The Owl1, with his warriors2 and captive, descended4 in time into the low country in the northwest. They, too, had been on snowshoes, but now they discarded them, since they were entering a region in which little snow had fallen, the severity of the weather abating5 greatly. Robert was still treated well, though guarded with the utmost care. The Indians, who seemed to be from some tribe about the Great Lakes, did not speak any dialect he knew, and, if they understood English, they did not use it. He was compelled to do all his talking with the Owl who, however, was not at all taciturn. Robert saw early that while a wonderful woodsman and a born partisan6 leader, he was also a Gascon, vain, boastful and full of words. He tried to learn from him something about his possible fate, but he could obtain no hint, until they had been traveling more than three weeks, and Langlade had been mellowed7 by an uncommonly8 good supper of tender game, which the Indians had cooked for him.
"You've been trying to draw that information out of me ever since you were captured," he said. "You were indirect and clever about it, but I noticed it. I, Charles Langlade, have perceptions, you must understand. If I do live in the woods I can read the minds of white men."
"I know you can," said Robert, smilingly. "I observed from the first that you had an acute intellect."
"Your judgment9 does you credit, my young friend. I did not tell you what I was going to do with you, because I did not know myself. I know more about you than you think I do. One of my warriors was with Tandakora in several of his battles with you and Willet, that mighty10 hunter whom the Indians call the Great Bear, and Tayoga, the Onondaga, who is probably following on our trail in the hope of rescuing you. I have also heard of you from others. Oh, as I tell you, I, Charles Langlade, take note of all things. You are a prisoner of importance. I would not give you to Tandakora, because he would burn you, and a man does not burn valuable goods. I would not send you to St. Luc, because, being a generous man, he might take some foolish notion to exchange you, or even parole you. I would not give you to the Marquis Duquesne at Quebec, because then I might lose my pawn11 in the game, and, in any event, the Marquis Duquesne is retiring as Governor General of New France."
"Is that true? I have met him. He seemed to me to be a great man."
"Perhaps he is, but he was too haughty12 and proud for the powerful men who dwelt at Quebec, and who control New France. I have heard something of your appearance at the capital with the Great Bear and the Onondaga, and of what chanced at Bigot's ball, and elsewhere. Ah, you see, as I told you, I, Charles Langlade, know all things! But to return, the Marquis Duquesne gives way to the Marquis de Vaudreuil. Oh, that was accomplished13 some time ago, and perhaps you know of it. So, I do not wish to give you to the Marquis de Vaudreuil. I might wait and present you to the Marquis de Montcalm when he comes, but that does not please me, either, and thus I have about decided14 to present you to the Dove."
"The Dove! Who is the Dove?"
"The Dove," he replied, "is a woman, none other than Madame de Langlade herself, a Huron. You English do not marry Indian women often—and yet Colonel William Johnson has taken a Mohawk to wife—but we French know them and value them. Do not think to have an easy and careless jailer when you are put in the hands of the Dove. She will guard you even more zealously17 than I, Charles Langlade, and you will notice that I have neither given you any opportunity to escape nor your friend, Tayoga, the slightest chance to rescue you."
"It is true, Monsieur Langlade. I've abandoned any such hope on the march, although I may elude18 you later."
"The Dove, as I told you, will attend to that. But it will be a pretty play of wits, and I don't mind the test. I'm aware that you have intelligence and skill, but the Dove, though a woman, possesses the wit of a great chief, and I'll match her against you."
There was a further abatement19 of the weather, and they reached a region where there was no snow at all. Warm winds blew from the direction of the Great Lakes and the band traveled fast through a land in which the game almost walked up to their rifles to be killed, such plenty causing the Indians, as usual, now that they were not on the war path, to feast prodigiously20 before huge fires, Langlade often joining them, and showing that he was an adept21 in Indian customs.
