ad but a few moments since been endowed with marvelous skill and
cunning and strength: it was icy and damp.

He filled the glass of wine, ready for the marquis's awakening, and
again found his gaze entrapped by the envelope. His hand reached out
for it absently and without purpose. He read the address
indifferently--"To Monsieur le Marquis de Perigny, to be delivered into
his hands at my death." The marquis, then, had lost some friend? He
put back the letter, placing a book upon it to prevent its being swept
to the floor.

There was a sound. The marquis had recovered his senses. He looked
blankly around, at the candles, at Brother Jacques, at the sheets which
covered his strangely deadened limbs.

"Ah! I have had only a bad dream, then? Pour me a glass of wine, and
I shall sleep."

CHAPTER XXIV

SISTER BENIE AND A DISSERTATION ON CHARITY

Three days passed. At Orleans the settlers had had two or three
brushes with marauding Mohawks. A letter from Father Chaumonot at the
mission in Onondaga reported favorable progress. D'Herouville was
again out of hospital; and De Leviston had stolen quietly away to
Montreal, where he was shortly to succumb to the plague. Only three
persons knew of the remarkable conflict between the marquis and
D'Herouville: the son, Brother Jacques, and the Vicomte d'Halluys, who
possessed that mysterious faculty of finding out many things of which
the majority were unaware. As for the marquis, Brother Jacques
fostered the belief that it had been only a wild dream.

Each morning Madame de Brissac watched with growing eagerness the
lading of the good ship Henri IV. It seemed impossible to her that the
deception in regard to the Chevalier could continue much longer. Where
was the denouement on which she had builded so fondly? She had put it
off so many times that perhaps it was now too late. Sooner or later
Victor would slip, and the mask would be at an end. And why not? Why
not have done with a comedy which had grown stale? Why not tell
Monsieur du Cevennes that she was Gabrielle Diane de Montbazon, she
whose miniature he had crushed beneath the heel of his riding boot?
Rather would she tell him than leave it to the offices of D'Herouville
or the vicomte. Surely her purpose had been to bring him to his knees
and then laugh! Relent? Not while her cup still held a drop of pride.
She had been mad indeed. To have come here to Quebec with purpose and
impulse undefined!