will have quieted down by then. Devil take me, but I should like to
feel that paper crackling between my fingers. And you meet
D'Hérouville in two days?"

"In two days."

"Will you not join me in a glass of the governor's old burgundy as a
toast to your success?"

"Thank you, but I am on duty. They are bringing some Mohawks up from
the lower town, and I am to take charge of them."

"Good luck to you;" and the vicomte waved a friendly hand as he started
off toward the citadel.

The Chevalier with a dozen men started for the lower town. But his
mind was not on his duty. He was thinking of Diane, her gay laughter,
her rollicking songs, the old days.

"Monsieur, are we to go to Sillery?" asked a trooper, respectfully.

"Sillery?" The Chevalier shook himself, and took the right path.

The Chevalier and Victor sat on their narrow cots that night. Brother
Jacques had just gone. The windows were open, and the balmy air of
summer drifted in, carrying with it forest odors and the freshness of
the rising dew. Fireflies sparkled in the grass, and the pale stars of
early evening pierced the delicate green of the heavens. A single
candle flickered on the table, and the candlestick was an empty
burgundy bottle. The call of one sentry to another broke the solemn