heights and the lilies are there, but Frontenac, the great, brave
Frontenac, is gone: confusion lives where only conquest and honest
quarrelling were--"

"Frontenac will return--there is no other way!" interposed De Casson.

"Perhaps. And the young man looked round and lo! old faces and places
had changed. Children had grown into women, with children at their
breasts; young wives had become matronly; and the middle-aged were
slaving servants and apothecaries to make them young again. And the
young man turned from the world he used to know, and said: 'There are but
three things in the world worth doing--loving, roaming, and fighting.'
Therefore, after one day, he turned from the poor little Court-game at
Quebec, travelled to Montreal, spent a few hours with his father and his
brothers, Bienville, Longueil, Maricourt, and Sainte-Helene, and then,
having sent word to his dearest friend, came to see him, and found him
--his voice got softer--the same as of old: ready with music and wine
and aves for the prodigal."

He paused. The priest had placed meat and wine on the table, and now he
came and put his hand on Iberville's shoulder. "Pierre," he said, "I
welcome you as one brother might another, the elder foolishly fond."
Then he added: "I was glad you remembered our music."

"My dear De Casson, as if I could forget! I have yet the Maggini you
gave me. It was of the things for remembering. If we can't be loyal
to our first loves, why to anything?"

"Even so, Pierre; but few at your age arrive at that. Most people learn
it when they have bartered away every dream. It is enough to have a few