They are bringing some Mohawks up from the lower town, and I am to take charge of them." "Good luck to you;" and the vicomte waved a friendly hand as he started off toward the citadel.
The Chevalier with a dozen men started for the lower town.

But his mind was not on his duty.

He was thinking of Diane, her gay laughter, her rollicking songs, the old days.
"Monsieur, are we to go to Sillery ?" asked a trooper, respectfully.
"Sillery ?" The Chevalier shook himself, and took the right path.
The Chevalier and Victor sat on their narrow cots that night.

Brother Jacques had just gone.

The windows were open, and the balmy air of summer drifted in, carrying with it forest odors and the freshness of the rising dew.