"Yet, Monsieur Iberville might be prejudiced," rejoined the governor.
"A brother's life has weight."

"A brother's life!" she broke in fearfully. "Madame, your husband
killed Iberville's brother."

She swayed. The governor's arm was as quick to her waist as a gallant's
of twenty-five: not his to resist the despair of so noble a creature. He
was sorry for her; but he knew that if all had gone as had been planned
by Iberville, within a half-hour this woman would be a widow.

With some women, perhaps, he would not have hesitated: he would have
argued that the prize was to the victor, and that, Gering gone, Jessica
would amiably drift upon Iberville. But it came to him that she was not
as many other women. He looked at his watch again, and she mistook the
action.

"Oh, your excellency," she said, "do not grudge these moments to one
pleading for a life-for justice."

"You mistake, madame," he said; "I was not grudging the time--for
myself."

At that moment Maurice Joval entered and whispered to the governor.
Frontenac rose.

"Madame," he said, "your husband has escaped." A cry broke from her.
"Escaped! escaped!"