themselves for him, and he ready to accept the sacrifice. He was not
ashamed of the mist, but he wondered that the thing had come to him all
at once. He grasped the hands of both, shook them heartily, then dashed
his fingers across his eyes, and with the instinct of every imperfect
man,--that touch of the aboriginal in all of us, who must have a sign for
an emotion, he went to a cabinet and out came a bottle of wine.

An hour after, Perrot left him at the ship's side.

They were both cheerful. "Two years, Perrot; two years!" he said.

"Ah, mon grand capitaine!"

Iberville turned away, then came back again. "You will start at once?"

"At once; and the abbe shall write."

Upon the lofty bank of the St. Lawrence, at the Sault au Matelot, a tall
figure clad in a cassock stood and watched the river below. On the high
cliff of Point Levis lights were showing, and fires burning as far off as
the island of Orleans. And in that sweet curve of shore, from the St.
Charles to Beauport, thousands of stars seemed shining. Nearer still,
from the heights, there was the same strange scintillation; the great
promontory had a coronet of stars. In the lower town there was like
illumination, and out upon the river trailed long processions of light.
It was the feast of good Sainte Anne de Beaupre. All day long had there
been masses and processions on land. Hundreds of Jesuits, with thousands
of the populace, had filed behind the cross and the host. And now there
was a candle in every window. Indians, half-breeds, coureurs du bois,
native Canadians, seigneurs, and noblesse, were joining in the function.