Cameron of Lochiel
tell his beads and read his primer daily. In singular contrast with
this devotion, however, his leisure moments were occupied in cursing,
with an edifying fervor, his enemies the English, who had broken a leg
for him at the capture of Louisburg. It was this accident which had
compelled him to relinquish the life of a soldier.
When the young men arrived before the manor-house, they were
astonished at the sight that met their eyes. Not only were all the
rooms lit up, but also some of the out-buildings. There was an
unaccustomed stir, a strange hurrying to and fro. As the whole yard
was illuminated by the blaze of lights, they could distinguish six men
armed with guns and axes and seated on a log.
"I perceive," remarked Archie, "that the lord of the manor has called
out his guard to give us a fitting reception, just as I predicted."
José, who did not understand this sort of chaffing, shifted his pipe
from one corner of his mouth to the other, muttered something between
his teeth, and began to smoke fiercely.
"I can not tell why my father's guards, as you do them the honor to
call them, are under arms," answered Jules, laughing, "unless it is
that they are expecting an attack from our friends the Iroquois. But,
come on, we'll soon solve the problem."
As they entered the yard the six men rose simultaneously and came
forward to welcome their young master and his friend.
"What, you here!" exclaimed Jules, grasping their hands cordially;
"you, Father Chouinard! you, Julien! and Alexis Dubé, and Father
Tontaine, and François Maurice, the incorrigible! Why, I thought the
parish would have taken advantage of my absence to rise as one man
and chuck you into the St. Lawrence, as a proper punishment for the
infernal tricks you play on peaceable people."
"Our young seigneur," said Maurice, "always has his joke ready; but,
if they were to drown all those who put other folk into a rage, I know
some one who would have got his deserts long ago."
"You think so!" said Jules, laughing. "Perhaps that all comes from the
bad milk on which I was nursed. Remember that it was at the breast of
your own dear mother I was nourished. But, to change the subject, what
in the mischief are you all doing here at this hour? Are you gaping at
the stars and moon?"
"There are twelve of us," said Father Chouinard. "We are taking turns
in guarding the May-pole which we are going to present to your honored
father to-morrow. Six are in the house, having a good time, while we
are taking the first watch."
"I should have thought that the May-pole might safely have been left to
guard itself," said Jules. "I don't think there is anybody crazy enough
to get out of his warm bed for the pleasure of breaking his back in
dragging away this venerable timber, at least while there are May-poles
on all sides to be had for the cutting."
"You are off there, young master," answered Chouinard. "You see there
are always some folks jealous because they have not been invited to the
May-feast. It was only last year some scoundrels who had been invited
to stay at home had the audacity to saw up, during the night, the
May-pole which the folks of Ste. Anne were going to present to Captain
Besse. Think of the poor peoples' feelings when they gathered in the
morning and saw that their fine tree was nothing more nor less than so
much firewood!"
Jules burst out laughing at a trick which he could so well appreciate.
"Laugh as much as you like," said Father Tontaine, "but t'ain't hardly
Christian to put up tricks like that. You understand," he added
seriously, "we don't think no such trick is going to be played on our
good master; but there be always some rascals everywhere, so we're
taking our precautions."
"I am a poor man," interposed Alexis Dubé, "but not for all I own
would I see such an insult put on our captain."
The others spoke to the same effect, but Jules was already in the arms
of his family, while the worthy _habitants_ went on muttering their
imprecations against the imaginary, though improbable, wretches who
would have the hardihood to cut up the good fir log which they were
going to present to their seigneur on the morrow. It may be suspected
that the liberal cups and ample supper of May-day eve, together with
the sure anticipation of a toothsome breakfast, were not without their
effect on the zeal of the honest _habitants_.
"Come," said Jules to his friend after supper, "let us go and see
the preparations for the May-day feast. As neither of us has had the
advantage of being present at those famous nuptials of the opulent
Gamache, which so ravished the heart of Sancho Panza, the present
occasion may give us some faint idea of that entertainment."
In the kitchen all was bustle and confusion. The laughing shrill voices
of the women were mixed with those of the six men off guard, who were
occupied in drinking, smoking, and chaffing. Three servants, armed
each with a frying-pan, were making, or, to use the common expression,
"turning" pancakes over the fire in an ample fireplace, whose flames
threw ruddy lights and shadows, _à la_ Rembrandt, over the merry faces
thronging the great kitchen. Some of the neighbor women, armed with
dish and spoon and seated at a long table, kept dropping into the
frying-pans, as fast as they were emptied, the liquid paste of which
the pancakes were made; while others sprinkled them with maple sugar as
they were piled upon the plates. A great kettle, half full of boiling
lard, received the doughnuts which two cooks kept incessantly dropping
in and ladling out.
The faithful José, the right hand of the establishment, seemed to be
everywhere at once on these solemn occasions.
Seated at the end of a table, coat thrown off, sleeves of his shirt
rolled up to the elbows, his inseparable knife in hand, he was hacking
fiercely at a great loaf of maple-sugar and at the same time urging
on two servants who were engaged at the same task. The next moment he
was running for fine flour and eggs, as the pancake paste got low in
the bowls; nor did he forget to visit the refreshment table from time
to time to assure himself that nothing was lacking, or to take a drink
with his friends.
