The Young Seigneur Part 17

"It is doubtless, then, glory:--say Member of the Council."

"Did I ever tell you of the last time he came to me, and offered not only that Members.h.i.+p, but finally advanced to the Presidency of it.

Imagine the recklessness of the Province's interests--A President of the Council at twenty-four years! More than that, if I wished for active glory, he would give either the local Premiers.h.i.+p, or undertake to combine the French parties at Ottawa, and put me at their head, with a surety of being Premier of the whole country. And this again for a youth of twenty-four years!--He tried to flatter me that I was a Pitt or a Napoleon. And I answered, that no man guilty of such a compact could be either."

"You will do it without him," replied Zotique, confidently.

Chrysler looked closely at the approaching figure, growing larger and clearer.

"Where is he Member for?" he asked.

"Member for Hoang-ho _in partibus infidelium_," replied Zotique, sarcastically.

Picault sauntered up with a smile of unfaltering genial sang-froid, bowed, removed his cigar, and addressed them.

"Salut, my dear Haviland, salut Messieurs. Oh! my dear Genest, how goes it?" offering his hand, which Zotique took with a caricature of extravagant joy and imitation of the other's style:

"My dear Small-pox--pardon me--my dear friend, I am charmed to meet again a man of so much sense and honor."

"Ah yes, we have fought on many a field, but we respect each other 'Honneur au plus vaillant.' But why, my dear Haviland," turning, "why should the valiant oppose each other, and half of them lose at each battle? Is it not because they are divided? Union makes strength!"

"Yes, it is because they are divided by impa.s.sable gulfs," said Chamilly, coldly. "Did you come to see me, Monsieur?"

"My dear fellow, can't we have a little private conversation together?

I am, of course, in the country to oppose your politics, but being in Dormilliere, I cannot forget our social acquaintances.h.i.+p."

"Do me the honor of saying here what you desire to say, Monsieur. I have no political secrets from these friends."

"Pardon me, what I have to tell you, is strictly private."

"If it is in political matters, I do not wish it to be so."

"It is personal, I a.s.sure you."

"Then you will humor me, sir, by writing it."

"My friend, do not let party differences put grimaces at each other on our real faces:--I would say rather party names; for I am in reality as much a Red as yourself. If you were willing we would prove that to you by changing the t.i.tle, of our side to yours."

"At that moment, sir, there would be what I live for in the name 'Blue.'"

Picault drew a deliberative puff at his cigar, and lowered it again.

"You will not, then, do me the honor of a personal interview?" he asked, smiling unprovokably still.

"Cease, cease!" replied Haviland, "It will soon be the noon of plain words!"

The tempter with nice discernment, perceiving that this short and bold interview was useless, and that he ought to withdraw, put his cigar between his lips, puffed a "Good-day, gentlemen," and turned back meditatively, along the path towards the pines of the Manoir.

"Au plaisir!" returned Zotique to him with facetious exact.i.tude.

Haviland was furious.

"Shall the children of these men, enriched perhaps and elevated through their crimes," he exclaimed, "pretend in time to come that they obtained their 'Honorables,' and Knighthoods, and seats on the Bench of Justice, and of Cabinets fairly from their country, and were the world's great and true? Forbid it, and forbid that their names should live except in memory of their paltriness!"

"But dear Mr. Chrysler," he added in a moment, "you must not take us for party bigots. The ma.s.ses of the Bleus are honest, and any day our own name may be desecrated by a clique of knaves, our principles represented by the other name."

CHAPTER XXII.

THE MANUFACTORY OF REFLECTIONS.

Haviland's approaching election kept him very busy from this time forward, and deluged him with interviews, canva.s.ses, meetings, great and little, and perpetual calls on his attention. His conscientiousness made him work almost unremittingly, for he determined his part in the struggle to be far more than a matter of mere verbiage and smiles. Mr.

Chrysler, like a sensible fellow-Member, quite comprehended the situation, and was content to note the admirable way in which his friend did everything; to receive a smile or friendly direction here and there, and to fall back on the attentions of l'Honorable, and the over-zealous Zotique. He felt his entry free, however, to the office where Haviland was princ.i.p.ally employed, and which was not uninteresting of itself.

There the young man had gathered a library of statistical volumes and other statesman's lore, with busts of Thiers and Caesar and strangely ideal and unlike the rest,--a pure white cla.s.sic mask of Minerva on the wall opposite his chair, as if to strike the note of a higher life; while Breboeuf, curious little object, devoured some blue-book in a corner.

Now what were those great aims of Haviland's? NATION-MAKING, we know in general. But what was the work upon which he was employed as the means?

On the occasion of one of Chrysler's quiet entries, Haviland rose from his table as the light began to fall, threw off his toils with a breath of relief, and turning towards the older gentleman, called his attention to a large green tin case of pigeon-holes and drawers of different sizes, labelled.

"Here," he said, "is my manufactory of reflections."

One compartment was marked "FINANCES," another "LABOUR," a small one "DEFENCE," and a drawer lying open for use was t.i.tled "THE UNITY OF RACES."

"Take out a paper, Mr. Chrysler."

Chrysler put forth his hand willingly, and withdrawing one, held it to the window and read as follows:

"A great thought can be thought in any place. A great Empire may be planned in any corner."

The second was a note from "GENERAL NEEDS."

"What the country most requires is Devoted Men."

Others read similarly, some long, some short.

"I can show you what will strike you more," exclaimed Chamilly, in a moment. "I have been planning your visit a little."

"Have you a geyser or a catacomb?"

"No sir,--a fountain of life," replied he, jocosely. "Let us get our hats."

CHAPTER XXIII.