She came close to him and took him by the shoulders. Their eyes were on a level. He was a strong man, but she was the stronger then. “Marcel Thibault,” she said, “do you love me?” “My faith,” he gasped, “I do. You know I do.” “Then listen,” she continued; “this is what you are going to do. You are going down to the shore at once to make ready the big canoe. I am going to get food enough to last us for the month. It will be a hard pinch, but it will do. Then we are going out to the island to-night, in less than an hour. Day after to-morrow is the first of April. Then we shall light the lantern, and it shall burn every night until the boat comes down. You hear? Now go: and be quick and bring your gun.” IV They pushed off in the black darkness, among the fragments of ice that lay along the shore. They crossed the strait in silence, and hid their canoe among the rocks on the island. They carried their stuff up to the house and locked it in the kitchen. Then they unlocked the tower, and went in, Marcel with his shot-gun, and Nataline with her father's old carabine. They fastened the door again, and bolted it, and sat down in the dark to wait. Presently they heard the grating of the prow of the barge on the stones below, the steps of men stumbling up the steep path, and voices mingled in confused talk. The glimmer of a couple of lanterns went bobbing in and out among the rocks and bushes. There was a little crowd of eight or ten men, and they came on carelessly, chattering and laughing. Three of them carried axes, and three others a heavy log of wood which they had picked up on their way. “The log is better than the axes,” said one; “take it in your hands this way, two of you on one side, another on the opposite side in the middle. Then swing it back and forwards and let it go. The door will come down, I tell you, like a sheet of paper. But wait till I give the word, then swing hard. One--two--” “Stop!” cried Nataline, throwing open the little window. “If you dare to touch that door, I shoot.” She thrust out the barrel of the rifle, and Marcel's shot-gun appeared beside it. The old rifle was not loaded, but who knew that? Besides, both barrels of the shot-gun were full. There was amazement in the crowd outside the tower, and consternation, and then anger. “Marcel,” they shouted, “you there? MAUDIT POLISSON! Come out of that. Let us in. You told us--” “I know,” answered Marcel, “but I was mistaken, that is all. I stand by Mademoiselle Fortin. What she says is right. If any man tries to break in here, we kill him. No more talk!” The gang muttered; cursed; threatened; looked at the guns; and went off to their boat. “It is murder that you will do,” one of them called out, “you are a murderess, you Mademoiselle Fortin! you cause the people to die of hunger!” “Not I,” she answered; “that is as the good God pleases. No matter. The light shall burn.”