said M. Etienne, turning upon Amherst, "my duty to
his Majesty obliges me to insist that I have not capitulated; and
your troops, sir, though they have done me this service, must be at
once withdrawn."

And clearly, by all the rules of war, M. Etienne had the right on his
side. Amherst shrugged his shoulders, frowning and yet forced to
smile--the fix was so entirely absurd. As discipline went in these
North American campaigns, he commanded a well-disciplined army; but
numbers of provincials and bateau-men had filtered in through the
breaches almost unobserved during the parley, and were now strolling
about the fortifications like a crowd of inquisitive tourists.
He ordered Major Etherington to clear them out, and essayed once more
to reason with the enemy.

"You do not seriously urge me, monsieur, to withdraw my men and renew
the bombardment?"

"That is precisely what I require of you."

"But--good heavens, my dear sir!--look at the state of your walls!"
He waved a hand towards the defences.

"I see them; but _you_, sir, as a gentleman, should have no eyes for
their condition--on this side."

The General arched his eyebrows and glanced from M. Etienne to the
Canadians; he did not for a moment mean to appeal to them, but his
glance said involuntarily, "A pretty madman you have for commander!"

And in fact they were already murmuring. What nonsense was this of
M. Etienne's? The fort had fallen, as any man with eyes could see.
Their Commandant was dead. They had fought to gain time? Well, they
had succeeded, and won compliments even from their enemy.

Corporal Sans Quartier spoke up. "With all respect, M. le Capitaine,
if we fight again some of us would like to know what we are fighting
for."

M. Etienne swung round upon him.

"Tais-toi, poltron!"

A murmur answered him; and looking along the line of faces he read
sympathy, respect, even a little shame, but nowhere the response he
sought.

Nor did he reproach them. Bitter reproaches indeed shook his lips,
but trembled there and died unuttered. For five--maybe ten--long
seconds he gazed, and so turned towards the General.

"Achevez, monsieur! . . . Je vous demande pardon si vous me trouvez
un peu pointilleux." His voice shook; he unbuckled his sword, held
it for a moment between his hands as if hesitating, then offered it
to Amherst with the ghost of a bitter smile. "Cela ne vaut pas--sauf
a moi--la peine de le casser . . ."

He bowed, and wou