nigh if not quite
impossible."

"O Colin, it is good indeed to have you again, out of the very jaws
of death! Let me go myself and thank this noble Fritz for his good
offices. Colin, I fear me I am half a traitor to the cause of
France already; for there is that in my heart which bids me regard
the English as friends rather than as foes. And when I hear men
shake their heads and say that they may one day be the masters of
these broad lands of the west, it raises within me no feeling of
anger or grief. I cannot be a true daughter of France to feel so!"

"And yet I share that feeling, Corinne. I often feel that I am less
than half a Frenchman! My good uncle sometimes shakes his head over
me; but then he smiles, and says that the mother's blood always
runs strong in the firstborn son; and methinks, had our mother
lived, she would have been on the side of those who speak her
tongue and hail from the grey lands of the north."

"Ah, it is good that you feel the same, Colin! I had almost chided
myself for being half a traitor. And now take me to our good friend
Fritz, that I may thank him myself and see him again with mine own
eyes."

Brother and sister descended the stone stairway which divided the
various floors of that narrow house. As they reached the foot of
the staircase, they heard the sound of voices from a half-open
door, and Corinne said with a smile:

"It is our Aunt Drucour talking with the stranger. She is ever
eager for news of the war. A soldier is always a friend to her, so
as he brings her tidings."

The room into which Corinne and Colin stepped softly, so as not to
disturb the conversation of their elders, was a long and narrow
apartment, with the same small windows which characterized the rest
of the house. A table in the centre of the room took up the chief
of the space, and at this table sat a bronzed and stalwart man,
whom Corinne instantly recognized as her protector in that forest
adventure of long ago. He was seated with a trencher before him,
and was doing an justice to the fare set out; but he was also in
earnest conversation with Madame Drucour, who was seated opposite,
her elbows lightly resting upon the table, and her chin upon her
clasped hands.

Upon a couch beneath the window lay the Abbe himself, with a cup of
wine beside him. He looked like a man who has been through
considerable fatigue and hardship, though his brow was serene and
his eyes were bright as he followed the rapid conv