It would be different now; there are notaries, in New France and
Old, capable of beating Lucifer himself in a process for either
soul, body, or estate! But, thank fortune, we are out of this thick
forest now."
The travellers had reached the other verge of the forest of
Beaumanoir. A broad plain dotted with clumps of fair trees lay
spread out in a royal domain, overlooked by a steep, wooded
mountain. A silvery brook crossed by a rustic bridge ran through
the park. In the centre was a huge cluster of gardens and
patriarchal trees, out of the midst of which rose the steep roof,
chimneys, and gilded vanes, flashing in the sun, of the Chateau of
Beaumanoir.
The Chateau was a long, heavy structure of stone, gabled and pointed
in the style of the preceding century--strong enough for defence,
and elegant enough for the abode of the Royal Intendant of New
France. It had been built, some four-score years previously, by
the Intendant Jean Talon, as a quiet retreat when tired with the
importunities of friends or the persecution of enemies, or disgusted
with the cold indifference of the Court to his statesmanlike plans
for the colonization of New France.
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