had dandled him on his knee, long years ago before trouble had cast its
blighting shadow over the House of Périgny. Blessed day!

Very slowly and with infinite pains the marquis climbed from the boat
to the wharf. It was evident to Breton that the long voyage at sea had
sapped his vitality and undermined his vigor. He was still erect, but,
ah! how lean and frail! But his eye was still the eye of the proud
eagle, and it swept the crowd, searching for a familiar face. Breton
dared not make himself known because of that eye. An officer who had
formerly resided in Rochelle recognized the marquis instantly, and he
pressed forward.

"Monsieur le Marquis in Quebec?" he cried.

"You are of the fort?" replied the marquis. His voice was thin and
high, like that of old men whose blood is turning to water.

"Yes, Monsieur," answered the officer.

"Will you lead me to his Excellency the governor? I have letters to
present from her Majesty the queen."

"Follow me, Monsieur;" and the officer conducted the marquis through
the crowd, politely but firmly brushing aside those who blocked his
path. He found the governor quickly. "Your Excellency, the Marquis de
Périgny wishes to present to you letters from her august Majesty."

"Monsieur le Marquis here?" exclaimed the governor. He embraced the
old nobleman, whom he held in genuine regard.