Madame Drucour had heard his step even before she heard his voice. She was already beside him, her face pale and her eyes red with weeping.
"Ah, my brother," she cried, "thou art come to tell us that all is lost!"
"All would not be lost if the army had a head!" answered the Abbe, with subdued energy. "We could outnumber the enemy yet if we had a soldier fit to take command. But the Marquis--how goes it with him?"
"He lives yet, but he is sinking fast. He will never see the light of another day!" and the tears which had gathered in Madame Drucour's eyes fell over her cheeks.
"My poor friend!" sighed the Abbe; and after a pause of musing he added, "Is he conscious?"
"Yes; he came to himself a short while ago, and insisted upon knowing how it was with him."
"He knows, then?"
"Yes--Victor Arnoux told him the truth: but I think he knew it before."
"And what said he?"
"That it was well; that he should not live to see the surrender of Quebec; that his work was done on earth, and he ready to depart."