In a little he began to sing:-- J'irai la voir un jour, M'asseoir pres de son trone, Recevoir ma couronne Et regner a mon tour ...
His voice was strong and true, and he used the full volume of it, singing with deep fervour; but ere long his eyes began to close and his chin to drop toward his breast.

Driving always made him sleepy, and the horse, aware that the usual drowsiness had possession of his master, slackened his pace and at length fell to a walk.
"Get up there, Charles Eugene!" He had suddenly waked and put his hand out for the whip.

Charles Eugene resigned himself and began to trot again.

Many generations ago a Chapdelaine cherished a long feud with a neighbour who bore these names, and had forthwith bestowed them upon an old, tired, lame horse of his, that he might give himself the pleasure every day when passing the enemy's house of calling out very loudly:--"Charles Eugene, ill-favoured beast that you are! Wretched, badly brought up creature! Get along, Charles Eugene!" For a whole century the quarrel was dead and buried; but the Chapdelaines ever since had named their successive horses Charles Eugene.
Once again the hymn rose in clear ringing tones, intense with feeling:-- Au ciel, au ciel, au ciel, J'irai la voir un jour.

.
And again sleep was master, the voice died away, and Maria gathered up the reins dropped from her father's hand.
The icy road held alongside the frozen river.