In his own simple apartments the “brave, sensible young man, of great temper and good nature,” was writing, with what for him was unusual irascibility, a letter to the Bishop of Quebec. But his patience had been sorely tried. “Was it you,” he wrote, “who sent Le Loutre as a missionary to the Micmacs? And is it for their good that he excites these wretches to practise their cruelties against those who have shown them every kindness? The conduct of the priests of Acadia has been such that by command of his majesty I have published an order declaring that if any one of them presumes to exercise his functions without my express permission he shall be dealt with according to the laws of England.” Having finished his letter he gave orders that the French priest, Girard, should be invited to a final audience. Obedient to the summons, an elderly man, of strong and gentle countenance, made his appearance. Bidding him be seated, Cornwallis addressed him courteously in French. “_M. le Curé_,” he began, “you know that you are one of very few who have been required to take the oath to do nothing contrary to the interests of the country I serve. Is not that so?” The priest bent his head with quiet dignity. “I believe now that of you it was not necessary to exact it.” “Pardon, _M. le Gouverneur_, of me it was not exacted. I rendered it.” “Pardon, _M. le Curé_, you are in the right. I owe you an apology.” “_Monsieur_ has nothing for which to make amends. He is all honor and generosity.” Cornwallis bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment, then continued: “There are many, however, of whom it would be as well for these simple Acadians as for helpless English settlers that the oath of allegiance to my king were demanded. This Abbé Le Loutre, for example, he is a very firebrand. Nay, rather a wolf in sheep’s clothing, working havoc in the poor, silly flock. Know you him, _M. le Curé_?” The priest lowered his eyes. “_M. le Gouverneur_,” he replied in a constrained tone, “it is contrary to the habit of my order to say of our superior, He is wrong or he is right.” “Once more, pardon!” cried the younger man frankly. “I made an error. Tell me, M. Girard, on your return to Cobequid, what course will you pursue?” “In accordance with my oath, _M. le Gouverneur_, I shall inform M. Longueuil that I can make no effort to prevent my people from submitting to you, according to their own desires.” “And what, think you, your governor will reply?” “I know not, _monsieur_, but it is probable that I shall be compelled to retire from my position.” The two men, of different creed and antagonistic blood, looked each other full in the face. Then, with manifestations of mutual respect, clasped hands. “Adieu, _M. le Curé_.” “Adieu, _M. le Gouverneur_. The saints have you in their holy keeping, and bring you to the shelter of the true fold.” But as Girard turned to go, Cornwallis spoke again: