great Chateau Bigot, in the
midst of its walks and flowers and gardens. I don't know why I'm telling
you these things, Mr. Lennox! It seems they should be the very last to
say to one's official enemy, but I can't feel that I'm doing anything
wrong when I do tell them to you."

His bright face was in gloom for a few moments, and Robert, quick in
perception, had a sudden feeling that this brilliant Quebec, enveloped
in so much color and glamour, might not be so sound within as the
English towns to the south, despite their wrangling. But it merely
increased his anxiety to see Quebec. Life would be all the more complex
there.

The great river spread before them, blue now under a dazzling blue sky,
and the stout _Frontenac_ left a long white trailing wake. A stone
house, larger than usual, showed through the green foliage on the south
bank. Father Drouillard gazed at it, and his face darkened. Presently he
arose and shook his hand towards the house, as if he were delivering a
curse.

"The chateau that you see belongs to the young Count Jean de Mezy, a
friend of the Intendant, Bigot. Sometimes they come from their revels at
Beaumanoir to the Chateau de Mezy, and continue them there. Now you can
see why Father Drouillard, who sympathizes with our _honnetes gens_,
delivers his malediction."

The priest returned to his seat, and averted his face. An hour later the
mighty rock of Quebec rose before them.

CHAPTER IX

AT THE INN

When Quebec came into view Robert stood up and looked long at the great
rock and the town that crowned it, hung on its slopes and nestled at the
foot of the cliffs below. Brilliant sunshine gilded its buildings of
stone and gray wood, and played like burnished gold on the steeples of
its many churches. In the distance the streets leading up the steep
cliffs looked like mere threads, but in the upper town the great public
buildings, the Intendant's Palace, the Cathedral, Notre Dame de la
Victoire, the convents of the Ursuline Nuns and the Recollet Friars, the
Bishop's Palace, and others raised for the glory and might of France,
were plainly visible.

In more than one place he saw the Bourbon lilies floating and from the
little boat on which he stood in the stream it looked like a grim and
impregnable fortress of the Old World. The wonderful glow of the air,
and the vast river flowing at its feet, magnified and colored
everything. It was a city ten times its real size and the distance