"Let us be going," she said, standing. "It will be twilight ere we reach the settlement."
"Very well;" and he halloed for Victor.
The way back to the fort was one of unbroken silence. Neither madame nor the Chevalier spoke again.
The Chevalier had some tasks to perform that evening which employed his time far beyond the meal hour. When he entered the mess-room it was deserted save for the presence of Corporal Frémin, one of the dissatisfied colonists. Several times he had been found unduly under the influence of apricot brandy. Du Puys had placed him in the guardhouse at three different periods for this misdemeanor. Where he got the brandy none could tell, and the corporal would not confess to the Jesuit Fathers, nor to his brother, who was a priest. Unfortunately, he had been drinking again to-day. He sat opposite the Chevalier, smoking moodily, his little eyes blinking, blinking.
"Corporal," said the Chevalier, "will you pass me the corn?"
"Reach for it yourself," replied the corporal, insolently. He went on smoking.
The Chevalier sat back in his chair, dumfounded. "Pass me that corn!" peremptorily.
The intoxicated soldier saw nothing in the flashing eyes; so he shrugged. "I am not your lackey."
The Chevalier was up in an instant. Passing quickly around the table he inserted his fingers between the corporal's collar and his neck, twisting him out of his chair and literally lifting him to his feet.
"What do you mean by this insolence? Pah!" scenting the brandy; "you have been drinking."