A great change was coming
into her idyllic life. She was indistinctly aware of it, as we
sometimes are of an approaching storm, while yet the sky is
sweetly blue and serene. When she reached home the house was full
of people to whom M. Roussillon, in the gayest of moods, was
dispensing wine and brandy.
"Vive Zhorzh Vasinton!" shouted Oncle Jazon as soon as he saw her.
And then they all talked at once, saying flattering things about
her. Madame Roussillon tried to scold as usual; but the lively
chattering of the guests drowned her voice.
"I suppose the American commander will send a garrison here," some
one said to Father Gibault, "and repair the fort."
"Probably," the priest replied, "in a very few weeks. Meantime we
will garrison it ourselves."
"And we will have M. Roussillon for commander," spoke up Rene de
Ronville, who was standing by.
"A good suggestion," assented Father Gibault; "let us organize at
once."
Immediately the word was passed that there would be a meeting at
the fort that evening for the purpose of choosing a garrison and a
commander. Everybody went promptly at the hour set. M. Roussillon
was elected Captain by acclamation, with Rene de Ronville as his
Lieutenant. It was observed that Oncle Jazon had resumed his
dignity, and that he looked into his cap several times without
speaking.
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