Part 16

"Doubtless there are a few," said she, "who feel for me. It would be unjust in me to doubt it. But it is the want of that _general_ feeling of sympathy which would be excited in favor of any other woman, that I feel most keenly. To know that in proportion as my professional exertions are admired, my private feelings are disregarded, gives point to the malice of Mc----, and renders that a cause of pain and mortification which ought to be the object of contempt. But we will say no more upon the subject. Perhaps I have said too much, for I see that you and Nichols are distressed by my complaints. I will not repeat them; but endeavor to display more of what Nichols calls philosophy."

The train of our conversation was broken off by the entrance of Selden and Cleaveland. Fenella's spirits were soon restored, and she became as gay and fascinating as usual. Various topics were discussed, and much pleasant _badinage_ filled up the time until tea--which Fenella particularly patronized, in spite of the fashion--made its appearance.

"Pray, Master Pertinax," said Fenella, "how have you employed your time since I last saw you? You have lost a deal of green room scandal, and missed seeing some of the finest of green room absurdities, by your long estrangement from the Theatre."

"Well, saving your presence, I have been occupied with better things--a hard student have I been--and although the merry bells of the Driving Club sounded their peals under my windows twice during my seclusion; although I saw their gorgeous train of _carioles_ piled with buffalo robes, and flaunting in blue and crimson trimmings, glide merrily by; and though among the furred and feathered _demoiselles_ who sat within them, I knew there was one whom it would have been delightful to be near; nay more, although under a silver-grey Chinchilla bonnet, there shone forth two lustrous black eyes--yet did I resist the lure, and turn again to my studies. I have declined three balls where I knew I should meet that 'Cynthia of the minute,' with whom, at this particular time, I cannot but believe I am most foolishly in love. I have resisted the temptation of skating, and a special invitation from the Curling Club to witness an important match. All these and many more allurements have failed to withdraw me from my books."

"Bless me, what a Solomon you will become, if you persevere in your labors! But your stoicism surprises me. Can it be possible that Marian Lindsay's _load-stars_ failed in attraction?"

"Nonsense! I have said nothing of Marian Lindsay or her load-stars, as you are pleased to call them. Her eyes are not _black_, nor are they those I spoke of."

"What, a new attraction! Well, I see that I must relinquish the task of keeping you steady. I had hopes, when I prudently endeavored to prevent your falling in love with me, (which you cannot deny you had more than half a mind to do,) by directing your amorous disposition towards a proper object, that your fancy would endure at least a month or two. Do you not now perceive what a folly I should have been guilty of, had I suffered you to dangle, as you wished, at my apron string?"

"I do indeed. Still, I may say with honest Jack Falstaff, 'ere I knew _thee_, I knew nothing.'"

"Yes," said she, "and I can finish the sentence with equal truth--'and now art thou little better than one of the wicked.' But I deny your declaration, for you have confessed to the truth of your intrigues with the little Canadian milliner, and the blue eyed _Irlandaise_."

"I admit it; but those were unsophisticated flirtations."

"Unsophisticated! Mercy on us!"

"Oh yes," said Selden, "and he stoutly denies having ever sighed to you, Fenella; and talks a deal of nonsense about friendship, as though such a feeling ever existed between a lad of nineteen and a lady under twenty-five."

"Upon that subject," replied Fenella, "we can at least keep our own counsel."

"Come, Cleaveland," said I, "we are bound in the same direction. I have a few words to say to you, and if you are at leisure we will walk."

"I hope I have not driven you away," said Selden.

"Pshaw! I am not so easily driven."

Tea was over, and Cleaveland and I rose to depart. Fenella accompanied us to the door, and said to me in a monitory tone: "Now, Pertinax, be careful what you do in relation to the caricature. Keep out of difficulty with Mc----. You cannot be of any service to me in that affair, and may injure yourself by your interference. I know your disposition to serve me; but I also know that your impetuosity is more likely to involve you in difficulty than to bring me out of it. Be cautious, I beseech you."