One evening, just as they were about to light the fire, the warrior3 who had been posted as sentinel at the edge of the forest gave a signal and a few moments later a tall, spare figure in a black robe with a belt about the waist appeared. Robert's heart gave a great leap. The wearer of the black robe was an elderly man with a thin face, ascetic22 and high. The captive recognized him at once. It was Father Philibert Drouillard, the priest, whose life had already crossed his more than once, and it was not strange to see him there, as the French priests roamed far through the great wilderness23 of North America, seeking to save the souls of the savages24.
Langlade, when he beheld25 Father Drouillard, sprang at once to his feet, and Robert also arose quickly. The priest saw young Lennox, but he did not speak to him just yet, accepting the food that the Owl offered him, and sitting down with his weary feet to the fire that had now been lighted.
"You have traveled far, Father?" said Langlade, solicitously26.
"From the shores of Lake Huron. I have converts there, and I must see that they do not grow weak in the faith."
"All men, red and white, respect Philibert Drouillard. Why are you alone, Father?"
"A runner from the Christian27 village came with me until yesterday. Then I sent him back, because I would not keep him too long from his people. I can go the rest of the way alone, as it will be but a few days before I meet a French force."
Then he turned to Robert for the first time.
"And you, my son," he said, "I am sorry it has fared thus with you."
"It has not gone badly, Father," said Robert. "Monsieur de Langlade has treated me well. I have naught28 to complain of save that I'm a prisoner."
"It is a good lad, Charles Langlade," said the priest to the partisan, "and I am glad he has suffered no harm at your hands. What do you purpose to do with him?"
"It is my present plan to take him to the village in which Madame Langlade, otherwise the Dove, abides30. He will be her prisoner until a further plan develops, and you know how well she watches."
A faint smile passed over the thin face of the priest.
"It is true, Charles Langlade," he said. "That which escapes the eyes of the Dove is very small, but I would take the lad with me to Montreal."
"Nay31, Father, that cannot be. I am second to nobody in respect for Holy Church, and for you, Father Drouillard, whose good deeds are known to all, and whose bad deeds are none, but those who fight the war must use their judgment in fighting it, and the prisoners are theirs."
Father Drouillard sighed.
"It is so, Charles Langlade," he said, "but, as I have said, the prisoner is a good youth. I have met him before, as I told you, and I would save him. You know not what may happen in the Indian village, if you chance to be away."
"The Dove will have charge of him. She can be trusted."
"And yet I would take him with me to Montreal. He will give his parole that he will not attempt to escape on the way. It is the custom for prisoners to be ransomed32. I will send to you from Montreal five golden louis for him."
Langlade shook his head.
"Ten golden louis," said Father Drouillard.
"Fifteen golden louis, Charles Langlade, though I may have to borrow from the funds of the Church to send them to you."
"I respect your motive34, Father, but 'tis impossible. This is a prisoner of great value and I must use him as a pawn in the game of war. He was taken fairly and I cannot give him up."
Again Father Drouillard sighed, and this time heavily.
Robert was much moved.
"I thank you, Father Drouillard, for your kind intentions," he said. "It may be that some day I shall have a chance to repay them. Meanwhile, I do not dread36 the coming hospitality of Madame Langlade."
The priest shook his head sadly.
"It is a great and terrible war," he said, "though I cannot doubt that France will prevail, but I fear for you, my son, a captive in the vast wilderness. Although you are an enemy and a heretic I have only good feeling for you, and I know that the great Chevalier, St. Luc, also regards you with favor."
"Know you anything of St. Luc?" asked Robert eagerly.
"Only that the expedition he was to lead against Albany has turned back and that he has gone to Canada to fight under the banner of Montcalm, when he comes with the great leaders, De Levis, Bourlamaque and the others."
"I thought I might meet him."
"Not here, with Charles Langlade."
The priest spent the night with them and in the morning, after giving them his blessing37, captors and captive alike, he departed on his long and solitary38 journey to Montreal.
