The Trail of the Sword, Complete - Gilbert Parker
She paused. Gering's eyes were glistening. Her honesty, fine eloquence,
and simple sincerity, showed her to him in a new, strong light. Upon
Iberville, the greater of the two, it had a greater effect. He sat still
for a moment, looking at the woman with the profound gaze of one moved to
the soul. Then he got to his feet slowly, opened the door, and quietly
calling Perrot, whispered to him. Perrot threw up his hands in surprise,
and hurried away.
Then Iberville shut the door, and came back. Neither man had made any
show of caring for their wounds. Still silent, Iberville drew forth linen
and laid it upon the table. Then he went to the window, and as he looked
through the parted curtains out upon the water--the room hung over the
edge of the cliff-he bound his own shoulder. Gering had lost blood, but
weak as he was he carried himself well. For full half an hour Iberville
stood motionless while the wife bound her husband's wounds.
At length the door opened and Perrot entered. Iberville did not hear him
at first, and Perrot came over to him. "All is ready, monsieur," he said.
Iberville, nodding, came to the table where stood the husband and wife,
and Perrot left the room. He picked up a sword and laid it beside Gering,
then waved his hand towards the door.
"You are free to go, monsieur," he said. "You will have escort to your
country. Go now--pray, go quickly."
He feared he might suddenly repent of his action, and going to the door,
he held it open for them to pass. Gering picked up the sword, found the
belt and sheath, and stepped to the doorway with his wife. Here he paused
as if he would speak to Iberville: he was ready now for final peace. But
Iberville's eyes looked resolutely away, and Gering sighed and passed
into the hallway. Now the wife stood beside Iberville. She looked at him
steadily, but at first he would not meet her eye. Presently, however, he
did so.
"Good-bye," she said brokenly, "I shall always remember--always."
His reply was bitter. "Good-bye, madame: I shall forget."
She made a sad little gesture and passed on, but presently turned, as if
she could not bear that kind of parting, and stretched out her hands to
him.
"Monsieur--Pierre!" she cried, in a weak, choking voice.
With hot frank impulse he caught both her hands in his and kissed them.
"I shall--remember," he said, with great gentleness.
Then they passed from the hallway, and he was alone. He stood looking at
the closed door, but after a moment went to the table, sat down, and
threw his head forward in his arms.
An hour afterwards, when Count Frontenac entered upon him, he was still
in the same position. Frontenac touched him on the arm, and he rose. The
governor did not speak, but caught him by the shoulders with both hands,
and held him so for a moment, looking kindly at him. Iberville picked up
his sword from the table and said calmly:
"Once, sir, you made it a choice between the woman and the sword."
Then he raised the sword and solemnly pressed his lips against the
hilt-cross.
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE "TRAIL OF THE SWORD":
Aboriginal in all of us, who must have a sign for an emotion
Learned, as we all must learn, that we live our dark hour alone
Love, too, is a game, and needs playing
Often called an invention of the devil (Violin)
To die without whining