ad that once was held so high; accept rebuffs without
murmur, stand aside, step down, and follow. If a man laughed at him,
he must turn away: his sword could no longer protect him. How his lips
thirsted for the wine-cup, for one mad night, and then . . . oblivion!
An outcast! What would be his end? O the long years! For him there
should be no wifely lips to kiss away the penciled lines of care; the
happy voices of children would never make music in his ears. He was
alone, always and ever alone!

Presently the Chevalier bowed his head upon the cold iron of the
cannon. The crimson west grew fainter and fainter; and the evening
breeze came up and stirred the Company's flags on the warehouses far
below.

Suddenly the Chevalier lifted his head. He was still an officer and a
gentleman. He would stand taller, look into each eye and dare with his
own. It was not what he had been, nor what had been done to him; it
was what he was, would be and do. If every hand was to be against his,
so be it. D'Herouville? Some day that laugh should cost him dear.
The vicomte? What was his misfortune to the vicomte that he should
pick a quarrel on his account? Was he a gallant fellow like Victor?
He would learn.

He put on his hat. It was dark. Lights began to flicker in the fort
and the chateau. The resolution seemed to give him new strength, and
he squared his shoulders, took in deep breaths, entered the officers'
mess and dined.

The men about him were for the most part manly men, brave, open-handed,
rough outwardly and soft within. And as they saw him take his seat
quietly, a sparkle of admiration gleamed from every eye. The vicomte
and Victor, both out on parole, took their plates and glasses and
ranged alongside of the Chevalier. In France they would have either
left the room or cheered him; as it was, they all finished the evening
meal as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

So the Chevalier won his first victory.

CHAPTER XVII

WHAT THE SHIP HENRI IV BRINGS TO QUEBEC

The ship Henri IV dropped anchor before Quebec on the seventh day of
August. This being the Company's vessel, hundreds of Canadians flocked
to the wharves. And again flags decked the chateau and town, and
cannon roared. The Henri IV was part merchantman and part man-of-war.
Her ports bristled with cannon, her marines wore formidable cutlasses,
and the law on board was military in the strictest sense. Stores and
ammunition filled