Madame did as he required, and with a dexterous stroke the Chevalier sent the craft upon the beach and jumped out. This manoeuver to assist her did not pass, for she was up and out almost as soon as he. In a moment Victor came to the spot. The two canoes were hidden with a cunning which the Chevalier had learned from the Indian.
Above them was a hill which was almost split in twain by a gorge or gully, down through which a brook leaped and hounded and tumbled, rolling its musical "r's." The four started up the long incline, the women gathering the belated flowers and the men picking up curious sticks or sending boulders hurtling down the hillside. Higher and higher they mounted till the summit was reached. Hill after hill rolled away to the east, to the south, to the west, while toward the north the lake glittered with all the brilliancy of a cardinal's plate.
"Can it be," said Victor, breaking the spell, "can it be that we once knew Paris?"
"Paris!" repeated madame. Her eyes took in her beaded skirt and moccasins and replaced them with glowing silks and shimmering laces.
Paris! Many a phantom was stirred from its tomb at the sound of this magic name.
Anne perched herself upon a boulder and the Chevalier rested beside her, while madame and the poet strolled a short distance away.
"Shall we ever see our dear Paris again, Gabrielle?" asked the poet.
"I hope so; and soon, soon!"
"How came you to sign that paper?"
"He would have broken my arm, else. How I hated him! Tricks, subterfuges, lies, menaces; I was surrounded by them. And I believed in so many things those early days!"