"Do not be alarmed," said I, somewhat piqued, "my _indifference_ will be my protection."

"I do not believe that, nor do I believe that you are indifferent to my feelings; and the caution I now give you is a proof that I do not think so."

A pressure of the hand was my only reply to this conciliatory speech; and we left the house.

It was early in the evening, and quite dark, as we mounted the ice in the middle of the street, preferring the risk of being run down by _traineaus_ or _carioles_, on that narrow pass, to stumbling against steps, cellar doors, and other obstructions on the _trottoir_ of an avenue, feebly lighted by here and there a dim and solitary lamp. We pursued our way down St. Paul's street, and in passing the shop where "Timothy Crop, Fashionable Hair Dresser and Perruquier," shone in gilt letters, illuminated by a lamp, a glance shewed us two copies of Fenella's effigy, displayed with most provoking prominence in a bow-window, which was brilliantly lighted.

"Curses on that fellow," said I. "Is there no way in which this nuisance can be prevented? You are fertile in schemes, Cleaveland; cannot you contrive some plan, if not to stop the issue of these libels, to revenge the insult offered to our friend?"

"Not I indeed, unless we hire _Felix Sans Pitié_[1] to thump the artist, or get _Piquet_,[2] the retired bully, to break his right arm."

[Footnote 1: There was a family of _Sans Pitiés_, belong to a neighboring seignory, celebrated for their muscular frames and pugilistic powers. They were _Voyageurs_ in the service of the North West, or Hudson's Bay Companies, at the time when those associations were at deadly feud, out of which grew the massacre at Red River. In the spring, previous to the setting out of the North West expeditions, the _voyageurs_ of these companies had their rendezvous in Montreal for a day or two, during which they were generally intoxicated, and scarcely an hour passed that was not distinguished by a pugilistic combat in the old market place, which was their peculiar haunt. The _Sans Pitiés_ when present were the champions, and challenged all comers with nearly uniform success. I have never seen more magnificent forms than these brothers displayed, when stripped for a fight. Their chests and shoulders would have been fine models for a Hercules, so muscular were they, and devoid of superfluous flesh. Their style of hitting was peculiar, and differed entirely from the English system, being far more rapid and eccentric. In general an English pugilist was more than a match for the best Canadian bully; but in one instance the youthful gladiator referred to in the text, was triumphant over a skilful pupil of Crib. It is worthy of remark, that the English bully, when completely _sewed up_, (to use a phrase of the prize ring) declared in a faint voice, that he had been beaten contrary to all rule, and that _Sans Pitié_ knew no more about boxing than a horse. But the Canadian champion was once well beaten by an antagonist as little skilled as himself in the arts and mysteries of the Five's Court. I was witness to this conflict between him and an English sailor, not half his weight. The Jack-tar completely overcame his Herculean opponent, when it seemed to me that had his frame been made of any material softer than iron, he must have been demolished by _Sans Pitié's_ blows.]

[Footnote 2: Monsieur _Piquet_ was about this time a member of the Provincial Parliament. How he got there I do not exactly know: the station seemed rather inconsistent with the situation occupied by him in early life. He was a man of uncommon muscular vigor; and had in his youth been employed by the North West Company, as the _bully_ of their expeditions. His duty was to punish any refractory subordinate by the application of the fist. The _voyageurs_ were an ignorant and lawless set of men, engaged by the company to navigate their _batteaux_, and to carry the merchandize which constituted their freight, across the portages. The goods were arranged in sacks containing about ninety pounds each and were transported (or perhaps _toted_ would be a more proper word in our latitude) by the _voyageurs_ where the navigation failed. Their labors were consequently very severe; and it may readily be believed that few but the most reckless and unworthy characters enlisted in these expeditions. They were generally accompanied and conducted by one or two clerks or partners, who required some strong executive power to keep their followers in due submission. Some trusty individual of uncommon strength and hardihood was selected to perform this duty--and such was the situation held by _Piquet_. He was successful in his enterprizes, and as I was told amassed considerable wealth. At any rate, I knew him as a legislator. I was once in company with this man, when he related some of his early adventures; particularly one, in which, being necessitated to quell the turbulent spirit of a refractory _voyageur_, he broke the arm of the brawler with one blow of his fist--an achievement of which Monsieur _Piquet_ seemed not a little proud.]

