Lecour saw that the Canada of the good man was an idealised picture, but he admired his affection and asked permission to drink his health. They touched glasses.
"Tell me about your own people, my young friend. Who is your father?"
"He has prospered so well as to be reputed rich for a colony."
"And you live at St. Elphège? In my time it was only a carrying-place for canoes, to avoid the rapid."
"My father is the founder of the little place. He is known throughout our Province as 'The Merchant of St. Elphège.'"
"An honourable title, based on an honourable record no doubt. Would that we rightly respected trade in France. That is one of the nation's weaknesses. You have a mother and brothers?"
"A mother and two sisters--one married, the other at a convent in Quebec. My brother-in-law assists my father. We are very humble people."
"Because I have admired it since a child, from my mother's stories at her knee."
"No, sir, but she was housekeeper in the house of Governor the Marquis de Beauharnois."
"How is it your accent is so good? It is quite that of our gentry."
"I learnt it at the Little Seminary, from the priests, who are gentlemen of Paris. There also the best families send their boys, and we young men grew up together. I have lived a little in Montreal too."
"Ah, what is Montreal now like? Are the town walls still standing?"
"They surround the city, but the commander-in-chief talks of replacing them by avenues and a Champ de Mars."
"The British garrison of course occupies the Arsenal, the British flag flies from the Citadel. Where does the British Governor reside?"
"But why not at the Château de Vaudreuil, where Governor de Vaudreuil dwelt? It was larger and its gardens finer."
"That now belongs to Monsieur de Lotbinière."
"De Lotbinière! the new Marquis! Lucky devil; but blue death, what changes!"
"I seem to find in you already," said the warm-hearted old Chevalier, "one whom I love. There is something frank in your eyes which raises memories of my dead son. In you I see both my offspring's and my own youth recalled to me. You are Canadian--in you I can banish the coldness, hollowness, and degeneracy of Europe. Replace my boy. Let me call you 'Germain' and 'son.'"
The bar of evening glow was fading in the west and twilight falling on the walks. A chill breeze seemed to inspire a question, which Germain began.