CHAPTER I.

D'HABERVILLE AND CAMERON OF LOCHIEL.

Give me, oh! give me back the days

When I--I too--was young,

And felt, as they now feel, each coming hour,

New consciousness of power....

The fields, the grove, the air was haunted,

And all that age has disenchanted....

Give me, oh! give youth's passions unconfined,

The rush of joy that felt almost like pain.

+Goethe.+

Archibald Cameron of Lochiel, son of a Highland chief who had wedded

a daughter of France, was but four years old when he lost his mother.

Brought up by his father, who was, in the language of the Scriptures,

a valiant hunter in the sight of God, ever since ten years old he had

followed him in the chase of the roebuck and other wild beasts, scaling

the highest mountains, swimming the icy torrents, making his couch on

the wet sod with no covering but his plaid, no roof but the vault of

heaven. Under such a Spartan training the boy came to find his chief

delight in this wild and wandering life.

When Archie was but twelve years old, in the year 1745, his father

joined the standard of that unhappy young prince who, after the

old romantic fashion, threw himself into the arms of his Scottish

countrymen, and called upon them to win him back a crown which the

bloody field of Culloden forced him to renounce forever.

In the early days of this disastrous struggle, courage was triumphant

over numbers and discipline, and their mountains re-echoed to their

outmost isles the songs of victory. The enthusiasm was at its height.

The victory seemed already won. But short-lived was their triumph.

After achievements of most magnificent heroism they were forced to bow

their necks to defeat. Lochiel shared the fate of the many brave whose

blood reddened the heather on Culloden.

An uncle of Archie's, who had also followed the standard and fortunes

of the unhappy prince, had the good fortune, after the disaster of

Culloden, to save his head from the scaffold. Through a thousand

perils, over a thousand obstacles, he made good his flight to France

with his orphan nephew. The old gentleman, ruined in fortune and under

sentence of banishment, was having a hard struggle to support himself

and his charge, when a Jesuit, an uncle of the boy on his mother's

side, undertook a share of the burden. Archie was sent to the Jesuits'

College in Quebec. Having completed a thorough course in mathematics,

he is leaving college when the reader makes his acquaintance.

Archibald Cameron of Lochiel, whom the harsh hand of misfortune had

brought to an early maturity, knew not at first what to make of a boy

noisy, troublesome and mocking, who seemed the despair alike of masters

and students. To be sure, the boy had not all the fun on his own side.

Out of twenty canings and impositions bestowed upon his class, Jules

D'Haberville was sure to pocket at least nineteen for his share.

It must be acknowledged, also, that the older pupils, driven to the

end of their patience, bestowed upon him sometimes more knocks than

nuts; but you would have thought the youngster regarded all this as an

encouragement, so ready was he to resume his tricks. We may add that

Jules, without being vindictive, never wholly overlooked an injury.

In one way or another he always made matters even. His satire, his

home thrusts, which could bring a flush to the face of even the most

self-possessed, served his purpose very effectually with the masters or

with those larger students whom he could not otherwise reach.

He had adopted it as his guiding principle, that he would never

acknowledge himself beaten; and it was necessary, therefore, for his

opponents, when weary of war, to make him proposals of peace.

The reader will doubtless conclude that the boy was cordially disliked;

on the contrary, every one was fond of him; he was the pet of the

college. The truth is, Jules had such a heart as pulses all too rarely

in the breast of man. To say that he was generous to a fault, that he

was ever ready to defend the absent, to sacrifice himself in order to

conceal the faults of others, would not give an adequate description of

his character. The following incident will reveal him more effectively:

When he was about twelve years old, a senior student got out of

patience and kicked him; with no intention, however, of hurting him

much. It was contrary to Jules's code of honor to carry complaints to

the masters. He contented himself with replying to his assailant: "You

are too thick-headed, you big brute, for me to waste any sarcasm on

you. You would not understand it. One must pierce your hide in some

other way; but be patient, you will lose nothing by waiting!"

