Iberville, at a distance, saw the affair. With a smothered oath he snatched a musket from Maurice Joval, took steady aim and fired. The distance was too great, the wind too strong; he only carried away an epaulet. But Perrot, who was not far from the fallen brothers, suddenly made a dash within easy range of the rifles of the British, and cut Gering and two of his companions off from the main body. It was done so suddenly that Gering found himself between two fires. His companions drew close to him, prepared to sell their lives dearly, but Perrot called to them to surrender. Gering saw the fruitlessness of resistance and, to save his companions’ lives, yielded. The siege of Quebec was over. The British contented themselves with holding their position till Walley returned bearing the admiral’s orders to embark again for the fleet. And so in due time they did--in rain, cold, and gloom. In a few days Sir William Phips, having patched up his shattered ships, sailed away, with the knowledge that the capture of Quebec was not so easy as finding a lost treasure. He had tried in vain to effect Gering’s release. When Gering surrendered, Perrot took his sword with a grim coolness and said: “Come, monsieur, and see what you think your stay with us may be like.” In a moment he was stopped beside the dead body of Sainte-Helene. “Your musket did this,” said Perrot, pointing down. “Do you know him?” Gering stooped over and looked. “My God-Sainte-Helene!” he cried. Perrot crossed himself and mumbled a prayer. Then he took from his bosom a scarf and drew it over the face of the dead man. He turned to Longueil. “And here, monsieur, is another brother of Monsieur Iberville,” he said. Longueil was insensible but not dangerously wounded. Perrot gave a signal and the two brothers were lifted and carried down towards the ford, followed by Perrot and Gering. On their way they met Iberville. All the brother, the comrade, in Iberville spoke first. He felt Longueil’s hand and touched his pulse, then turned, as though he had not seen Gering, to the dead body of Sainte-Helene. Motioning to the men to put it down, he stooped and took Perrot’s scarf from the dead face. It was yet warm, and the handsome features wore a smile. Iberville looked for a moment with a strange, cold quietness. He laid his hand upon the brow, touched the cheek, gave a great sigh, and made the sacred gesture over the body; then taking his own handkerchief he spread it over the face. Presently he motioned for the bodies to be carried on. Perrot whispered to him, and now he turned and look at Gering with a malignant steadiness.