The Abbe made a sign of assent.  He remembered now how the General had made this suggestion to the Governor, and pressed it with some ardour, but had been met with opposition at every point.  Vaudreuil had declared that it would weaken the town to bring out such a force to a distant point; that they must concentrate all their strength around the city; that they would give the enemy the chance of cutting their army in two.  Montcalm had yielded the point.  There was so much friction between him and the Governor that he had to give way where he could.  Vaudreuil was always full of grand, swelling words, and boasts of his great deeds and devotion; but men were beginning to note that when face to face with real peril he lost his nerve and self confidence, and had to depend upon others.  It was thus that he opposed Montcalm (of whose superior genius and popularity he was bitterly jealous) at every turn when danger was still distant, but turned to him in a fluster of dismay when the hour of immediate peril had come, and had been made more perilous by his own lack of perception and forethought whilst things were less imminent.

“Yet look at our lines of defence!” he exclaimed, after he had finished all the survey he could make of the distant sails crowded about the Isle of Orleans.  “Where could any army hope to land along this northern shore?  Let them fire as they like from their ships; that will not hurt us.  And we can answer back in a fashion that must soon silence them.  The heights are ours; the town is safely guarded.  The summer is half spent already.  Let us but keep them at bay for two months, and the storms of the equinox will do the rest.  When September comes, then come the gales—­and indeed they may help us at any time in these treacherous waters.  You mariners of England, you are full of confidence and skill—­I am the last to deny it—­but the elements have proved stronger than you before this, and may do so again.”

Corinne listened to all this with a beating heart, and asked of her aunt: 

“What think you that they will first do—­the English, I mean?”

“Probably land and make a camp upon the Isle of Orleans, which has been evacuated.  A camp of some sort they must have, and can make it there without damage to us.  It will make a sort of basis of operations for them; but I think they will be sorely puzzled what to do next.  They cannot get near the city without exposing themselves to a deadly fire which they cannot return—­for guns fired low from ships will not even touch our walls or ramparts—­and any attempt along the shore by Beauport will be repulsed with heavy loss.”

“Yet they will do something, I am sure,” spoke the girl, beneath her breath; and she was more sure still of this when upon the morrow Colin returned, all aglow with excitement and admiration, whilst the three midshipmen had much ado to restrain their whoops of joy and triumph.

“I never saw such a thing!” cried Colin, his face full of delight and enthusiasm, as he and the midshipmen got Corinne to themselves, and could talk unrestrainedly together; “I feel as though I could never take sides against the English again!  If they are all such men as that old sailing master Killick, methinks the French have little chance against them.”