"A good man," said Robert, as he watched his tall, thin figure disappear in the surrounding forest.
"Truly spoken," said the Owl. "I am little of a churchman myself, the forest and the war trail please me better, but the priests are a great prop40 to France in the New World. They carry with them the authority of His Majesty41, King Louis."
A week later they reached a small Indian village on Lake Ontario where the Owl at present made his abode42, and in the largest lodge43 of which his patient spouse44, the Dove, was awaiting him. She was young, much taller than the average Indian woman, and, in her barbaric fashion, quite handsome. But her face was one of the keenest and most alert Robert had ever seen. All the trained observation of countless45 ancestors seemed stored in her and now he understood why Langlade had boasted so often and so warmly of her skill as a guard. She regarded him with a cold eye as she listened attentively46 to her husband's instructions, and, for the remainder of that winter and afterward47, she obeyed them with a thoroughness beyond criticism.
The village included perhaps four hundred souls, of whom about a hundred were warriors. Langlade was king and Madame Langlade, otherwise the Dove, was queen, the two ruling with absolute sovereignty, their authority due to their superior intelligence and will and to the service they rendered to the little state, because a state it was, organized completely in all its parts, although composed of only a few hundred human beings. In the bitter weather that came again, Langlade directed the hunting in the adjacent forest and the fishing conducted on the great lake. He also made presents from time to time of gorgeous beads48 or of huge red or yellow blankets that had been sent from Montreal. Robert could not keep from admiring his diplomacy49 and tact50, and now he understood more thoroughly51 than ever how the French partisans52 made themselves such favorites with the wild Indians.
His own position in the village was tentative. Langlade still seemed uncertain what to do with him, and held him meanwhile for a possible reward of great value. He was never allowed to leave the cluster of tepees for the forest, except with the warriors, but he took part in the fishing on the lake, being a willing worker there, because idleness grew terribly irksome, and, when he had nothing to do, he chafed53 over his long captivity. He slept in a small tepee built against that of Monsieur and Madame Langlade, and from which there was no egress54 save through theirs.
He was enclosed only within walls of skin, and he believed that he might have broken a way through them, but he felt that the eyes of the Dove were always on him. He even had the impression that she was watching him while he slept, and sometimes he dreamed that she was fanged55 and clawed like a tigress.
Langlade went away once, being gone a long time, and while he was absent the Dove redoubled her watchfulness56. Robert's singular impression that her eyes were always on him was strengthened, and these eyes were increased to the hundred of Argus and more. It became so oppressive that he was always eager to go out with the warriors in their canoes for the fishing. On Lake Ontario he was sure the eyes of the Dove could not reach him, but the work was arduous57 and often perilous58. The great lake was not to be treated lightly. Often it took toll59 of the Indians who lived around its shores. Winter storms came up suddenly, the waves rolled like those of the sea, freezing spray dashed over them, and it required a supreme60 exertion61 of both skill and strength to keep the light canoes from being swamped.
Yet Robert was always happier on water than on land. On shore, confined closely and guarded zealously, his imaginative temperament62 suffered and he became moody63 and depressed64, but on the lakes, although still a captive, he felt the winds of freedom. When the storms came and the icy blasts swept down upon them he responded, body and soul. Relief and freedom were to be found in the struggle with the elements and he always went back to shore refreshed and stronger of spirit and flesh. He also had a feeling that Tayoga might come by way of the lake, and when he was with the little Indian fleet he invariably watched the watery65 horizon for a lone16 canoe, but he never saw any.
The absence of news from his friends, and from the world to which they belonged, was the most terrible burden of all. If the Indians had news they told him none. He seemed to have vanished completely. But, however numerous may have been his moments of despondency, he was not made of the stuff that yields. The flexible steel always rebounded67. He took thorough care of his health and strength. In his close little tepee he flexed68 and tensed his muscles and went through physical exercises every night and morning, but it was on the lake in the fishing, where the Indians grew to recognize his help, that he achieved most. Fighting the winds, the water and the cold, he felt his muscles harden and his chest enlarge, and he would say to himself that when the spring came and he escaped he would be more fit for the life of a free forest runner than he had ever been before. Langlade, when he returned, took notice of his increased size and strength and did not withhold69 approval.
"I like any prisoner of mine to flourish," he laughed. "The more superior you become the greater will be the reward for me when I dispose of you. You have found the Dove all I promised you she should be, haven't you, Monsieur Lennox?"
"All and more," replied Robert. "Although she may be out of sight I feel that her eyes are always on me, and this is true of the night as well as the day."
"A great woman, the Dove, and a wife to whom I give all credit. If it should come into the king's mind to call me to Versailles and bestow70 upon me some kind of an accolade71 perhaps Madame Langlade would not feel at home in the great palace nor at the Grand Trianon, nor even at the Little Trianon, and maybe I wouldn't either. But since no such idea will enter His Majesty's mind, and I have no desire to leave the great forests, the Dove is a perfect wife for me. She is the true wilderness helpmate, accomplished in all the arts of the life I live and love, and with the eye and soul of a warrior. I repeat, young Monsieur Lennox, where could I find a wife more really sublime72?"
"Nowhere, Monsieur Langlade. The more I see you two together the more nearly I think you are perfectly73 matched."
The Owl seemed pleased with the recognition of his marital74 felicity, and grew gracious, dropping some crumbs75 of information for Robert. He had been to Montreal and the arrival of the great soldier, the Marquis de Montcalm, with fresh generals and fresh troops from France, was expected daily at Quebec. The English, although their fleets were larger, could not intercept76 them, and it was now a certainty that the spring campaign would sweep over Albany and almost to New York. He spoke39 with so much confidence, in truth with such an absolute certainty, that Robert's heart sank and then came back again with a quick rebound66.
After a winter that had seemed to the young captive an age, spring came with a glorious blossoming and blooming. The wilderness burst into green and the great lake shining in the sun became peaceful and friendly. Warm winds blew out of the west and the blood flowed more swiftly in human veins77. But spring passed and summer came. Then Langlade announced that he would depart with the best of the warriors, and that Robert would go with him, although he refused absolutely to say where or for what purpose.
Robert's joy was dimmed in nowise by his ignorance of his destination. He had not found the remotest chance to escape while in the village, but it might come on the march, and there was also a relief and pleasant excitement in entering the wilderness again. He joyously78 made ready, the Dove gave her lord and equal, not her master, a Spartan79 farewell, and the formidable band, Robert in the center, plunged80 into the forest.
When the great mass of green enclosed them he felt a mighty surge of hope. His imaginative temperament was on fire. A chance for him would surely come. Tayoga might be hidden in the thickets81. Action brought renewed courage. Langlade, who was watching him, smiled.
"I read your mind, young Monsieur Lennox," he said. "Have I not told you that I, Charles Langlade, have the perceptions? Do I not see and interpret everything?"
"Then what do you see and interpret now?"
"A great hope in your heart that you will soon bid us farewell. You think that when we are deep in the forest it will not be difficult to elude our watch. And yet you could not escape when we were going through this same forest to the village. Now why do you think it will be easier when you are going through it again, but away?"
"The Dove is not at the end of the march. Her eyes will no longer be upon me."
"You're a lad of sense," he said, "when you lay such a tribute at the feet of that incomparable woman, that model wife, that true helpmate in every sense of the word. Why should you be anxious to leave us? I could have you adopted into the tribe, and you know the ceremony of adoption83 is sacred with the Indians. And let me whisper another little fact in your ear which will surely move you. The Dove has a younger sister, so much like her that they are twins in character if not in years. She will soon be of marriageable age, and she shall be reserved for you. Think! Then you will be my brother-in-law and the brother-in-law of the incomparable Dove."
"No! No!" exclaimed Robert hastily.
