The following day was not without a certain glory.  The wind was mild and gentle like that which springs up suddenly during a summer’s twilight and breathes mysteriously among the tops of the pines or stirs a murmur in the fields of grain.  The sea wrinkled and crinkled its ancient face, not boisterously, but rather kindly; like a giant who had forgotten his feud with mankind and lay warming himself in the sunshine.  From the unbroken circle of the horizon rose a cup of perfect turquoise.  Victor, leaning against the rail, vowed that he sniffed the perfume of spices, blown up from the climes of the eternal summer.

“I feel it in my bones,” he said, solemnly, “that I shall write verses to-day.  What is it the presence of spring brings forth from us?—­this lightness of spirit, this gaiety, this flinging aside of worldly cares, this longing to laugh and sing?”

“Well, Master Poet,” and Major du Puys clapped the young man on the shoulder and smiled into his face.  “Let them be like ’Henri at Cahors,’ and, my faith! you may read them all day to me.”

“No, I have in mind a happy refrain.  ’Where are the belles of the balconies?’ This is the time of year when life awakens in the gardens.  Between four and five the ladies will come out upon the balconies and pass the time of day.  Some one will have discovered a new comfit, and word will go round that Mademoiselle So-and-So, who is a great lady, has fallen in love with a poor gentleman.  And lackeys will wander forth with scented notes of their mistresses, and many a gallant will furbish up his buckles.  Heigho!  Where, indeed, are the belles of the balconies?  But, Major, I wish to thank you for the privileges which you have extended the Chevalier and myself.”

“Nonsense, my lad!” cried the good major.  “What are we all but a large family, with a worldly and a spiritual father?  All I ask of you, when we are inside the fort at Quebec, is not to gamble or drink or use profane language, to obey the king, who is represented by Monsieur de Lauson and myself, to say your prayers, and to attend mass regularly.  And your friend, the Chevalier?”

“On my word of honor, he laughed at a jest of mine not half an hour ago.  Oh, we shall have him in his boots again ere we see land.  If we are a big family, as you say, Major, will you not always have a fatherly eye upon my friend?  He survives a mighty trouble.  His heart is like a king’s purse, full of gold that rings sound and true.  Only give him a trial, and he will prove his metal.  I know what lieutenants and corporals are.  Sometimes they take delight in pricking a fallen lion.  Let his orders come from you till he has served his time.”

“And you?”

“I have nothing to ask for myself.”

“Monsieur, no man need ask favors of me.  Let him not shirk his duty, and the Chevalier’s days shall be as peaceful as may be.  And if he serves his time in the company, why, he shall have his parcel of land on the Great River.  I shall not ask you any questions.  His past troubles are none of my affairs.  Let him prove a man.  I ask no more of him than that.  Father Chaumonot has told me that Monsieur le Marquis has given a thousand livres to the cause.  The Chevalier will stand in well for the first promotion.”