"As well as I may judge, he is young, tall, dark, and has the air of being from foreign parts."
"Well, show him in. His presence will at least divert my mind from sorrowful thoughts."
With a quick, firm tread, a young man entered the room and stood for a moment silently regarding Laudonniere. The light from the fire was not sufficient to disclose his features, and the other had no suspicion of who he was. At the same time he felt strangely moved by the young man's presence, and also remained silent, waiting for him to speak.
"Uncle."
The old man started at the word, and leaned eagerly forward.
"Uncle, dost thou not know thy Réné?"
"My Réné! Réné de Veaux? He is dead in the New World," cried Laudonniere, trembling with excitement.
"No, my uncle! my father! thy Réné is not dead in the New World. He is alive in the Old World, and has come to be thy comfort and support from this time forth."
In all France there was not such a happy household as that modest dwelling contained that night. Old François was called in to share the joy of his master, and until daylight did the two old men sit and listen with breathless interest to the strange history of him who had come back to them as one risen from the grave. Every now and then they rose to embrace him, and then resumed their seats, only to devour him with their eyes and ply him with questions.
He too had questions to ask, and now learned for the first time of his uncle's escape to the two small ships left by Admiral Ribault. With Laudonniere had also escaped the good Le Moyne and Simon the armorer. They had waited for him until forced to give over all hope of ever seeing him again, and had then sailed sadly away.