The Power And The Glory

HIGH above the St. Lawrence stood Louis, Count Frontenac alone, soon after his arrival at Quebec as Governor. From a window of the Château St Louis he was looking across the vast stream which is more renowned than any other in that hemisphere. As his eyes scanned the immense flood and saw the exquisite coloring of the foliage on the farther shore in the bright sunlight, his cheek flushed with admiration. He was now fifty-two, but in years only. His mind was twenty-five, his body framed to endure hardships and trials, and these were before him in immense degree.

As looking. out he. dreamed big dreams-he had a fiery, eloquent soul full of imagination and temperament -- and compared his humble court with that of Louis XIV, where he had so much been, grim humor came to his eye. He could not feel he had mistaken his course. He was poorly paid, but the destiny of this unknown land had entered into his bones, and it remained there till the end of his powerful career in Canada, where he yielded up his breath to the suspirations of millions yet to come of another race, but bound to him as the skin is to the flesh.

There were not so very many homes in tower Town far below the cliffs where was the Château St. Louis, but people were moving about briskly, and there came to Frontenac's ears the refrain of a song:

"In Heaven there is a dance,
Alleluia!
All the young Virgins danced,
Benedicamus Domino,
Alleluia Alleluia!

It is for you and me,
Alleluia!
We dance like the young Virgins,
Benedicamus Domino
Alleluia! Alleluia!"

These were only two of many verses, but the eyes of the Governor lighted, for they were the spirit of the place; at the same time there was the ringing of bells in the towers of the cathedral, and around the Bishop's palace came people eager for the blessing of Laval, the Bishop of Quebec, poor, unhandsome, but a power always.

From Lower Town there came the words of another song, that of the Fete of St. Anne:

"Now is the Fete of St. Anne,
Eh! courage, hurrah!
Already at the bell one struts about,
Eh! courage, hurrah! sa, sa!
Eh! courage, hurrah!"

The air was so clear that the Governor could hear the words floating up the cliffside to the Château from which could be seen Upper and Lower Town; and through it all there came the steady tramp, tramp of feet of soldiers near the citadel. Frontenac closed his eyes and he heard the footfalls of soldiers in his beloved France and other lands where he had led them.

His lips moved, speaking to himself, then he opened his eyes again. He now saw a canoe approach the shore hundreds of feet below, and a figure issue from it and begin to climb the hill leading to his Château St. Louis. Somehow this figure fitted in with his late dreaming. It belonged to one who knew the life of Canada, bold, strong, in tattered clothes, as though he had come a long distance, with rugged, dauntless air, and yet with a curious union of triumph and tragedy. Presently he lost sight of the man, and turned to his desk.

As he did so, the door opened and his orderly announced:

"Le Sieur de la Salle!"

This was not the man Frontenac had seen leaving the canoe, but a tall, alert, handsome, rather grim-faced man whose eyes looked clearly at those of Frontenac and at whose lips was a faint smile. He was clearly a man of splendid physique, and of iron will. Frontenac had immediately taken to him, for he saw in him, Rene Robert Cavelier, better known as La Salle, the true pioneer, who would put all away from him but the land he loved, and would live for that alone. Also he knew him opposed by the Jesuits who once had controlled in Canada by influencing Governor and Intendant, but had seen their power gradually decline.

Frontenac advanced to La Salle with outstretched hands, a warm smile on his distinguished face.

"You come at the right moment, Sieur de la Salle -- I think of Canada's future! Who more welcome then than you!"

La Salle's face lighted. He had come to urge Frontenac to found a fort at the head of Lake Ontario where the Iroquois could be held in check, and trade with the English and Dutch from the Upper Lakes could be stayed. La Salle had discovered the Ohio and the Illinois, and was eager to trade and explore, the latter most to him of all. Hunger for wealth never entered his head, and all his life proved his freedom from lust of gain.

"Your Excellency! I am your faithful and devoted servant, and I have come to beg -- "

"La Salle a beggar, but tell that to the wild men of China -- you come not, to beg, my friend!"

"I come to urge your building a fort at Lake Ontario, and if I may command it, good things may come to our dear France and Canada."

Frontenac laughed. "Yes, yes, that was in my mind. We shall do it, yet we are fought by powerful forces. We think alike, La Salle." He turned to a table on which lay a map and portfolio.

"You shall go ahead to Onondaga, the headquarters of the Iroquois, and ask their sachems to meet me in council. Then we, shall build the fort. That is not popular, but we must stand firm or Laval -- the starved and wonderful Monsieur de Quebec of high birth and educated by the Jesuits -- will have us under his thumb." He laughed softly. "He is a big man', but there can only be one authority in Canada -- the King, and not the Church. There is our fighting ground, La Salle, there and nowhere else. But we shall win, for God and the King will be with us -- eh!"

La Salle bowed. "Though much be against us -- the Bishop and Duchesneau and all, we shall win by the grace of God."

"Jacque's Duchesneau -- an Intendant that makes trouble, and will make, more! The tool of the Jesuits, but not strong enough to conquer me, La Salle!"

At that moment came a tapping at the door, and an orderly entered. "M'sieu' Joliet would speak with Your Excellency."

"Joliet, the explorer-good!" said Frontenac. "Admit him."

Joliet entered, a man of vigor,, firm, and, good to see, and about the same age as La Salle. He was tattered and wayworn, but determined and keen-eyed. He had studied for the Jesuit priesthood in Canada, where he was born, and had left it to become a fur-trader.

Frontenac saw he had news of importance. He offered his hand and said: "Well, M. Joliet, you have traveled far" -- he pointed to his ragged clothes -- "that have you to tell?"

Joliet bowed. "With Pere Marquette we were sent by M. Talon, the late Intendant, to explore, and after trials and dangers on the Illinois, we entered the muddy surge of the Missouri. Out of this chaos we came at last upon the great quiet waters of the Mississippi."

"The Mississippi -- the Mississippi!" said Frontenac astonished. "So, it flows south, not west."

"To the Gulf of Mexico!" said Joliet.

"It is a great deed," interposed La Salle'. "By that, trade will not be stopped for months by ice in the river there. All the year round to France!"

"And the records of the journey?" said Frontenac.

"Naught, naught! We had escaped every peril from the Indians. I had passed forty-two rapids, and was landing at La Chine when my canoe was wrecked. I lost two men and my box of papers within sight of the settlements I had left years before. Nothing remains but my life -- to use it as Your Excellency may direct, if you will!"

Frontenac's face was a study in pride, regret and sympathy. "What matter your records, man! The Mississippi! France will thank you, as it does now through its Governor. You shall have service with me, Joliet, and henceforth, so far as I can, all shall go well with you."

Joliet bowed low with gratitude. Then he said: "I will serve you proudly, monseigneur." He turned to leave, his eyes alight with pleasure.

"But a moment, Joliet. Here is to relieve your instant Wants," and Frontenac placed a few gold pieces in his hand.

Joliet shook his head. "But no, Your Excellency. You need them more, for you must spend whether you will or no."

Frontenac smiled and took back the gold. "I have not seen such great faith, no, not in Israel!" he said cheerfully.

When Joliet had gone La Salle said: "The finding of the Mississippi is the summit of all. It opens up a marvelous field of trade for Louis, the Sun King!" His head lifted, his face shone, vision filled his eyes. "I see great things for France."

Frontenac, hand at his chin, looked meditatively at La Salle for a moment, and then said: "You live for your country and naught else, La Salle. You have the unselfish soul." He dropped a hand on La Salle's shoulder. "We can make New France the wider power of Old France -- you and I!"

He smiled. The proud, irascible Frontenac felt himself in accord with this well-born son of Rouen, who was to bring to France and the new world high honor. La Salle, shy, and with few popular gifts, still with the power to win all who were not selfishly against him, said slowly:

"You honor me, Excellency. We have far to go. I shall find the mouth of the Mississippi and make from here to the Caribbean Sea subject to the King of France."

Frontenac laughed quietly. "You see far, La Salle! You have been at work here seven years and you have paid the utmost price for all you have got and done. For your first trip of exploration you sold your seigneury of La Chine and spent the money in exploration. You are a dreamer, but that you have vast practical qualities, your deeds show. All you have you give."

The sun shone brilliantly in the room where were few signs of distinction save the fleur-de-lis, a portrait of Louis XIV, of Cartier, and of Champlain, and a map roughly drawn of New France, old oak chairs, wooden walls, dark with time, and a statue head of Brebeuf, the famous Jesuit missionary who had given his life under dreadful torture without a sign of pain. Frontenac's eyes were on this statue now. The Jesuits were against him, but his soul was too big to let his own wrongs affect his historical sense, and he had profound admiration for their courage and devotion, though he would fight to the last their national ambitions. The State first and last was his theory. Frontenac had vision and the sense of progress, and he was at one with La Salle.

La Salle said: "Excellency, I would receive direct from His Majesty my right to work in the Far West where foes retard all I do. The Church is against you as the head of all, and it is against me."

Frontenac interrupted: "I may be the head, but you are not the tail. You belong to our full body of progress. No, no, La Salle, you shall not fail. You must go to France. I will give you a letter to Colbert, the great minister of Louis." His eyes brightened, his lips laughed gently. "You will come back bigger than you went, and always, I hope, a friend of Frontenac."

La Salle inclined his head gratefully. "But not till you have opened the new Fort. We must have a large background of western trade before I go to France. It will have weight at Court."

Frontenac nodded.

At that moment came a tapping at the door, and an orderly announced the Intendant Duchesneau, the foe of Frontenac, and of La Salle whom he hated for his trade ambitions and because of his friendship with the Governor. A look of distrust crossed Frontenac's face, but he greeted the Intendant courteously. Duchesneau's eyes lowered sullenly when he saw La Salle, but he bowed to him with exaggerated impressiveness, while La Salle looked him steadily in the eyes and responded with grave precision. The Governor seeing, moved forward and shook La Salle warmly by the hand.

"Bon voyage, cher Sieur de la Salle," he said, in courteous and suggestive dismissal.

"I thank Your Excellency," responded La Salle and left the room, knowing why the Governor had spoken as he did.

The Intendant's eyes showed he did not understand Frontenac's "Bon voyage," but he did grasp the warm friendliness of the Governor.

"Your Excellency," he said, "that man has neither birth nor position in Canada. Your favor to him is not popular."

Frontenac's face showed satire. "Well, his family were burghers of Rouen. They were wealthy merchants with the elements of nobility, and La Salle was trained for a Jesuit. That's why he came to Canada poor -- training for a Jesuit priest deprived him of his natural inheritance by the laws of France. I find him patriotic, unselfish, and sincere."

The Intendant scowled. "Sincere -- a wild discoverer who sought to reach the Vermilion Sea on the way to China, and that's why his little Seigneury above Montreal was called La Chine!"

Frontenac sardonically replied; "La Chine! a good name, and his China will be here. He need not discover China. There is enough discovery here to last a lifetime."

Duchesneau smiled satirically. "Bon voyage to Sieur de la Salle!"

"Bon voyage, it shall be. Before him lies a wonder of achievement. History will record him, France will be proud of him, this continent will adore him."

"His brother, the Abbe Cavelier, does not adore him, Your Excellency. He is older and a good priest, and often disapproves of him."

"The Abbe Cavelier is a. priest of St. Sulpice. He received part of La Salle's inheritance, and he is cold to La Salle as are those who receive something for nothing. Is the Abbe Cavelier a man of unselfishness and patriotism?"

"He is a devoted priest, and Your Excellency should like him for he is not a Jesuit."

Frontenac's eyes rested on the statue of Brebeuf. He pointed: "Tiens, there is proof that I love the Jesuit for his piety, fearlessness, and faith. In all spiritual matters I am his perfect friend. Now let us to business, Intendant. What surprises have you! What grievances and public virtues !" He spoke satirically.

"No surprises. The English and Dutch at Albany, as you know, mean to get the trade of our Indians and to set the Iroquois against us."

"Bon voyage, Sieur de la Salle!" said the Governor with deep meaning.

WHEN La Salle left the Château St. Louis, he walked towards the house of Rojet Ranard, Farmer of the King's Revenue, where he was an honored guest. The wife of Ranard was beautiful and her Christian name was Barbe. She, like Ranard, was a Jesuit and full of hatred for the man who had growing power in the country and had vast influence already with the Indians. La Salle had hesitated to accept the invitation, but did so because it might lessen Jesuit opposition; and so far nothing could have been more charming than Monsieur and Madame Ranard's treatment of him. They had a comfortable house just inside St. John's Gate, with a splendid view over the St. Lawrence, and he had been used with handsome familiarity.

Barbe Ranard was fair-haired, buoyant, graceful, slim, and of a vivacious temperament. She was quick of tongue, clever at repartee, and had the manner of the accomplished woman of the type of De Montespan and that class who prey upon the susceptibilities of men and their love of the beautiful and amusing. Barbe Ranard, at twenty-four, had beauty and distinction and was now the mistress of Duchesneau, who guessed why La Salle had been asked to stay with the Farmer of the King's Revenue. The Intendant would do much to destroy La Salle) and this way seemed possible and sure. Ranard, who did not know Duchesneau's relations with his wife -- or pretended not to do so -- was bent to secure advancement, and by playing up to Duchesneau and the Jesuits, saw his chance. He was a man of slower wit than his wife, but of straggling force and with a soul for mean things as had she, or they could not have plotted as they did.

When La Salle reached Montneuve, he entered full of joy at his interview with Frontenac and was going to his room, when he was met in the hall by his hostess.

She held up a hand in greeting: "Ah, dear monsieur, it is good we meet, for I wish a little talk, if you are not too busy. In my boudoir if you will."

Her eyes were laughing and innocent and she was becomingly dressed in a severely plain gown of pale gray, cut very low in front and showing soft shy breasts; and there was naught around her gracious neck save the glow of perfect health. Her golden hair hung in profusion, and her lips were like ripe cherries, soft, amorous, and tempting. As she ran up the. stairs softly, La Salle could see her dress was pulled up so that her fine ankles showed, and her stockings were of tender pink. She was, as women go, a flower of the garden of Hesperides, and made a. picture that to a lesser man than La Salle would have been all captivating. He had eyes for women, for grace and beauty, but there was that far deeper in his life -- love of his work -- and all else must yield to that.

Inside her boudoir, an exquisite room, brightly colored with silk and linen of grace and sweet design, she motioned him to a sofa, while she took a huge armchair beside the sofa. As La Salle sat down his mind was busy. Why had she brought him? It was as sweet a room as he had ever entered in Canada, and appealed to the sensuous side of him. For a few moments she gazed at him with a curious warm light in her eyes and sweet seduction in her carriage. She was essentially one of the women who helped at last to bring the French Revolution, and who have been at once the flaming morn and the somber sunset of more than one great land. She had brains to go far and she would go far; and this enterprise meant that favor with people in high places which could advance her own and her husband's interests -- with the all-powerful Jesuit body, and with court life through Jacques Duchesneau, who stood well in France. She would have played for Frontenac, but he was too old, too uncertain, and he was opposed by the Jesuits; whose career he was retarding in Canada. Besides) Frontenac was not subject to women's wiles. He had, like La Salle, an ambition that was the State and its power. He was not selfish, but he was always, and to the end, the devout lover of France and her advancement. Barbe Ranard read him as such women do, with vital inseeing. She had the gift of the perfect Delilah.

Never had she looked better than she did this afternoon. She had no soul, but she had a marvelously sensitive temperament, and she was full of emotion, but was incapable of fidelity or true feeling. She was not immoral, she was non-moral. She could not see the vileness in her own mind and body. Truth and honor had never been a part of her, and never could be. From her birth she had gone the crooked path. Well born, she had married Rojet Ranard because he was in the Government, and her fixed idea was to get foot on the ladder and let her brains, body, and good fortune do the rest.

After a. few moments in which she tried to impress the senses of La Salle, she said: "You have the mind that wins, Sieur de la Salle. You were trained for a Jesuit priest, but the wider things caught you -- not the bigger things, but the wider things, and you would now do immense things for the land you love -- we both love. I hate to say it, but I have studied you while you have stayed with us, and all I see makes me know the really patriotic thing is in you."

She blushed slightly and lowered her eyes with the skill of her wonderful duplicity, and she added, almost brokenly: "I should like to help you -- oh, I should! You will do so much for France in Canada! Oh!"

