r a
Cardinal.'"

"I want to get out of this house!" I cried, no longer able to retain my
indignation, "Am I a thief to associate with these criminals?"

"My young man," said he, holding me quiet by the shoulder. "Accept the
good points of Picault and drink your lemonade. The chieftain of fools
is ever a knave; he has been tempted by the ignorance of the people."

Such feelings of contempt and determination nevertheless took possession
of me that the relish of Picault's magnificence and the charms of his
assembly soured to very repulsion.

Indignation above all with my own self took possession of me; for this
circle was what I was to have exchanged for the world of Alexandra.

Must I endure to be detained here till the time of my appointment with
Grace? I went up to her to tell her abruptly I must go--what reason to
give I knew not--and as I looked into those trustful, believing eyes and
flushed face, feelings of desperate abandon for an instant almost
overcame me. But natural resolution increased with the antagonism, "I
must leave, Grace," said I, shortly and fiercely. "I cannot tell you the
reason. Good night."

Next morning my father sent me to France with Quinet.

CHAPTER XII.

LA MERE PATRIE.

"Et pour la France un chant sacre s'eleve;
Qu'il brille pur, le ciel de nos aieux!"
--F.X. GARNEAU.

"Chamilly! Chamilly! This is the soil of our forefathers!" Quinet and I
stood at last on the shores of France. We trod it with veneration, and
looked around with joy. It was the sea-port of Dieppe, whose picturesque
mediaeval Gothic houses ranged their tall gables before us. Hence my
ancestor had sailed to the wild new Canada two centuries before.--O
enchanted land!

"Behold the Middle Ages!"--cried Quinet again, looking at the Gothic
houses--"of which we have heard and read."

"Is it not strange!"--I exclaimed--"Yes, this is the old Patrie.--Is it
possible to believe ourselves here?--Stamp and see if the ground is
real!"

"There is a _blouse_!--a _paysan_, as in the pictures--he wears the cap!
he has the wooden shoes!"

"It is our brother--the Frenchman!"

There was more nevertheless. Celestial angels,--I too have been in
heaven. I have been a French Canadian in Paris!

Dieppe was the first note of the music, the noble and quaint Cathedral
of Rouen and our railway glimpses of rural Normandy were the prelude. At
last our pilgrim feet were in the Beautiful City. O much we wandered in
i