"Putois! coquin!" they jeered, "goujat! poltron!"
Beverley heard the taunting racket, but did not realize it, which
was well enough, for he could not have restrained the bitter
effervescence. He stood like a statue, gazing fixedly at the now
receding figure, the lofty, cold-faced man in whom centered his
hate of hates. Clark had requested him to be present at the
conference in the church; but he declined, feeling that he could
not meet Hamilton and restrain himself. Now he regretted his
refusal, half wishing that--no, he could not assassinate an enemy
under a white flag. In his heart he prayed that there would be no
surrender, that Hamilton would reject every offer. To storm the
fort and revel in butchering its garrison seemed the only
desirable thing left for him in life.
Father Beret was, indeed, present at the church, as Hamilton had
dreaded; and the two duelists gave each other a rapier-like eye-
thrust. Neither spoke, however, and Clark immediately demanded a
settlement of the matter in hand. He was brusque and imperious to
a degree, apparently rather anxious to repel every peaceful
advance.
It was a laconic interview, crisp as autumn ice and bitter as
gallberries. Colonel Clark had no respect whatever for Hamilton,
to whom he had applied the imperishable adjective "hair-buyer
General." On the other hand Governor Hamilton, who felt keenly the
disgrace of having to equalize himself officially and discuss
terms of surrender with a rough backwoodsman, could not conceal
his contempt of Clark.
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