CHAPTER XXIV

THE SEIGNEUR TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME

It was St. Jean Baptiste's day, and French Canada was en fete. Every
seigneur, every cure, every doctor, every notary--the chief figures in a
parish--and every habitant was bent for a happy holiday, dressed in his
best clothes, moved in his best spirits, in the sweet summer weather.

Bells were ringing, flags were flying, every road and lane was filled
with caleches and wagons, and every dog that could draw a cart pulled big
and little people, the old and the blind and the mendicant, the happy and
the sour, to the village, where there were to be sports and speeches,
races upon the river, and a review of the militia, arranged by the member
of the Legislature for the Chaudiere-half of the county. French soldiers
in English red coats and carrying British flags were straggling along the
roads to join the battalion at the volunteers' camp three miles from the
town, and singing:

"Brigadier, respondez Pandore--
Brigadier, vous avez raison."

It was not less incongruous and curious when one group presently broke
out into 'God save the Queen', and another into the 'Marseillaise', and
another still into 'Malbrouck s'en va t'en guerre'. At last songs and
soldiers were absorbed in the battalion at the rendezvous, and 1the long
dusty march to the village gave a disciplined note to the gaiety of the
militant habitant.