"After I was assassinated in the woods," said Cazeneau, "I was saved from death by the skill and fidelity of my Indians. It seems to me still, Père Michel, as it seemed then, that something might have been done by you. Had you been in league with my enemy, you could not have done worse. You hastened forward with all speed, leaving me to my fate. As a friend, you should have turned back to save a friend; as a priest, you should have turned back to give me Christian burial. What answer have you to make to this?" "Simply this," said the priest, with perfect calmness: "that when you left us you gave orders that we should go on, and that you would find your way to us. I had no thought of turning back, or waiting. I knew the Indians well, and knew that they can find their way through the woods as easily as you can through the streets of Paris. I went forward, then, without any thought of waiting for you, thinking that of course you would join us, as you said." "When did Motier come up with you?" asked Cazeneau. "On the following day," answered the priest. "Did he inform you what had taken place?" "He did." "Why, then, did you not turn back to help me?" "Because Motier informed me that you were dead." "Very good. He believed so, I doubt not; but, at any rate, you might have turned back, if only to give Christian burial." "I intended to do that at some future time," said Père Michel; "but at that time I felt my chief duty to be to the living. How could I have left the Countess Laborde? Motier would not have been a proper guardian to convey her to Louisbourg, and to take her back with me was impossible. I therefore decided to go on, as you said, and take her first to Louisbourg, and afterwards to return." "You showed no haste about it," said Cazeneau. "I had to wait here," said the priest. "May I ask what could have been the urgent business which kept you from the sacred duty of the burial of the dead?" "A ship is expected every day, and I waited to get the letters of my superiors, with reference to further movements on my mission." "You say that Motier informed you about my death. Did he tell you how it had happened?" "He said that you and he had fought, and that you had been killed." "Why, then, did you not denounce him to the authorities on your arrival here?" "On what charge?" "On the charge of murder." "I did not know that when one gentleman is unfortunate enough to kill another, in fair fight, that it can be considered murder. The duel is as lawful in America as in France." "This was not a duel!" cried Cazeneau. "It was an act of assassination. Motier is no better than a murderer." "I only knew his own account," said the priest. "Besides," continued Cazeneau, "a duel can only take place between two equals; and this Motier is one of the _canaille_, one not worthy of my sword."