At the end of the mile the trees began to open above their heads, and they soon came to the edge of the timber.  In the darkness David caught his breath.  Dead ahead, not a rifle shot away, was the Chateau Boulain.  He knew it before Black Roger had said a word.  He guessed it by the lighted windows, full a score of them, without a curtain drawn to shut out their illumination from the night.  He could see nothing but these lights, yet they measured off a mighty place to be built of logs in the heart of a wilderness, and at his side he heard Black Roger chuckling in low exultation.

“Our home, m’sieu,” he said.  “Tomorrow, when you see it in the light of day, you will say it is the finest chateau in the north—­ all built of sweet cedar where birch is not used, so that even in the deep snows it gives us the perfume of springtime and flowers.”

David did not answer, and in a moment Audemard said: 

“Only on Christmas and New Year and at birthdays and wedding feasts is it lighted up like that.  Tonight it is in your honor, M’sieu David.”  Again he laughed softly, and under his breath he added, “And there is some one waiting for you there whom you will be surprised to see!”

David’s heart gave a jump.  There was meaning in Black Roger’s words and no double twist to what he meant.  Marie-Anne had come ahead with her husband!

Now, as they passed on to the brilliantly lighted chateau, David made out the indistinct outlines of other buildings almost hidden in the out-creeping shadows of the forest-edges, with now and then a ray of light to show people were in them.  But there was a brooding silence over it all which made him wonder, for there was no voice, no bark of dog, not even the opening or closing of a door.  As they drew nearer, he saw a great veranda reaching the length of the chateau, with screening to keep out the summer pests of mosquitoes and flies and the night prowling insects attracted by light.  Into this they went, up wide birch steps, and ahead of them was a door so heavy it looked like the postern gate of a castle.  Black Roger opened it, and in a moment David stood beside him in a dimly lighted hall where the mounted heads of wild beasts looked down like startled things from the gloom of the walls.  And then David heard the low, sweet notes of a piano coming to them very faintly.

He looked at Black Roger.  A smile was on the lips of the chateau master; his head was up, and his eyes glowed with pride and joy as the music came to him.  He spoke no word, but laid a hand on David’s arm and led him toward it, while Bateese and Joe Clamart remained standing at the entrance to the hall.  David’s feet trod in thick rugs of fur; he saw the dim luster of polished birch and cedar in the walls, and over his head the ceiling was rich and matched, as in the bateau cabin.  They drew nearer to the music and came to a closed door.  This Black Roger opened very quietly, as if anxious not to disturb the one who was playing.