe end is Angelique des Meloises. She is probably going to be theDelilah of New France, the woman who is shearing it of its upholdingstrength, but she is fine.

  "Ah, ha! the name of Angelique is fresh to you, has no meaning, and Isee you halting and asking me to tell you more of her. But here she isa household word--or, should it be, by-word?--and I, a stranger, amcounted fortunate in having come close to the rustle of her skirt.That skirt, you can believe me, is in many fabrics, and ever of thebest, and, though I cannot confirm it, the other women of Quebec saythat no parcel of lace, or silk, or satin, freshly sent by Old Franceto New France, is free of being tampered with by Bigot in thepleasuring of his mistress. Without that news in your ear, you wouldnot, my friend, comprehend the Chateau Bigot.

  "Angelique was not the first flame with whom the old sinner has lit hisfires in Canada, for there was Caroline, the Algonquin maid, not tomention others. Bigot, the story goes, had been hunting and, be itconceded, he is, for a Frenchman, a sound shot, and had lost himself inthe wilds. Presently, while he pondered on his course, there appeareda fascinating Indian girl, and he made her guide him to his chateau andthere kept her. The woman pays in such affairs, be she white, brown,or black, all the complexions I have seen, and that Indian lass came toa sad end, being found stark one morning in bed, with a knife throughher lissom body.

  "But that was Bigot of the Garden of Eden, the primitive savage ofpassion who would have his apple without having to eat the punishment,so far, anyhow, though, I suppose, the devil, who has seven-leagueboots when he likes, will overtake him. If he were to do it now hewould find him engrossed in the smiles and, maybe, the caresses ofAngelique. I have, myself, pretended to be some judge of woman-folk,and Angelique pleases me in divers manners. That is an admission Iwould not mind making to herself, though, to be sure, I have found itthe silent gallantry towards women which reaps most harvest. She is,by marriage, Madame Pean, wife of a creature whom Bigot uses, and sheis a note of lovely abandon which a man with half my insurgency wouldlike to pluck an' he could.

  "We have been introduced, Madame Angelique and I, for here all goes bythe most correct form on the surface. We have even drunk from the samecup of wine, because she preferred me hers yester-night, saying, 'Toour gallant recruit Monsieur Inverey, and to his gallant nation, lesEcossais.' Ah, the laughing witch! You should have seen the languorin her eyes, the blushing red of her lips, the delicate contour of herarm, as she raised her glass to me and then bade me empty it.

  "'Ah,' said I, bowing and taking it from her hand, against whose babypinkness the champagne sparkled; 'ah, it is good to see, chere Madame,that you know the ceremony of the Loving Cup, and how, elegantly, toexpress it.' My phrase of the Loving Cup took her, I saw, it and mysignificance in using it, and her dark eyes, her pouting lips, and theturn of her lovely head, all had a new meaning as, saying, 'To our LadyVenus, in New France,' I emptied the glass and set it on the tablebeside her.

  "We fell a-talking, Madame Angelique and I, and she was good enough topraise my French, and I said that, alas! it was not sufficient to dojustice to her charms. She flushed with pleasure, and said archly thatshe wished her husband, Monsieur Pean, or even her very good friend theIntendant, would pay her like compliments. 'But,' she added, 'youScotsmen are so gallant and so truthful,' and in her sweet French thetoken rang true. With it she raised her eyebrows, expecting me toconfirm her raillery, which I did, for I said, 'Madame, truth is theonly gallantry that tells twice, and so I am content to employ it, forI hope we are to be friends.'

  "It was a bold measure to take, but Madame Angelique, I judged, withher on-coming air, was precisely the woman who would respond to boldmeasures. She is none of your woo-me-slowly ladi
es, her bosom, as itrose and fell in her French laces, being eloquent of that. She is asingularly fine animal to whom Providence has, by an unusualgenerosity, given a soul, though mostly, maybe, it hides in the silkendalliance which is the note of Angelique.

  "You will perceive, my old friend and, I hope, old enemy, that Ipresent to you a whole bouquet of charms: beauty of form, the radianceof a personality, and brains with an edge to flatter or flout. Veryrarely does Providence dower so many graces to one woman, but they areall in Madame Angelique. Moreover, she has the subtlest of sexstrategy, for in greeting me she made a stumble with her lace petticoatso that I might catch the daintiness of her foot and ankle. She alsohas the swiftest, as well as the softest of glances, and I felt ittravel from my brogues to my head, approving the journey, I fancied.

  "I have been particular about Madame Angelique because she is a womanin a thousand, this frail beauty of New France, its Madame de Pompadourin brilliance, however the comparison may hold in virtue, and because,if I prosper at all in the friendship, I hope to hear from her theinner news of events here which, by its usefulness to General Wolfe, isto lead me far in my home desires. When I left Scotland I had a soreheart, for truly it fills that heart, but you will gather that I havefound a fresh land which also has its milk and honey.

  "How much of them shall I sip? That's the gamble, and time will tell,but it is a great gamble in which I am enlisted, and, by my faith, Ilike a gamble. It stirs the blood in me, makes it run as it ran when Imade love to my first sweetheart, and a strapping lass she was, though,alas! I have almost forgotten her very existence. Poor Carrie! Iwonder, I wonder, but hi, ho! what use to ask of the flowers ofyesterday, where are they?

