He had
just finished his speech in reply to Barode Barouche--eloquent, eager,
masterful. Youth's aspirations, with a curious sympathy with the French
Canadian people, had idealized his utterances. When he finished there
had been cheering, but in the quiet instant that followed the cheering,
a habitant got up--a weird, wilful fellow who had a reputation for brag,
yet who would not have hurt an enemy save in wild passion.
"M'sieu' Carnac Grier," he said, "I'd like to put a question to you.
You've been asking for our votes. We're a family people, we Canucs, and
we like to know where we're going. Tell me, m'sieu', where's your
woman?"
Having asked the question, he remained standing. "Where's your woman?"
the habitant had asked. Carnac's breath came quick and sharp. There
were many hundreds present, and a good number of them were foes. Barode
Barouche was on the same platform.
Not only Carnac was stirred by the question, for Barouche, who had
listened to his foe's speech with admiring anxiety, was startled.
"Where's your woman?" was not a phrase to be asked anyhow, or anywhere.
Barouche was glad of the incident. Ready as he was to meet challenge, he
presently realized that his son had a readiness equally potent. He was
even pleased to see the glint of a smile at the lips of the slim young
politician, in whom there was more than his own commingling of
temperament, wisdom, wantonness and raillery.
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