"It is like everything else, going to rack and ruin; with the people starving in the sight of plenty, because this wretched war must drag on," sighed Angelique. "The men feel nothing of it; they have all the fighting and glory, while we sit at home helpless, good for nothing." "Don't say that, ma belle!" called out her brother, cheerily; and we turned to find him behind us. "Do you think we could have the heart to keep it up, if it were not for the thought of you? But there, you are tired and out of sorts, little one. Go back to the mother, and I will take madame round by the end of the bay and back by the sucrerie." It was impossible for me to object, and Angelique left us, while we took our way along the sands. M. de Sarennes seemed to have thrown aside his former cares, and rattled on in his natural way, noting and explaining everything which might interest me, and had I not known him better, I might have been misled by his openness; but all the time I kept asking myself: "When will he speak? What will he say?" So that it was a relief when, as we turned away from the shore into the woods, he suddenly dropped his former tone, and addressed me without pretence: "Well, madame, are you as anxious as before to get to Louisbourg?" "No; I have decided not to go. It is too late." "Why too late? Are you fearful M. de Maxwell may have wearied waiting for you?" "Monsieur, your words are an insult! If this be all you have to say to me, I beg you will let me return to the house." "Not so fast, madame. I have a question or two yet which require to be answered, unless you prefer I should put them before my mother and sister. No? Then will you tell me who this boy Christophe really is? From his first appearance below there I was much puzzled why M. de Maxwell should have taken so unusual an interest in him. He was as jealous of the boy's liking for me as a doting mother could be, and was more distressed over his capture than many a father would have been over the loss of his son." "Monsieur," I answered, trying to conceal my alarm, "M. de Maxwell lodged for some time in London in the house of this boy's mother, my waiting-woman, Lucy Routh. Surely his meeting again with the lad he knew as a child will explain his interest." "Indeed? And may I ask when it was that he lodged with this convenient waiting-woman?" he said, with a sneer that set my blood boiling. "It was ten years ago, monsieur. Why do you ask me these questions?" "Because I wish to try a small problem in calculation. I was rude enough to hazard a guess at your age the first time we came to an understanding. Perhaps it was ungallant, but still, it remains. I said then, you were 'of a certain age,' but now, to be exact, we will say you are twenty-seven, perhaps twenty-six. This boy in whom such a paternal interest was displayed must be fifteen or sixteen. No, that will not adjust itself. Forgive my thinking out loud." "Monsieur, this is intolerable! What is it you wish to know?"