'I know that Monsieur Iberville and Mr. Gering, for a foolish quarrel of
years ago, still are cherished foes. I wish your help to make them both
happier; for no man can be happy and hate.' And I gave my word to do
so." Here Perrot chuckled to himself and interjected softly: "Mon Dieu!
she could make a man say anything at all. I would have sworn to her that
while I lived I never should fight. Eh, that's so!"

"Allons!" said Iberville impatiently, yet grasping the arm of the
woodsman kindly.

The abbe once more went on: "When she had ended questioning I said to
her: 'And what message shall I give from you?' 'Tell him,' she answered,
'by the right of lifelong debt I ask for peace.' 'Is that all?' said I.
'Tell him,' she added, 'I hope we may meet again.' 'For whose sake,'
said I, 'do you ask for peace?' 'I am a woman,' she answered, 'I am
selfish--for my own sake.'"

Again the priest paused, and again Iberville urged him.

"I asked if she had no token. There was a flame in her eye, and she
begged me to excuse her. When she came back she handed me a little
packet. 'Give it to Monsieur Iberville,' she said, 'for it is his. He
lent it to me years ago. No doubt he has forgotten.'"

At that the priest drew from his cassock a tiny packet, and Iberville,
taking, opened it. It held a silver buckle tied by a velvet ribbon. A
flush crept slowly up Iberville's face from his chin to his hair, then he
sighed, and presently, out of all reason, laughed.

"Indeed, yes; it is mine," he said. "I very well remember when I found