“You don’t mean to say that Quebec, much as we French have labored to build it up here in the New World, can compare with Paris?”

Robert stared at him in astonishment.  Both manner and tone were now certainly aggressive, and as far as he could see aggressive about nothing.  Why should anyone raise an issue between Quebec and Paris, and above all at such a time, there at Bigot’s ball?  He refused to be drawn into a controversy, and shrugging his shoulders a little, he turned away without an answer.  He heard Boucher’s voice raised again, but de Courcelles laughingly waved him down.

“Come! come, my Pierre,” he said.  “You’re too ready to suspect that someone is casting aspersions upon that beloved Paris of ours.  Perhaps you and I shall have the pleasure of showing the great city to Mr. Lennox some day.”

He hooked his hand in Robert’s arm and drew him away.

“Don’t mind Boucher,” he said.  “He has a certain brusqueness of manner at times, although he is a good soul.  He can’t bear for anyone to suggest that another city, even one of our own, could possibly rival Paris in any particular.  It’s his pet devotion, and we won’t disturb him in it.  There’s your friend, Tayoga, standing by the wall with his arms folded across his chest.  What a splendid savage!”

“He’s not a savage.  Tayoga was educated in our schools and he has both the white man’s learning and the red man’s.  He has the virtues, too, of both races, and few, very few of their vices.”

“You’re an enthusiast about your friend.”

“And so would you be if you knew him as well as I do.  That little speech he made showed his courage and the greatness of his soul.”

“Spoken at such a time, its appeal was strong.  I don’t want to boast of my race, Mr. Lennox, but the French always respond to a gallant act.”

“I know it, and I know, too, that if we English, and Americans or Bostonnais, as you call us, do go to war with you we could not possibly have a more enterprising or dangerous foe.”

Colonel de Courcelles bowed to the compliment, and then with a nod indicated Tandakora, also standing against the wall, huge, sullen and looking like a splash of red flame, wrapped in his long scarlet blanket.

“He, at least, is a savage,” he said.

“That I readily admit,” said Robert.

“And as you know by the charges that he made against you to me, he wishes you and your comrades no good.”

“I know by those charges and by events that have occurred since.  Tandakora is a savage through and through, and as such my comrades and I must guard against him.”

“But the Ojibway is a devoted friend of ours,” said a harsh voice over his shoulders.

He turned and saw the lowering face of Boucher, and once more he was amazed.  De Courcelles did not give the youth time to answer.  Again he laughingly waved Boucher away.

“Pierre, my friend,” he said, “you seem to be seeking points of issue tonight.  Now, I refuse to let you and Mr. Lennox quarrel over the manners, habits and personal characteristics of Tandakora.  Come, Mr. Lennox, I’m about to present you to a lady with whom you are going to dance.”