spoken, had pleaded her husband's cause, and appealed to
the nobleman's chivalry, Frontenac was moved. But his face was troubled.
He drew out his watch and studied it.

Presently he went to the door and called Maurice Joval. There was
whispering, and then the young man went away.

"Madame, you have spoken of Monsieur Iberville," said the governor.
"Years ago he spoke to me of you."

Her eyes dropped, and then they raised steadily, clearly. "I am sure,
sir," she said, "that Monsieur Iberville would tell you that my
husband could never be dishonourable. They have been enemies, but noble
enemies."

"Yet, Monsieur Iberville might be prejudiced," rejoined the governor. "A
brother's life has weight."

"A brother's life!" she broke in fearfully. "Madame, your husband killed
Iberville's brother."

She swayed. The governor's arm was as quick to her waist as a gallant's
of twenty-five: not his to resist the despair of so noble a creature. He
was sorry for her; but he knew that if all had gone as had been planned
by Iberville, within a half-hour this woman would be a widow.

With some women, perhaps, he would not have hesitated: he would have
argued that the prize was to the victor, and that, Gering gone, Jessica
would amiably drift upon Iberville. But it came to him that she was not
as many other women. He looked at his watch again, and she mistook the
action.

"Oh, your excellency," she said, "do not grudge these moments to one
pleading for a life-for justice."

"You mistake, madame," he said; "I was not grudging the time--for
myself."

At that moment Maurice Joval entered and whispered to the governor.
Frontenac rose.

"Madame," he said, "your husband has escaped." A cry broke from her.
"Escaped! escaped!"

She saw a strange look in the governor's eyes.

"But you have not told me all," she urged; "there is more. Oh, your
excellency, speak!"

"Only this, madame: he may be retaken and--"

"And then? What then?" she cried.

"Upon what happens then," he as drily as regretfully added, "I shall
have no power."

But to the quick searching prayer, the proud eloquence of the woman, the
governor, bound though he was to secresy, could not be adamant.

"There is but one thing I can do for you," he said at last. "You know
Father Dollier de Casson?"

To her assent, he added: "Then go to him. Ask no questions. If anything
can be done, he may do it for you; that he will I do not know."

She could not solve the ridd