"I chanced to be passing and heard his cry," he said, diffidently.
"Playing the good Samaritan?" asked a voice from the window. The
Sister and the Chevalier looked around and saw the vicomte leaning on
the window-sill. "Why was it not my happiness to tarry by that
lumber-pile. I saw the lad.'"
"Ah, it is you, Vicomte?" said the Chevalier, pleasantly.
"Yes, Chevalier. Will you walk with me?"
Being without excuse, the Chevalier joined him, and together they
proceeded toward the quarters.
Sister Benie stared after them till they had disappeared around the
corner of the building.
"Chevalier," said the vicomte, "do you remember Henri de Leviston?"
"De Leviston?" The Chevalier frowned. "Yes; I recollect him. Why?"
"He is here."
"In Quebec?"
"Yes. He came in this morning from Montreal, where he is connected
with the Associates. Was he not in your company three or four years
ago? He was dismissed, so I heard, for prying into De Guitaut's
private despatches."
"I remember the incident. I was the one who denounced him. It was a
disagreeable duty, but De Guitaut had put me on De Leviston's tracks.
It was unavoidable."
"You had best beware of him."
"I am perfectly in health, thank you," replied the Chevalier.
The vicomte covertly ran his eye over his companion. It was not to be
denied that the Chevalier had gained wonderfully in the fortnight. The
air, the constant labor, and the natural medicine which he inhaled in
the forests, had given a nervous springiness to his step and had
cleared his eyes till the whites were like china. No; the Chevalier
need have no fear of De Leviston, was the vicomte's mental comment.
"Well, you do look proper. The wine is all out of your system, and
there is balsam in your blood. A wonderful country!" The vicomte
stopped before his door.
"Yes, it is a wonderful country. It is not France; it is better than
the mother country. Ambition has a finer aim; charity is without
speculation; and a man must be a man here, else he can not exist."
"That is an illusion," replied the vicomte. "Only the women have what
you call a finer ambition. The men are puling as in France. The
Company seeks riches without working; the military seek batons without
war; and these Jesuits . . . Bah! What are they trying to do? To
rule the pope, and through him, the world. My faith, I can barely keep
from laughing at some of the stories these priests tell all in good
faith."
"My thought did not include the great," said the Chevalier, quietly.
"I meant the lower orders. They will eventually become men and women
in the highest sense. There is no time for dalliance and play; labor
is the monitor best suited to hold back, to trim and regulate a man's
morals and habits. There is no idleness here, Vicomte."