After rejecting certain more or less ingenious schemes of vengeance,

Jules resolved to catch his enemy asleep and shave his eyebrows--a

punishment which would be easy to inflict, as Dubuc, the youth who had

kicked him, was a mighty heavy sleeper. This plan had the further

advantage of touching him on a most sensitive point, for he was a

handsome fellow and a good deal of a dandy.

Jules had just decided on this revenge, when he heard Dubuc say to one

of his friends, who had rallied him on looking gloomy:

"Indeed, I have good reason to be, for I expect my father to-morrow. I

have got into debt with the shop-keepers, hoping that my mother would

come to Quebec ahead of him, and would relieve me without his knowing

anything about it. Father is close-fisted and violent. He will probably

strike me in the first heat of his anger; and I don't know where to

hide my head. I have a mind to run away until the storm is over."

"Oh," said Jules, "why don't you let me help you out of the scrape?"

"The devil you say!" exclaimed Dubuc, shaking his head.

"Why," said Jules, "do you think that on account of a kick, more or

less, I would leave a fellow-student in a scrape and exposed to the

violence of his amiable papa? To be sure, you almost broke my back, but

that is another affair, which we will settle later. How much cash do

you want?"

"My dear fellow," answered Dubuc, "that would be abusing your kindness.

I need a large sum, and I know you are not in funds just now; for you

emptied your purse to help that poor woman whose husband was killed the

other day."

"A pretty story," said Jules. "As if one could not always find money

to save a friend from the wrath of a father who is going to break his

neck! How much do you want?"

"Fifty francs!"

"You shall have them this evening," said the boy.

Jules, an only son, belonging to a rich family, indulged by everybody,

had his pockets always full of money. Father and mother, uncles and

aunts, godfathers and godmothers, they all kept loudly proclaiming that

boys should not have too much money to spend. At the same time they

outdid each other in surreptitiously supplying his purse!

Dubuc, however, had spoken truly; the boy's purse was empty for the

moment. Fifty francs was, moreover, quite a sum in those days. The King

of France was paying his red allies only fifty francs for an English

scalp. His Britannic Majesty, richer or more generous, was paying a

hundred for the scalp of a Frenchman!

Jules did not care to apply to his uncles and his aunts, the only

relations he had in the city. His first thought was to borrow fifty

francs by pawning his gold watch, which was worth at least twenty-five

louis. Revolving the matter, however, he bethought himself of a certain

old woman, a servant of the house, whom his father had dowered at her

marriage, and to whom he had afterward advanced enough money to set

her up in business. The business had prospered in her hands. She was a

widow, rich and childless.

There were difficulties to surmount, however. The old dame was rather

avaricious and crusty; and on the occasion of Jules's last visit they

had not parted on the best terms possible. She had even chased him

into the street with a broomstick. The boy had done nothing more,

however, than play her a little trick. He had given her pet spaniel a

dose of snuff, and when the old lady ran to the help of her dog, who

was conducting himself like a lunatic, he had emptied the rest of the

snuff-box into a dandelion salad which she was carefully picking over

for her supper.

"Hold on, mother," he cried, as he ran away, "there is a good seasoning

for you."

Jules saw that it was very necessary to make his peace with the good

dame, and hence these preliminaries. He threw his arms about her neck

on entering, in spite of the old woman's attempt to shield herself from

these too ardent demonstrations, after the way he had affronted her.

"See, my dear Madeleine," he cried, "I am come to pardon thine offenses

as thou must pardon all who have offended against thee. Everybody says

thou art stingy and revengeful, but that is no business of mine. Thou

wilt get quit of it by roasting a little while in another world. I wash

my hands of it entirely."

Madeleine hardly knew whether to laugh or be angry at this fantastic

preamble; but, as she was fond of the boy, for all his tricks, she took

the wiser course and smiled good-naturedly.

"Now that we are in a better humor," continued Jules, "let us proceed

to business. I have been a little foolish and have got into debt, and I

dread to trouble my good father about it. In fact, I want fifty francs

to settle the unfortunate business. Can you lend me that much?"

"Indeed, now, Master D'Haberville," answered the old dame, "if that

were all I had in the world, I would give it all to save your father

any trouble. I owe so much to your father."

