the breath of an infant, the
violin uttered its varied and magical language, responsive to the touch
of the wizard. There were moments when the air throbbed and the room
rocked with the sound, and other moments when the music was all absorbed
in the soul of the performer. Finally the old man drew himself up, threw
his head backward, ran his fingers raspingly up towards the bridge and
made a desperate plunge with his bow. A loud snap was heard like the
report of a pistol. The string had broken. Batoche quietly lowered the
instrument and looked around him. Little Blanche was sitting up in the
bed gazing about with wide vacant eyes. The black cat stood glaring on
the hearth with bristling fur and back rounded into a semi-circle.

"Good!" muttered Batoche, as he walked to the alcove and laid by his
violin. Then going as quietly to the door, he opened it wide. Barbin and
two other men, closely wrapped in hoods, stood before him.

"Come in," said Batoche, "I expected you."

There was no agitation or eccentricity in his manner, but his features
were pinched, and his grey eyes shed a sombre light upon the deep
shadows of their cavities.

"We have come for you, Batoche," said Barbin.

"I knew it."

"Are you ready?"

"I am ready."

And he stepped forward to take his old carbine from its hooks.

"No gun," said Barbin, laying his hand upon the old man's arm. "You are
not to attack, nor will you be attacked."

"Ah! I see," muttered Batoche, throwing his wild-cat great coat over his
shoulders.

"You know the news?"

"I know there is some news."

"The day of deliverance has come."

"At last!" exclaimed the hermit, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

"The Bastonnais have surrounded the city."

"And will the Wolves be trapped?" asked Batoche in a voice of thunder.
"Ha! ha! I heard it all in the song of my old violin. I heard the roar
of their march through the forest; their shout of triumph when they
reached the Heights of Levis, and first saw the rock of the citadel;
the splash of their oars in crossing the river; the deep murmur of their
columns forming on the Plains of Abraham. Thus far have they come, have
they not?"

"Yes, thus far," responded the three men together, amazed at the
accuracy of the information which they knew that Batoche had not
obtained that day from any human lip.

"But they will go farther," resumed the hermit, "because I have heard
more. I have heard the boom of cannon, the rattle of musket