"Oh, lady, say, is this your daughter? Oh, lady, say, is this your daughter? In buckles of gold and rings galore, The watermen bold are at the oar." The blindfolded lady responds in the same fashion: "Oh, yes, it is, it is my daughter, etc." Or else: "Oh, no, it is not, it is not my daughter; Oh, no, it is not, it is not my daughter. In buckles of gold and rings galore, The watermen bold are at the oar." After having inspected several heads, Elise, hearing under the shawl the stifled laughter of Jules, imagined she had grasped her prey. She feels his head. It is not unlike that of Jules. The face, indeed, seems a trifle long, but this rascally Jules has so many tricks for disguising himself! Did he not mystify the company for a whole evening, having been introduced as an old aunt just arrived that very day from France? Under this disguise, did he not have the audacity to kiss all the pretty women in the room, including Elise herself? The wretch! Yes, Jules is capable of anything! Under this impression she pinches an ear. There is a cry of pain and a low growl, followed by a loud barking. She snatches the bandage from her eyes, to find herself confronted with two rows of threatening teeth. It was Niger. Just as at the house of Farmer Dinmont, of whom Scott tell us, all the dogs were named Pepper, so at the D'Haberville mansion all the dogs were called Niger or Nigra, in memory of their ancestor, whom the little Jules had named to show his progress in Latin. Elise at once snatched off her high-heeled shoe, and made an attack on Jules. The latter held poor Niger as a shield, and ran from room to room, the girl following him hotly amid roars of laughter. Oh, happy time when lightness of heart made wit unnecessary! Oh, happy time when the warmth of welcome made superfluous the luxury which these ruined Canadians were learning to do without! The houses, like the hearts of their owners, seemed able to enlarge themselves to meet every possible demand of hospitality. Sleeping-places were improvised upon the slightest occasion; and when once the ladies were comfortably provided for the sterner sex found no difficulty in shifting for themselves. These men, who had passed half their life in camp during the harshest seasons; who had journeyed four or five leagues on snow-shoes, resting by night in holes which they dug in the snow (as they did when they went to attack the English in Acadia), these men of iron could do without swan's-down coverlets to their couches.