ady for sake of Cecile Tourangeau!" La Corne was exchanging some
gay badinage with a graceful, pretty young lady on the other side of the
table, whose snowy forehead, if you examined it closely, was marked with
a red scar, in figure of a cross, which, although powdered and partially
concealed by a frizz of her thick blonde hair, was sufficiently distinct
to those who looked for it; and many did so, as they whispered to each
other the story of how she got it.

Le Gardeur de Repentigny sat by Cecile, talking in a very sociable
manner, which was also commented on. His conversation seemed to be
very attractive to the young lady, who was visibly delighted with the
attentions of her handsome gallant.

At this moment a burst of instruments from the musicians, who occupied a
gallery at the end of the hall, announced a vocal response to the toast
of the King's health, proposed by the Bourgeois. "Prepare yourself for
the chorus, Chevalier," exclaimed Hortense. "Father de Berey is going to
lead the royal anthem!"

"Vive le Roi!" replied La Corne. "No finer voice ever sang Mass, or
chanted 'God Save the King!' I like to hear the royal anthem from the
lips of a churchman rolling it out ore rotundo, like one of the Psalms
of David. Our first duty is to love God,--our next to honor the King!
and New France will never fail in either!" Loyalty was ingrained in
every fibre of La Corne St. Luc.

"Never, Chevalier. Law and Gospel rule together, or fall together! But
we must rise," replied Hortense, springing up.

The whole company rose simultaneously. The rich, mellow voice of
the Rev. Father de Berey, round and full as the organ of Ste. Marie,
commenced the royal anthem composed by Lulli in honor of Louis Quatorze,
upon an occasion of his visit to the famous Convent of St. Cyr, in
company with Madame de Maintenon.

The song composed by Madame Brinon was afterwards translated into
English, and words and music became, by a singular transposition, the
national hymn of the English nation.

"God Save the King!" is no longer heard in France. It was buried with
the people's loyalty, fathoms deep under the ruins of the monarchy. But
it flourishes still with pristine vigor in New France, that olive branch
grafted on the stately tree of the British Empire. The broad chest and
flexile lips of Father de Berey rang out the grand old song in tones
that filled the stately old hall:

"'Grand Dieu! Sauvez le Roi!
Grand Dieu! Sauv