Father Chaumonot and Brother Jacques shared the table with
the poet, and both were reading. The gentlemen who had been forced
either by poverty or the roving hand of adventure to take parts in this
mission drama were gathered before the fire, discussing the days of
prosperity and the court of Louis XIII. A few feet from the poet's
table stood another, and round this sat Major du Puys, Nicot, and the
vicomte, engaged in a friendly game of dominoes. D'Herouville,
Corporal Fremin, Jean Pauquet and a settler named The Fox, were not
among the assemblage.
Victor saw his friend, nodded and smiled. But the Chevalier did not
return the smile. Had Victor looked closer he would have seen the pall
of impending tragedy on the Chevalier's darkened brow.
"Ha!" said the vicomte, as he stirred the dominoes about; "there you
are, Chevalier. Come and take a hand." He smiled encouragingly.
The Chevalier went slowly toward the table, never taking his eyes from
the vicomte's face. When he finally stood beside the vicomte's stool,
he stretched out his arm and opened his hand.
"Monsieur le Vicomte," he said, "do you recognize these ten pieces of
silver?"
Not a man among them all but felt the ice of a chill strike his spine
at the sound of the Chevalier's voice.
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