Jean’s attitude toward the world was changed. No longer did he despise the opinions of the neighbours, but found himself wondering what they would think and say when they saw him take up his former work. His mother, the curé, his friend Michel, and a few others would be glad; and he was glad to think that he could please them in any way. His enemies would be disconcerted; and he took a malicious pleasure in thinking of their confusion, and in guessing what their next move would be. As for the rest, they might find fault for a time, but sooner or later the benefits of his work would appear; all the good people of the parish would approve; and his reputation would spread far and wide--to Beauport, Quebec and the greater world beyond. A good name--that was something worth while; a prize to be won, a possession to be kept, an heirloom to be handed down to future generations. But if not, if in the end he should fail, he would still have the satisfaction of attempting a noble task; a few friends would understand, and the good God would know that he had done his best. And Gabrielle? Jean could no longer think of her as a novice of the Ursulines preparing to take the veil, to renounce all human love and devote her young life to prayer and penance within convent walls. On the contrary, she now resumed her former place in his scheme of life; the golden-haired châtelaine of his Castle in Spain; for whose love he would fight unto the death; at whose feet he would lay all the trophies of war; and from whom he would ask, in the hour of victory, his greatest earthly reward--herself. As Jean was preparing to depart, putting away the canoe, setting the cabin in order, taking a last look at the lake, he was sorry to leave the beautiful place; but his heart was full of an abiding joy; for he was thinking all the time of Gabrielle; and when at last he turned his back upon his hermitage, and set himself to climb the southern hill, his joyous voice woke again the echoes of the forest, as he sang the brave song of a crusader who prayed for victory and love: "Partant pour la Syrie, Le jeune et beau Dunois, Alla prier Marie De benir ses exploits. ’Donne, reine immortelle,’ Lui dit-il en partant, ’Que j’aime la plus belle, Et sois le plus vaillant.’" *CHAPTER XXV* *TREASURE TROVE* "Where are you going, Jean Baptiste?" Jean stopped instantly, and stared in dumb surprise; for there was Gabrielle standing before him in a hunting suit of tanned buckskin, a light rifle on her arm--a veritable Diana of the wilderness. "Speak, Jean! Say something, for goodness’ sake. I am not a ghost, nor a holy picture descended from its frame. It is I, Gabrielle." "As I see," said Jean, raising his cap and offering his hand. "Welcome to Lac Desir, Gabrielle." "Lac Desir! What a pretty name! Where is Lac Desir, Jean? Which way?"