But it was impossible for either Colin or his uncle to remain within doors upon such a day.  He insisted that Madame Drucour and Corinne should not adventure themselves beyond the city walls, though he did not condemn them to remain within doors.  But he, for his own part, must go forth and see what was befalling without; for the Abbe, in spite of his vows, was half a soldier at heart, and had done some fighting in his young life, and knew the sound of the clash of arms.

He was not going to adventure himself into the battle, or to suffer Colin to do so either; that would be useless.  Indeed the boy had no desire to enter the lists against the English, being more than half on their side as it was, although the infection of the feelings of the townspeople rendered it difficult for him exactly to know his own mind.

He and Corinne were alike consumed with an overpowering sense of excitement.  It was the thought of the battle about to be waged that filled the minds of both—­the imminence of the coming struggle.  As for the result, that was less a matter of concern to them.  The crisis was the overwhelming consideration in their minds.

The Abbe and Colin had gone.  The streets were beginning to fill with excited people.  The storm of shot and shell was not falling upon Quebec today.  The guns had been directed upon the Beauport camp, to cover the real enterprise being carried on above.  Also the river had to be watched and guarded.  Everything spoke of a change in tactics.  There was a tense feeling in the air as though an electric cloud hung low over the city.

Then came a burst of cheering.  Montcalm had been seen spurring on with only a small band of followers over the bridge of the St. Charles towards the scene of danger; and now the army itself was in sight, making its way after him across the bridge and towards the city, through whose streets they must pass to gain unmolested those heights where the English were awaiting them, drawn up in close array.

Montcalm’s face was full of anxiety, and yet full of courage, as he returned the plaudits of the citizens.  He knew that affairs were serious, but he hoped and believed that he should find but a small detachment of the enemy waiting to receive him.  He could not believe that very much had been accomplished in one night.  A little resolution and courage and military address, and the foe would be dislodged and driven ignominiously down those precipitous heights which they had scaled with such boldness a few hours before.

It was a fine sight to see the troops pouring in by the Palace Gate, and out again by the gates of St. Louis and St. John—­the white uniforms and gleaming bayonets of the battalions of old France, the Canadian militia, and the troops of painted Indians following, cheered by the citizens, reinforced by the garrison, their hearts animated by lust of conquest and an assurance of victory, which assurance was not altogether shared by the citizens themselves, whose scouts had brought in alarming tidings concerning the strength of the English position.