"A lad does not recognize his own good!" he exclaimed, "or is it bashfulness? Nay, don't be afraid, young Monsieur Lennox! Perhaps I could get the Dove to intercede85 for you!"
Robert was forced to smile.
"I thank you," he said, "but I am far from the marriageable age myself."
"Then the Dove and I are not to have you for a brother-in-law?" said Langlade. "You show little appreciation86, young Monsieur Lennox, when it is so easy for you to become a member of such an interesting family."
Robert was confirmed in his belief that there was much of the wild man in the Owl, who in many respects had become more Indian than the Indians. He was a splendid trailer, a great hunter, and the hardships of the forest were nothing to him. He read every sign of the wilderness and yet he retained all that was French also, lightness of manner, gayety, quick wit and a politeness that never failed. It is likely that the courage and tenacity87 of the French leaders were never shown to better advantage than in the long fight they made for dominion88 in North America. Despite the fact that he was an enemy, and his belief that Langlade could be ruthless, on occasion, Robert was compelled to like him.
The journey, the destination yet unknown to him, was long, but it was not tedious to the young prisoner. He watched the summer progress and the colors deepen and he was cheered continually by the hope of escape, a fact that Langlade recognized and upon which he commented in a detached manner, from time to time. Now and then the leader himself went ahead with a scout89 or two and one morning he said to Robert:
"I saw something in the forest last night."
"The forest contains much," said Robert.
"But this was of especial interest to you. It was the trace of a footstep, and I am convinced it was made by your friend Tayoga, the Onondaga. Doubtless he is seeking to effect your escape."
Robert's heart gave a leap, and there was a new light in his eyes, of which the shrewd Owl took notice.
"I have heard of the surpassing skill of the Onondaga," he continued, "but I, Charles Langlade, have skill of my own. It will be some time before we arrive at the place to which we are going, and I lay you a wager90 that Tayoga does not rescue you."
"I have no money, Monsieur Langlade," said Robert, "and if I had I could not accept a wager upon such a subject."
"Then we'll let it be mental, wholly. My skill is matched against the combined knowledge of Tayoga and yourself. He'll never be able, no matter how dark the night, to get near our camp and communicate with you."
Although Robert hoped and listened often in the dusk for the sound of a signal from Tayoga, Langlade made good his boast. The two were able to establish no communication. It was soon proved that he was in the forest near them, one of the warriors even catching91 a sufficient glimpse of his form for a shot, which, however, went wild. The Onondaga did not reply, and, despite the impossibility of reaching him, Robert was cheered by the knowledge that he was near. He had a faithful and powerful friend who would help him some day, be it soon or late.
The summer was well advanced when Langlade announced that their journey was done.
"Before night," he said triumphantly92, "we will be in the camp of the Marquis de Montcalm, and we will meet the great soldier himself. I, Charles Langlade, told you that it would be so, and it is so."
"What, Montcalm near?" exclaimed Robert, aflame with interest.
"Look at the sky above the tops of those trees in the east and you will see a smudge of smoke, beneath which stand the tents of the French army."
"The French army here! And what is it doing in the wilderness?"
"That, young Monsieur Lennox, rests on the knees of the gods. I have some curiosity on the subject myself."
An hour or two later they came within sight of the French camp, and Robert saw that it was a numerous and powerful force for time and place. The tents stood in rows, and soldiers, both French and Canadian, were everywhere, while many Indian warriors were on the outskirts93. A large white marquee near the center he was sure was that of the commander-in-chief, and he was eager to see at once the famous Montcalm, of whom he was hearing so much. But to his intense disappointment, Langlade went into camp with the Indians.
"The Marquis de Montcalm is a great man," he said, "the commander-in-chief of all the forces of His Majesty, King Louis, in North America, and even I, Charles Langlade, will not approach him without ceremony. We will rest in the edge of the forest, and when he hears that I have come he will send for me, because he will want to know many things which none other can tell him. And it may be, young Monsieur Lennox, that, in time, he will wish to see you also."
