n the air on her swan's back?
That is too absurd," said Edelwald. "No one ever saw her play such
pranks. And you could have winged the heavy bird as he rose."

"I know she is out of Fort St. John at this minute," insisted Renot
Babinet. "And how are you to wing a bird which gets out of sight before
you know what has happened?"

"I say it is no wonder we have trouble in this seigniory," growled the
other man. "Our lady never could see a mongrel baby or a witch dwarf or
a stray black gown anywhere, but she must have it into the fort and make
it free of the best here."

"And God forever bless her," said Edelwald, baring his head.

"Amen," they both responded with force.

The silent cry was mighty behind Edelwald's lips;--the cry which he
intrusted not even to his human breath--

"My love--my love! My royal lady! God, thou who alone knowest my secret,
make me a giant to hold it down!"

XVIII.

THE SONG OF EDELWALD.

At daybreak a signal on the wall where it could be seen from D'Aulnay's
camp brought an officer and his men to receive Madame La Tour's
dispatches. Glaud Burge handed them, down at the end of a ramrod.

"But see yonder," he said to Francois Bastarack his companion, as they
stood and watched the messengers tramp away. He pointed to Klussman
below the fort--poor Klussman whom the pearly vapors of morning could
not conceal. "I could have done that myself in first heat, but I like
not treating with a man who did it coolly."

Parleying and demurring over the terms of surrender continued until
noon. All that time ax, saw and hammer worked in D'Aulnay's camp as if
he had suddenly taken to ship-building. But the pastimes of a victorious
force are regarded with dull attention by the vanquished. Finally the
papers were handed up bearing D'Aulnay's signature. They guaranteed to
Madame La Tour the safety of her garrison, who were to march out with
their arms and personal belongings, the household goods of her people;
and La Tour's ship with provisions enough to stock it for a voyage. The
money, merchandise, stores, jewels and ordnance fell to D'Aulnay with
the fort.

D'Aulnay marched directly on his conquest. His drums approached, and the
garrison ran to throw into a heap such things as they and their families
were to take away. Spotless weather and a dimpled bay adorned this lost
seigniory. It was better than any dukedom in France to these first
exiled Acadians. Pierre Doucett's widow and another ber