“For my aide-de-camp, M. de Bougainville, lately returned from France, has brought me sad news.  One of my daughters has died—­he could not ascertain which; but I feel sure it is my little Mirete, who was always delicate and fragile.  I loved her very much; she was such a clinging little thing, and had soft brown eyes like yours, my dear.  I did not think, when I left my wife and children in our happy home at Candiac, that I should be detained here so long, or that death would have visited my house ere I returned.  We were so happy in that far away home in France; my thoughts are ever turning back thither.  Pray Heaven I may soon bring this war to a successful termination, and may then return to end my days in peace in that fair spot, surrounded by those I love so well!”

This little speech touched Corinne’s heart, and she lifted her face and gave the bereaved father a kiss of sympathy, the tears hanging upon her own long lashes.  He squeezed her hand and returned the salute with warmth.  Yet the next minute he was the soldier and the general all over, as he seated himself at table and proceeded to discuss the situation of affairs with the Abbe and his hostess.

“My policy,” he explained to them, “will be one of defence, not of attack.  What we must set ourselves to do is to prevent any landing of English troops upon the north bank of this river anywhere near the city.  I had thought at first of making the Plains of Abraham, behind the city, the basis of my encampment.  But this, as you know, has been given up, and the north bank of the river, through Beauport and right away to the river and falls of the Montmorency, has been selected.

“When you are sufficiently recovered, my friend, I should like to take you to see our position.  Our right rests upon the St. Charles, our left upon the Montmorency.  Quebec is thus secured from any advance by land.  Her own guns must protect her from any attempt by sea.  No vessel should or ought to pass the rock without being instantly disabled, if not sunk.  By disposing our forces in this way, and remaining upon the defensive, we shall have our foes in a vice, so to speak.  The risk of disembarking and trying to fight us will be immense.  They will lose ten men to our one in every encounter.  And if we can play this waiting game long enough, the storms of winter will come down upon us, and the Admirals will have to withdraw their fleet to some safe harbourage, and we shall have saved Quebec!”

“Yes,” said the Abbe—­“that sounds a wise and wary policy; but will the Canadian militia be patient and obedient during the long period of inaction?  They are accustomed to a sort of fierce, short forest warfare, quick marches, hand-to-hand fights, and the freedom to return to their homes.  How will they like the long imprisonment in the camp, without being brought face to face with the foe?  The Canadian soldiers have always given trouble; I fear they will do so again.”