That was true enough. Business ended at the old-fashioned supper time. There was one little French tavern far up the Rue Royale, near the Locust Street of to-day; but the conviviality of friends, which was mostly social, took place at home, out on the wide porches, where cards were played for amusement. The Indians had dispersed. A few people were strolling about, and some flat boats were moored at the dock, almost indistinguishable in the shade. The river wound about with a slow, soft lapping, every little crest and wavelet throwing up a sparkling gem and then sweeping it as quickly away. From here one could see out to both ends. The semi-circular gates terminated at the river’s edge, and at each a cannon was planted and kept in readiness for use. Now and then there would be vague rumors about the English on the opposite shore. The new stockade of logs and clay surmounted by pickets was slowly replacing the worn-out one. Renée was fain to linger, with her childish prattle and touching gestures of devotion. How the child loved him already! That a faint tint of jealousy had been kindled would have amused him if he had suspected it. When they turned back in the Rue Royale they met M. Renaud enjoying his pipe. “Ah, truant!” he exclaimed; “they were beginning to feel anxious about you. Barbe declared you might stay all night. Was it not true you had threatened?” “They would not have me,” she returned laughingly, her heart in a glow over the thought that when she did stay permanently, there would be no need of Uncle Gaspard going to the Renauds’. “Was that it?” rather gayly. “The girls will miss thee. They are very fond of thee, Renée de Longueville.” Then Renée’s heart relented with the quick compunction of childhood. “M. Laclede’s fleet of keel boats will be up shortly, I heard to-day. The town must give him a hearty welcome. What a man he is! What energy and forethought! A little more than twenty years and we have grown to this, where there was nothing but a wild. Denys, there is a man for you!” “Fort Chartres helped it along. I was but a boy when we came over. My mother is buried there, and it almost broke my father’s heart to leave her.” “Those hated English!” said Renaud, almost under his breath. “The colonies have revolted, it is said. I should be glad to see them driven out of the country.” “Yes, I heard the talk at Quebec and more of it as I came down the lakes. But the country is so big, why cannot each take a piece in content? Do you ever think we may be driven out to the wilderness?” “And find the true road to India?” with a short laugh. “Strange stories are told by some of the hunters of inaccessible mountains. And what is beyond no one knows,” shrugging his shoulders.