"Tut!" said Jules, "if you talk of those ha'pennies, there's an end of

business. But listen, my good Madeleine, since I might break my neck

when I least expect it, or still more probably when climbing on the

roof or among the city bells, I must give you a bit of writing for

security. I hope, however, to pay you back in a month at latest."

At this Madeleine was seriously offended. She refused the note, and

counted him out the money. Jules almost choked her with his embrace,

sprang through the window into the street and hurried back to the

college.

At recess time that evening Dubuc was freed from all anxiety on the

score of his amiable papa.

"But remember," said D'Haberville, "I still owe you for that kick."

"Hold on, dear boy," exclaimed Dubuc, with feeling. "I wish you would

settle that right now. Break my head or my back with the poker, only

let us settle it. To think that, after all you have done for me, you

are still bearing me a grudge, would be nothing less than torture."

"A fine idea that," exclaimed the boy, "to think that I bear any one

a grudge because I am in his debt in regard to a little exchange of

compliments! So that is how you take it, eh? Shake, then, and let us

think no more about it. You may brag of being the only one to scratch

me without my having drawn his blood in return."

With these words he sprang upon the young man's shoulders like a

monkey, pulled out a few hairs to satisfy his conscience, and scampered

off to join the merry group which was waiting for him.

Archibald of Lochiel, matured by bitter experiences, and on that

account more self-contained and more reserved than other boys of his

age, on his first coming to college hardly knew whether to smile or

be angry at the frolics of the little imp who seemed to have taken

him for his special butt, and who hardly left him any peace. He could

not be expected to divine that this was Jules's manner of showing his

affection for those he loved the most. One day, driven to the end of

his forbearance, Archie said to him:

"Do you know, you would try the patience of a saint! Verily I don't

know what to do with you."

"But you have a way out of your difficulties," answered Jules. "My skin

itches; give me a good hiding, and I'll leave you in peace. That will

be easy enough for you, you young Hercules."

Lochiel, indeed, accustomed from his infancy to the trying sports of

the young Highlanders, was at fourteen marvelously strong for his years.

"Do you think," exclaimed Archie, "that I am such a coward as to strike

a boy younger and weaker than myself?"

"Oh, no," said Jules; "I see we agree on that score--never a knock for

a little fellow. What suits me is a good tussle with a fellow of my

own age, or even a little older; then shake hands and think no more

about it. By the way," continued Jules, "you know that comical dog De

Chavigny? He is older than I am, but so weak and miserable that I have

never had the heart to punch him, although he has played me such a

trick as even St. Francis himself would hardly pardon. Just think of

him running to me all out of breath and exclaiming: 'I've just snatched

an egg from that greedy Letourneau, who had stolen it out of the

refectory. Here, hide it; he's after me!'

"'Where do you want me to hide it?' said I.

"'Oh, in your hat,' he answered; 'he'll never think of looking for it

there.'

"As for me, I was fool enough to do it. I ought to have mistrusted him."

In a moment Letourneau came up and jammed my cap down over my eyes.

The accursed egg nearly blinded me, and I swear did not smell like a

rose-garden! It was an addled egg found by Chavigny in a nest which the

hen had probably abandoned a month before. I got out of that mess with

the loss of a cap, a vest, and other garments. Well, after the first

of my fury was over, I could not help laughing; and if I bear him any

grudge at all, it is for having got ahead of me with so neat a trick. I

should love to get it off on Derome, who keeps his hair so charmingly

powdered. As for Letourneau, since he was too stupid to have invented

the trick myself, I contented myself with saying to him, 'Blessed are

they of little wit'; and he professed himself proud of the compliment,

being glad enough, after all, to get off so cheaply.

"And now, my dear Archie," continued Jules, "let us come to terms. I

am a kindly potentate, and my conditions shall be most easy. To please

you, I undertake, on the word of a gentleman, to diminish by one third

those tricks of mine which you lack the good taste to appreciate.

Come, now, you ought to be satisfied with that if you are not utterly

unreasonable, for you see, my dear boy, I love you. I would not have

made peace with any one else on such advantageous terms."

