"Nous avons passe le bois,
Nous somm's a la rive!"

Or, as he went forth:

"Le dieu du jour s'avance;
Amis, les vents sont doux;
Berces par l'esperance,
Partons, embarquons-noun.
A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a!"

And, as we know, it was summer when Valmond came to Pontiac. The river-
drivers were just beginning to return, and by and by the flax swingeing
would begin in the little secluded valley by the river; and one would
see, near and far, the bright sickle flashing across the gold and green
area; and all the pleasant furniture of summer set forth in pride, by the
Mother of the House whom we call Nature.

Valmond was alive to it all, almost too alive, for at first the
flamboyancy of his spirit touched him off with melodrama. Yet, on the
whole, he seemed at first more natural than involved or obscure. His
love for children was real, his politeness to women spontaneous. He was
seen to carry the load of old Madame Degardy up the hill, and place it
at her own door. He also had offered her a pinch of snuff, which she
acknowledged by gravely offering a pinch of her own from a dirty twist
of brown paper.

One day he sprang over a fence, took from the hands of coquettish Elise
Malboir an axe, and split the knot which she in vain had tried to break.