the voice, that rash enthusiasm of eager youth, and, taking a step
towards Iberville, Count Frontenac's letter still poised in his hand:
"Were your words meant for my hearing, monsieur?" he said. "Were you
speaking of me or of your governor?"

"I was thinking of one Radisson a traitor, and I was speaking of
yourself, your excellency."

The governor had asked his question in French, in French the reply was
given. Both the girl and Councillor Drayton followed with difficulty.
Jessica looked a message to her comrade in ignorance. The old man
touched the governor's arm. "Let it be in English if monsieur is
willing. He speaks it well."

The governor was at work to hide his anger: he wished good greeting to
Count Frontenac's envoy, and it seemed not fitting to be touched by the
charges of a boy. "I must tell you frankly, Monsieur Iberville," he
said, "that I do not choose to find a sort of challenge in your words;
and I doubt that your father, had he been here, would have spoke quite so
roundly. But I am for peace and happy temper when I can. I may not help
it if your people, tired of the governance of Louis of France, come into
the good ruling of King Charles. As for this man Radisson: what is it
you would have?"

Iberville was now well settled back upon his native courage.
He swallowed the rebuke with grace, and replied with frankness: "Radisson
is an outlaw. Once he attempted Count Frontenac's life. He sold a band
of our traders to the Iroquois. He led your Hollanders stealthily to cut
off the Indians of the west, who were coming with their year's furs to
our merchants. There is peace between your colony and ours--is it fair