The four entered and stood within the light shed by two tall candles.
The old man gazed at them a long time in silence, but finally he said:

"And so the English have come at last."

"We're not English, M. de Chatillard," said Willet, "we're Americans,
Bostonnais, as you call us."

"It is the same. You are but the children of the English and you fight
together against us. You increase too fast in the south. You thrive in
your towns and in the woods, and you send greater and greater numbers
against us. But you cannot take Quebec. The capital of New France is
inviolate."

Willet said nothing. How could he argue with a man past ninety who lay
upon his dying bed?

"You cannot take Quebec," repeated M. de Chatillard, rising, strength
showing in his voice. "The Bostonnais have come before. It was in
Frontenac's time nearly three-quarters of a century ago, when Phipps and
his armada from New England arrived before Quebec. I was but a lad then
newly come from France, but the great governor, Frontenac, made ready
for them. We had batteries in the Sault-au-Matelot on Palace Hill, on
Mount Carmel, before the Jesuits' college, in the Lower Town and
everywhere. Three-quarters of a century ago did I say? No, it was
yesterday! I remember how we fought. Frontenac was a great man as
Montcalm is!"

"Peace, M. de Chatillard," said Father Drouillard soothingly. "You speak
of old, old times and old, old things!"

"They were the days of my youth," said the old man, "and they are not
old to me. It was a great siege, but the valor of France and Canada were
not to be overcome. The armies and ships of the Bostonnais went back
whence they came, and the new invasion of the Bostonnais will have no
better fate."

Willet was still silent. He saw that the old siege of Quebec was much
more in M. de Chatillard's mind than the present one, and if he could
pass away in the odor of triumph the hunter would not willingly change
it.

"Who is the youth who stands near you?" said M. de Chatillard, looking
at Robert.

"He is Robert Lennox of the Province of New York," replied Father
Drouillard, speaking for Willet. "One of the Bostonnais, but a good
youth."

"One of the Bostonnais! Then I do not know him! I thought for a moment
that I saw in him the look of some one else, but maybe I was mistaken.
An old man cheats himself with fancies. Lad, come thou farther into the
light and let me see thee more clearly."

The tone of command was strong