"Yes, I remember. You asked me then what was the greatest, bravest thing
I ever did. You ever had a buoyant spirit, madame."

"Monsieur," she rejoined, with feeling, "will you let me answer that
question for you now? The bravest and greatest thing you ever did was
to give a woman back her happiness."

"Have I done so?"

"In your heart, yes, I believe. A little while ago my husband's life and
freedom were in your hands--you will place them in mine now, will you
not?"

Iberville did not reply directly. He twisted his wineglass round, sipped
from it pleasantly, and said: "Pardon me, madame, how were you admitted
here?"

She told him.

"Singular, singular!" he replied; "I never knew Perrot fail me before.
But you have eloquence, madame, and he knew, no doubt, that you would
always be welcome to my home."

There was that in his voice which sent the blood stinging through
Gering's veins. He half came to his feet, but his wife's warning,
pleading glance brought him to his chair again.

"Monsieur, tell me," she said, "will you give my husband his freedom?"

"Madame, his life is the State's."