The Golden Dog [50]
was about to make.
"Have mercy then, brother, and tell me at once, for you do now set my curiosity on tiptoe." She was a true woman, and would not for anything have admitted her knowledge of the presence of Colonel Philibert in the house.
"Amelie," said he, taking her by both hands, as if to prevent her escape, "I was at Beaumanoir--you know the Intendant gave a grand hunting party," added he, noticing the quick glance she gave him; "and who do you think came to the Chateau and recognized me, or rather I recognized him? A stranger--and not such a stranger, either Amelie."
"Nay; go on, brother! Who could this mysterious stranger and no stranger have been?"
"Pierre Philibert, Amelie! Pierre--our Pierre, you know! You recollect him, sister!"
"Recollect Pierre Philibert? Why, how could I ever forget him while you are living? since to him we are all indebted for your life, brother!"
"I know that; are you not glad, as I am, at his return?" asked Le Gardeur, with a penetrating look.
She threw her arms round him involuntarily, for she was much agitated. "Glad, brother? Yes, I am glad because you are glad."
"No more than that, Amelie? That is a small thing to be glad for."
"Oh, brother! I am glad for gladness's sake! We can never overpay the debt of gratitude we owe Pierre Philibert."
"O my sweet sister," replied he, kissing her, "I knew my news would please you. Come, we will go down and see him at once, for Pierre is in the house."
"But, Le Gardeur!" She blushed and hesitated. "Pierre Philibert I knew--I could speak to him; but I shall hardly dare recognize him in the stately soldier of to-day. Voila la difference!" added she, repeating the refrain of a song very popular both in New France and in Old at that period.
Le Gardeur did not comprehend her hesitation and tone. Said he,-- "Pierre is wonderfully changed since he and I wore the green sash of the seminary. He is taller than I, wiser and better,--he was always that,--but in heart the same generous, noble Pierre Philibert he was when a boy. Voila la ressemblance!" added he, pulling her hair archly as he repeated the antistrophe of the same ditty.
Amelie gave her brother a fond look, but she did not reply, except by a tight pressure of the hand. The voices of the Chevalier La Corne and the Lady de Tilly and Colonel Philibert were again heard in animated conversation. "Come, brother, we will go now," said she; and quick in executing any resolution she had formed, she took the arm of her brother, swept with him down the broad stair, and entered the drawing-room.
Philibert rose to his feet in admiration of the vision of loveliness that suddenly beamed upon his eyes. It was the incarnation of all the shapes of grace and beauty that had passed through his fervid fancy during so many years of absence from his native land. Something there was of the features of the young girl who had ridden with flying locks, like a sprite, through the woods of Tilly. But comparing his recollection of that slight girl with the tall, lithe, perfect womanhood of the half-blushing girl before him, he hesitated, although intuitively aware that it could be no other than the idol of his heart, Amelie de Repentigny.
Le Gardeur solved the doubt in a moment by exclaiming, in a tone of exultation, "Pierre Philibert, I bring an old young friend to greet you--my sister!"
Philibert advanced, and Amelie raised her dark eyes with a momentary glance that drew into her heart the memory of his face forever. She held out her hand frankly and courteously. Philibert bent over it as reverently as he would over the hand of the Madonna.
The greeting of the Lady de Tilly and La Corne St. Luc had been cordial, nay, affectionate in its kindness. The good lady kissed Pierre as a mother might have done a long-absent son.
"Colonel Philibert," said Amelie, straining her nerves to the tension of steel to preserve her composure, "Colonel Philibert is most welcome; he has never been forgotten in this house." She glanced at her aunt, who smiled approvingly
"Have mercy then, brother, and tell me at once, for you do now set my curiosity on tiptoe." She was a true woman, and would not for anything have admitted her knowledge of the presence of Colonel Philibert in the house.
"Amelie," said he, taking her by both hands, as if to prevent her escape, "I was at Beaumanoir--you know the Intendant gave a grand hunting party," added he, noticing the quick glance she gave him; "and who do you think came to the Chateau and recognized me, or rather I recognized him? A stranger--and not such a stranger, either Amelie."
"Nay; go on, brother! Who could this mysterious stranger and no stranger have been?"
"Pierre Philibert, Amelie! Pierre--our Pierre, you know! You recollect him, sister!"
"Recollect Pierre Philibert? Why, how could I ever forget him while you are living? since to him we are all indebted for your life, brother!"
"I know that; are you not glad, as I am, at his return?" asked Le Gardeur, with a penetrating look.
She threw her arms round him involuntarily, for she was much agitated. "Glad, brother? Yes, I am glad because you are glad."
"No more than that, Amelie? That is a small thing to be glad for."
"Oh, brother! I am glad for gladness's sake! We can never overpay the debt of gratitude we owe Pierre Philibert."
"O my sweet sister," replied he, kissing her, "I knew my news would please you. Come, we will go down and see him at once, for Pierre is in the house."
"But, Le Gardeur!" She blushed and hesitated. "Pierre Philibert I knew--I could speak to him; but I shall hardly dare recognize him in the stately soldier of to-day. Voila la difference!" added she, repeating the refrain of a song very popular both in New France and in Old at that period.
Le Gardeur did not comprehend her hesitation and tone. Said he,-- "Pierre is wonderfully changed since he and I wore the green sash of the seminary. He is taller than I, wiser and better,--he was always that,--but in heart the same generous, noble Pierre Philibert he was when a boy. Voila la ressemblance!" added he, pulling her hair archly as he repeated the antistrophe of the same ditty.
Amelie gave her brother a fond look, but she did not reply, except by a tight pressure of the hand. The voices of the Chevalier La Corne and the Lady de Tilly and Colonel Philibert were again heard in animated conversation. "Come, brother, we will go now," said she; and quick in executing any resolution she had formed, she took the arm of her brother, swept with him down the broad stair, and entered the drawing-room.
Philibert rose to his feet in admiration of the vision of loveliness that suddenly beamed upon his eyes. It was the incarnation of all the shapes of grace and beauty that had passed through his fervid fancy during so many years of absence from his native land. Something there was of the features of the young girl who had ridden with flying locks, like a sprite, through the woods of Tilly. But comparing his recollection of that slight girl with the tall, lithe, perfect womanhood of the half-blushing girl before him, he hesitated, although intuitively aware that it could be no other than the idol of his heart, Amelie de Repentigny.
Le Gardeur solved the doubt in a moment by exclaiming, in a tone of exultation, "Pierre Philibert, I bring an old young friend to greet you--my sister!"
Philibert advanced, and Amelie raised her dark eyes with a momentary glance that drew into her heart the memory of his face forever. She held out her hand frankly and courteously. Philibert bent over it as reverently as he would over the hand of the Madonna.
The greeting of the Lady de Tilly and La Corne St. Luc had been cordial, nay, affectionate in its kindness. The good lady kissed Pierre as a mother might have done a long-absent son.
"Colonel Philibert," said Amelie, straining her nerves to the tension of steel to preserve her composure, "Colonel Philibert is most welcome; he has never been forgotten in this house." She glanced at her aunt, who smiled approvingly