La Salle was impressed. It was an age when women played upon the senses of the biggest men. In sudden unsuspicious sympathy he half stretched a hand towards her, and she slid forward on her knees, buried her face in her hands and wept some fickle and easily commanded tears.

He almost touched her, but suddenly he felt it was not right to do so as a guest in the house, or at all, and in a voice of some emotion he said: "You are all too kind, madame. I wish I could accept your help, but I may not -- I must not do so."

"Why must you not?" she sobbed, and bent over so that he could look down between her most attractive breasts and could smell the exquisite perfume she used. It was this act of hers that brought him to his feet in his fight for safety and escape

"No, no, no I cannot accept your aid. You are not of the women one can meet in affairs of business and let it stay at that. No, no, madame, it must not be. It cannot be."

She sprang to her feet and threw her hands on his shoulders. "Oh, La Salle, most dear and wonderful La Salle, let me give you my help in all you do. I can influence so many -- I can be what no wife could ever be to you. Can you not see, La Salle?"

He' withdrew her hands from his shoulders, looked her in the eyes, and felt her utter shamelessness, her disregard of all the conventions of life, the utter rule of sex in her, and he said, firmly, "It shall not be," and hastened to the door and opened it.

Outside stood Rojet Ranard, who had helped to plan this hideous thing. Glancing back, La Salle saw Barbe with bitter passion in her eyes and lip curled in revolt. With a look of contempt at Ranard he left the house in anger.

"God save us!" he said, in stern appeal. "Is this what I shall have to face? Henceforth those two are against me -- and the Jesuits and the Court folk behind' them -- Duchesneau and his kind here and in Paris." He went to old quarters he had known before and sent to Montneuve for his clothes.

Behind in Montneuve the humiliated wife said: "Rojet, that man has the nerve of the devil and the blood of an icicle. He has escaped us, and he will go on -- curse him, like an eagle flamboyant -- unless we do for him in another way. Yet he is handsome, too, in his grim way and I could almost have wished we were not playing a part. He has big things in him or he could not have withstood me. I am not easy to withstand, am I, dear Rojet?"

"No one could withstand you, Barbe, who was not sunk in his own importance. That man is a danger here, and we have failed. I almost wish I had challenged him."

A queer smile passed over the face of Barbe as she turned her head away. "He is a trained swordsman, Rojet, and you would have had a hard time. You did not mean to kill him, but to drive him from Quebec. It could have been done so easily if he had taken me in his arms -- so easily!"

"Easy as eating. Not Frontenac -- he is La, Salle's friend -- but the Intendant and the Jesuits would have made life unbearable for him here. He would have been ruined-and forever!"

"He will be ruined forever yet," she said. "Do you think a woman ever forgives such a slight? No, no, no! See you, Rojet, I will pursue him wherever he goes, till I defeat him in the end. He shall pay to the last centime for what he did today. Does he think he is bigger than Barbe Ranard? He shall see. I have brains. I have what he has not, duplicity. See you" -- the beautiful savage teeth showed in menace, the blue eyes danced fire. "I will fight him every step of his way. He defeated me to-day. I will spend life and time in putting a blight on all he does, I will prevent his fame coming to fruition. When he goes to France -- he is going, he told me so yesterday -- I will be there."

"Why should he go to France?" he asked: "What can he do there?"

Her brilliant eyes answered. There flashed into them the look that has entered the brains of such women as Medea, or Lady Macbeth, and she said with ruthless lips: "Why indeed? It will be not so difficult to make France impossible. I see my way -- I see it."

Ranard laughed. "You have resources, Barbe. If you say you will do a thing, it is done one way or another in the end. See, there has lately come into my employ a clever man from the North, Tuke Darois, who hates La Salle, and Du Lhut, the great coureur de bois, and we can use him at need. He has an eye for dark things -- I see that."

"Tuke Darois ! I like the 'Tuke,' it has dark possibilities. Who is the man? What has been his work?"

"He has been a trapper in the far North. His wife was Scotch and he has a daughter, a very pretty girl of eighteen or so. She is not like him -- looks straight and honest; but he! well, behind his calm face is the soul of the devil. He is a most capable accountant, so I employ him. I have clearly instructed him to watch Du Lhut, and I know he hates La Salle -- why I know not."

Barbe smiled. "Good, my Rojet. All comes our way. That man should help in good time-and his daughter, too!"

He shook his head. "No, she is of a different breed. I don't think we can use her."

"Well, let me try." Her face took on a look of rancor.

She turned to a table and picked up a letter. "I see one way here -- in this letter. Read it. There's no reason why you should not. It is one of many that come into my life. Read it, Rojet."

He took the letter and read it, and a sour smile passed over his face.

"Nicolas Perrot, the explorer, too, and in love with you. What will come of this I What a fool to write like that !"

"It is not a fool of a letter, though. It tells the honest mind of the man. Suppose I" -- she drew his head to her mouth and whispered. "Suppose -- that? And when it is done, he cannot compel me -- do you see, because by accident you had discovered the part he played -- do you not see? La Salle goes to the West before he goes to France. If not there, then here."

Ranard was a bad man and lived in an age of good and evil, with, on the whole, the dominance of good, yet he almost shrank from the vile plot in her mind. He looked at her -- so fair, and yet so black with dishonor behind her radiant face and exquisite hair and luring eyes! He felt stunned, for wickedness should not go with so much charm and soft luxuriance.

"By the eternal, you have the thing that knows not eclipse! You have no soul -- "

"Don't say that. I am confessed and pardoned and go on again as before. No soul -- eh, la la -- "

"Do you confess all your sins?"

"Not all at once. Life is not so short as that. But a sin committed for the Church is forgiven. So I shall be forgiven -- always."

He shook his head in pretended horror. "When shall you see Nicolas Perrot? He is in Quebec, I know."

"Yes, I saw him on Wednesday, and I can have him here at any time, and with your consent I will."

"Send for him now."

"The sooner the better. La Salle has raised what he cannot lay. He shall pay to the utmost."

Her note was of the briefest, "Dear Monsieur, come at once, please."

When she had dusted the ink and folded and sealed the letter, she said, "How long do you think La Salle can contend against me?"

Her eyes were 'still bitter, her cheek was flushed, her lithe figure was tense, and yet, resist it as she would, a longing for La Salle was on her. All the more she would destroy him -- the paramount fool!

"As long as he lives, no longer," said Ranard', with enmity. "His sun does not rise far," she replied.

She rang a bell and a man-servant entered. "Bear this to M. Nicolas Perrot at Terre Bonne House, and answer no questions. Do you understand?"

The man bowed his head. "Perfectly, madame." There was a queer look in Auguste's eyes. He had borne messages before to M. Duchesneau, and he was well paid for his services. If he betrayed his mistress, his life would end, and he knew it. He was a man of sound judgment.

"Come soon, Nicolas," said Barbe Ranard, aloud, with a satirical smile.

"He will not tarry. I go to my office," said Ranard.

BARBE RANARD was not long alone. She heard a voice in the hall, and in a moment the Intendant was in the room. He bowed over her hand and kissed it with passion, but malevolence was in his eyes. She saw both.

"What is it, dear monsieur?" she asked. "You have news."

"Always coming from the Château St. Louis, I have news."

"What is it now, Jacques?"

"Only that Frontenac and La Salle are closer than ever, and La Salle is going West -- 'Bon Voyage, Sieur de la Salle,' said Frontenac, and I said it later."

"Going West -- yes, but he goes to France also."

"How do you know that?"

"He has been staying here, and he told me yesterday. What he is going for I know not and I care not. He left this house in anger a half-hour ago."

"In anger -- why?"

"He is quick tempered, and -- "

"Yes, yes, I know. Well?"

"I said something in jest' and he left in a fury. He is never returning here," she added viciously.

"Your humor is not bitter to your guests, I'm sure of that."

"You never found it so. I'll tell you what I tried to do. He was too hard to move, so he left us."

She then told Duchesneau much, and at first he quivered with anger; then he burst into laughter at the failure of it.

"You were balked, then, for the first time in your life. So that was your jest -- a scurvy one -- and he shall pay for it! You were working for a good end -- he is a danger to this province of great Louis. He is a foe of the Jesuits who are my uncompromising support. So, I am grateful to you, Barbe."

