Iberville nodded and smiled. “Frontenac railed at my impertinence also.” “But gave you a sword when you told him the news of Radisson,” interjected Perrot. “And by and by I’ve things to say of him.” The abbe continued: “For my second visit, but a few months ago. We priests have gone much among the Iroquois, even in the English country, and, as I promised you, I went to New York. There I was summoned to the governor. He commanded me to go back to Quebec. I was about to ask him of Mademoiselle when there came a tap at the door. The governor looked at me a little sharply. ‘You are,’ said he, ‘a friend of Monsieur Iberville. You shall know one who keeps him in remembrance.’ Then he let the lady enter. She had heard that I was there, having seen Perrot first.” Here Perrot, with a chuckle, broke in: “I chanced that way, and I had a wish to see what was for seeing; for here was our good abbe alone among the wolves, and there were Radisson and the immortal Bucklaw, of whom there was news.” De Casson still continued: “When I was presented she took my hand and said: ‘Monsieur l’Abbe, I am glad to meet a friend--an old friend--of Monsieur Iberville. I hear that he has been in France and elsewhere.’” Here the abbe paused, smiling as if in retrospect, and kept looking into the fire and turning about in his hand his cassock-cord. Iberville had sat very still, his face ruled to quietness; only his eyes showing the great interest he felt. He waited, and presently said: “Yes, and then?” The abbe withdrew his eyes from the fire and turned them upon Iberville. “And then,” he said, “the governor left the room. When he had gone she came to me, and, laying her hand upon my arm, said: ‘Monsieur, I know you are to be trusted. You are the friend of a brave man.’” The abbe paused, and smiled over at Iberville. “You see,” he said, “her trust was in your friend, not in my office. Well, presently she added: ‘I know that Monsieur Iberville and Mr. Gering, for a foolish quarrel of years ago, still are cherished foes. I wish your help to make them both happier; for no man can be happy and hate.’ And I gave my word to do so.” Here Perrot chuckled to himself and interjected softly: “Mon Dieu! she could make a man say anything at all. I would have sworn to her that while I lived I never should fight. Eh, that’s so!” “Allons!” said Iberville impatiently, yet grasping the arm of the woodsman kindly. The abbe once more went on: “When she had ended questioning I said to her: ‘And what message shall I give from you?’ ‘Tell him,’ she answered, ‘by the right of lifelong debt I ask for peace.’ ‘Is that all?’ said I. ‘Tell him,’ she added, ‘I hope we may meet again.’ ‘For whose sake,’ said I, ‘do you ask for peace?’ ‘I am a woman,’ she answered, ‘I am selfish--for my own sake.’” Again the priest paused, and again Iberville urged him.