A profound silence reigned throughout the great enclosure, nor was any light to be seen save a faint gleam that found its way through a crevice in one of the lower window-shutters of the building in front of which Rene stood. He was surprised not to meet the sentry who used formerly to pace always before the dwelling of the commandant; for he knew nothing of the mutiny, nor that all save the sentinels at the gates had been withdrawn. After listening for a moment, and hearing nothing, he made his way to the window from which came the ray of light, and tapped gently upon its shutter. He was compelled to repeat the noise several times before it attracted attention from within. At last he heard the well-known voice of his old tutor, Le Moyne, the artist, who called out, "What ho, without! Who goes there?" Making no answer, Rene tapped again. This caused the light to be extinguished and one leaf of the shutter to be cautiously opened, while Le Moyne asked, in a nervous voice, "Who is here, and what is thy business with me at this hour?" "Sh!" replied Rene, in a whisper. "It is I, Rene de Veaux. Ask me nothing, but admit me, that I may instantly communicate with my uncle the commandant. I have tidings of the utmost importance for him alone." Le Moyne had at once recognized the voice of his beloved and long-lost pupil, and with hands trembling with eager excitement, he hastened to throw wide open the shutter and assist him to enter by the window. When he had got him safely inside he embraced the lad fervently, and kissed him on both cheeks. Then he said, "Thy uncle has been ill and is still weak; but if thy business is indeed as urgent as thou representest, I will instantly acquaint him with thy presence. I must, however, break the glad tidings gently and gradually to him, for fear of the effect of an overdose of joy." So the good man shuffled away in his loose slippers towards the room in which Laudonniere lay, and without his knowledge, Rene followed him closely. In the commandant's room Le Moyne began with, "Monsieur, I have a message from the dead." "Ay, thou wert always a dreamer," replied the sick man, testily. "Nay, but this time it is no dream, but a living reality." "Then the dead have come to life, and thou hast had dealings not with them, but with the living." "It is even so, and he is one very dear to thee, whom thou hast deemed lost." "What sayest thou?" cried the old chevalier, sitting up in bed in his excitement. "One dear to me, whom I deemed lost, and is now restored? It can be none other than Rene, my son. Where is he? Why tarries he from me?" "He tarries not, uncle!" exclaimed a glad voice at the door, and in another moment uncle and nephew were locked in a close embrace, while sympathetic tears of joy stood in the eyes of the good Le Moyne.