"Why did I do it? For you and our friends, and, as it is, I will publish in a quiet way at the Sainte. Famille on Thursday, that he courted me and that I rejected him with scorn."

He caught her in his arms. "Your love is as deep as mine -- and deeper -- eh, my Barbe!"

He drank the sweetness of her lips, and for a moment she lay quiescent in his arms. Suddenly, however, she disengaged herself.

"This is madness in the daytime in my salon. It is madness. Suppose a servant entered -- suppose my husband came!"

"Oh, it is worth running risks for a million times, and it is good he does not know. Are you sure he does not know?"

She showed her pretty teeth. "I am sure of naught in this sad world except you. I cannot think he knows, or he' would not be so loving to me. We worked together as to La Salle, but why should he as to you? That was pretense -- this is reality -- don't you understand?"

He inclined his head. "Of course. Now see: we must deal roughly with La Salle. He is not under my control -- only that of Frontenac, who is his friend. But I can cripple him indirectly -- as to trade and supplies, as to finance. I can set people in Quebec against him. They are increasing steadily. We must retard him in every way, and the end is ours."

"The end shall be ours beyond doubt," was Barbe's reply. "Beloved, it is not wise to stay longer. I expect one whom I shall use against La Salle. He is a rugged son of New France in his own line of life."

"I can't think who it is," said Duchesneau.

"Do not try to guess, but go now, best beloved, go. The Intendant would have embraced her again, but she refused, and he kissed her hand avidly.

"When will you come to me?" he entreated.

She declined to say. "There is always faithful Auguste," she said.

FRONTENAC made the journey to Lake Ontario to build a fort and cement relations with the Five Nations Indians who almost controlled the new West and were being influenced by the English and the Dutch of New York. They had no great power on the water, but were very strong on land. Combination was their secret.

The center of their power was the Long House, where in goodly numbers they lived, sometimes five hundred at a time. It was like living in at college. It bred a tribal spirit, a sense of communion, of purpose, of identity, and even those they conquered, whom they did not kill and eat, felt it. The palace of Versailles was the same. It combined, it produced a settled system, It brought the nobles under the direct influence of the King. It simplified government. It did in a week in administration of government what would have taken a month in Paris.

Frontenac had sent La Salle to Onondaga, the headquarters of the Iroquois, to invite their chiefs to council at Cataraqui, now Kingston. Frontenac ordered the people of Quebec and Montreal to furnish armed men and canoes, and asked regular and militia officers in the province to accompany him. At the beginning of June he left with his guard, his staff, volunteers, and part of the guard of the Château St. Louis.

At Montreal he was received by the governor, Perrot, a nominee of the Jesuits, his soldiers and the people, and, after salutation of firearms and speeches, went to the fort, where means was taken to prevent his proceeding, even by the lie that a Dutch fleet had taken Boston and were about to attack Quebec. But Frontenac would not be beguiled. So, with four hundred men, one hundred and twenty canoes, and two large flatboats painted in strange devices to dazzle the Iroquois, he moved westward. On their way disaster almost overcame them, owing to bad weather and swollen waters. They made their way slowly but bravely, sometimes in flood to the knees or their armpits, feet cut by stones, and nearly swept away, but they toiled on, the Indians working under Frontenac as they worked for no one else save such as La Salle. Frontenac's authoritative spirit was to their liking and they obeyed him. Frontenac, without his cloak and drenched, directed them, and once he lay awake; anxious lest the biscuits should be wet -- this would have meant the failure of the mission. But Frontenac, the once admired darling of the court of the Sun King, was a born pioneer, and asked men to do naught which he would not do himself. That was the character of the man in an era of feudalism, with the gifts and habits of democracy; he would have been successful in any age or time.

On the way, and beyond the Thousand Islands, a canoe brought La Salle to Frontenac.

"How now, La Salle?" he said, warmly, as La Salle stepped into his canoe.

"All well, Your Excellency! They are in big numbers at Cataraqui, but I beg you go as to a great battle with all force arrayed. Nothing impresses Indians like show of power in the Governor."

Frontenac smiled. "You have the gift for the Indian mind, La Salle," and nodded.

It was an imposing sight -- four divisions in the first line, after which two flatboats filled with men, then himself and La Salle, the guards, the staff, and the gentlemen volunteers, followed by canoes and two remaining divisions. Slowly they went to Cataraqui and met on the shore vast numbers of Iroquois, who had been amazed by the show of strength, the display of the old soldiers of the Cangnan-Sallieres regiment, and the uniforms of the Governor's guard.

The next morning the drums beat and all were drawn up under arms. A double line of men extended from Frontenac's tent to the Indian camp, and along this line sixty savage deputies came to the council. The deputies squatted on the sails of the flatboats in a ring and smoked their pipes. Once La Salle stooped and whispered to a chief called Garakontie, a friend of the French, and grunts of applause came from the Indians. At length Frontenac, La Salle, and his officers were all seated. They surveyed the assembled Indians, taking measure of their mettle, and gifts to the Iroquois were made ready. Behind the Indian warriors stood the squaws who had influence with their men.

At length Garakontie rose and in the name of the Five Nations paid deference and respect to Frontenac in a friendly speech to which his chiefs said loudly, "Hoh! Hoh!"

Then Frontenac in his splendid uniform spoke:

"Children Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas, and Senecas, I am glad to see you here, where I have had a fire lighted for you to smoke by and for me to talk to you. You have done well, my children, to obey the command of your father. Take courage -- you will hear his voice, which is full of power and tenderness. For do not think I have come to make war. My mind is full of peace and she walks by my side. Courage then, children, and take rest."

During the long speech the gifts were distributed -- cloth, tinseled dresses, tobacco, heads. Never before had a Governor addressed them as "Children," but always as "Brothers," and yet this did not offend them, for Frontenac was dominant and decisive, and behind him was force. They would not have borne it from another. They accepted with applause, for they knew a man when they saw him. Frontenac gave guns to the men, and prunes and raisins and dried fruits to the wives and children.

This was the preliminary meeting. Afterwards the fort was begun, and the Indians were astounded at the order and alacrity of the work. Meanwhile Frontenac asked the chiefs constantly to his table, fondled the Iroquois children, gave them sweetmeats, and feasted the squaws, and they all danced before him. When the fort was nearly finished, Frontenac held a grand council with state and ceremony. His perceptions were remarkable. He felt the Indians as an artist feels the true atmosphere of a man, or a place.

He spoke, begging them to become Christians, and his conscience and his policy were at one in this. His tone was soft and gentle. Then he changed it, and he said, pointing to his troops:

"If your father can come so far to make you a visit of friendship, what would he do if you should rouse his anger, so that he must punish his disobedient children? He is the arbiter of peace and war. Beware how you offend him. You must not molest Indian friends of the French -- other tribes and peoples." He added, sharply, that he would chastise them for any breaches of the peace.

After these threats he spoke with paternal kindness, saying he meant to build at Cataraqui a storehouse where they could buy all they needed. They must not listen to bad men, but only to such as Sieur de la Salle, whom he asked now to address them.

La Salle had in mind the dreadful Iroquois in the past, and recalled when Father Poncet, after sleeping in dank weeds, had colic as he waded waist deep through a noxious stream -- how his feet were blistered, his legs benumbed.

The priest begged for a bowl of broth and he was given wild plums, and only at night as he lay fainting did he receive the broth. At last an old Indian took his hands, examined them, and told a child of five years old to cut off the left forefinger with a knife, which he did while Poncet sang the "Vexilla Regis." This was one of the innumerable tortures the fathers had borne at the hands of the Iroquois.

La Salle had great gifts of simple utterance, no rhetoric, no eloquence; his was straight and forceful speech, and he knew how to speak to Indians. His words were a true supplement to those of the Governor.

"Brothers, friends," he said, while Frontenac listened, delighted, "we have far to go together. The Governor gives me control of this fort. Food and supplies will come, and you shall have what you need in return for your peltries. In me you have a friend. I would not deceive you. My life among you will prove my fidelity. Brothers of the Five Nations, the French are your friends -- King Louis, greatest of monarchs, is your father. He is of vast power and in Count Frontenac he sends one of his mightiest here. This Governor is kind, but he is firm and strong, and under him you may rest in peace and prosper. Here at Fort Frontenac is your cache for all good things. Brothers, I give you greeting!"

