of the night. And now let
us all to bed."

One by one the little party was lost to view within the dark interior of
the hut which they had arranged for themselves. Du Mesne retired a
distance from the fire and seated himself upon a fallen log, his pipe
glowing like a coal in the enveloping darkness.

Law himself did not so soon leave the outer air. He remained gazing out
at the wild scene about him, at the rolling waves dashing on the shore,
their crests whitening in the glare of the lightning, now approaching
more closely. He harkened to the roll of the far-off thunder reenforced
by the thunder of the waves upon the shore, and noted the sweep of the
black forest about, of the black sky overhead, unlit save for one
far-off, faint and feeble star.

It was a new world, this that lay around him, a new and savage world. If
there were a world behind him, a world which once held sunlight and
flowers, and love and hope--why then, it was a world lost and gone
forever, and it was very well that this new world should be so different
and so stern.

In the darkness John Law heard a voice, the voice of a woman in terror.
Swiftly he stepped to the door of the rude lodge.

"Don't let them sing it again--never any more--that song."

"And what, Madam?"

"That one--'_us les amants changent des maitresses_!'"

A moment later she whispered, "I am afraid."

CHAPTER II

THE STORM

Marshaling to the imperious orders of the tempest, and crowding close
upon the flaming standards of the lightning, the armies of the clouds
came on. The sea-wide surface of the lake went dull, and above it bent a
sky appalling in its blackness. The wind at first was light, then fitful
and gusty, like the rising choler of a man affronted and nursing his own
anger. It gained in volume and swept on across the tops of the forest
trees, as though with a hand contemptuous in its strength, forbearing
only by reason of its own whimsy. Now and again the cohorts of the
clouds just hinted at parting, letting through a pale radiance from the
western sky, where lingered the departing day. This light, as did the
illuminating glare of the forked flames above, disclosed the while
helmets of the trooping waters, rushing on with thunderous unison of
tread; and the rattling thunder-shocks, intermittent, though coming
steadily nearer, served but to emphasize these foot strokes of the
waves. The heavens above and the waters under the earth--these
conspired, these