But De Casson's eyes were not for these. He was watching the lights of
a ship that slowly made its way down the river among the canoes, and his
eyes never left it till it had passed beyond the island of Orleans and
was lost in the night.

"Mon cher!" he said, "mon enfant! She is not for him; she should not
be. As a priest it were my duty to see that he should not marry her.
As a man" he sighed--"as a man I would give my life for him."

He lifted his hand and made the sign of the cross towards that spot on
the horizon whither Iberville had gone.

"He will be a great man some day," he added to himself--"a great man.
There will be empires here, and when histories are written Pierre's shall
be a name beside Frontenac's and La Salle's."

All the human affection of the good abbe's life centred upon Iberville.
Giant in stature, so ascetic and refined was his mind, his life, that he
had the intuition of a woman and, what was more, little of the bigotry
of his brethren. As he turned from the heights, made his way along the
cliff and down Mountain Street, his thoughts were still upon the same
subject. He suddenly paused.

"He will marry the sword," he said, "and not the woman."

How far he was right we may judge if we enter the house of Governor
Nicholls at New York one month later.