So Robert waited with as much patience as he could muster94, although he slept but little that night, the noises in the great French camp and his own curiosity keeping him awake. What was Montcalm doing so far from the chief seats of the French power in Canada, and did the English and Americans know that he was here?
Curiously95 enough he had little apprehension96 for himself, it was rather a feeling of joy that he had returned to the world of great affairs. Soon he would know what had been occurring during the long winter when he was buried in an Indian village, and he might even hear of Willet. Toward dawn he slept a little, and after daylight he was awakened97 by Langlade who was as assured and talkative as usual.
"It may be, my gallant98 young prisoner," he said, ruffling99 and strutting100, "that I am about to lose you, but if it is so it will be for value received. I, Charles Langlade, have seen the great Marquis de Montcalm, but it was an equal speaking to an equal. It was last night in his grand marquee, where he sat surrounded by his trusted lieutenants101, De Levis, St. Luc, Bourlamaque, Coulon de Villiers and the others. But I was not daunted102 at all. I repeat that it was an equal speaking to an equal, and the Marquis was pleased to commend me for the work I have already done for France."
"And St. Luc was there?"
"He was. The finest figure of them all. A brave and generous man and a great leader. He stood at the right hand of the Marquis de Montcalm, while I talked and he listened with attention, because the Chevalier de St. Luc is always willing to learn from others. No false pride about him! And the Marquis de Montcalm is like him. I gave the commander-in-chief much excellent advice which he accepted with gratitude103, and in return for you, whom he expects to put to use, he has raised me in rank, and has extended my authority over the western tribes. Ah, I knew that you were a prize when I captured you, and I was wise to save you as a pawn."
"How can I be of any value to the Marquis de Montcalm?"
"That is to be seen. He knows his own plans best. You are to come with me at once into his presence."
Robert was immediately in a great stir. He straightened out, and, with his hands, brushed his own clothing, smoothed his hair, intending, with his usual desire for neatness, to make the best possible appearance before the French leader.
After breakfast Langlade took him to the great marquee in which Montcalm sat, as the morning was cool, and when their names had been taken in a young officer announced that they might enter, the officer, to Robert's great surprise, being none other than De Galissonnière, who showed equal amazement104 at meeting him there. The Frenchman gave him a hearty105 grasp of the hand in English fashion, but they did not have time to say anything.
Robert, walking by the side of Langlade, entered the great tent with some trepidation106, and beheld a swarthy man of middle years, in the uniform of a general of France, giving orders to two officers who stood respectfully at attention. Neither of the officers was St. Luc, nor were they among those whom Robert had seen at Quebec. He surmised107, however, that they were De Levis and Bourlamaque, and he learned soon that he was right. Langlade paused until Montcalm was ready to speak to him, and Robert stood in silence at his side. Montcalm finished what he had to say and turned his eyes upon the young prisoner. His countenance108 was mild, but Robert felt that his gaze was searching.
"And this, Captain Langlade," he said, "is the youth of whom you were speaking?"
So the Owl had been made a captain, and the promotion109 had been one of his rewards. Robert was not sorry.
"It is the one, sir," replied Langlade, "young Monsieur Robert Lennox. He has been a prisoner in my village all the winter, and he has as friends some of the most powerful people in the British Colonies."
Montcalm continued to gaze at Robert as if he would read his soul.
"Sit down, Mr. Lennox," he said, not unkindly, motioning him to a little stool. Robert took the indicated seat and so quick is youth to warm to courtesy that he felt respect and even liking111 for the Marquis, official and able enemy though he knew him to be. De Levis and Bourlamaque also were watching him with alert gaze, but they said nothing.
"I hear," continued Montcalm, with a slight smile, "that you have not suffered in Captain Langlade's village, and that you have adapted yourself well to wild life."
