song coming from the old seigneury which Theophile
Charlemagne called now the Cote Dorion Hotel, after the name given to
the point on which the house stood. Low and wide-roofed, with dormer
windows and a wide stoop in front, and walls three feet thick, behind,
on the river side, it hung over the water, its narrow veranda supported
by piles, with steps down to the water-side. Seldom was there an hour
when boats were not tied to these steps. Summer and winter the tavern
was a place of resort. Inside, the low ceiling, the broad rafters, the
great fireplace, the well-worn floor, the deep windows, the wooden cross
let into the wall, and the varied and picturesque humanity frequenting
this great room, gave it an air of romance. Yet there were people
who called the tavern a "shebang"--slander as it was against Suzon
Charlemagne, which every river-driver and woodsman and habitant who
frequented the place would have resented with violence. It was because
they thought Charley Steele slandered the girl and the place in his
mind, that the river-drivers had sworn they would make it hot for him if
he came again. Charley was the last man in the world to undeceive them
by words.

When he coolly walked into the great room, where a half-dozen of
them were already assembled, drinking white "whiskey-wine," he had no
intention of setting himself right. He raised his hat cavalierly to
Suzon and shook hands with her.

He took no notice of the men around him. "Brandy, please!" he said. "Why
do I drink, do you say?" he added, as Suzon placed the bottle and glass
before him.

She was silent for an instant, then she said gravely: "Perhaps because
you like it; perhaps because something was left out of you when you were
made, and--"

She paused and went no further, for a red-shirted river-driver with
brass rings in his ears came close to them, and called gruffly for
whiskey. He glowered at Charley, who looked at him indolently, then
raised his glass towards Suzon and drank the brandy.

"Pish!" said Red Shirt, and, turning round, joined his comrades. It was
clear he wanted a pretext to quarrel.

"Perhaps because you like it; perhaps because something was left out of
you when you were made--" Charley smiled pleasantly as Suzon came over
to him again. "You've answered the question," he said, "and struck the
thing at the centre. Which is it? The difficulty to decide which has
divided the world. If it's only a physical craving, it means that we a