"Pretty talk," sniffed Madame. "I said in the old days you would make a courtier. So you, the governor of the land, knew nothing of this home of your poor relations a paltry two days' journey beyond the river. There is no man so blind as he who makes a living by that infirmity. This girl tells me that my son is dead. Died he in the faith of the Church?" "Surely," said Roussilac. "But tell me I pray, good aunt, is it true, as this Indian says, that the English spy has already escaped?" "Yes, he has gone," cried Madeleine, flushing warmly. "He has gone, Arnaud, to--to the west." Her deceit was so transparent that even Roussilac could not restrain a smile. "And why, fair cousin," he asked, addressing her with marked deference, "why should this Englishman seek the unknown west, where it is believed none dwell save Indians? Would he not rather turn towards the south, and seek New England and his own people?" "Indeed I know not why he should seek the west," Madeleine replied, between tears and laughter. "But I do assure you he has gone in that direction----" "Peace, girl," her mother cried. "The fool lies to you, Arnaud. She is a heretic, shame though it be, and her master is the father of lies. 'Tis true the English spy escaped in the early morning, but he knows not the land, and may yet be secured. I am surrounded all my life long by wickedness," the bitter woman continued. "My husband was perverted by the sin of science. Jean-Marie was but a knave. He left me here. Madeleine is a heretic, and she has threatened to leave me also. Well, I will come with you, Arnaud, but see that you give me a scented pillow for my head and a cup of warm wine at evening. Stand not there, nephew, like a wooden stock, but command one of yonder evil-faced rogues to bring up a horse fitted for the age and dignity of the first lady in this thrice-accursed land." An evil smile curved the thin line of Roussilac's mouth. His aunt had indeed not changed; but she had yet to learn that he had advanced. He turned to where the priests were talking loudly in the shade of the grove, noting La Salle's anger at the failure of his mission, and a few paces beyond his troopers jesting in the sun. Then he looked upon the fair face of Madeleine and smiled again. "Tamalan," he called, dividing his attention between the soldier he was addressing and his aunt, "prepare your pony for the use of the first lady in this great colony of France--the lady Madeleine Labroquerie." He bowed slightly towards the silent girl. For one instant Madame appeared to stifle. Then she drew back her lips and snarled at her nephew, yet without uttering a word. "This is not Normandy, Madame," said Roussilac calmly. "And you have not here the boy whose cheeks you would smite when the angry fit was on you. This is the New World, and I am the Representative of his most sacred Majesty, King Louis the Thirteenth."