"I've had much experience with the wilderness," said Robert. "Most of my years have been passed there, and it was easy for me to live as Captain Langlade lived. I've no complaint to make of his treatment, though I will say that he has guarded me well."
Montcalm laughed.
"It agrees with Captain Langlade's own account," he said. "I suppose that one must be born, or at least pass his youth in it, to get the way of this vast wilderness. We of old Europe, where everything has been ruled and measured for many centuries, can have no conception of it until we see it, and even then we do not understand it. Although with an army about me I feel lost in so much forest. But enough of that. It is of yourself and not of myself that I wish to speak. I have heard good reports of you from one of my own officers, who, though he has been opposed to you many times, nevertheless likes you."
"The Chevalier de St. Luc!"
"Aye, the Chevalier de St. Luc. I know, also, that you have been in the councils of some of the Colonial leaders. You are a friend of Sir William Johnson."
"Colonel William Johnson?"
"No, Sir William Johnson. In reward for the affair at Lake George, in which our Dieskau was unfortunate, he has been made a baronet by the British king."
"I am glad."
"And doubtless Sir William is also. You know him well, I understand, and he was still at the lake when you left on the journey that led to your capture."
Robert was silent.
"I have not asked you to answer," continued Montcalm, "but I assume that it is so. His army, although it was victorious112 in the battle there, did not advance. There was much disagreement among the governors of the British Colonies. The provinces could not be induced to act together?"
Robert was still silent.
"Again I say I am not asking you to answer, but your silence confirms the truth of our reports."
Robert flushed, and a warm reply trembled on his lips, but he restrained the words. A swift smile passed over the dark face of Montcalm.
"You see, Mr. Lennox," he continued, "I am not asking you to say anything, but there was great disappointment among the British Colonials because there was no advance after the battle at the lake. It has also cooled the enthusiasm of the Iroquois, many of whom have gone home and who perhaps will take no further part in the war as the allies of the English."
Again Robert flushed and again he bit back the hot reply. He looked uneasily at De Levis and Bourlamaque, but their faces expressed nothing. Then Montcalm suddenly changed the subject.
"I am going to make you a very remarkable113 offer," he said, "and do not think for a moment it is going to imply any change of colors on your part, or the least suspicion of treason, which I could not ask of the gentleman you obviously are. I request of you your parole, your word of honor that you will not take any further part in this war."
"I can't do it! As I have often told Captain Langlade, I intend to escape."
"That is impossible. If you could not do so when you were in Captain Langlade's village, you have no chance at all now that you are surrounded by an army. But since you will not give me your parole it will become necessary to keep you as a prisoner of war, and to send you to a safe place."
"Many of our people in this and former wars with the French have been held prisoners in the Province of Quebec. I know somewhat of the city of Quebec, and it is not wholly an unpleasant place."
"I did not have Quebec, either the province or the city, in mind so far as concerns you, Mr. Lennox. Three of our ships are to return shortly to France, and, not wishing to give us your parole, you are to go to France."
"To France?"
"Yes, to France. Where else? And you should rejoice. It is a fair and glorious land. And I have heard there is a spirit in you, Mr. Lennox, which is almost French, a kindred touch, a Gallic salt and savor114, so to speak."
"I'm wholly American and British."
"Perhaps there are others who know you better than you know yourself. I repeat, there is about you a French finish. Why should you deny it? You should be proud of it. We are the oldest of the great civilized115 nations, and the first in culture. Your stay in France should be very pleasant. You can drink there at the fountain of ancient culture and glory. The wilderness is magnificent in its way, but high civilization is magnificent also in its own and another way. You can see Paris, the city of light, the center of the world, and you can behold116 the splendid court of His Majesty, King Louis. That should appeal to a young man of taste and discernment."
Robert felt a thrill and his pulses leaped, but the thrill lasted only a moment. It was clearly impossible that he should go even as a prisoner, though a willing one, to France, and he did not see any reason why the Marquis de Montcalm should take any personal interest in his future. But responding invariably to the temperature about him his manner was now as polite as that of the French general.