All this was well received -- Indians shouting "Hoh! Hoh!" and the calumet chant was sung as the Indians rose to their feet and tramped round. The calumet is like a flag of truce and is the sign of good will and peace. This was the chant:

"Heia, Heia, Yankennonaue.
Heia, Heia, Yankennonaue."

The mission had been successful, and Frontenac left Cataraqui to the loud applause of the Iroquois. It was clear that the fort, with the aid of a vessel, could command Lake Ontario, help to keep peace with the Iroquois, and stop the trade with the English. With a fort at Niagara and another vessel on Lake Erie the French could command all the upper lakes. All this was part of La Salle's scheme.

WITH letters of commendation from Frontenac to Colbert, the great minister of King Louis, La Salle, went to France, but Barbe Ranard preceded him, knowing his purposes.

She had naught save malice for La Salle. The Intendant had written to Colbert that La Salle was a madman and should receive no favors from the King. To the enmity of the priests was added the malice of a woman who had failed of her purpose, and who, in truth, cared for La Salle in her own vicious, curious way.

Her bitterness came from defeat. Her husband had made much money in Canada, and she felt that at court she could defeat La Salle at every corner. She knew well the Abbe Potin, who was a prominent figure at court, the confessor of De Montespan, and the faithful friend of the Jesuits of Canada, and to him she went on arrival.

The apartments of the Abbe were near those of the Prince de Conti, Louis Armand de Bourbon, a cousin of King Louis, and a younger brother of the great Conde who had influence at court and was a favorite of King Louis.

The Abbe lived outwardly with austerity, but he had luxurious tastes and, though a Jesuit, had license from the Pope to spend money freely for the good of the Church. He had a mind not wholly Eden-like and a great vanity, for he was handsome and his cassock was ever scrupulously clean and fitted well his lean and graceful figure.

"So, my charming madame, you have come back to the gilded cage," he said to Barbe when she kissed his hand.

Her bright eyes shone as she said, "To the cage, yes, from the aviary, and it has nests of many strange birds."

The Abbe caught her meaning and he motioned her to a seat. Then he looked at her meditatively for a moment and said, "So I have heard, and another of the birds is to visit the court soon." He saw her surprise and added, "You see, I have the clairvoyant sense, petite madame."

"Is it clairvoyance or an excellent correspondent in Quebec?"

He smiled with a subtle look in his eyes. "I speak of a foe of my Order who is coming to France. His name is Robert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle, and he has a brother an abbe, an old acquaintance of mine. So I may be clairvoyant -- eh!"

"Because I wished to pay humble respects to you, and to tell you of La Salle I come to you soon after I landed, Abbe. La Salle has come for favors from the court, and your Order in Canada and the Intendant wish to stay his hand."

"And as a true daughter of the Order, you would serve us with your beauty and your intellect -- eh, madame?"

She read the double meaning in his words, yet only a flash of resentment came to her eyes. Such men as he, long trained in court life, could not easily be deceived, and she replied, "All I am is at the service of our Order, so I come direct to you."

Suddenly his manner changed. The careful, benignant look fled from his face and a steely expression came. He leaned a forearm on his knee and looked her steadily in the eyes:

"You wish me to help you, so let us bargain with clear minds. It is not our Order alone, though you are faithful to it, but you would not come to France at great expense for that alone. You hate La Salle, is it not so?"

She hesitated, then conquered by his infrangible mind and the danger of deception, she said:

"It is as you say, and for good reason."

He smiled subtly. "I know. You would have done a good thing for our Order, and, resisting you, you loathed him, and now you would bring him to naught at the court of the King. Is it that?"

She had regained her composure and she looked at him with the eyes of a child, and her sensitive smiling mouth told what she felt more surely than her eyes.

"Yes, be sure it is that -- but first it was for our Order."

"And for the Intendant, the foe of La Salle and Frontenac?"

Now she flushed slightly and inclined her head.

"Yet you would have played with La Salle in spite of Duchesneau?"

"A woman is never sure of herself till she is tried to the full, M. l'Abbe."

"Quite so, I understand. You have the big thing in you, and we shall find you successful at Court, Madame Barbe?"

He lingered over the last word, for it was a challenge of her purity of life. She understood, and she could not resist, for this man could help her in what she would do, and he was handsome and graceful, and if he had not been a priest -- !

"With your help, dear Abbe, I hope to defeat La Salle. He is a menace to the good of that land where our Order ruled so well and so long. Under Laval's influence Canada did well; under Frontenac not so well. He grows rich with trade, and the land grows poorer. As Frontenac has increased, Canada has decreased."

"I understand. We have now clear way to walk and we must find what to do. The great Colbert -- you would meet him? I can get to him through his son, Marquis de Seignelay. I expect him here to day. His message said he wished to see me -- I know not on what business."

At that moment came a soft knocking on the door, and a Jesuit brother entered.~ He held a card in his hand. The Abbe took it.

"Admit him:"

She was about to leave, but the Abbe, tapping her cheek with a finger, said:

"No, meet him before you go. It is well, worth while."

Seignelay entered. He was to become Naval Minister soon. The Abbe saluted him with deference, and he turned to Barbe. The Abbe said: "Madam Ranard has just come from Quebec, Monsieur. May I present her?"

Seignelay gave Barbe his hand, which she kissed, then a curious look flashed across his face.

"I have heard of the fame and position of madame. Has she a special mission here?"

"If Monsieur would allow me to call on him one day I could make all clear. It could not be done in a few words. But may I, Monsieur?" Barbe added, with an ingratiating smile, for the minister looked like one who could be impressed by a clever, pretty woman. Yet a queer look came into the Abbe's eyes. He knew that Seignelay was not easily moved by women -- had he not seen it with the friends of the King's favorites, Valliere, Fontanges, De Montespan and De Maintenon. Seignelay said to her: "I shall welcome madame to-morrow at twelve noon at Versailles -- if 'that may please?"

Barbe curtsied. "I will joy to wait upon Monseigneur," and she met the enigmatical look in Seignelay's eyes with no real understanding. With a deep bow to them, both she left the room.

"You have known madame long, Abbe? Handsome but not of noble family, eh?" "I have known her ten years, Monsieur. She is not of noble family, but she married one in the government-Rojet Ranard, Farmer of His Majesty's revenue."

"Ah yes. I have heard -- a man who blinks an eye, I fear. She plays a part with -- one who matters in Canada. Now, Abbe" -- with a friendly wave of the hand -- "you can do the King's Government service by seeing the learned Abbe Renaudot. I would have him get from Madame Frontenac the latest inside news of her husband. He and she have not lived together many years, but she is a sagely clever woman, and she has, though poor, wide influence, yet she never appears at Court. She is the daughter of La Grange Trianon and once close friend of Montpensier, Louis' cousin, but they fell apart. She is still beautiful. She is devoted to his interests, and my father would know what Frontenac tells' her about the Intendant and Indian affairs. They get official reports, but more is needed -- if administration is to be handled well. Only one like' Abbe Renaudot could gain her confidence, and he would do that for the King, of course."

"Monsieur, I will do what I can. I know the abbe fairly well. We are all patriots, are we not?"

Seignelay took a pinch of snuff and offered his box to the Abbe. He ignored the remark about patriotism.

"There are bad days in Canada, Abbe."

"Yet never better in France, Monsieur."

"As you say, never better in France."

"France has gone farther than in all her history -- thanks to your father, Monseigneur Colbert, Monsieur."

"Thanks to the King," said Seignelay, with a reproving smile.

LA SALLE lodged in the Rue de la Truanderie at Paris, and he presently came to know the Abbe Renaudot, whom he met at the house of Comtesse Frontenac and with whom he immediately made friendship. The society at the home of Madame Frontenac and Mademoiselle Outrelaise did not appeal to him, for he was shy by nature, but he had from madame assurances that she would do all in her power for him, though her influence with the court was not direct.

The" Abbe Renaudot had seen the Abbe Potin, and had accepted the commission to get from Madame Frontenac information, but to get it openly, and he presently told the countess all.

