“If I should fall,” he said, “give it to Kate; I think she will like to have it.  Tell her I wore it upon my heart till the last.  I would not have it shattered by shot and shell.  Give it her with my dying blessing and love, and tell her that my last prayer will be for her happiness.  She must not grieve too much for me, or let her life be shadowed.  I am happy in having known her love.  I desire that happiness shall be her portion in life.  Tell her that when you give her that case.”

He closed it and placed it in Julian’s hands, and spoke no more; though throughout that day of preparation and thought a gentle quietude of manner possessed him, and struck all with whom he came in contact.

Even when at last all was in readiness and the General in one of the foremost boats was drifting silently down the dark river, with the solemn stars overhead, it was not of battles or deeds of daring that he spoke with those about him.  After the silence of deep tension his melodious voice was heard speaking words that fell strangely on the ears of the officers clustered about him.

“The curlew tolls the knell of parting day” spoke that voice; and in the deep hush of night the whole of that “Elegy” was softly rehearsed in a strangely impressive manner, a thrill running through many at the words: 

“The paths of glory lead but to the grave.”

When the recitation was over there was a long, deep silence, broken at last by Wolfe himself, who said: 

“Gentlemen, I would rather have written that poem than take Quebec!”

Chapter 4:  In The Hour Of Victory.

“Qui vive?”

It was the French sentry upon the shore, as the boats glided slowly by in the darkness.  Julian was waiting for the challenge, and was ready with the answer.

“France!”

“A quel regiment?” came the voice again.

“De la Reine,” answered Julian, who had not spoken in vain with the deserting Canadians, and knew a good deal about Bougainville’s camp.  Then afraid of being asked the password, he hastily added, still speaking French, “Have a care; the English will hear us!  The provision boats from the camp!”

That hint was enough.  The sentry knew that provision boats were expected, and that English vessels were anchored not far off.  He let the fleet of English boats pass by in the darkness.

The strong current swept them along.  Now they had reached the appointed place—­passed it, indeed before they could get out of the current; but there was a narrow strand, wide enough for disembarkation, and the band of picked men who had volunteered for the task were already out, preparing to scale the lofty heights and see what lay beyond.