As the boy and girl entered it was Fritz who was speaking, and he spoke eagerly.

“You have seen Julian Dautray, my friend and comrade who sailed away to England several years since on an embassy from the town of Philadelphia?  Now this is news indeed.  For I have heard no word of him from that day to this; yet once we were like brothers, and we made that long, long journey together from the far south, till our souls were knit together even as the souls of David and Jonathan.  Tell me of him!  Is he well?  Is he still in this new world beyond the dividing sea?”

“After the capture of Louisbourg,” answered Madame Drucour, with the little touch of shrinking in her tone which such words always occasioned her, “he was to accompany the gallant Brigadier Wolfe (to whose untiring energy and zeal much of England’s success was due) upon some mission of destruction on the coasts, little indeed to that soldier’s liking.  After that, I heard that they were to sail for England, since the brave officer’s health stood in great need of recruiting.  But it was known to all of us that Monsieur Wolfe would never rest content till he had seen whether he might not repeat at Quebec what he had accomplished at Louisbourg.  And if not actually known, it is more than conjectured that the fleet from England which brings our foes into these waters will bring with it that gallant soldier Wolfe; and if so, you may be sure that your good friend (and mine) Monsieur Julian Dautray will be with him.”

“That is good hearing,” cried Fritz, whose face was beaming with satisfaction and pleasure; “it is like a feast to a hungry man to hear news of Julian again!”

And he listened with extreme interest whilst the lady told him all she knew of his friend—­his daring dash into the fortress disguised as a French soldier, and his many acts of chivalrous generosity at the close of the siege.

“We have reason to be grateful to you English,” said Madame Drucour, with a gracious smile.  “It is a happiness, when we have to fight, to find such generous and noble foes.  It is hard to believe that this strong city of Quebec will ever open its gates even to so brave a commander as the gallant Wolfe; and yet, if such a thing were again to be here as was at Louisbourg, I, for one, shall be able to welcome the victor with a smile as well as a sigh; for I have seen how generous he is to sick and wounded, and how gently chivalrous to women and children.”

“Yet those were stern terms demanded from capitulating Louisbourg,” spoke the Abbe thoughtfully.

“They were,” said the lady, with a sigh; “and yet can we wonder so greatly?  England has suffered much from the methods we of France have pursued in our warfare.  But let us not think of that tonight; let us remember only that English and French may be friends—­individually—­even though our nations are at war.  Let us entertain Monsieur with the best at our command, and bid him Godspeed when he shall choose to leave us.