re, not only would they be seized, but M. Belmont himself
would be arrested and tried by court martial. This threat was bad
enough, but there was worse. M. Belmont had that day received an
anonymous letter in which he was told that a sentence of banishment from
the town was hanging over his head. Colonel McLean, commander of the
regulars, and the highest officer in the garrison after Governor
Carleton, had included his name in this punishment along with several
others. He had powerful friends in Lieutenant-Governor Cramahe, Captain
Bouchette, and Roderick Hardinge, but the force of circumstances might
render their interposition unavailable. M. Belmont did not know how much
truth there was in all this. But, according as the siege progressed,
spirits within the town were getting terribly excited, and he really
could not tell what might happen. At all events, the letter had
completely roused him, and he had decided, at whatever risk, upon coming
to consult Batoche. He had intended to come alone, but his daughter,
Pauline, guessing his intention, would not be left behind. She declared
she would follow her father through every contingency. They had both
contrived to escape from the town by the happiest combination of
circumstances. Now that he was out of the town, he would go further than
he had at first intended. He would ask Batoche's opinion about staying
away from it altogether, thus forestalling banishment. In the casket
which his friend had hidden for him, there were sufficient valuables in
coin to answer his purposes, and fully cover all his expenses for months
to come. Hitherto he had struggled hard against his fate and his
feelings for the sake of his daughter. Now that he was forced to act,
he would resume his liberty, and he hoped Pauline would become
reconciled to the change. He was not too old, and he had sufficient
bodily strength to carry his principles into practice if need be.

M. Belmont poured out his story with rapid animation, being never once
interrupted by Batoche. When he had concluded, he grew calmer and was in
a proper state of mind to receive the advice of his friend.

Batoche's words were few and deliberate. As for himself, M. Belmont need
not fear any further trouble from his goings and comings in the town. He
had no dread of the wolves, only hate. He laughed at their threats.
There was not an Englishman of them all cunning enough to entrap him. He
would continue his visits as he pleased, but he