"Not bad ideas, but impracticable. Felix is at Red River, or thereabouts--and Piquet is in Parliament, which should argue that his powers of maiming are fully employed upon the laws of the province."

We had paused involuntarily before the window. The shop was thronged with customers, and we saw the barber take down one of the caricatures and exhibit it to an individual, who laughed immoderately as he examined it. My blood boiled as I witnessed this scene. I had been deeply impressed by Fenella's description of her defenceless condition, and the absence of that general feeling of resentment in her case, which would have existed had any other woman been the object of such ridicule. The hearty laugh of the examiner of the picture--the gusto with which he enjoyed the ludicrous figure before him, inspired me with most unchristian feelings, and I could, with the greatest good will, have tweaked his nose with the hot curling irons which the man of hair was applying to his head.

As we moved away, I vowed that I would be revenged on the malicious barber--that he at least should not escape. A few moments brought us to my lodgings in the _Vieux Marché_. We sat down by a hot stove, and after having listened to Cleaveland's description of the last party at Madame Feronnier's, without hearing one word, I broke silence.

"Cleaveland," said I, "will you join me in a scheme which I have been revolving since we left that infernal barber's?"

"I shall be better prepared to give you an answer, when you tell me what you propose."

"Then you will not enlist until you know my plan."

"Not I. It is my luck to engage in so many hairbrained scrapes of my own, that I will be led blindfold into none of your planning."

"But you must not fail me. I have set my heart on your assistance. If I had asked it of Selden, he would have stifled me with prudent advice. Nichols has not hardihood enough for any wicked act; and Marryatt is so completely bewitched with his brunette beauty in the Recolet Suburbs, that he cannot find time for any other roguery. Now for a stirring adventure you are just the lad--first, because you like it, and secondly, because you have the spirit to go through with it."

"Really you speak of your enterprize in the Hotspur vein, for like him it seems you are about to

----'read me matter deep and dangerous, As full of peril and adventurous spirit, As to o'erwalk a current roaring loud, On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.'

But be it what it may, propose to me any reasonable mischief, and _je suis à vous_."

"It is nothing very dangerous in the performance, and the consequences must take care of themselves. I only intend to smash, and that shortly, the bow-window of our friend the barber--to scatter his perfumes about his own head, and give his next door neighbor, the glazier, a job?"

"Is that all? Bless me, how reasonable! Selden himself could not have advised a more rational and moral mode of punishing this impudent barber.--Why, Pertinax, I did not think you capable of a conception so brilliant. As to breaking the window and scattering the perfumery, 'we may do it as secure as sleep'--and for the consequences, I have nothing to say on that subject, because they come _afterwards_; and as Father De Rocher used to tell us, questions must be considered in their proper order: besides, all the wise ones say that _fore_-thought is better than _after_-thought. But independent of these considerations, it would be inconsistent in me, who never yet gave a thought to consequences, to do so now; and some political proser in the _Spectateur_, said the other day that consistency was a jewel."

"Then you enlist in the service."

"Yes, my Hotspur; 'it is a good plot as ever was laid--an excellent plot. My Lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action.' So here is my hand. We will take some pains to do that which will cost Timothy Crop many panes to remedy; and if we escape the pains and penalties therefor, all will be well."

"We must rely upon our heels for that. Give me six yards the start, and I defy any barber in the Canadas to overtake me. We must show Master Timothy that we have not played at cricket, or run foot races on the wind-mill common for nothing."

