And the three proceeded up the incline.
Sister Benie of the Ursulines was passing along the narrow road which led to the river. There was on her serene face the remains of what had been great beauty, such as is sometimes given to the bourgeois; but the purple eyes were wells of sadness and the lips ever drooped in pity and mercy. Across her pale cheek was a paler scar, which ran from the left temple to the chin. Sister Teresa, her companion, was young and plain. Soldiers and trappers and Indians passed them on the way up, touching their caps and hats; for Sister Benie was known from Montreal to Tadousac. Suddenly Sister Benie gave a low cry and pressed a hand upon her heart.
"Sister, you are ill?" asked her companion.
"A dizziness; it is gone now." Presently she caught the arm of a gentleman who was passing.
"My son," she said, sweetly, "can you tell me who is that young man walking with Brother Jacques; the tall one?"
"He? That is the Chevalier du Cévennes."
"His family?"
"He is the son of the Marquis de Périgny."
"Thank you, my son."