“And he will be quiet and docile?” ventured the inn-keeper, who still entertained some doubts.

“If no one offers him an indignity.  The Iroquois is a proud man.  But I see Monsieur Nicot calling to you; Monsieur Nicot, whose ancestor, God bless him! introduced this weed into France;” and Du Puys refilled his pipe, applied an ember, took off his faded baldric and rapier, and reclined full length on the bench.  Maitre le Borgne hurried away to attend to the wants of Monsieur Nicot.  Presently the soldier said:  “Shall we sail to-morrow, Master Mariner?”

“As the weather wills.”  Bouchard bent toward the fire and with the aid of a pair of tongs drew forth the end of a broken spit, white with heat.  This he plunged into a tankard of spiced port; and at once there arose a fragrant steam.  He dropped the smoking metal to the floor, and drank deeply from the tankard.  “Zachary, we shall see spring all glorious at Quebec, which is the most beautiful promontory in all the world.  Upon its cliffs France will build her a new and mighty Paris.  You will become a great captain, and I shall grow as rich as our host’s cousin.”

“Amen; and may the Holy Virgin speed us to the promised land.”  Du Puys blew above his head a winding cloud of smoke.  “A brave race, these black cassocks; for they carry the Word into the jaws of death. Ad majorem Dei gloriam.  There was Father Jogues.  What privations, what tortures he endured!  And an Iroquois sank a hatchet into his brain.  I have seen the Spaniard at his worst, the Italian, the Turk, but for matchless cruelty the Iroquois has no rival.  And this cunning Mazarin promises and promises us money and men, while those who reckon on his word struggle and die.  Ah well, monseigneur has the gout; he will die of it.”

“And this Marquis de Perigny; will not Father Chaumonot waste his time?” asked the mariner.

“Who can say?  The marquis is a strange man.  He is neither Catholic nor Huguenot; he fears neither God nor the devil.  He laughs at death, since to him there is no hereafter.  Yet withal, he is a man of justice and of many generous impulses.  But woe to the man who crosses his path.  His peasants are well fed and clothed warmly; his servants refuse to leave him.  He was one of the gayest and wildest courtiers in Paris, a man who has killed twenty men in duels.  There are two things that may be said in his favor; he is without hypocrisy, and is an honest and fearless enemy.  Louis XIII was his friend, the Duc de Rohan his comrade.  He has called Gaston of Orleans a coward to his face.