her hull; carpenters' tools, tea-chests, bags of
plaster, uniforms, cannon, small arms, beads and trinkets of no value
save to the Indian, silk and wool and a beautiful window for the
cathedral. And in return she was to carry away mink, otter and beaver
skins.

Breton had been left behind by the Chevalier, who had joined a scouting
party up the river. Love and anxiety had made the lad thin. Any night
might bring disastrous news from Three Rivers, the burning of the
settlement and the massacre. Such speculation counteracted his usually
good appetite. So Breton mooned about the wharves day by day, always
looking up the river instead of down.

To-day he lingered to witness the debarkation. Besides, the Henri IV
was a great ship, bringing with her a vague perfume from France.
Listlessly he watched the seamen empty the hold of its treasures;
carelessly he observed the meeting of sweethearts and lovers, wives and
husbands. Two women in masks meant nothing to him. . . Holy Virgin!
it was not possible! Was his brain fooling him? He grew faint. Did
he really see these two old men climbing down the ship's ladder to the
boats? He choked; tears blinded him. He dashed aside the tears and
looked once more. Oh! there could be no doubt; his eyes had not
deceived him. There was only one face like that in the world; only one
face like that, with its wrinkles, its haughty chin, its domineering
nose. He had seen that lean, erect figure, crowned with silver-white
hair, too many times to mistake it. It was the marquis, the grim and
terrible marquis, the ogre of his dreams. The lad had always hated the
marquis, taking his master's side; but at the sight of that familiar
face, he felt his heart swell with joy and love and veneration. For
intuition told him why Monsieur le Marquis was in Quebec. It was to
seek Monsieur le Chevalier. And together they would all go back to
France, beautiful France. He burst into hysterical tears, regardless
of the wonder which he created. And there was the kindly Jehan, who
had dandled him on his knee, long years ago before trouble had cast its
blighting shadow over the House of Perigny. Blessed day!

Very slowly and with infinite pains the marquis climbed from the boat
to the wharf. It was evident to Breton that the long voyage at sea had
sapped his vitality and undermined his vigor. He was still erect, but,
ah! how lean and frail! But his eye was still the eye of the proud
eagle,