She smiled, for she had been a close friend of Madame de Montpensier -- the granddaughter of Henry IV and cousin of King Louis XIV -- and she ,knew Court life well-but she worked for Frontenac from outside, and she' gave the Abbe all she could with intelligence and discrimination.

To La Salle she said, before he left her house:

"Here you shall always be welcome, Sieur de la Salle, and we will help you when we can." She had still great beauty and charm and wit, and he trusted her and liked her much.

The Abbe Renaudot was at once taken to his heart, for he was learned, reliable, a patriot, and superbly honest, and La Salle saw that at once. La Salle had few gifts for ingratiating himself at Court, and could not push his cause like most among his contemporaries.

So it was the Abbe Renaudot came to see him with a rarely aroused interest. He had many talks with La Salle in the rooms in the Rue de la Truanderie, and he learned of La Salle's troubles, ambitions, and enterprises.

La Salle made it clear to the Abbe Renaudot that Frontenac had resource and determination and was to play a big part in the history of New France. His faults we're on the surface -- a quick temper, a stern will to have his dignity recognized, but a consummate courage where he had to contend against the Church and the Intendant, and the difficult, lawless folk of a new land.

Duchesneau had declared that Frontenac used the coureurs de bois to promote trade, compelled the Indians to pay his guards for protecting them, and he never allowed the inhabitants to trade until the Indians had given him packs of beaver skins, which he called "presents."

La Salle said to the Abbe Renaudot: "There never was a man who served the King more faithfully than he, and time and history will prove this. The best proof is he has taken the harder course -- he has fought the old, powerful body of Jesuits, and they have fought him with the concentrated force of the Church. There was a time when four-fifths of the funds of the Province went to the Church, and there must come an end to that -- there must! A lesser man would have sought the easier way. He chose the harder, and he is poor. He has not enough salary to support him. The man who did the most for Canada preceding Frontenac was Talon. That handsome man with his oval face and his shower of curls, his smooth features, the mouth formed for feminine sensibility than for masculine force, did great work; he opened the field for Frontenac. Talon prepared the way for Frontenac, my unconquerable leader."

Then La Salle told the Abbe of Madame Ranard, of her presence in France now, to spoil his chances of help in his explorations from the King and Colbert, and of her trap with her husband, for himself. He also said she was a member of a Jesuit society called the Sainte Famille, which met every Thursday at the cathedral with closed doors, where they told of all that had happened during the week, and nothing was told against the Jesuits. It was a sort of female inquisition, and the week after the trap had been laid for La Salle, Barbe told the assembled ladies of La Salle's attempt to conquer her virtue and of the opportune arrival of her husband. She told it with tears in her evil, beautiful eyes.

So it was that many left the Sainte Famille believing La Salle guilty of the crime, though there was no supporting evidence from his past history. Yet Barbe had done her, work well, and, were it not that her relations with Duchesneau were guessed, there would have been greater effect, but it had set the unthinking against La Salle.

The Abbe shifted in his seat. "If Bishop Laval gives assent to this evil society, it is a dangerous precedent. We have naught like it in France, and the King would not permit it."

He laid a hand on La Salle's knee: "You were wise to come to France, and all will go well. You have foes, but you can overcome them. I do not fear the end."

La Salle lifted his head, in gratitude. "You are a good friend, Abbe, but I have not met my powerful foes here. Duchesneau, the Intendant, has written, and Madame Ranard is here, and she can bring big guns to bear. An able lying woman is a dangerous foe." His eyes became darker in anxiety, his face looked troubled. "I can fight men -- I know their games -- but I cannot fight women. I am at sea till I find what she has done."

"She has seen the Abbe Potin, who came to me concerning the Comtesse Frontenac, and she has seen Seignelay this I know -- and also the Prince de Conti, who married a La Salle after the first greetings with eager eyes. What La Salle saw pleased him. He felt he could trust this man, who was the more appealing because of his metal left hand covered with a glove. He gave his right hand to La Salle, of whom he had heard, not always to his credit. But Tonty was a man who formed his on judgment, and that the Prince de Conti had sent him was sufficient.

La Salle smiled at him, and in the frank smile was a covert invitation, for at once La Salle wished to work with him. Tonty had the prodigious gift-he' was a man of character, and he was, as the Abbe has said, unmarried and free for a life of peril and adventure.

"I have come from the Prince de Conti to a valued friend whom all France trusts -- the Abbe here. We are fortunate, for men of trust are not plentiful in these days."

The Abbes smile was that of content, for he saw these two men had made alliance of the heart already, and the way of success was more possible to La Salle. He knew that La Salle was lacking in those lighter qualities which Tonty had, and with character, too. He had the insight of the perfect priest who sees men as they not always see themselves, for his class are removed from the ambitions that influence others, and see more clearly than the average man.

"Sieur de la Salle has been telling me of life in Canada, and it is thrilling. It is full of danger and anxiety, but it is the upbuilding of an Empire of the West."

Tonty smiled and nodded. "I cannot return to Naples to build empire there, and France is now my nation. I would help build up New France. There is this drawback, of course -- lifting up his metal hand -- "but it would not prevent me, if I got the chance-if I got it."

He looked La Salle in the eyes, and La Salle said: "There is naught I wish more than to work with you. I need La Salle after the first greetings with eager eyes. What La Salle saw pleased him. He felt he could trust this man, who was the more appealing because of his metal left hand covered with a glove. He gave his right hand to La Salle, of whom he had heard, not always to his credit. But Tonty was a man who formed his own judgment, and that the Prince de Conti had sent him was sufficient.

La Salle smiled at him, and in the frank smile was a covert invitation, for at once La Salle wished to work with him. Tonty had the prodigious gift -- he was a man of character, and he was, as the Abbe has said, unmarried and free for a life of peril and adventure.

"I have come from the Prince de Conti to a valued friend whom all France trusts -- the Abbe here. We are fortunate, for men of trust are not plentiful in these days."

The Abbe's smile was that of content, for he saw these two men had made alliance of the heart already, and the way of success was more possible to La Salle. He knew that La Salle was lacking in those lighter qualities which Tonty had, and with character, too. He had the insight of the perfect priest who sees men as they not always see themselves, for his class are removed from the ambitions that influence others, and see more clearly than the average man.

"Sieur de' la Salle has been telling me of life in Canada, and it is thrilling. It is full of danger and anxiety, but it is the upbuilding of an Empire of the West."

Tonty smiled and nodded. "I cannot return to Naples to build empire there, and France is now my nation. I would help build up New France. There is this drawback, of course, lifting up his metal hand -- "but it would not prevent me, if I got the chance -- if I got it."

He looked La Salle in the eyes, and La Salle said: "There Is naught I wish more than to work with you. I need much a man of your caliber, for in Canada most men are out against me, even those I much admire. They are big, and they work against me and with the Intendant and certain old friends now hostile through trade, and others. I have far to go before I can win them to me -- far to go."

THE court assembled in the vast suite of apartments decorated by pictures and sculptures, tapestries, mosaics in light and splendor. Throngs feasted, gamed, promenaded, talked, and nowhere else in the world was there such magnificence. The suite was called the "Halls of Abundance" -- of Venus, Mars, Diana, Mercury, Apollo; and Louis XIV met in the salon of Apollo with his courtiers, affable, gracious, august, a marvel of hard work and love of country, which under him was growing great and powerful.

Louis was his own Prime Minister and at the head of each department of state. His brain knew every important detail of every court in Europe. He formed his own policy and had an organization throughout France such as no government ever had. He was behind all the amazing progress of France. He had built it up from a series of fighting duchies from the days of the Fronde.

Louis has been traduced as the most arrogant ruler, who, a beardless king of seventeen, after a ride from Vincennes, strode; whip in hand, into the Parliament of Paris when they were discussing coinage, and said, sternly: "I forbid you, M. le President, to discuss my edicts." The key to his policy lay in the words, "L'etat, C'est moi." It has been called the sublimity of arrogance; yet his was the most brilliant reign of any modern French king; under him science and art flourished. Cou'ld it be that a man, however vain, who was an indefatigable worker, and who by his attitude to the world and to Canada, his new territory, shows his real nature by letters of such discernment and even justice, was so bad as has been painted? At one time he controlled Europe in effect. His army worshiped him.

