ior weight? Did the Eagle stretch her wings to escape the Lion?

"Did the Silver Lilies flee before St. George's Cross? No, by the
deathless glory of the Bourbon, no! And who was he that dared--following
the example of his King, the Conqueror of the Rhine--who was he that
dared meet such enemies and engage such odds? Whose was that boyish face
of thirty, waving his curls upon the quarter deck, with the noble front
of a very God of War? Iberville! Who is he that brushes away a tear to
gaze upon his stripling brother beside the guns, soon to be exposed by
his command to such a fearful danger? Iberville, again! Who is that
fiery soldier, recking nothing save his duty, who seeth without a tremor
that beloved brother lying mangled at his post, where the storms of hell
do rage, and flames consume the dead? Who, when the enemy lay
dismantled, their hulks afire, their colors struck, their best ships
sunk, when the glorious standard of France triumphant dallied with the
breeze--who is that dauntless gentleman who kneels upon his battle-riven
but victorious deck and sobs aloud in agony above his writhing brother?
Who is this stricken gentleman, who, having won that most heroic fight
for his King, now prints a kiss, as a tender maiden might, upon the pale
lips of a dying lad? Ah, Sire, it was Iberville, it was Iberville, my
King, Iberville the gentle, Iberville the true! Hast thou forgotten that
wounded lad who lived to serve his King so well on other fields? Dost
remember his name? Let me remind you, Sire, that lad was Bienville de la
Chaise, your loyal governor of Louisiana. Did the King but know the
trials and sufferings of my master in upholding the royal authority, he
would forgive him much. Nor do I fear to say it even here, that those
men who seek his downfall would as lief line their wallets with Spanish
doubloons as with honest Louis d'or. De la Vente, the renegade priest,
the center of strife and discontent in the colonies, traffics with the
Indians and brings opprobrium upon your Majesty's name. It is he or la
Salle who sends this idle tale--la Salle, who, from your Majesty's
commissary, supplies this de la Vente with his merchandise. Who their
friends are here to tell your Majesty these tales, I care not. Saving
the royal presence, I would be pleased to discuss the matter with them
elsewhere."

"Thou art a bold lad," observed the King.

I had noted his eyes flash, and the thin nostrils dilate at men