CHAPTER II.
THE HURON, CALLED THE INGÉNU, ACKNOWLEDGED BY HIS RELATIONS.
The Ingénu, according to custom, awoke with the sun, at the crowing of the cock, which is called in England and Huronia, "the trumpet of the day." He did not imitate what is styled good company, who languish in the bed of indolence till the sun has performed half its daily journey, unable to sleep, but not disposed to rise, and lose so many precious hours in that doubtful state between life and death, and who nevertheless complain that life is too short.
He had already traversed two or three leagues, and killed fifteen brace of game with his rifle, when, upon his return, he found the prior of the Lady of the Mountain, with his discreet sister, in their nightcaps, walking in their little garden. He presented them with the spoils of his morning labor, and, taking from his bosom a kind of little talisman, which he constantly wore about his neck, he entreated them to accept of it as an acknowledgment for the kind reception they had given him.
"It is," said he, "the most valuable thing I possess. I have been assured that I shall always be happy while I carry this little toy about me; and I give it to you that you may be always happy."
The prior and Miss smiled with pity at the frankness of the Ingénu. This present consisted of two little portraits, poorly executed, and tied together with a greasy string.
Miss Kerkabon asked him if there were any painters in Huronia?
"No," replied the Ingénu, "I had this curiosity from my nurse. Her husband had obtained it by conquest, in stripping some of the French of Canada, who had made war upon us. This is all I know of the matter."
The prior looked attentively upon these pictures, while he changed color; his hands trembled, and he seemed much affected.
"By our Lady of the Mountain!" he cried out, "I believe these to be the faces of my brother, the captain, and his lady."
Miss, after having consulted them with like emotion, thought the same. They were both struck with astonishment and joy, blended with grief. They both melted, they both wept, their hearts throbbed, and during their disorder the pictures "I BELIEVE THOSE TO BE THE FACES OF
MY BROTHER, THE CAPTAIN,
AND HIS LADY"
were interchanged between them at least twenty times in a second. They seemed to devour the Huron's pictures with their eyes. They asked one after another, and even both at once, at what time, in what place, and how these miniatures fell into the hands of the nurse? They reckoned and computed the time from the captain's departure; they recollected having received notice that he had penetrated as far as the country of the Hurons; and from that time they had never heard anything more of him.
The Huron had told them that he had never known either father or mother. The prior, who was a man of sense, observed that he had a little beard, and he knew very well that the Hurons never had any. His chin was somewhat hairy; he was therefore the son of a European. His brother and sister-in-law were never seen after the expedition against the Hurons, in 1669. His nephew must then have been nursing at the breast; the Huron nurse has preserved his life, and been a mother to him. At length, after a hundred questions and answers, the prior and his sister concluded that the Huron was their own nephew. They embraced him, while tears streamed from their eyes, and the Huron laughed to think that an Indian should be nephew to a prior of Lower Brittany.
All the company went downstairs. Mr. de St. Yves, who was a great physiognomist, compared the two pictures with the Huron's countenance. They observed, very skilfully, that he had the mother's eyes, the forehead and nose of the late Captain Kerkabon, and the cheeks common to both.
Miss St. Yves, who had never seen either father or mother, was strenuously of opinion that the young man had a perfect resemblance to them. They all admired Providence, and wondered at the strange events of this world. In a word, they were so persuaded, so convinced of the birth of the Huron, that he himself consented to be the prior's nephew, saying that he would as soon have him for his uncle as another.
The prior went to return thanks in the church of our Lady of the Mountain; while the Huron, with an air of indifference, amused himself with drinking in the house.
The English who had brought him over, and who were ready to set sail, came to tell him that it was time to depart.
"Probably," said he to them, "you have not met with any of your uncles and aunts. I shall stay here; go you back to Plymouth. I give you all my clothes, as I have no longer occasion for anything in this world, since I am the nephew of a prior."
The English set sail, without being at all concerned whether the Huron had any relations or not in Lower Brittany.
After the uncle, the aunt, and the company had sung Te Deum; after the bailiff had once more overwhelmed the Huron with questions; after they had exhausted all their astonishment, joy, and tenderness, the prior of the Mountain and the abbé of St. Yves concluded that the Huron should be baptized with all possible expedition. But the case was very different with a tall, robust Indian of twenty-two, and an infant who is regenerated without his knowing anything of the matter. It was necessary to instruct him, and this appeared difficult, for the abbé of St. Yves supposed that a man who was not born in France could not be endowed with common sense.
The prior, indeed, observed to the company that, though, in fact, the ingenuous gentleman, his nephew, was not so fortunate as to be born in Lower Brittany, he was not, upon that account, in any way deficient in sense, which might be concluded from all his answers; and that, doubtless, nature had greatly favored him, as well on his father's as on his mother's side.
He then was asked if he had ever read any books? He said he had read Rabelais translated into English, and some passages in Shakespeare, which he knew by heart; that these books belonged to the captain on board of whose ship he came from America to Plymouth; and that he was very well pleased with them. The bailiff failed not to put many questions to him concerning these books.
"I acknowledge," said the Huron, "I thought, in reading them, I understood some things, but not the whole."
The abbé of St. Yves reflected upon this discourse, that it was in this manner he had always read, and that most men read no other way.
"You have," said he to the Huron, "doubtless read the Bible?"
"Never, Mr. Abbé; it was not among the captain's books. I never heard it mentioned."
"This is the way with those cursed English, said Miss Kerkabon; "they think more of a play of Shakespeare's, a plum pudding, or a bottle of rum, than they do of the Pentateuch. For this reason they have never converted any Indians in America. They are certainly cursed by God, and we shall wrest Jamaica and Virginia from them in a very short time."
Be this as it may, the most skilful tailor in all St. Malo was sent for to dress the Huron from head to foot. The company separated, and the bailiff went elsewhere to display his inquisitiveness. Miss St. Yves, in parting, returned several times to observe the young stranger, and made him lower courtesies than ever she did any one in her life.
The bailiff, before he took his leave, presented to Miss St. Yves a stupid dolt of a son, just come from college; but she scarcely looked at him, so much was she taken up with the politeness of the Huron.