himself had set upon his heels! What a fool! What a fool! He had
cast out his heart for the rooks and the daws. Wherever he might go,
the world would go also, and the covert smile . . . and the covert
smile . . . God, how apart from all mankind he seemed this night. But
for Victor he would have sought the woods at once, facing the Iroquois
fearlessly. He must remain, to bow his head before the glances of the
curious, the head that once was held so high; accept rebuffs without
murmur, stand aside, step down, and follow. If a man laughed at him,
he must turn away: his sword could no longer protect him. How his lips
thirsted for the wine-cup, for one mad night, and then . . . oblivion!
An outcast! What would be his end? O the long years! For him there
should be no wifely lips to kiss away the penciled lines of care; the
happy voices of children would never make music in his ears. He was
alone, always and ever alone!

Presently the Chevalier bowed his head upon the cold iron of the
cannon. The crimson west grew fainter and fainter; and the evening
breeze came up and stirred the Company's flags on the warehouses far
below.

Suddenly the Chevalier lifted his head. He was still an officer and a
gentleman. He would stand taller, look into each eye and dare with his
own. It was not what he had been, nor what had been done to him; it
was what he was, would be and do. If every hand was to be against his,
so be it. D'Hérouville? Some day that laugh should cost him dear.
The vicomte? What was his misfortune to the vicomte that he should
pick a quarrel on his account? Was he a gallant fellow like Victor?
He would learn.

He put on his hat. It was dark. Lights began to flicker in the fort