"
"Pardon me, sir," answered Brebeuf, "we came purely for the glory of
God, and exposed ourselves to every kind of danger to convert the
Indians."
Here Michel broke in: "Ay, ay, convert the Indians! You mean, convert
the beaver!"
"That is false!" retorted Brebeuf.
Michel raised his fist, exclaiming, "But for the respect I owe the
General, I would strike you for giving me the lie."
Brebeuf, a man of powerful frame and vehement passions, nevertheless
regained his practised self-command, and replied: "You must excuse me. I
did not mean to give you the lie. I should be very sorry to do so. The
words I used are those we use in the schools when a doubtful question is
advanced, and they mean no offence. Therefore I ask you to pardon me."
Despite the apology, Michel's frenzied brain harped the presumed insult,
and he raved about it without ceasing.
"Bon Dieu!" said Champlain, "you swear well for a Reformer!"
"I know it," returned Michel; "I should be content if I had but struck
that Jesuit who gave me the lie before my General."
At length, one of his transports of rage ended in a lethargy from which
he never awoke. His funeral was conducted with a pomp suited to his
rank; and, amid discharges of cannon whose dreary roar was echoed from
the yawning gulf of the Saguenay, his body was borne to its rest under
the rocks of Tadoussac.
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