something about that
pretty old church across the square. See how the moonlight sparkles on
the tin spire. What is the name of it?"

"Our Lady of the Victories," he answered, seating himself
unwillingly. "They say it is the most old of the churches of Quebec."

"It is a fine name," said I. "What does it mean? What victories?"

"The French over the English, I suppose, long ago. It does not
interest me now. I must be on my road to the _Moulin Gris_."

"Will you stop on your way to say a prayer at the door of the church
of Our Lady of the Victories?"

His eyes dropped and he shook his head.

"Well, then, on your way back in the morning perhaps you will stop at
the church and go in to confess?"

He nodded his head and spoke heavily. "Who knows? Perhaps yes--perhaps
no. There may be fighting to-night. Pierre is very mad and ugly. I am
not afraid. But it is evident that m'sieu' makes the conversation to
detain me. We are old friends. Why not speak frank?"

"Old friends we are, Pat, and frank it is. I do not want you to go to
the Gray Mill. You have been drinking--stronger stuff than coffee.
Those people will pluck you, do you up, perhaps stick a knife in you.
Then what will become of Angelique and the twins? Stay here a while; I
want to talk to you about the twins. How are they? You have not told
me a word about them yet."

His face sombered and brightened again. He poured himself another cup
of coffee and put in three spoonfuls of sugar, smiling as he stirred
it.

"Ah," said he, "that is something good to speak of--those twins! It is
easily seen that m'sieu' knows how to make the conversation. I could
talk of those twins for a long time. They are better than
ever--strong, fat, and good--and pretty, too--you may believe it! I
pretend to make nothing of the boy, just to tease my wife; and she
pretends to make nothing of the girl, just to tease me. But they are a
pair--I tell you, a pair of marvels!"

He went on telling me about their growth, their adventures, their
clever tricks, as if the subject were inexhaustible. I offered him a
cigar. But no, he preferred his pipe--with a _pipee_ of the good
tobacco from the Upper Town, if I would oblige him? The smoke wreaths
curled over our heads. The other tables were gradually deserted. The
sleepy waiter had received payment for the coffee and cleared away the
cups. The moon slipped behind the lofty cliff of the Citadel, and the
little square lay in soft shadow with the