"But what missiles shall we use?--have you thought of that, _Mon Général_?"

"What can be better than these?" said I, taking up a couple of billets of oak from the stove-pan.

"Admirable! And when shall we proceed to business?"

"Now--this very hour--we cannot wish a darker night; and the sooner we carry our design into effect the better."

"Very true, for Shakspeare says, that

'Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream.'

We will dream as little upon it as possible."

"_Allons donc!_ Take your billets, and let us march."

We sallied forth into the street. It was about nine o'clock, and all was quiet. The light from Crop's window shone brightly in the distance, and invited us to our revenge.

The heavy falls of snow are a serious inconvenience in the narrow streets of Montreal, and the manner in which it is disposed of, gives to them a peculiar appearance. When a storm subsides, the whole town is alive with the business of shovelling the snow from the side-walks into the middle of the street, which in the course of a few weeks after the winter sets in, is elevated several feet above its natural level. On the top of this ridge vehicles of all descriptions are forced to pass, and while guiding a _cariole_ along the height, you nod to your pedestrian friends on the side-walks, many feet below you, and peep, if you have any curiosity, into the windows of your neighbor's second story. By gradual packing and freezing, this _high_-road becomes a complete rampart of ice, along which _carioles_ and _traineaus_ are driven with alarming velocity--to a strange eye presenting the constant prospect of their being hurled down to the side-walk. But such accidents seldom happen. In their own awkward fashion, the Canadian drivers are uncommonly expert, and their hardy little horses are equally so.

We kept the side-walk until we reached the corner of St. Nicholas and St. Paul streets, and here we stopped to confer.

"By the way," said I, "we had better decide upon the manner of running away. Crop is a tall fellow and long in the legs. It will not do for us to keep together. My plan is this--I will dive into the alley, leading up to the city hotel, cross St. Peter's street and get into the Jesuits's grounds.[3] You had better take to the opposite side-walk, for you will be perfectly safe there, as you may turn the left corner of St. Peter, and skim away towards the _Soeurs Gris_, before Tim can climb to that side of the street. When we have confounded the chase, we will rendezvous in front of the _Petit Seminaire_, in College street. We shall be near the Mansion House, where we may refresh ourselves with a bottle of Martinant's London particular, and call at Fenella's on our way home."

[Footnote 3: These grounds have since been devoted to public use, and are now intersected by Lemoine, St. Helen, and Recolet streets. They were formerly attached to the religious establishment of the brotherhood, the building of which faced upon Notre Dame street, and were filled with noble elms, all of which have I believe fallen beneath the axe. The accommodations were spacious; but the buildings, with the exception of the Recolet church, which occupies nearly a centre position, had been appropriated to other than monastic uses long before my recollection. During and just after the last war they were used as the barracks of a regiment of British infantry, and at the grated windows which once let in the light upon the ascetic pursuits and rigid ceremonials of these bigoted religionists--soldiers were seen scouring their muskets or whitening their belts. More recently, the southern portion has been occupied as a Young Ladies Seminary, and the northern as the City Watch-house. The buildings had become public property by the operation of some condition relative to the decrease of the numbers of the order. One only was alive in my time; and he was often seen in the streets, wearing a small black skull cap, and a long black robe fastened around his body by a white woollen girdle. The Recolet church is to this day a place of Catholic worship, opened on stated days and uncommon occasions. Whether it has been embellished or altered since I saw it, I know not--but at that time it presented a melancholy appearance of decay and dilapidation. It was remarkable for a rude carving over the entrance representing two hands and arms issuing out of the sea, and crossing each other. The carving was colored most unnaturally, and the waves of the sea resembled a congregation of pewter platters.]

"I see no objection to your plan, Pertinax, only that your part of it is the most hazardous. If Crop pursues, he will naturally stick to his own side-walk, and you must leap in front of him from the street into the alley."

"Oh, never fear for me--I shall be scudding through the old Jesuits's elms, long before he will find the hole by which I make my escape. Recollect the rendezvous at the College."

