Read Online The Adventures of Radisson. Back to the New World by Martin Fournier - Free Book Online Page B

in the warmth of the big house.
    The widow Guyard welcomed the two strangers with surprise. When Jean Roussin told her the younger of the two had just arrived from Canada, her face lit up and tears welled in her eyes. She looked at Radisson like he was an apparition of the Holy Ghost. Fascinated, she cupped his hands in hers as though he were some kind of marvelous creature. Radisson had no idea what to say to the griefstricken woman. She was in her forties and staring at him with fire in her eyes. Her astonishment passed and she quickly withdrew her hands to put them behind her back. She leaned forward with her head, humbly, as though she had just been indecorous.
    â€œDo come in,” she said. “Come dry yourselves by the fire. And please let me know when you are ready to eat.”
    The four men walked through an enormous kitchen, the widow just ahead of them. In one corner, a young servant girl was busy making dough for the next day’s bread. Cooking pots hung above a long wooden counter that ran from the door to the fireplace. They huddled around the fire as the widow stirred it back to life, throwing an armful of slim branches down onto it. They went up in flames instantly, crackling noisily. She added a huge hardwood log. The woman reminded Radisson of how his mother had looked after him and how his sister Marguerite took care of him in Trois-Rivières when he stayed with her and her family. Mothers could be such a comfort.
    The widow turned around. She only had eyes for Radisson, who was delighted to be the centre of attention. He could tell she was driven by a mix of embarrassment and curiosity.
    â€œYou need plenty of courage to live in New France!” she said. “I know that only too well: my cousin writes to me every year. She lives in Québec. She founded the Ursuline convent over there. She’s a real saint to put up with everything she has told me about. Her name’s Marie, Marie de l’Incarnation. Do you know her?”
    â€œNo, ma’am. I live in Trois-Rivières.”
    â€œTrois-Rivières!” the widow exclaimed, turning back to the fire to hide her emotion. “It’s simply dreadful what happened there.”
    A lump rose in Radisson’s throat. What could she be talking about? What terrible thing had happened? Judging by her reaction, it looked as though there had been deaths. But who had been affected? His sisters? Someone he knew? He was anxious to find out, but refrained from asking, not wanting to reveal he had not set foot in the colony for some time.
    â€œLife goes on,” he replied instead, genuinely moved.
    He forgot all about his companions, who were eagerly eyeing the long table that awaited them in the next room. They were hungry. But this woman fascinated him, perhaps because her heart leapt along with his at the very mention of New France or because she had news of people he had met over there. He was anxious to stay by her side.
    â€œTwenty-two dead,” the widow added, her head down. “Not counting the prisoners. That’s what Marie wrote to me last year. The Iroquois attacked the village, she said. They lured the French into a trap. They tried to free the prisoners, but it was too late. The Iroquois escaped with them. How terrible…”
    â€œYes, terrible.”
    Radisson was completely dismayed. More than the widow suspected. Distraught, he supposed his adoptive Iroquois father might have taken part in the slaughter. How had he ever become an Iroquois? Why had he ever chosen to fight by their side? It was hard to comprehend now that he was far from their lands. He was happy at least to have left them. As for the people of Trois-Rivières, he wondered how they recovered from such a thing. They were probably no more than a hundred now. What a blow!
    â€œThirty people lost,” the widow added after a moment. “Just imagine what that must do to such a tiny village. You certainly need plenty of