  "Only, my dear Captain Gordon, I wish I could have taken you with melast evening to that romp at the Chateau Bigot. Yes, I remember, yourtastes are different from my own--less elastic, shall we say?--and youmight not have come. Well, set love and gambling and sport, all donewith abandon, in a choice, beflowered fold of this New France countryand you may realize what you have missed and I have seen.

  "Revelry! That is not the word for the night, and it took all theseriousness in me to recall that I had other interests among therevellers besides theirs. My elegance in our Highland dress, for to besure I wore it, cost me many a temptation, and if Madame Angelique,late in the evening, had gone a minute longer with her whimsicalmeasurings of my leg where it garters, why, sir, I should have made afool of myself. But she merely said she wanted to test whether I wasnot modelled to perfection for dancing the Highland dances, andwouldn't I oblige her and the company?

  "Monsieur Bigot, lolling in a chair, beslippered, be-hosed in thefatness of his limbs, be-waistcoated round his windy paunch, wearingvelvet knee-breeches and a plum-coloured coat, what should he do, forhis ears miss little, but catch this remark and, wishing, I suppose, tokeep me from any further impressing of Madame Angelique, he cried,'Surely, surely, let us have a Scottish dance from our gallant friend,Comte Farquharfils!'

  "He ennobled me in one breath, and in the next made French of theancient surname I bear, but that was of no consequence, and his cry wastaken up instantly by his guests: 'Beautiful ladies and gallantgentlemen,' he went on, 'the Chevalier Ecossais--more ennobling ofme!--will entertain us with a dance of his native country!'

  "For a moment I was abashed with confusion, yes, sir, believe it ornot, because this was a thing which had not come into my plans. But Ihave not lived for ten years by my wits and my sword without learningto make rapid resolutions, and I decided to dance, not alone! Thegallants and the ladies had now formed a circle, and I said veryquietly, 'I am honoured, Monsieur L'Intendant, and your desire will beto me a pleasure, if Madame will permit.'

  "A glance of curious inquiry went round the circle as I looked atMadame Angelique, a radiant and bewitching picture, standing at the endof the room, eager to see the Scottish dance for which she had mademeasurements--yes, yes! Perhaps some of the company had penetrated thereal purpose of Monsieur Bigot's interference as being what I havesaid, and in that case they saw a challenge in my acceptance of hisinvitation.

  "But he was prompt to the occasion, for he said in his lordliestfashion, 'Madame, I am sure, will be happy to permit,' and he bowed toAngelique, who, in turn, bowed to me her gracious permission for adance Eccosais. Neither had counted on what was to happen, for Iquietly walked over to her, invited her to take my arm, and, whileevery one wondered, led her into the middle of the room. I did thisamid a buzz of surprise, and I heard one gallant say, 'Parbleu, thisScotsman asked the lady's patronage and takes herself.' Neatly put, Ithought, and the French mind is neat, as well as swift.

  "The music struck up as I passed my right hand about the respondingwaist of Madame and lifted her elegance through a Highland round-dance.There was no need to lift her through it a second time, because the godof dancing was in that woman's feet, and between us we fairly wovepoetry on the polished floor. Never, after the first moment, was theresuch a partner as Angelique; never, perhaps, if I may be allowed theconceit, such a pair of partners, a picture, my friend, a picture!

  "As we warmed to the dance we lost all sense of an audience, and onlydrank the intoxication of the music. At first there had been a coldsilence around us, but we infected it with our own sultry spirit andmelted it. 'Bravo!' shouted the Frenchmen, and 'Divine!' said theladies, and I took the praise of the women and Madame Angelique thepraise of the men, a fair division, pleasing to us both.

  "Monsieur Bigot alone remained aloof from praise, and as we turned oncevery close to him--so close that he wilted in the hot draught made byour wrapt figures--I saw a hard look come into his eyes and a hardexpression cross his coarse mouth. When we finished at last and I hadconducted Madame Angelique to a chair and thanked her, a huzza rang tothe roof, but the Intendant took no part in it. He did, however,approach me with what others thought to be words of congratulation,only you shall judge when I repeat them.

  "'You dance like the devil himself,' were his words, 'but you hadbetter not dance again with Madame Angelique or you may find yourselfin the devil's company. We have other uses in Quebec for you thanthis, and your native Scottish wisdom will convince you of it withoutmore ado.'

  "Well, the thing was done, the harm or good of it, for one cannotalways act with deliberation, and never, I should say, when MadameAngelique beckons, for she is a witch incarnate. Rarely is it any userevising what has been done, and, frankly, I would not have missed thatdance even if it were to have cost me my head. At the moment I am notsure whether or not it has cost me my heart; temporarily, shall I say,keeping on the safe side of truth?

  "Anyhow, my dear Captain Ian Gordon, you will be made aware by thesegreetings, should they reach you in the goodness of time, and thefriend who carries them, that I am having an experience which agreeswith me, and so I sign myself with the more heartiness,

  "Your very faithful "JOCK FARQUHARSON OF INVEREY."