With an exultant throb the girl’s spirit leaped free from its chains. Amidst these perilous circumstances she was conscious of feeling a perfect courage and serenity. Turning his head, du Chesne smiled at her tone. “Place yourself behind me, Diane; you can help by loading as I fire. We will stand on our defence. These wolves will lurk about and try to climb into the fort under the cover of darkness. We must not permit them to approach, lest they set fire to the roof.” The Iroquois showed no disposition to retire, but commenced industriously to erect barricades of stones and bushes, as though notwithstanding the check they had encountered they were resolved to begin a prolonged siege. “It looks as though it may be late before we reach Ville Marie. B-r-r-r-r! The tongue of our good Nanon goes like the clapper of a mill. Well, she amuses the soldiers, and she is as ready to aid with the hands as the voice. These savages take us for targets, do they? When the violins play, then is the time to dance.” Bibelot kept up a continuous barking, which added to the tumult. Nanon’s wrathful denunciations of the enemy delighted the soldiers and soothed her own nerves, even if they failed to annihilate the assailants. Thus the little party contrived to keep up their spirits. Diane, keeping close behind du Chesne, loading one gun as he fired another, standing ready to obey his behests, had time to think of many things. Her eyes rested upon the young man with growing amazement. It was an hour of revelation. All the careless boyishness of his face had been replaced by an expression keen, stern, resolute; his eyes flamed with a light which was almost cruel in its intensity. There was something splendid in the stalwart pride of courage. Watching this novel moulding of the familiar features, the girl was beset by a strange sense of unreality. This was no longer her boyish comrade whom she had teased and flattered and cajoled; this was a man strong to command, to defy fate, who would rise equal to every crisis, and who would grow with every emergency. An absorbing feeling took possession of Diane’s mind, her heart swelled with a new spring of impassioned emotion, a subtle intoxication mounted like fire to her brain. It dawned upon her that du Chesne was a hero, and that he had counted her worthy of aiding him in his extremity. This thought flushed her horizon with the sunshine of heroic impulse. Her face was full of a tense eagerness, almost beyond the artifices of concealment. Once speaking, she ventured rather breathlessly: “Gentlemen are born to shed their blood for God and the King.”