“Madame is taking her refection in my lady’s boudoir,” he remarked, when the dishes had been removed.  “You may bring up a bottle of Frontiniac from bin thirteen, Theuriet.  Oh, you will see, gentlemen, that even in the wilds we have a little, a very little, which is perhaps not altogether bad.  And so you come from Versailles, De Catinat?  It was built since my day, but how I remember the old life of the court at St. Germain, before Louis turned serious!  Ah, what innocent happy days they were when Madame de Nevailles had to bar the windows of the maids of honour to keep out the king, and we all turned out eight deep on to the grass plot for our morning duel!  By Saint Denis, I have not quite forgotten the trick of the wrist yet, and, old as I am, I should be none the worse for a little breather.”  He strutted in his stately fashion over to where a rapier and dagger hung upon the wall, and began to make passes at the door, darting in and out, warding off imaginary blows with his poniard, and stamping his feet with little cries of “Punto! reverso! stoccata! dritta! mandritta!” and all the jargon of the fencing schools.  Finally he rejoined them, breathing heavily and with his wig awry.

“That was our old exercise,” said he.  “Doubtless you young bloods have improved upon it, and yet it was good enough for the Spaniards at Rocroy and at one or two other places which I could mention.  But they still see life at the court, I understand.  There are still love passages and blood lettings.  How has Lauzun prospered in his wooing of Mademoiselle de Montpensier?  Was it proved that Madame de Clermont had bought a phial from Le Vie, the poison woman, two days before the soup disagreed so violently with monsieur?  What did the Due de Biron do when his nephew ran away with the duchess?  Is it true that he raised his allowance to fifty thousand livres for having done it?” Such were the two-year-old questions which had not been answered yet upon the banks of the Richelieu River.  Long into the hours of the night, when his comrades were already snoring under their blankets, De Catinat, blinking and yawning, was still engaged in trying to satisfy the curiosity of the old courtier, and to bring him up to date in all the most minute gossip of Versailles.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE SLAYING OF BROWN MOOSE.

Two days were spent by the travellers at the seigneury of Sainte Marie, and they would very willingly have spent longer, for the quarters were comfortable and the welcome warm, but already the reds of autumn were turning to brown, and they knew how suddenly the ice and snow come in those northern lands, and how impossible it would be to finish their journey if winter were once fairly upon them.  The old nobleman had sent his scouts by land and by water, but there were no signs of the Iroquois upon the eastern banks, so that it was clear that De Lhut had been mistaken.  Over on the other side, however, the high gray plumes of smoke still streamed up above the trees as a sign that their enemies were not very far off.  All day from the manor-house windows and from the stockade they could see those danger signals which reminded them that a horrible death lurked ever at their elbow.