Victor.

The way back to the fort was one of unbroken silence. Neither madame
nor the Chevalier spoke again.

The Chevalier had some tasks to perform that evening which employed his
time far beyond the meal hour. When he entered the mess-room it was
deserted save for the presence of Corporal Fremin, one of the
dissatisfied colonists. Several times he had been found unduly under
the influence of apricot brandy. Du Puys had placed him in the
guardhouse at three different periods for this misdemeanor. Where he
got the brandy none could tell, and the corporal would not confess to
the Jesuit Fathers, nor to his brother, who was a priest.
Unfortunately, he had been drinking again to-day. He sat opposite the
Chevalier, smoking moodily, his little eyes blinking, blinking.

"Corporal," said the Chevalier, "will you pass me the corn?"

"Reach for it yourself," replied the corporal, insolently. He went on
smoking.

The Chevalier sat back in his chair, dumfounded. "Pass me that corn!"
peremptorily.

The intoxicated soldier saw nothing in the flashing eyes; so he
shrugged. "I am not your lackey."

The Chevalier was up in an instant. Passing quickly around the table
he inserted his fingers between the corporal's collar and his neck,
twisting him out of his chair and literally lifting him to his feet.

"What do you mean by this insolence? Pah!" scenting the brandy; "you
have been drinking."

"What's that to you? You are not my superior officer. Let go of my
collar."

"I am an officer in the king's army, and there is an unwritten law that
all non-commissioned officers are my inferiors, here or elsewhere, and
must obey me. You shall go to the guardhouse. I asked nothing of you
but a common courtesy, and you became insolent. To the guardhouse you
shall go."

"My superior, eh?" tugging uselessly at the hand of iron gripping his
collar. "I know one thing, and it is something you, fine gentleman
that you are, do not know. I know who my mother was . . ."

The corporal lay upon his back, his eyes bulging, his face purple, his
breaths coming in agonizing gasps.

"Who told you to say that? Quick, or you shall this instant stand in
judgment before the God who made you! Quick!"

There was death in the Chevalier's eyes, and the corporal saw it. He
struggled.

"Quick!"

"Monsieur d'Herouville! . . . You are killing me!"

The Chevalier released the man's throat.

"Get up," contemptuously.

The corpor