"Only the past two generations are lacking," he pronounced, "your certificate of baptism and those of your father and mother, together with their marriage contract. Why are they not supplied?"
"I have no doubt they can be. With your permission, I shall send at once to Canada for them."
But Collinot was silent again, looking over the documents.
The story de Lotbinière was likely to have told crossed Germain's mind, and he went on—
"I have no doubt the enemies of my family mentioned every disadvantageous fact. If it is that my father is in trade, let me say yes—as the greatest merchant in his country and the equal of any one there—and let me add that the decrees of our King always permitted noblesse in Canada to engage in commerce, from the circumstances of the country, just as those of Brittany are permitted to enter the commerce of the seas. That is therefore no derogation."
"It is not that which troubles me, lieutenant," Collinot answered, "but the certificates in themselves are incomplete in lacking the links I mention. Without them," he said, rising to his feet and looking at Lecour calmly, "you can no longer serve in the Prince's company."
The blow fell hard.
Germain sank down in a chair and turned his face aside.
"My God, she is lost to me," he murmured. Collinot caught the words. The natural kindness of the man overcame the formality of the disciplinarian, and he went and placed a hand upon Lecour's shoulder.
"You know, sir," he said kindly, "that one is not master of his birth, but of his conduct. Yours has been blameless. I sympathise with you greatly."