soldier to lead against the rampant Turk, the great Marshal
Turenne had chosen Frontenac for the task. Crete, which Frontenac
was to rescue, the Turk indeed had taken; but, it is said, at the
fearful cost of a hundred and eighty thousand men. Three years
later, Frontenac had been sent to Canada to war with the savage
Iroquois and to hold in check the aggressive designs of the
English. He had been recalled in 1682, after ten years of
service, chiefly on account of his arbitrary temper. He had
quarreled with the Bishop. He had bullied the Intendant until at
one time that harried official had barricaded his house and armed
his servants. He had told the Jesuit missionaries that they
thought more of selling beaver-skins than of saving souls. He had
insulted those about him, sulked, threatened, foamed at the mouth
in rage, revealed a childish vanity in regard to his dignity, and
a hunger insatiable for marks of honor from the King--"more
grateful," he once said, "than anything else to a heart shaped
after the right pattern."

France, however, now required at Quebec a man who could do the
needed man's tasks. The real worth of Frontenac had been tested;
and so, in 1689, when England had driven from her shores her
Catholic king and, when France's colony across the sea seemed to
be in grave danger from the Iroquois allies of the English,
Frontenac was sent again to Quebec to subdue these savages and,
if he could, to destroy in America the power of the age long
enemy of his country.

Perched high above the St. Lawrence, on a noble site where now is
a public terrace and a great hotel, stood the Chateau St. Louis,
the scene of Frontenac's rule as head of the colony. No other