FATHER ISAAC JOGUES.


The child abandoned by La Tour's enemy had been carried to the upper
floor, and the woman sent with a soldier's wife to the barracks; yet
Madame La Tour continued to walk the stone flags, feeling that small
skeleton on her bosom, and the pressure of death on the air.

Her Swiss lieutenant opened the door and uttered a call. Presently, with
a clatter of hoofs on the pavement, and a mighty rasping of the
half-tree which they dragged, in burst eight Sable Island ponies, shaggy
fellows, smaller than mastiffs, yet with large heads. The settles were
hastily cleared away for them, and they swept their load to the hearth.
As soon as their chain was unhooked, these fairy horses shot out again,
and their joyful neighing could be heard as they scampered around the
fort to their stable. Two men rolled the log into place, set a table and
three chairs, and one returned to the cook-house while the other spread
the cloth.

Claude La Tour and his wife, the maid of honor, seemed to palpitate in
their frames, with the flickering expressions of firelight. The silent
company of these two people was always enjoyed by Le Rossignol. She knew
their disappointments, and liked to have them stir and sigh. In the
daytime, the set courtier smile was sadder than a pine forest. But the
chimney's huge throat drew in the hall's heavy influences, and when the
log was fired not a corner escaped its glow. The man who laid the cloth
lighted candles in a silver candelabrum and set it on the table, and
carried a brand to waxlights which decorated the buffet.