Breton made a negative gesture. "Monsieur," timidly, "I do not want

money, and I could never grow accustomed to a new master. I was born

at the château in Périgny. My mother was your nurse and she loved you.

I know your ways so well, Monsieur Paul. Can I not accompany you to

Quebec? I ask no wages; I ask nothing but a kind word now and again,

and a fourth of what you have to eat. I have saved a little, and out

of that I will find my clothing."

The Chevalier smiled at Victor. "We never find constancy where we look

for it. Lad," he said to Breton, "I can not take you with me. I am

going not as a gentleman but as a common trooper, and they are not

permitted to have lackeys. Take the money; it is all I can do for you."

Breton stretched a supplicating hand toward the poet.

"Let him go, Paul," urged Victor. "Du Puys will make an exception in

your case. Let him go. My own lad Hector goes to my sister's, and she

will take good care of him. You can't leave this lad here, Paul. Take

him along."

"But your future?" still reluctant to see Victor leave France.

"It is there," with a nod toward the west.

"The vicomte . . ."

"We have signed a truce till we return to French soil."

"Well, if you will go," a secret joy in his heart. How he loved this

poet!

"It is the land of fortune, Paul; it is calling to us. True, I shall

miss the routs, the life at court, the plays and the gaming. But,

horns of Panurge! I am only twenty-three. In three years I shall have

conquered or have been conquered, and that is something. Do not

dissuade me. You will talk into the face of the tempest. Rather make

the going a joy for me. You know that at the bottom of your heart you

are glad."

"Misery loves company; we are all selfish," replied the Chevalier, "My

selfishness cries out for joy, but my sense of honesty tells me not to

let you go. I shall never return to France. You will not be happy

there."

"I shall be safer; and happiness is a matter of temperament, not of

time and place. You put up a poor defense. Look! we have been so long

together, Paul; eight years, since I was sixteen, and a page of her

Majesty's. I should not know what to do without you. We have shared

the same tents on the battlefield; I have borrowed your clothes and

your money, and you have borrowed my sword, for that is all I have.

Listen to me. There will be exploits over there, and the echo of them

will wander back here to France. Fame awaits us. Are we not as brave

and inventive as De Champlain, De Montmagny, De Lisle, and a host of

others who have made money and name? Come; take my hand. Together,

Paul, and what may not fortune hold for us!"




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