A priest elbowed his way toward them.  On seeing him, the marquis raised and lowered his bushy white brows.  It was the handsome Jesuit whose face had stolen into many a dream of late.  Brother Jacques was greatly astonished.  The marquis greeted him, but without marked cordiality.  At a sign from the governor the quartet moved up the path toward the cliffs, which the marquis measured with the eye of one who understood thoroughly the art and value of military strategy.

“Superb!” he murmured.  “With a few men and plenty of ammunition, I could hold even England at bay.”

“I am proud of it,” acknowledged the governor; but there was a twinge of envy when it occurred to him that a handful of savages had worried him more than once.  And here was a man who would defy the whole world.

Jehan felt a pressure on his arm.  Turning, he beheld the shining face of Breton.  He caught the lad in his arms and kissed him on the cheek.

“I expected to find you, lad.  Ah, but you have done wrong.  You should have told us.  You should not have run away with Monsieur le Comte . . . .”

“Monsieur le Comte?” bewildered.

“Yes; you should not have run away with him as you did.”

“Had I told you, you would have prevented my coming,” Breton confessed.

“You would have saved Monsieur le Marquis and myself a great deal of trouble.”

“But Monsieur le Chevalier was in trouble, too.  I could not leave him.”

“Which speaks well for your heart, lad, but not for your reason.  Where is Monsieur le Comte?”

“At Three Rivers; a day and a night’s ride from here, with good paddlers.”

“Good.  We shall start out in the morning.”

“To bring him back to France?”

“Nothing less, lad.  The count has been greatly wronged by Monsieur le Marquis, and it is to be set to rights forthwith.  Can you read?”

“Yes.”

“Here is a letter which Monsieur le Cure wrote at Perigny.  It was from old Martin’s daughter.”

“God bless you, Monsieur,” cried the happy Breton.  He would have shouted for joy had not the quiet dignity of the old lackey put a damper on his enthusiasm.

“Monsieur le Comte was well when last you saw him?”

“Yes; physically.”

“He is troubled?”

“Who would not be?” burst forth Breton, indignantly.  “But why do you call Monsieur le Chevalier the count?”

“Is not that his title?” quietly.

“But . . .”

“Would Monsieur le Marquis take all this trouble if Monsieur le Chevalier was anything but Monsieur le Comte?”

“I shall offer a dozen candles!” cried Breton, joyously.

Meantime the governor conducted the marquis around the fortress and the chateau; and together they stood upon the highest balcony and looked down upon the river, which was dotted with canoes and small boats.

“Magnificent!” repeated the marquis time and again.