"Enough, enough!" said De Roberval impatiently. "You talk as if you were in the establishment of a St Malo merchant instead of in the house of a n.o.bleman of Picardy."

Claude saw that Cartier had over-shot the mark, and so came to the rescue.

"The Sieur de Roberval," he said, "must pardon good Master Cartier. He has so long been bringing home the wealth of other lands that he is inclined to think of the value of a country by the amount of wealth it can put into the treasury of France."

"A very laudable way of thinking, and one of which good King Francis would be the first to approve," replied the n.o.bleman in a gentler tone.

"Yes," said Claude, "but not the only thing to consider. This commerce gives us the greatest opportunity any people has ever had. The whole New World is steeped in the most degrading paganism. The Indians have no notion of G.o.d, or the Blessed Virgin, or of Christ. And, Sieur, while the treasure from the streams and the forest may bring us reward on earth, the countless souls we may lead to heaven will win us crowns in eternity."

Claude was not a hypocrite. He had begun to speak of the spiritual side of the enterprise with the special purpose of b.u.t.tressing Cartier's argument; but he was a devout Catholic, and his lips only echoed what was in his heart.

"Pontbriand," replied Roberval, "you plead like a holy father. We shall have to shave your head and give you a black robe. But there is something in what you say; though to propagate Christianity effectively in such a land would require enormous wealth."

"True, most n.o.ble Sieur," said Cartier hastily, "and if the forest and the stream do not yield sufficient we must dig it out of the earth."

"What mean you? Have you further information about the mineral wealth of the New World? The last you gave me was of little value. Your precious metal has proved to be less valuable than lead, and your diamonds but quartz. See," he said, rising, "how this acid affects your gold."

He took from a shelf a piece of metal which Cartier had sent to him.

"La Pommeraye," he said, "you will have to be a right hand for me, and uncork this vial."

A drop of the liquid was allowed to fall upon the metal, which at once became discoloured.

"No, no!" exclaimed Roberval. "You will have to try some other bait. I will not go to Canada hoping for gold."

"I do not wish to contradict you, Sieur, but test this lump;" and Cartier, as he spoke, handed him a nugget the size of an egg.

Nervously Roberval seized it. It stood the test.

"Where!" he exclaimed in an excited voice, "did you get this?"

"From Donnacona, of whom you have heard, and whom indeed you have seen for yourself."

"And where did Donnacona get it?"

"Far west of his home at Stadacona, and of Hochelaga, too."

"I must see him at once," said Roberval.

"That will be difficult, Sieur," replied Cartier. "He is in Heaven."

"Dead, is he? Well, what good will that nugget do us?" said Roberval, in disgust and disappointment. "We might search for centuries before we could find its mate."

"True, Sieur, but where one was found there are likely to be others.

Besides, I have here something that may help us in our search."

As he spoke he unrolled a precious chart, scratched on birch bark with some rude weapon, such as a flint arrow-head.

"I got this from Donnacona five years ago, and I have kept it from the world till this moment, fearing that calamity might befall it."

He spread it on the table, and on one corner rested the tempting nugget.

It was a marvellous map; the map of an unknown world of wonders.

"I can swear to the truth of this part at least," said Cartier. "This is Hochelaga, and here are marked the difficult rapids above it. These five inland seas are without doubt in existence. Many Indians have told me of them; and see, Sieur, this one is incomplete. Donnacona told me that no Indian had ever reached its end; and yet there are tales among the Indians of richly-robed men of another race and colour who live beyond these vast western waters. I do not like to conjecture in so great an undertaking, but does it not seem probable that we have at last before us the road to the East, and to the Kingdom of the Grand Khan?"

"Enough, enough, Cartier!" said Roberval, laughing. "You are too enthusiastic. What next will you have to offer? Already we have had furs, fish, timber, gold, silver, precious stones, and Indian souls. You must think I need great temptation to be lured into this enterprise. But what have we here, to the north of this ocean?"

"I am glad you have noticed that," replied Cartier. "Those rude marks are the mines. They are of great antiquity; and Donnacona, who had no idea of the value of the precious metals, spoke of the men of old who dug for metal such as we wore on our fingers, and about our necks. He had a fine scorn for such baubles; and, as if to impress us with their worthlessness, stood on the heights of Stadacona, and pointed with pride to the wigwams of his tribe cl.u.s.tering at the foot of the cliff: 'But,'

he said, 'the men who wrought the metal are no more. Mighty oaks grow from the earth in which they toiled.'"

