across her brow with a peculiar radiance, leaving the temples in shadow,
softening and yet lighting the carmine of her cheeks and lips, giving a
feeling of life to her dress, which itself was like dusty gold. Her
hands were caught and clasped at her knees. There was something
spiritual and exalted in the picture. It had, too, a touch of tragedy,
for something out of her nebulous past had been reflected in faint
shadows in her eyes, and this again, by strange, delicate processes, was
expressed in every line of her form, in all the aspect of her face. It
was as if some knowledge were being filtered to her through myriad
atmospheres of premonition; as though the gods in pity foreshadowed a
great trouble, that the first rudeness of misery might be spared.

She did not note that Iberville had risen, and had come round the table
to look over Councillor Drayton's shoulder at a map spread out. After
standing a moment watching, the councillor's finger his pilot, he started
back to his seat. As he did so he caught sight of her still in that
poise of wonderment and sadness. He stopped short, then glanced at
Colonel Nicholls and the councillor. Both were bent over the map,
talking in eager tones. He came softly round the table, and was about
to speak over her shoulder, when she drew herself up with a little shiver
and seemed to come back from afar. Her hands went up to her eyes. Then
she heard him. She turned quickly, with the pageant of her dreams still
wavering in her face; smiled at him distantly, looked towards the window
again in a troubled way, then stepped softly and swiftly to the door, and
passed out. Iberville watched the door close and turned to the window.
Again he saw, and this time nearer to the window, Radisson, and with him
the man who had so suddenly mastered Jessica.

He turned to Colonel Nicholls. "Your excellency," he said, "will you not
let me tell Count Frontenac that you forbid Radisson your purlieus? For,