hateful did they seem. Out of them all several things
appeared plain to her mind.

First, that she was a pauper. Of Cazeneau's words she did not doubt
the truth. It seemed in the highest degree probable. She had all
along known that her father had come to America to search after some
of the Montresors, and to made reparation. Cazeneau now had informed
her that he had turned all his property into money. It must have been
for that purpose. The thought had never occurred to her before; but,
now that it was stated, she did not dream of doubting it. It seemed
too true.

Secondly, she saw that Cazeneau, for some reason or other, was
determined to keep her under his control. He was determined not to
allow her to return to France, and not to enter a convent. He was
bent upon associating her with his own life, and causing her to be
admired in Louisbourg. Added to this was his promise to take her back
to France with himself. All this showed that he would on no account
allow her to part with him. What was the meaning of it all? And now
the thought could no longer be kept out of her mind: Cazeneau's
purpose was to make her his wife.

His wife!

The thought was to her most odious; but, having once presented
itself, she could not argue it away, nor could she get rid of it at
all. Yes, that was the meaning that lurked behind his words all the
time. That was the meaning of his promise to make her admired and
happy.

Finally, she remembered how he had stated to her the fact that he was
supreme in Louisbourg, and that through his grandeur she was to
receive homage from all the lesser throng. To her this seemed like a
plain statement that she was in his power, and entirely at his mercy.

And now, what could she do? The future was worse than ever. She was
completely in the power of a man whom she detested--a man upon whom
she looked as her father's evil genius, as one whose evil counsel had
long ago led her father to that act which he had atoned for by
remorse and death. She was now in the hands of this villain. Escape
seemed impossible. He was supreme here. From him there was no appeal.
And she was a beggar. But, even if she were rich, what hope could she
have against him?

As she asked herself this question, there was no answer. She did not
know what she could do, and could scarcely hope that she would ever
know.

It was in this state of mind that Pere Michel found her, on the
evening of that day. Mimi saw his arrival with in