"You have my thanks, sir," he said, "for the kindly110 way in which you offer to treat a prisoner, but it is impossible for me to go to France, unless you should choose to send me there by sheer force."
The slight smile passed again over the face of the Marquis de Montcalm.
"I fancied, young sir," he said, "that this would be your answer, and, being what it is, I cannot say that it has lowered you aught in my esteem117. For the present, you abide29 with us."
Robert bowed. Montcalm inspired in him a certain liking, and a decided respect. Then, still under the escort of Langlade, he withdrew.
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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2
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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3
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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4
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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5
abating
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| 减少( abate的现在分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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6
partisan
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| adj.党派性的；游击队的；n.游击队员；党徒 | |
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7
mellowed
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| （使）成熟( mellow的过去式和过去分词 )； 使色彩更加柔和，使酒更加醇香 | |
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8
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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9
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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10
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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11
pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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12
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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13
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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14
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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15
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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16
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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zealously
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| adv.热心地；热情地；积极地；狂热地 | |
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18
elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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19
abatement
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| n.减(免)税，打折扣，冲销 | |
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20
prodigiously
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| adv.异常地，惊人地，巨大地 | |
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21
adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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22
ascetic
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| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
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23
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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24
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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25
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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26
solicitously
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| adv.热心地，热切地 | |
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27
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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28
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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29
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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30
abides
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| 容忍( abide的第三人称单数 )； 等候； 逗留； 停留 | |
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31
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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32
ransomed
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| 付赎金救人，赎金( ransom的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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34
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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35
captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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36
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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37
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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38
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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39
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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40
prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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41
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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42
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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43
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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44
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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45
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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46
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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47
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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48
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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49
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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50
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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51
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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52
partisans
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| 游击队员( partisan的名词复数 )； 党人； 党羽； 帮伙 | |
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53
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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54
egress
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| n.出去；出口 | |
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55
fanged
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| adj.有尖牙的，有牙根的，有毒牙的 | |
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56
watchfulness
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| 警惕，留心； 警觉（性） | |
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57
arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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58
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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59
toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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60
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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61
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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62
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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63
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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64
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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65
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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66
rebound
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| v.弹回；n.弹回，跳回 | |
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67
rebounded
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| 弹回( rebound的过去式和过去分词 )； 反弹； 产生反作用； 未能奏效 | |
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68
flexed
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| adj.[医]曲折的，屈曲v.屈曲( flex的过去式和过去分词 )；弯曲；（为准备大干而）显示实力；摩拳擦掌 | |
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69
withhold
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| v.拒绝，不给；使停止，阻挡 | |
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70
bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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71
accolade
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| n.推崇备至，赞扬 | |
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72
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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73
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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74
marital
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| adj.婚姻的，夫妻的 | |
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75
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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76
intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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77
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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78
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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79
spartan
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| adj.简朴的，刻苦的；n.斯巴达；斯巴达式的人 | |
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80
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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81
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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82
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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83
adoption
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| n.采用，采纳，通过；收养 | |
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84
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
intercede
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| vi.仲裁，说情 | |
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86
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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87
tenacity
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| n.坚韧 | |
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88
dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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89
scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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90
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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91
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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92
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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93
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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94
muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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95
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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96
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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97
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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98
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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99
ruffling
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| 弄皱( ruffle的现在分词 )； 弄乱； 激怒； 扰乱 | |
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100
strutting
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| 加固，支撑物 | |
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101
lieutenants
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| n.陆军中尉( lieutenant的名词复数 )；副职官员；空军；仅低于…官阶的官员 | |
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102
daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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104
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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105
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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106
trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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107
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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108
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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109
promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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110
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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111
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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112
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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113
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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114
savor
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| vt.品尝，欣赏；n.味道，风味；情趣，趣味 | |
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115
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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116
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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117
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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