Lochiel could not help laughing as he shook the irrepressible lad. It

was from this conversation that the friendship between the two boys

took its beginning--on Archie's part with a truly Scottish restraint,

on the side of Jules with the passionate warmth of which the French

heart is capable.

A few weeks later, about a month before the vacation, which began then

on the 15th of August, Jules seized his friend's arm and whispered:

"Come into my room. I have just had a letter from father which concerns

you."

"Concerns me!" exclaimed the other in astonishment.

"Why are you surprised?" retorted D'Haberville. "Do you think you

are not of sufficient importance for any one to concern himself about

you? Why, all New France is talking about the handsome Scotchman. The

mammas, fearing your influence on the inflammable hearts of their

daughters, talk seriously of petitioning our principal never to let you

appear in public except with a veil on, like the women of the East."

"Come, stop your fooling, and let me go on with my reading."

"But I am very much in earnest," said Jules. And, dragging his friend

along with him, he read him part of a letter from his father, which ran

as follows:

"What you tell me about your young friend, Master de Lochiel, interests

me very much. I grant your request with the greatest pleasure. Give

him my compliments, and beg him to come and spend his next vacation

with us, and all his vacations so long as he is attending college. If

he does not consider this invitation sufficiently formal, I will write

to him myself. His father sleeps upon a glorious field. Soldiers are

brothers everywhere; so should their sons be likewise. Let him come to

our own hearth-stone, and our hearts shall open to him as to one of our

own blood."

Archie was so affected by the warmth of this invitation that for some

moments he could not answer.

"Come, my haughty Scotlander, will you do us the honor?" said his

friend. "Or must my father send, on a special embassy, his chief

butler, José Dubé, with the bagpipes slung on his back in the form of

a St. Andrew's cross--as is the custom, I believe, among your Highland

chiefs--to present you his invitation with all due formality?"

"As, fortunately, I am no longer in my Highlands," said Archie,

laughing, "we can dispense with these formalities. I shall write at

once to Captain D'Haberville, and thank him with my whole heart for his

noble generosity to the exiled orphan."

"Then, let us speak reasonably for once," said Jules, "if only

for the novelty of the thing. You think me very light, silly, and

scatter-brained. I acknowledge that there is a little of all that in

me, which does not prevent me from being in earnest more often than

you think. I have long been seeking a friend, a true and high-hearted

friend. I have watched you very closely, and I find you all I could

wish. Lochiel, will you be my friend?"

"Without a moment's question, my dear boy," answered Archie, "for I

have always felt strongly attracted toward you."

"Well, then," cried Jules, grasping his hand warmly, "it is for life

and death with us Lochiel!"

Thus, between a boy of twelve and a boy of fourteen, was ratified a

friendship which in the sequel will be exposed to the crudest tests.

"Here's a letter from mother," said Jules, "in which there is a word

for you":

"I hope your friend, Master de Lochiel, will do us the pleasure of

accepting your father's invitation. We are all eager to meet him. His

room is ready, alongside of your own. In the box which José will hand

you there is a parcel for him which he would grieve me greatly by

refusing. In sending it I am thinking of the mother he has lost."

The box contained equal shares for the two boys of cakes, sweetmeats,

jams, and other dainties.

The friendship between the two boys grew stronger day by day. They

became inseparable. Their college-mates dubbed them variously Damon and

Pythias, Orestes and Pylades, Nisus and Euryalus. At last they called

them the brothers.

All the time Lochiel was at college he spent his vacations with the

D'Habervilles, who made no difference between the two boys unless to

lavish the more marked attentions upon the young Scotchman who had

become as it were a son of the house. It was most natural, then, that

Archie, before sailing for Europe, should accompany Jules on his

farewell visit to his father's house.

The friendship between the two young men, as we have already said, is

destined to be put to the bitterest trial, when that code of honor

which has been substituted by civilization for the truest sentiments

of the human heart, shall come to teach them the obligations of men

who are fighting under hostile flags. But why anticipate the dark

future? Have they not enjoyed during almost ten years of college life

the passing griefs, the little jealousies, the eager pleasures, the

differences and ardent reconciliations which characterize a boyish

friendship?