I could hear no further, but I was now sure that he was some one
of note who had retired from any share in state affairs. He and
Doltaire then moved on to the doors of the citadel, and, pausing
there, Doltaire turned round and made a motion of his hand to
Gabord. I was at once surrounded by the squad of men, and the
order to march was given. A drum in front of me began to play a
well-known derisive air of the French army, The Fox and the Wolf.

We came out on the St. Foye Road and down towards the Chateau St.
Louis, between crowds of shouting people who beat drums, kettles,
pans, and made all manner of mocking noises. It was meant not only
against myself, but against the British people. The women were not
behind the men in violence; from them at first came handfuls of
gravel and dust which struck me in the face; but Gabord put a
stop to that.

It was a shameful ordeal, which might have vexed me sorely if I
had not had greater trials and expected worse. Now and again
appeared a face I knew--some lady who turned her head away, or
some gentleman who watched me curiously, but made no sign.

When we came to the Chateau, I looked up as if casually, and there
in the little round window I saw Alixe's face--for an instant only.
I stopped in my tracks, was prodded by a soldier from behind, and
I then stepped on. Entering, we were taken to the rear of the
building, where, in an open courtyard, were a company of soldiers,
some seats, and a table. On my right was the St. Lawrence swelling
on its course, hundreds of feet beneath, little boats passing
hither and thither on its flood.