Roberval seemed scarcely to heed this long harangue. He gazed intently at the map, and did not raise his eyes till the voice of La Pommeraye, who had hitherto been silent, broke upon his ear.

"What Cartier has told you, Sieur, is true. I too have heard the same tales from very different sources. But, to my mind, Cartier and De Pontbriand, in advocating their expedition, have left out the most important consideration. Spain is already in the New World. Cortez has brought shiploads of gold from Mexico; Ponce de Leon, Garay, Vasquez de Ayllon, and Hernando de Soto have all brought home tales of treasure and wonder; and if France does not make haste she will find herself one of the least among European Powers. Besides, let us build up a nation in the New World, and we may have some more fighting. The rumours of war that flit up and down in France are mere woman's talk. My blade is rusting in the scabbard, and now that the Emperor and King Francis are complimenting each other like two schoolgirls, it is long likely to remain so. But in the New World there will be a glorious opportunity for a struggle with Spain. The Spaniard already claims the whole of America, and will fight for every inch of it. A strong man could found a mighty empire on the banks of the Hochelaga, and have all the fighting his heart could desire. I should like to be lieutenant to such a man."

"And you shall be," said De Roberval, firmly. "Gentlemen, I have decided. To-morrow I depart to hold an interview with King Francis. Meet me here in three weeks, and I will report my success. He owes me a heavy debt, and will, I have no doubt, fit out and man a fleet for us, and give me full power over Canada."

The three men rose. Cartier and De Pontbriand made their adieus and left the room; but before La Pommeraye could follow them, the touch of Roberval's hand on his shoulder arrested him. The door closed on the other two, and Roberval, without resuming his seat, remarked, in a not unkindly tone:

"You are a brave youth! I admire your courage, and shall be glad to have you join me in this expedition. But one thing I must have distinctly understood: This romantic attachment you fancy you have conceived for my niece--I must hear no more of it. You have seen her but once, and under circ.u.mstances which make it unlikely that you will ever meet her again.

Your time will be fully occupied in preparations for our departure; as for her, I shall see that she leaves St Malo at once. Go, now, and prove yourself indeed a man of honour by attempting to see no more of her. I warn you, you will rue the day you cross my will."

The young soldier merely bowed in silence and left the room. As he stepped into the long hall he noticed two figures standing close to each other in the dim light at the farther end. They seemed to be engaged in close conversation. He recognised Claude, and his heart sank within him, for he thought the second figure was Marguerite. De Roberval was following close behind him, and, with a generous impulse to shield his friend, Charles placed his giant proportions immediately in front of the little n.o.bleman. But when they reached the street door he was rejoiced to find Marie standing there, apparently bidding good-bye to Claude.

"Where is Marguerite?" said De Roberval sternly.

"In her room, Sieur."

"I thought I saw her here a moment ago."

"You must have mistaken me for her, Sieur," replied Marie, unhesitatingly, "as I but this moment left her."

"Strange," thought La Pommeraye, as the two young men left the house together, "that we should both have made the same mistake; but doubtless we were both thinking of her. But that fair damsel in the hall is not the style of beauty by which I should have thought Claude would be attracted. However, so much the better for me. The coast is now clear, I hope."

"Claude," he said, after they had walked a little distance in silence, "I saw you as I came out into the hall. You seemed to be holding a very absorbing conversation with that fair lady--a friend of Mdlle de Roberval's, I conclude. May I be permitted to ask her name?"

Claude did not answer for a few moments, and La Pommeraye noticed that his face wore an expression of anxiety and doubt. At length he said:

"That is Mdlle de Vignan--the Sieur de Roberval's ward. She lives with him, and is the constant companion of his niece."

"Marie de Vignan?" exclaimed Charles. "The daughter of Aubrey de Vignan who was killed in action five years ago?"

"The same."

"I would I had known it was she! Yet how could I recognise her?--I have not seen her since I held her in my arms, a mischievous little elf of five years old, when I used to be a constant visitor at her father's house. It was a second home to me--indeed, more of a home than I have ever known elsewhere, before or since. And that is my little friend and playmate! I congratulate you, Claude. If she has inherited anything of her father's nature and her mother's sweetness she will be indeed a jewel."

To his surprise Claude made no reply; and the two friends walked on in silence. La Pommeraye asked no more questions, and his friend was evidently not desirous of volunteering any further information. They shortly overtook Cartier, who was waiting for them, and the incident was forgotten for the present in the discussion of their plans for the proposed voyage.