words and will, which had the effect of command. Under this influence
he had prepared the words which he was to deliver at the Fete. They were
full of veneration for past traditions, but were not at variance with a
proper loyalty to the flag under which they lived, and if the English
soldiery met the speech with genial appreciation the day might end in a
blessing--and surely blessings were overdue in Madelinette's life in
Pontiac.

It had been as she worked for and desired, thanks to herself and the
English General's sympathetic help. Perhaps his love of music made him
better understand what she wanted, made him even forgiving of the
Seigneur's strained manner; but certain it is that the day, begun with
uneasiness on the part of the people of Pontiac, who felt themselves
under surveillance, ended in great good-feeling and harmless revelry;
and it was also certain that the Seigneur's speech gained him an applause
that surprised him and momentarily appeased his vanity. The General gave
him a guard of honour of the French Militia in keeping with his position
as Seigneur; and this, with Madelinette's presence at his elbow,
restrained him in his speech when he would have broken from the limits
of propriety in the intoxication of his eager eloquence. But he spoke
with moderation, standing under the British Flag on the platform, and at
the last he said:

"A flag not our own floats over us now; guarantees us against the
malice of the world and assures us in our laws and religion; but there is
another flag which in our tearful memories is as dear to us now as it was
at Carillon and Levis. It is the flag of memory--of language and of
race, the emblem of our past upon our hearthstones; and the great country
that rules us does not deny us reverence to it. Seeing it, we see the
history of our race from Charlemagne to this day, and we have a pride in