Jules and Archie passed from the kitchen to the bake-house, where
the cooks were taking out of the oven a batch of pies, shaped like
half-moons and about fourteen inches long; while quarters of veal and
mutton, spare-ribs, and cutlets of fresh pork, ranged around in pans,
waited to take their places in the oven. Their last visit was to the
wash-house where, in a ten-gallon caldron, bubbled a stew of pork and
mutton for the special delectation of the old folks whose jaws had
grown feeble.
"Why!" exclaimed Archie, "it is a veritable feast of Sardanapalus--a
feast to last six months!"
"But you have only seen a part of it," said Jules. "The dessert is yet
ahead of us. I had imagined, however, that you knew more about the
customs of our _habitants_. If at the end of the feast the table were
not as well supplied as at the beginning, the host would be accused of
stinginess. Whenever a dish even threatens to become empty, you will
see the servants hasten to replace it."
"I am the more surprised at that," said Archie, "because your
_habitants_ are generally economical, even to the point of meanness.
How do you reconcile this with the great waste which must take place
after a feast?"
"Our _habitants_, scattered wide apart over all New France, and
consequently deprived of markets during spring, summer, and autumn,
live then on nothing but salt meat, bread, and milk, and, except in
the infrequent case of a wedding, they rarely give a feast at either
of those seasons. In winter, on the other hand, there is a lavish
abundance of fresh meats of all kinds; there is a universal feasting,
and hospitality is carried to an extreme from Christmas time to Lent;
there is a perpetual interchange of visits. Four or five _carrioles_,
containing a dozen people, drive up; the horses are unhitched, the
visitors take off their wraps, the table is set, and in an hour or so
it is loaded down with smoking dishes."
"Your _habitants_ must possess Aladdin's lamp!" exclaimed Archie.
"You must understand," said Jules, "that if the _habitants'_ wives had
to make such preparations as are necessary in higher circles, their
hospitality would be much restricted or even put a stop to, for few
of them are able to keep a servant. As it is, however, their social
diversions are little more trouble to them than to their husbands.
Their method is very simple. From time to time, in their leisure
moments, they cook three or four batches of various kinds of meat,
which in our climate keeps without difficulty; when visitors come,
all they have to do is to warm up these dishes in their ovens, which
at this season of the year are kept hot enough to roast an ox. The
_habitants_ abhor cold meat. It is good to see our Canadian women,
so gay at all times, making ready these hasty banquets--to see them
tripping about, lilting a bit of a song, or mixing in the general
chatter, and dancing backward and forward between the table and the
stove. Josephte sits down among her guests, but jumps up to wait upon
them twenty times during the meal. She keeps up her singing and her
chaffing, and makes everybody as merry as herself.
"You will, doubtless, imagine that these warmed-up dishes lose a good
deal of their flavor; but habit is second nature, and our _habitants_
do not find fault. Moreover, as their taste is more wholesome and
natural than ours, I imagine that these dinners, washed down with a
few glasses of brandy, leave them little cause to envy us. But we
shall return to this subject later on; let us now rejoin my father and
mother, who are probably getting impatient at our absence. I merely
wanted to initiate you a little beforehand in the customs of our
_habitants_, whom you have never before observed in their winter life."
Everybody sat up late that night at D'Haberville Manor. There was
so much to talk about. It was not till the small hours that the
good-nights were said; and soon the watchers of the May-pole were the
only ones left awake in the manor house of St. Jean-Port-Joli.
CHAPTER VII.
THE MAY-FEAST.
Le premier jour de Mai,
Labourez,
J'm'en fus planter un mai,
Labourez,
A la porte à ma mie.
_Ancienne Chanson._
It was scarcely five o'clock in the morning when Jules, who slept
like a cat, shouted to Lochiel in the next room that it was high time
they were up; but as the latter would make no response, Jules took
the surest way of arousing him by getting up himself. Arming himself
with a towel dipped in cold water, he entered his friend's bedroom
and squeezed the icy fluid in his face. In spite of his aquatic
inclinations, Archie found this attention very little to his taste; he
snatched the towel, rolled it into a ball, and hurled it at Jules's
head. Then he turned over and was preparing to go to sleep again, when
Jules snatched off all the bed-clothes. It looked as if the fortress,
in this extremity, had nothing to do but surrender at discretion;
but the garrison, in the person of Lochiel, was more numerous than
the besieging force in the person of Jules, and, shaking the latter
fiercely, he asked if sleeping was forbidden at D'Haberville Manor.
He was even proceeding to hurl the besieger from the ramparts when
Jules, struggling in his adversary's mighty arms, begged him to listen
a moment before inflicting such a disgrace upon a future soldier of
France.
"What have you to say for yourself, you wretched boy?" exclaimed
Archie, now thoroughly awake. Is it not enough for you that all day
long you give me no peace, but even in the night you must come and
torment me?"