We must not view the time of Louis XIV as we view life to-day -- not in England, America, or in any other country. We must compare it with contemporary days. So doing, life under Louis in his seventy-two years' reign was most creditable to France. Vanity and arrogance are not crimes, else few great men would stand the test of time, and under Louis' powdered periwig and ringlets there was a brain of power; under his lace cravat there were a heart and mind that did honor to France; and behind his broad-skirted velvet coat and gold-headed cane and diamond-mounted stud, and jeweled snuff-box there was the courage of a man and the soul of a statesman. Extravagant he was and he loved display, but he worked like a slave with his Ministers, and no important detail escaped him. The letters he wrote to Frontenac and other Governors and Intendants, and to officials in New France are best tribute to a rare personality. Under the Generals Conde and Turenne, with Louvois as Minister of War; under Gremonville and Lionne as ambassadors, with Generals Vauban and Crequi and D'Enghien to come -- France had reached to greater and greater days.

While the salon was full of courtiers awaiting the entrance of the Grand Monarch, things were happening on which depended the future of France in the New World. Were it not for La Salle, the vast territory from Fort Frontenac to the Gulf of Mexico would not have been taken in the name of France. We shall see how things went with La Salle.

It was at the house of the Prince de Conti that a meeting chanced which would influence the future of Canada. Tonty had given the Prince the result of his visit to the -- Abbe Renaudot, and Conti heard with pleasure that La Salle had asked Tonty to go to Canada. He said:

"I do not hear so well of La Salle's prospects as I had hoped, Tonty. He has bitter, powerful foes. If they influence King Louis and Colbert and Seignelay I shall have anxiety.

"But, Your Highness's influence is great at court, and you can set back the trio against La Salle."

The Prince smiled and tossed his fingers. "One never knows one's influence to be small or large till one tries, and I shall try to-day, but on the whole La Salle must fight his own fight, win his own case."

La Salle had done his best. He had written Colbert an account of his discoveries in modest yet convincing terms; had said that the new country of the far West was so fertile and beautiful that all could be produced that was produced in France; and more, that flocks and herds could be left out to pasture all winter, that the wild cattle had a fine wool for making cloth and hats, that hemp and cotton grew there naturally, that the Indians would adopt French ways and modes of life, and it was the knowledge of the poverty of Quebec, its dense forests, its harsh climate that had led him to plant colonies in the beautiful lands of the far West. He wrote of the dangers from the Iroquois and other tribes, the rapids and cataracts, the cost of men and provisions, and the rivalry of the English -- of the Hudson's Bay Company and at Albany. But this last reason only animated La Salle the more and impelled him to confuse them by promptness of action as to settlement and forts.

The simplicity and directness of La Salle's appeal had good effect on Colbert, and he was ready to speak favorably to King Louis concerning his appeal. But meanwhile La Salle's foes were at work, and one of the most capable was the Abbe Potin. But Colbert, clean of mind and not corruptible, waited his opportunity. In the far West he saw a new empire for France, and not one to be a constant drain on the pocket of the King, who gave as freely as he could. Louis gave bounties on early marriages in Canada. Twenty livres were given to each youth who married before the age of twenty, and to each girl before sixteen. This was called the King's Gift, and exclusive of the dowry given every girl brought over by his orders, of whom about a thousand were sent over between 1665 and 1673. The dowry was sometimes a home, provisions for eight months, and often fifty livres and household supplies, and a barrel of salted meat. Also all habitants of Canada who had living ten children each received a pension.

Was all this direct out of King Louis' purse the act of a tyrant and a Nero?

As Prince Conti and Tonty talked in the Prince's house, La Salle and Barbe Ranard met in his anteroom, for both had come to see him. La Salle bowed to her with cold courtesy, and she, the perfect intrigante, came to him with outstretched hand.

"Ah, M. la Salle, we meet in France at last. May all you come to do be as the gods decide!"

La Salle looked at the insincere eyes, the smiling mouth, the powdered hair, with no nerve of assent roused, and with repugnance in his heart, but he said in reply to her equivocal words:

"As King Louis may decide -- after such advice as Madame Ranard may give him direct or indirect, right or wrong, just or unjust, good or bad."

His face was composed as he spoke, but at his lips was a cold, ironical smile. He added:

"I do not forget, madame, what happened long ago, nor what you said at the Sainte Famille. Shall you use the same grotesque falsehood here in France -- and to the ministers of the King?"

Her face underwent a sudden change. Her eyes became brilliant and fierce, her lips had a vicious look:

"I have told the minister what is well known in Quebec. I have not the gifts of fiction of the explorer. I think my word counts in France -- my husband is in the Government service."

It was on La Salle's tongue to say that her husband's wife was in the service of the Intendant of Canada, but he forbore. He only said, satirically: "Madame is working for Canada here, Of course. She has the patriot mind and the good of the Church at heart!"

"It is the strife between man and woman, Monsieur de la Salle, and in such contests it is not the man who wins. I have the secret of success in my pocket."

"Oh, in your pocket, madame! I knew you thought you had it -- but not in your pocket! It is a powerful secret, but it does not always win."

"It wins when those who matter find it, M. de la Salle."

"We shall know about that soon, madame."

"Won't that depend on who sees the Minister last?"

"As for me, Madame Ranard, I abide' by the customs of the place."

"Do you know the customs of this place so well, monsieur?" There was biting insult in her tone.

"Not so well as madame, I suppose, but enough to find my way about."

"The ways are dark; monsieur, and you will lose your path. You are not on the St. Lawrence or Lake Ontario. You are a backwoodsman. You do not know the halls of Versailles."

"I am a backwoodsman, as you say, yet I came from France and I am not so verdant. My family were of the Caveliers of Rouen, and I was educated for the priesthood of the Jesuits."

"You were a master in a Jesuit school!"

La Salle flushed slightly, for her tone and manner were contemptuous.

"Madame was never a mistress in a Jesuit school. She is the donnee of the Jesuits now, and what else be the will of God."

Barbe's anger now was great. Stepping close to La Salle, she slapped his face. "You insult a lady like that! If I were a man I would fight you -- low born, low bred, thief of trade, tool of Frontenac, grotesque ape of social life, most in debt of any man of Canada, and most loathed."

La Salle smiled coldly. "If I am most in debt, it is proof I am not so much loathed, and as for my breeding, it ranks with that of a woman and her husband who stooped to the tricks of the ditch to bring a gentleman into disrepute. If you were a man I would make the world too small to hold you, madame."

Barbe turned and saw Tonty leaving the Prince de Conti's salon.

"Monsieur de Tonty, behold the man who abused the hospitality of my house, and now insults me at the door of the Prince de Conti."

Tonty looked at her satirically. "I think Sieur de la Salle never abused the hospitality of any household and never insulted a lady in his life. Madame Ranard, you have lost your temper -- why I know not."

His handsome face had contempt for this brilliant and seductive figure, and he knew La Salle had in her a dangerous foe -- one who would lose no chance to hurt him-by falsehood and every vile act of such a woman.

She saw his metal hand, and she now hit him with all malice: "Not only is your hand metal, Henri de Tonty, your mind is also."

The insult brought a flush to Tonty's face, but he kept himself in hand. If a man had said such a thing -- but it did not matter! She was of the most incroyable kind, and she was clever and vicious enough to give La Salle a bad time.

He turned from her slowly. "The Prince will see you now, La Salle."

La Salle said, with a courteous bow, "But ladies first!"

Madame Ranard moved forward, but Tonty said: "The Prince wished to speak to the Sieur de la Salle, madame. He knew, however, that you were here."

"I shall prefer to have the last word with the Prince," she said, with irony at her lips.

Bowing low, La Salle entered the salon and left her alone with Tonty.

"They will be some time. Will you not be seated, madame?" He courteously offered her a chair.

Her urbanity had returned. She smiled and seated herself and parted the ribbons at her throat. He could not fail to see how taking and alluring she was. All passions in her were in good control. She gave, she took away, with perfect measurement; her whole figure was alert, delicate, delicious. Even now her bosom throbbed as she looked sweetly at him. She was making a sudden and last attempt to win his approval.

He understood, and a strange drooping light came into his eyes. But all he said was:

"The roads are bad, madame, and the sky threatens."

