“That goes without saying, my little one; your presence carries sunshine. We must remember, however, the nerves of Madame la Marquise, who will doubtless await your return with anxiety. If we would reach Ville Marie by daylight it is time to start; and not to succeed in doing so would expose us to many dangers. Nanon has at last completed her preparations. St. Helène is anxious to be gone; experience has taught him the perils of delay. Nor shall I feel at rest until I see you within the walls of the town.” CHAPTER II. _A FORTIFIED RESIDENCE._ “I SHOULD like the Indians to know that we understand the use of the paddle! I don’t absolutely deny that these savages possess some skill in constructing a canoe; but, I ask you, have they the address to give it the daintiness of form which renders ours so coquettish as they dance upon the water? This is not a canoe—it is a feather—a bird that skims the air—a cloud chased by the wind—it should fly! You may see what marvels of swiftness that of M. du Chesne will perform directly.” So spoke a tall Canadian, whose skill as a boatman had gained him the title of “le Canotier.” Madame de St. Helène stood cloaked and hooded in black lace, an elegant, dignified figure whose appearance savored too much of the refinement of urban life to be in harmony with this rustic scene. Her two little children, attended by servants, were beside her. “I would we were safe within the shelter of Ville Marie,” she said wistfully. “Once we quit the stone walls of the fort who can say what trouble may assail us.” “Oh! for that, trouble comes soon enough; it is not worth our while to search for it, Jeanne,” her husband returned lightly. “The question now to be considered is our immediate start. Why, I wonder, do we linger?” The canoes were ready. Soldiers and workmen gathered around them looking expectantly toward the fort. Among these a woman pushed her way, scolding, laughing, gesticulating. Nanon was a comely woman of her class, strong and thick-set, with a face full of piquancy and vivacity. Brown as a berry was this daughter of southern France, with red cheeks and eyes black as sloes. She wore a brown petticoat, a crimson apron with a bib, and a coquettish lace cap with hanging lappets. At every vehement movement her long gold earrings quivered and jingled. “Behold! Madame, Mademoiselle and these gentlemen all are accommodated, and I but attend the good pleasure of the Sieur du Chesne,” she protested in high, shrill tones. “Eh, corbleu! but no, this good Nanon awaits no convenience of mine,” remonstrated a laughing boyish voice; “there is place in the craft of Sans Quartier for thee, my girl. Diane has promised to share my canoe, father,” turning to Le Ber, who stood by an amused listener, “and I have no hesitation in wagering that it is we who shall reach Lachine first.”