ion of New France. Officers of the regiments in garrison were
everywhere, apparently in charge of the evening's pleasure, but their
uniforms bore evidence of service. The naval men were less numerous,
yet more brilliantly attired, and seemed fond of the dance, and were
favorites of the ladies. These were young, and many of them beautiful;
belles of Quebec mostly, and, although their gowns were not expensive,
becomingly attired. Yet from up and down the river the seigniors had
brought their wives and daughters to witness the event. Some of these
were uncouth enough, and oddly appareled; not a few among them plainly
exhibiting traces of Indian blood; and here and there, standing silent
and alone, could be noted a red chief from distant forest. Most of
those men I saw bore evidence in face and dress of the wild, rough
life they led--fur traders from far-off waterways, guardians of
wilderness forts, explorers and adventurers.

Many a name reached my ears famous in those days, but forgotten long
since; and once or twice, as we slowly made our way through the
throng, Cassion pointed out to me some character of importance in the
province, or paused to present me with formality to certain officials
whom he knew. It was thus we approached the dais, and awaited our turn
to extend felicitations to the Governor. Just before us was Du L'Hut,
whose name Cassion whispered in my ear, a tall, slender man, attired
as a _courier du bois_, with long fair hair sweeping his shoulders. I
had heard of him as a daring explorer, but there was no premonition
that he would ever again come into my life, and I was more deeply
interested in the appearance of La Barre.

He was a dark man, stern of face, and with strange, furtive eyes,
concealed behind long lashes and overhanging brows. Yet he was most
gracious to Du L'Hut, and when he turned, and perceived Monsieur
Cassion next in line, smiled and extended his hand cordially.

"Ah, Francois, and so you are here at last, and ever welcome. And
this," he bowed low before me in excess of gallantry, "no doubt will
be the Mademoiselle la Chesnayne of whose charms I have heard so much
of late. By my faith, Cassion, even your eloquence hath done small
justice to the lady. Where, Mademoiselle, have you hidden yourself, to
remain unknown to us of Quebec?"

"I have lived with my uncle, Hugo Chevet."

"Ah, yes; I recall the circumstances now--a rough, yet loyal trader.
He was with me once on the Ottawa--and