A rapt look came into his eyes.

And all that look behind the general look of his face--the look which has to do with a man's past or future--deepened and spread, till you saw, for once in a way, a strong soldier turned artist, yet only what was masculine and strong.

The music deepened also, and, as the priest opened the door, swept against him like a wind so warm that a moisture came to his eyes.

"Iberville!" he said, in a glad voice.
"Pierre!" The violin was down on the instant.

"My dear abbe!" he cried.