Jacques spread his hands, the cap pendant from one of them. “I have the island of St. Bernard under my seignior, mademoiselle. It is a vast estate, almost a league in extent. The house is a mansion of stone, mademoiselle, strong as a fort, and equal to some castles in Rouen. You come from Rouen, mademoiselle?” “Yes, monsieur.” “And there is Mademoiselle de Granville, my lord’s half-sister, but nobody else to wait upon. For Sieur des Ormeaux, when not at his fortress, may go on expeditions. We never yet took refuge at Montreal from the Indians, so strong is St. Bernard. The house is of rock cemented together and built against a rock. Do you ever drink brandy, mademoiselle?” “_I_, monsieur! Never in my life!” “That must be a good thing in a woman,” commented Jacques, with a nod of satisfaction. “Are you at all thriftless or lazy, monsieur?” the demure girl took her turn to inquire. “No, mademoiselle; I make my clothes do year after year. And had you seen the frozen fish and eels, the venison, the cabbage, beets, and onions I stored in our cellar for winter, you would not ask if I am lazy.” Louise smiled her bashful approval upon him, and said in explanation: “I should not like a thriftless, lazy husband.” “Mademoiselle, we are cut out of the same caribou-skin, and match like a pair of moccasins. Shall we go to the notary?” “If you wish, monsieur.” “You accept me as your husband?” “If you please, monsieur.” “Then let us get married. I forget your name.” “Louise Bibelot.” “My name is Jacques Goffinet. When we are married we can get better acquainted.” Flushed with success, Jacques turned to display a signal of victory to his seignior, and was astounded to see Dollard standing by the fire-place in earnest conversation with a beautiful girl. It was evident that no further countenance and support could be expected from Dollard. So Jacques took his bride in tow as a tug may now be seen guiding some yacht of goodly proportions through a crowded harbor, and set out to find the notary. When Dollard fell into an easy posture to enjoy his man’s courtship, he cast a preliminary glance about the hall, that other amusing things might not escape him. At once his attitude became tense, his ears buzzed, and the blood rose like wine to his head. The woman of his constant thoughts was warming her hand at the fire. He could not be mistaken; there was nothing else like the glory of her youthful white hair in either hemisphere; and without an instant’s hesitation he brought himself before her, bowing, hat in hand, until his plume lay on the floor. The demoiselle made a like stately obeisance.