Our plan of retreat having been settled, we mounted into the middle of the street, and were in two minutes opposite the devoted shop-window. The lights burned brightly, and at a glance we saw that there was no one within but Crop and a little boy. The window was filled with bottles of _Eau de Cologne_, _Eau de jasmin_, _extrait de bergamotte_, with pots of _pommade extraordinaire_, and the like; and there still hung the offending caricatures. We were elevated some feet above the window, and it presented the finest imaginable mark.

"Now," said Cleaveland, "let us separate a few paces, that we may give our object a raking fire, and do the more execution."

We were just about to proceed to business, when the sharp sound of a horse's hoofs rang upon the ice near the corner of St. Peter's street. We drew back from the glare of the window to allow the horse and his rider to pass--when, as they approached us, we perceived Marryatt, mounted on his shaggy Shetland pony.

"Hey dey," said he, as we made our appearance--"what mischief is in the wind now?"

"Stay a moment," said I, "and see us demolish Crop's bow window."

"Oh ho, is that the project? Well I will witness the crash, as I have especial means of escape. I cannot say as much for you or Cleaveland. Crop will catch one or both of you to a certainty."

"That is our own concern--but he shall have a race for it. Stay where you are Marryatt, and witness the performance."

Cleaveland and I then approached the window, and levelling our billets simultaneously, they fell with unerring aim in the centre of the window, scattering pictures, pomatum and perfumery in every direction. A second billet from each of us completed the work of destruction, and we took to our heels. Cleaveland slipped down to the pavement on the opposite side, and vanished in an instant. I was about ten paces from the alley, (which entered St. Paul street on the same side with the barber's shop,) but before I had cleared that short distance, I was sensible that Crop was in pursuit. From the high ridge of ice on which I stood, to the pavement was at least five feet, and on coming opposite the alley I made a flying leap across the side-walk into its entrance. But alas for human hopes!--I had neglected to substitute a pair of shoes for my boots on coming out, and my boot heels were covered with plates of brass, in conformity to a very ridiculous fashion. I cleared the side-walk in gallant style; but I alighted on my heels in a spot covered with the smoothest ice. The consequence was, that my feet flew from under me, and I fell prostrate. But this was not the worst--I struck my knee upon the ice with a force which might have broken a joint of iron. I made an effort to rise, which was at first ineffectual. The sound of Timothy's feet struck on my ear as he turned the corner. He was within two paces of me, and in a second more would have stumbled over me in the dark. But the idea of being captured gave me sudden vigor, and overcame the pain of my bruised knee. I sprang upon my feet, and bounded away towards the entrance of the City Hotel, turned short to the left, and crossing St. Peter's street by another alley, kept on under the wall of Thatcher's livery stables.

Rapidly as I had taken leave of Timothy, he had not lost sight of me for a second, until I turned the farther corner of the stables. At this point there had been, a few weeks previous, a gap in the enclosure of the Jesuits's grounds, through which I had often passed; and by means of this opening I had intended to lead the chase into those grounds, with all the turnings of which I was well acquainted, and where a number of old elms would serve to cover my retreat.

What was my consternation on reaching the spot, to find that the opening had been closed! I was completely cornered, without means of escape, except by the steep path up which I had come. Along that path I heard the footsteps of my pursuer, as he picked his way in the dark. Not a moment was to be lost, and my determination was instantly taken. I again turned the corner of the stables, and ran down the path with my utmost speed, intending to overthrow Timothy by running against him. As I approached him, he stopped, and seeming to comprehend my object, veered a little from the path, so as to break the force of the shock, and grasped at me with both his hands.

And here but for my boot heels I might have escaped; but again they failed me, I slipped, and Timothy and I were rolling on the ground together--he clutching to hold me fast, and I struggling to get away. By mutual consent we soon rose upon our feet--he still holding on with the tenacity of a bull-dog, upon the collar and breast of my clothing.