at all. A few of the thriftier and more
important citizens, however, had separate estates of some magnitude,
surrounding their residences, kept up with care and, if the time and
place be taken into account, with considerable show of taste.

Monsieur Gaspard Roussillon was looked upon as the aristocrat par
excellence of Vincennes, notwithstanding the fact that his name bore no
suggestion of noble or titled ancestry. He was rich and in a measure
educated; moreover the successful man's patent of leadership, a
commanding figure and a suave manner, came always to his assistance
when a crisis presented itself. He traded shrewdly, much to his own
profit, but invariably with the excellent result that the man, white or
Indian, with whom he did business felt himself especially favored in
the transaction. By the exercise of firmness, prudence, vast
assumption, florid eloquence and a kindly liberality he had greatly
endeared himself to the people; so that in the absence of a military
commander he came naturally to be regarded as the chief of the town,
Mo'sieu' le maire.

He returned from his extended trading expedition about the middle of
July, bringing, as was his invariable rule, a gift for Alice. This time
it was a small, thin disc of white flint, with a hole in the center
through which a beaded cord of sinew was looped. The edge of the disc
was beautifully notched and the whole surface polished so that it shone
like glass, while the beads, made of very small segments of porcupine
quills, were variously dyed, making a curiously gaudy show of bright
colors.

"There now, ma cherie, is something worth fifty times its weight in
gold," said M. Roussillon when he presented the necklace to his foster
daughter with pardonable self-satisfaction. "It is a sacred
charm-string given me by an old heathen who would sell his soul for a
pint of cheap rum. He solemnly informed me that whoever wore it could
not by any possibility be killed by an enemy."

Alice kissed M. Roussillon.

"It's so curious and beautiful," she said, holding it up and drawing
the variegated string through her fingers. Then, with her mischievous
laugh, she added; "and I'm glad it is so powerful against one's enemy;
I'll wear it whenever I go where Adrienne Bourcier is, see if I don't!"

"Is she your enemy? What's up between you and la petite Adrienne, eh?"
M. Roussillon lightly demanded. "You were always the best of good
friends, I thought. What's happened?"

"Oh,