"My love," he whispered, kissing her cheek.

"Germain," breathed she slowly, her fair breast heaving, and suddenly
threw her arms around his neck and burst into tears. Sweet, sweet,
sweet, were the moments of their supreme bliss.

[Illustration: THE HOUSE OF THE GOLDEN DOG

_From the model by Thomas O'Leary in McGill University._]

CHAPTER XXI

THE SHADOW OF THE GOLDEN DOG

Two old marquises sat together in a parlour in Paris.

"Bring us the best wine in the house," exclaimed one of them, a bronzed
and dried soldier in a maroon coat, waving his hand to his lackey, who
responded and disappeared.

"Nothing," continued the soldier, turning to his friend, "could be too
good for my schoolmate Lotbiniere. Here are two chairs worthy of us,
generals among this spindle-shanked regiment. Sit down in that one while
I draw up here opposite. Throw off the wigs; there. We shall see now how
much of each other remains after our long parting. In India I never wore
a wig except to receive the Maharajah."

"Excellent, Pierre! There goes mine. Let us sit back and talk ourselves
into the good old days when you and I were youngsters."

"And a French king ruled Canada."

"And the French regiments marched its soil. Do you remember the hot
morning we stood hand in hand watching the Royal Rousillons wheel into
the Place d'Armes in front of the church?"

"How old were we then?"

"I was eleven; it was my birthday. Don't you remember?"

The wine came in and was set on a little table. The first speaker opened
a bottle and poured out two glasses.

Pierre le Gardeur, Knight of St. Louis, Brigadier-General, Governor of
Mahe and Marquis de Repentigny--for this was he--was a tall, spare man
whose complexion the suns of the tropics had browned, whose hair was
whitened with foreign service, and whose blue eyes and sensitive,
handsome features wore a strange, settled look of melancholy. Evidently
some long-standing sorrow threw its shadow over his spirit.

His friend, the Marquis de Lotbiniere, was a person of much more worldly
aspect, of largish build and beginning to incline to flesh, but whose
dark eyes were steady with the air of business capability and
self-possession. The care and finish of his dress and manner showed
pronounced pride of rank--a kind of well-regulated ostentation. His
family were descended from the best of the half-dozen petty gentry in
the rude, early days of the colony of his origin. He had by his ability