André, though not quite relishing this pleasantry, which jarred a little on his vanity, nevertheless could not help laughing. Late in the evening M. d'Egmont handed Jules a little silver candlestick exquisitely wrought. "There, my dear boy, is all that my creditors have left me of my ancient fortune. They intended it, I suppose, to solace my sleepless nights. Good-night, dear boy; one sleeps well at your age; and when, after my prayers beneath the vault of that great temple which is forever declaring the glory of God, I once more come under my roof, you will be deep in your slumbers." CHAPTER X. MADAME D'HABERVILLE'S STORY. Saepè malum hoc nobis, si mens non læva fuisset, De c[oe]lo tactas memini praedicere quercus. +Virgil.+ All was silence and gloom at D'Haberville Manor; the very servants went about their work with a spiritless air, far unlike their usual gayety. Madame D'Haberville choked back her tears that she might not add to her husband's grief, and Blanche, for her mother's sake, did her weeping in secret; for in three days the vessel was to set sail. Captain D'Haberville had bidden his two friends, the priest and M. d'Egmont, to meet Jules and Archie at a farewell dinner. At this meal every one strove to be cheerful, but the attempt was a conspicuous failure. The priest, wisely concluding that a sober conversation would be better than the sorrowful silence into which the party was continually dropping, introduced a subject which was beginning to press on all thoughtful minds. "Do you know, gentlemen," said he, "that a storm is gathering dark on the horizon of New France. The English are making tremendous preparations, and everything seems to indicate an early attack." "And then?" exclaimed Uncle Raoul. "Then, whatever you like, my dear chevalier," answered the curé; "but it must be acknowledged that we have hardly forces enough at our command to long resist our powerful neighbors." "My dear abbé," exclaimed Uncle Raoul, "I think that in your reading this morning you must have stumbled on a chapter of the lamentations of Jeremiah." "I might turn your weapon against yourself," retorted the priest, "by reminding you that those prophecies were fulfilled." "No matter," almost shouted Uncle Raoul, clinching his teeth. "The English, indeed! The English take Canada! By heaven, I would undertake to defend Quebec with my crutch. You forget, it seems, that we have always beaten the English; that we have beaten them against all odds--five to one--ten to one--sometimes twenty to one! The English, indeed!" "_Concedo_," said the curé; "I am ready to grant all you claim, and more too if you like. But mark this. We grow weaker and weaker with every victory, while the enemy, thanks to the foresight of England, rises with new strength from each defeat; meanwhile, France leaves us to our own resources." "Which shows," exclaimed Captain D'Haberville, "the faith our King reposes in our courage."