Brother Jacques saw nothing in the velvet glooms but the figure of Monsieur le Marquis as it lay that night after the duel.
Whenever the Senecas came to a habitation, they drew up the canoes and carried them overland, far distant into the forest, making a half-circuit of the point. During these portages the fatigue of the women was great. Several times Anne broke down, unable to proceed. Sometimes the savages waited patiently for her to recover, at other times they were cruel in their determination to go on. Once Brother Jacques took Anne's slight figure in his strong arms and carried her a quarter of a mile. She hung upon his neck with the content of a weary child, and the cool flesh of her cheek against his neck disturbed the tranquillity of his dreams for many days to come.
Madame, on her part, struggled on without complaint. If she stumbled and fell, no sound escaped her lips. She regained her feet without assistance. Madame's was a great spirit; she knew the strength of resignation.
It was after two o'clock when the Iroquois signified their intention of pitching camp till dawn. They were far away from the common track now. The last portage had carried them across several small streams. They were in the heart of the forest. All night Brother Jacques sat at the side of the women, guarding with watchful eyes. How the spirit and the flesh of this man warred! And all the while his face in the filtered moonlight was marbled and set of expression. He was made of iron, constitutionally; his resolution, tempered steel.
Anne slept, but not so madame. She listened and listened: to the stir of the leaves, to the dim murmur of running water, to the sighs of the night wind, to the crackling of a dry twig when Anne turned uneasily in her sleep. She listened and listened, but the sound she hungered for never came.
At Quebec the news of the calamity did not become known till near midnight. As the wind-drifted pleasure-boat told its grim story, desolation fell upon the hearts of four men, each being conscious in his own way that some part of the world had shifted from under his feet. The governor recommended patience; he was always recommending that attribute; he was always practising it, and fatally at times. The four men shook their heads. The Chevalier and Victor bundled together a few necessities, such as cloaks, blankets and arms. They set out at once while the moon was yet high; set out in silence and with sullen rage.
Jean Pauquet and the vicomte were in the act of following, when D'Hérouville, disheveled and breathing heavily from his run down from the upper town, arrested them.
"Vicomte," he cried, "you must take me with you. I can find no one to go with me."
"Stay here then. Out of the way, Monsieur." The vicomte was not patient to-night, and he had not time for banter.
"I say that you shall!"