turned gray wood to gray stone. Everything was solid, immovable, and it
seemed fit to defy the world.

Robert felt a catch in his breath. He had often seen Quebec, great and
beautiful, in his dreams, but the reality was equal to it and more. To
the American of that day Quebec was one of the vital facts of life. From
that fortress issued the daring young French soldiers of fortune who led
the forays against New York and New England. It was the seat of the
power that threatened them continually. Many of the Bostonnais, seized
in their fields, had been brought here as prisoners to be returned home
only after years, or never. From this citadel, too, poured the stream of
arms and presents for the Indians who were to lie in ambush along the
English border, or to make murderous incursions upon the villages. From
it flowed the countless dangers that had threatened the northern
provinces almost continually for a century and a half. The Bostonnais
themselves, mark of the initiative and energy that were to distinguish
them so greatly later on, made a mighty effort against it, and doubtless
would have succeeded, had they been allowed to carry the fight to a
finish.

No man from New York or New England could look upon it without a
mingling of powerful emotions. It was the Carthage to their Rome. He
admired and yet he wished to conquer. He felt that permanent safety
could never come to the northern border until the Bourbon lilies ceased
to float over the great fortress that looked down on the St. Lawrence.
Robert was not the only one who felt strong emotion. Tayoga stood beside
him, his nostrils expanding and his gaze fierce:

"Stadacona!" he said under his breath, "Stadacona of the Ganeagaono,
our great brother nation!"

But the emotion of de Galisonniere was of pleasure only. His eyes
sparkled with joy and admiration. He was delighted to come back to
Quebec, the gay city that he beheld through the eyes of youth and
glowing recollections. He knew the corruption and wickedness of Bigot
and of Cadet and of Pean and of the whole reckless circle about the
Intendant, but Quebec, with its gallant men and its beautiful women; its
manners of an Old World aristocracy and its air of a royal court, had
many pleasures, and why should youth look too far into the future?

And yet another stood up and looked at Quebec, with emotions all his
own, and unlike those of the three who were so young. Father Drouillard,
tall in his black robe, gazed