Montlivet

								


E-text prepared by Al Haines

MONTLIVET
by
ALICE PRESCOTT SMITH
New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers
Houghton, Mifflin and Co.
1907

TO
M. C. H. AND A. E. H.

CONTENTS



      I.  THE KEY

     II.  THE CAPTIVE

    III.  BEHIND THE COMMANDANT'S DOOR

     IV.  IN THE OTTAWA CAMP

      V.  A DECISION

     VI.  DAME OPPORTUNITY

    VII.  THE BEGINNING

   VIII.  PARTNERS

     IX.  WESTWARD

      X.  I WAKE A SLEEPER

     XI.  MARY STARLING

    XII.  A COMPACT

   XIII.  WE REACH THE ISLANDS

    XIV.  A PROVISIONAL BARGAIN

     XV.  I TAKE A NEW PASSENGER

    XVI.  THE STORM

   XVII.  AFTER THE STORM
XVIII.  IN WHICH I USE OPPORTUNITY

    XIX.  IN THE MIST

     XX.  WHAT I FOUND

    XXI.  THE PIVOT

   XXII.  THE PRICE OF SLEEP
XXIII.  I ENCOUNTER MIXED MOTIVES

   XXIV.  I MEET VARIOUS WELCOMES

    XXV.  OVER CADILLAC'S TABLE

   XXVI.  FROM HOUR TO HOUR
XXVII.  IN COUNCIL
XXVIII.  CHILDREN OF OPPORTUNITY

   XXIX.  I FOLLOW MY PATH

    XXX.  THE MEANING OF CONQUEST

   XXXI.  THE UNDESERVED
XXXII.  I TELL THE WOMAN
XXXIII.  TO US AND TO OUR CHILDREN

MONTLIVET
CHAPTER I
THE KEY
The May sun was shining on Michillimackinac, and I, Armand de
Montlivet, was walking the strip of beach in front of the French
garrison.
I did not belong to Michillimackinac.  I had come in only the day
before with two canoes and four men, and I was bound for the beaver
lands further west.  A halt was necessary, for the trip had been
severe, and remembering that it was necessity, and not idleness, that
held me, I was enjoying the respite.  My heart was light, and since the
heart is mistress of the heels, I walked somewhat trippingly.  I was on
good terms with myself at the moment.  My venture was going well, and I
was glad to be alone, and breathe deep of the sweet spring air, and let
my soul grow big with the consciousness of what it would like to do.
So content was I, that I was annoyed to see La Mothe-Cadillac approach.
Yet Cadillac was important to me then.  He was commandant at
Michillimackinac,--the year was 1695,--and so was in control of the
strategic point of western New France.  The significance of all that he
stood for, and all that he might accomplish, filled my thought as he
swaggered toward me now, and I said to myself, somewhat complacently,
that, with all his air of importance, I had a fuller conception than he
of what lay in his palm.
He hailed me without preface.  "Where do you find food for your
laughter in this forsaken country, Montlivet?  I have watched you
swagger up and down with a smile on your face for the last hour.  What
is the jest?"
In truth, there was no jest in me by the time he finished.  My own
thought had just called him a swaggerer, and now he clapped the same
phrase back at me.
"There are more swaggerers upon this beach than I," I cried hotly, and
I felt my blood rise.
My tone was more insulting than my words, and Cadillac, too, grew red.