laid on the floor. Gaspard felt emboldened to take the blankets from
a window and roll them up to place under the soldier's head. Many
Beauport people were even then returning to their homes. The land
force did not reëmbark until the next night, and the invaders did not
entirely withdraw for four days; but Quebec was already yielding up
its refugees. A disabled foe--though a brave and stubborn one--who had
his ships to repair, if he would not sink in them, was no longer to be
greatly dreaded.

At first the dusk room was packed with Hurons and Montreal men. This
young seignior Sainte-Hélène was one of the best leaders of his time.
They were indignant that the enemy's last scattering shots had picked
him off. The surgeon and La Hontan put all his followers out of the
door,--he was scarcely conscious that they stood by him,--and left,
beside his brother Longueuil, only one young man who had helped carry
him in.

Saint-Denis, on the bed, saw him with the swimming eyes of fever.
The seignior of Beauport had hoped to have Sainte-Hélène for his
son-in-law. His little Clementine, the child of his old age,--it was
after all a fortunate thing that she was shut for safety in Quebec,
while her father depended for care on Gaspard. Saint-Denis tried to
see Sainte-Hélène's face; but the surgeon's helpers constantly balked
him, stooping and rising and reaching for things. And presently a face
he was not expecting to see grew on the air before him.

Clementine's foot had always made a light click, like a sheep's on a
naked floor. But Saint-Denis did not hear her enter. She touched her
cheek to her father's. It was smooth and cold from the October air.
Clementine's hair hung in large pale ringlets; for she was an ashen