tly he leaned a hand also on Jessica's
shoulder-she had insisted. On the way, Perrot told how it was he chanced
to be there. A band of coureurs du bois, bound for Quebec, had come upon
old Le Moyne and himself in the woods. Le Moyne had gone on with these
men, while Perrot pushed on to New York, arriving at the very moment of
the kidnapping. He heard the cry and made towards it. He had met Gering,
and the rest they knew.

Certain things did not happen. The governor of New York did not at once
engage in an expedition to the Spaniards' country. A brave pursuit was
made, but Bucklaw went uncaptured. Iberville and Gering did not make a
third attempt to fight; Perrot prevented that. Iberville left, however,
with a knowledge of three things: that he was the first Frenchman from
Quebec who had been, or was likely to be, popular in New York; that
Jessica Leveret had shown a tender gratitude towards him--naive,
candid--which set him dreaming gaily of the future; that Gering and he,
in spite of outward courtesy, were still enemies; for Gering could not
forget that, in the rescue of Jessica, Iberville had done the work while
he merely played the crier.

"We shall meet again, monsieur," said Iberville at last; "at least, I
hope so."

"I shall be glad," answered Gering mechanically. "But 'tis like I shall
come to you before you come to me," added Iberville, with meaning.
Jessica was standing not far away, and Gering did not instantly reply.
In the pause, Iberville said: "Au revoir! A la bonne heure!" and walked
away. Presently he turned with a little ironical laugh and waved his
hand at Gering; and laugh and gesture rankled in Gering for many a day.

EPOCH THE SECOND

CHAPTER VII

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

Montreal and Quebec, dear to the fortunes of such men as Iberville, were
as cheerful in the still iron winter as any city under any more cordial
sky then or now: men loved, hated, made and broke bargains, lied to
women, kept a foolish honour with each other, and did deeds of valour
for a song, as ever they did from the beginning of the world. Through
the stern soul of Nature ran the temperament of men who had hearts of
summer; and if, on a certain notable day in Iberville's life, one
could have looked through the window of a low stone house in Notre
Dame Street, Montreal, one could have seen a priest joyously playing a
violin; though even in Europe, Maggini and Stradivarius were but little
known, and the instrument it