Sharon Stewart - Banished from Our Home: The Acadian Diary of Angelique Richard, Grande-Pre, Acadia, 1755

A terrible thing has happened. I have seen something I was not supposed to, and now I know something I am not supposed to know. I have sworn not to tell anyone about it, but my heart is aching. All I can do is write it down here.

I had crept out early this morning to collect la for Maman. Last spring there was no snow for May water, and Maman lamented the lack of it all year for treating sore eyes and ears. So this was my chance to win her praise it is seldom enough that I can.

I scarcely slept all night wondering whether snow would come. But at dawn there it was a thin silvery blanket over the fields and woods. It would soon melt in the first rays of the sun, but there is that glade in the woods where the snow lingers clean among the evergreens, so I set out with my bucket. Griffon followed me, as he always does, but I sent him back, fearing his great paws would spoil the snow.

Even in the glade the snow was going fast. I scraped up scarcely half a bucketful. Then I heard mens voices. One was Victors! I peeked around a tree trunk and there he was. A stranger was with him, a tall and wolf-lean fellow with a hawk nose and high cheekbones. He was dressed all in buckskins like a Micmac, and a gun was slung across his back. He and Victor were shaking hands. I heard Victor say he would follow him to the devil and back, and that he would rally others to join the cause. Then he said the mans name Beausoleil!

I gasped I could not help it. For only one man bears that name. Beausoleil Broussard, the renegade who fights against the British. Victor has joined the rebels!

Victor heard me. In a moment he had pounced on me and dragged me before the rebel chief. Beausoleil has narrow eyes, cats eyes, and he looked so fierce I thought he might kill me on the spot. But Victor told him the spy was only his nosey sister, and Beausoleil laughed. He still wanted to know why I was sneaking about the woods at that hour, though. I held up my bucket of snow.

Then he asked if I was going to let my tongue wag about having seen him, and suddenly his eyes were not amused at all. I knew it was not really a question. It was a warning. I crossed myself and promised to say nothing to anyone. Beausoleil nodded, then he told me to get myself home vite!

I ran off, with my heart in my mouth and the bucket banging my leg all the way. I have hidden myself away in a corner of the barn to write this.

Victor is furious! I have kept out of his way all day, but he caught up with me while I was milking Pquerette. He demanded that I promise again not to tell. Why should I? Have I not already promised Beausoleil? So I just said he had better not stand behind Pquerette when I was milking her, or she would kick him. And, , she did. And I laughed. It served him right for being so bossy.

But, , now my temper has cooled and I am very frightened. If Victor goes off with Beausoleil the British soldiers may catch him and shoot him! I long to warn Papa and Maman so they can stop him, but I have sworn not to tell. Dare I break my word to save my brother?

I have prayed to le bon Dieu about what to do. I think I must say nothing, for did I not cross myself when I promised? So it is on my honour before God. Meanwhile, Victor goes whistling about his work as if nothing is wrong. Maybe he will change his mind. Surely he knows how much his running away would grieve our parents. But he is such a hothead!

A plague upon the British! If they were not here, we would not have these troubles. Yet Pre Chauvreulx preaches often that it is our duty to obey them. And he must know. They have conquered our Acadia from France, after all, and our people have sworn an oath of allegiance to the British king. But Papa says we Acadians are sly like a fox, and that we can have our way most of the time and get along with the British too. It is a comfort to think we can outwit les Anglais.

I should say something about my beautiful diary book. Its pages are thick and creamy-smooth to write on. It is the only really special thing I have ever owned. I had thought to keep it untouched forever and ever. Or at least until I am grown up and something exciting happens to me up to now, nothing has. Except when the pigs got into Mamans vegetable garden and rooted it up. That was exciting, but not very agreeable. My ears still burn from the scolding I got. But now with this secret about Victor I am glad to have somewhere to let out my feelings. It is like talking to yourself, which I do sometimes, only better. It was Victor who gave me this book. He got it from a Boston trader last spring, and I loved it. I have been pestering him to look at it. So I was thrilled when he gave it to me as a New Years gift. Victor is like that. Most times he ignores me, and he never notices little things he says or does to grieve me. Then suddenly he will do something magnifique, all of a swoop. And he always has a joke or a story to tell. Perhaps that is why all the girls from round about cast glances his way. That and his handsome looks. I do love him, though he makes me cross sometimes. I will pray to le bon Dieu to keep him from doing anything wild.

In church today, Pre Chauvreulx preached a sermon against sloth. Maman gave me many significant nods the while, and I squirmed in my seat. I felt the priest was looking right at me. I suppose I have a guilty conscience.

Through it all, Sausage kept glancing at me with a smug little smile on her face. She never leaves her chores undone, of course. Maman always says she has more sense in her eleven-year-old head than I do in my twelve-year-old one. I made sure to tread upon Sausages foot when we got up to leave. She hobbled all the way to the door. Zachary copied her limp. Claude grinned and Victor laughed. Maman gave all of us a hard look.

Outside, we stopped to pass the time of day with les Hbert. I noticed how Julie Hbert managed to stand next to Victor. She kept gazing up at him, and blushed every time he turned her way. She is setting her cap for him, that one! Maybe if Victor got married he would think no more of Beausoleil. But moi, I do not think he cares a pin for Julie.

Papa and Victor and Claude are labouring in the fields today, sowing the spring wheat. It is late this year, with the soil so wet. Papa grumbles that now the harvest will be late too.

This pen scratches. Claude has promised to cut me a new one. It is good of him Claude is never too busy for small kindnesses. But now I will have to go out and pluck a quill from Sergent I dread that ganders nasty temper! I must make some more ink, too.

I saw Victor talking with two of the Le Blanc boys down at the dike this afternoon. Was he telling them about Beausoleil?

I am so excited! The date for Catherines wedding to Basile Le Blanc has been set at last. Imagine in three weeks my big sister will be married. It has been so hard for Catherine and Basile to wait all this time, ever since their first wedding date was moved when Basiles grandmother died last autumn. I think it will be wonderful to have a spring wedding for a change. Today Papa and Maman and Catherine and Basile and his parents went to sign the wedding contract before the notary. Papa and Maman are giving the bride and groom a fine milk cow, a ram and ewe, a pair of piglets and some ducks and chickens. , they are rich enough to do so much for Catherine. We are all very proud. And I am very relieved because surely Victor would not dream of going off now and missing the wedding.