She made no reply at once, then saw the curious look in his eyes and she quoted viciously lines from a song of Bourgoyne:

"Eho! Eho! Eho!
The lambs are on the plains.
Eho! Eho! Eho!
The wolves are in the woods!"

NEVER had the court at Versailles been more given to gayety and splendor. Yet behind all was an air of drama and grim event. Bright colors, perukes, swords, uniforms, laces, exquisite skirts, flamboyant ribbons, orders, velvet coats sometimes pure white, and everywhere signs of brilliance. Yet it was all possible, for Colbert had by his great finance made France rich, and unlike his predecessor, Cardinal Mazarin, he did not seek riches, and yet he could have made himself immensely rich. He was a figure as dear to France as later was Cavour to Italy, or Pitt to England, and he and his son Seignelay stood apart from the splendid superficial flippancy of Louis' reign. Marital felicity was derided in France, it was the sport of the theaters, but that was only at the capital; provincial France then, as now, was free from the sordid disregard of marital faith. Moscow was not Russia, Paris was not France, London was not England, Vienna was not Austria, home was not Italy, and behind all the outer show great causes and great minds were working, and all for the good of the land.

In the great Hall of Apollo stood Madame de Montespan, the favorite of Louis, surrounded by devoted courtiers, and she was not far from the King's throne. She was a most handsome woman, graceful in figure and with liquid and exasperating eyes. She knew well why these courtiers surrounded her, and she did not dislike it, for it was a tribute to her power with the monarch. But she was not deceived by it. She had a mind that would not stop at small things.

Barbe Ranard was of her class, but on a lower range of intellect and influence and poise. Even as a model to an artist takes on the air and imbibes the principles of art, so does the favorite of a great monarch grow more interesting because of her experience.

Madame de Montespan, the mother of seven children by Louis, seemed in excellent spirits, and was all smiles to those who flattered her, and she was as popular with the women as the men. She had that in her favor. She looked round the wonderful hall with pride. Here were princes, warriors, statesmen, philosophers, poets, artists, dramatists, all in the gaudy clothes of the court and all in the picture in sympathy with the magnificent architecture and decoration. She had worked her way brilliantly to her high place, yet she was not so vain as to believe that she might not be supplanted some day, and there was Fontanges, and there had been Valliere and others -- and her mind was alert to hold Louis fast.

As she looked down the huge rooms, she saw approaching Abbe Potin, her confessor and secret-service agent. There was an ominous look in his face. She did not give her hand as he came near, but her suitors saw she wished to speak alone with him, and they draw aside.

She looked him in the eyes. "Well, Abbe, what is it? There's trouble. Is it grave?"

A satirical look crossed his face. "To have our plans thwarted is grave even in small things. This is not the biggest thing in the life of the Court, but it is a big thing in New France, in which His Majesty is so concerned. It would be bad for defeat to come now."

"Ah, it is the matter of La Salle -- that?"

"Even that, madame. The Abbe Renaudot brought La Salle in touch with the Prince de Conti, and through him with Henri de Tonty, and through him with La Motte de Lussiere, and Barbe Ranard has not been able to influence Colbert or Seignelay or Prince de Conti."

"She is naught, but you, have you also failed? Tell me all, Abbe."

"I induced Abbe Renaudot, an astute and able man, to get information from the Comtesse Frontenac for Colbert, and he got what was required. But we could not win him to us. He is no friend of the Jesuits; he is a Recollet, if he is aught, and he made close friends with La Salle, whom he met at the home of Comtesse Frontenac. That we did not foresee. He has visited La Salle in his quarters, and La Salle has made progress. Yesterday La Salle and Tonty met Barbe Ranard at the house of Prince Conti, and Seignelay, would have naught to do with her action against La Salle-influenced perhaps by Conti."

De Montespan frowned. "Conti -- Conti -- he is pestilent! son-in-law !"

"He has weight, and has become a friend of La Salle. It is said by the servant of Conti who is in my pay, that Barbe Ranard failed to influence either the Prince or Seignelay, though she tried hard. She is handsome, captivating, and clever, and could influence men -- and has influenced many."

"She is the friend of Duchesneau, the Intendant, in Quebec. She must have brains as well as charm. I would like to see her."

"She is here, madame. She shall be brought, if you so wish."

She inclined her head. "Is that all you have to tell?"

"But no, madame. Much more. There has been a meeting of Colbert, Seignelay, and the Grand Monarch. Colbert, insensible to my influence and to Barbe Ranard, has found much in La Salle to commend, and La Salle wrote a strikingly attractive report to the Minis for of all that he has done and proposes to do. It has influenced the powerful and successful Colbert."

"Too powerful and too successful, Abbe, but it would be madness to try to move him, for the King gives him high place in affection."

"He cannot be removed, for he is the financial bulwark of France -- an able man whom we detest, but he is incorruptible -- as I know well."

"No blandishment of woman could move him!"

"You have not tried, madame!"

She looked at him. with meaning in her eyes. "I have and failed, but I shall try again, for there is much against me. It will be worth while testing my power. La Salle's report seems to have influenced them all. Ah, there Colbert is!"

In the distance Colbert could be seen, with Seignelay, coming slowly up the hall, and he was not surrounded, for few sought his company; he was too austere. But Seignelay had a more adaptable personality. He was a man not so great as his father, but he could not be purchased by gold or the Magdalene, and that was rare at Court.

"His Majesty will soon be here -- his Ministers have come."

"And there is Barbe Ranard," said the Abbe. He sighed. "I have known her some years. She is a faithful friend of the Church."

"Summon her to me, Abbe."

The Abbe did not go himself, but sent a young officer of the King's Guard for her, and she came gracefully forward, her step light, her manner with an assumed modesty, her eyes tremulous with mock humility. She was becomingly dressed, her taking neck and fascinating face showing to advantage. She was no rival in beauty and distinction to De Montespan, and her pretended modesty pleased the favorite, though she saw through it; but seeing through it did not perturb her. The deceit was a tribute to herself, and she held out a hand in response to Barbe's curtsey. Barbe kissed it, and De Montespan said:

"You are welcome to old France, dear madame. You have lived in the wild places -- how long?"

"Long enough to make me glad to feel the air of old France around me, madame. New France is not the same, though we have a small court there and we have a life that stirs in us the spirit of progress."

"So the Intendant, M. Duchesneau, says," she replied, with her eyes fixed on Barbe's face, "and Count Frontenac says it even more vigorously, I hear."

Barbe felt the thrust concerning Duchesneau, but she did not resent it, as why should she in a court like this, and before the favorite of the King.

"Count Frontenac has many foes in Canada," said Barbe. "I am addressing one of them now, am I not? It is a contest between the Governor and the Intendant and you are with the Intendant. Between ourselves, I do not blame you, for I too am a Jesuit. I know all you have tried to do, and you have failed."

Barbe's face showed disconcerting changes of expression, but she looked respectfully at De Montespan.

"And will the great Madame la Marquise, perhaps, try now?" she said;

Montespan's face smiled inscrutably. "To try with SQ much against one is not easy. Your own failure and that of Abbe Potin is the best proof. Who am I that I should try? If they would not listen to you, do you guess they would heed me?"

She said this to flatter and also to tempt Barbe, for it would try her skill at reply.

"If they will not listen to madame, then no one need essay. For madame has gifts beyond all others-man or woman -- in France."

She was pleased. "Why not in all the world?"

"I only know France," was the adroit reply, "and France is all the world."

"Well said, well said, vain patriot," declared De Montespan.

"Madame, His Majesty," said the Abbe Potin, drawing near.

Slowly, yet with portentous dignity and magnificence, Louis came slowly up the room, preceded by his lords-in-waiting and his aides, and all the vast audience bowed low as the little man with his high red-heeled shoes came up the room.

As he advanced he spoke to Louvois, his Minister of War, to Madame de Longueville and the Duchess Chevreuse, the most skillful and persistent intrigantes of the time, and Mazarin had said of the former that she was equal to ten provinces. But she had no weight with Louis. He also gave a word to Madame de Rambouillet, the owner of a great salon where many came, and to La Rochefoucauld, the Duchess de Chantillon; to the poets Racine and Moliere; to Lalli, the composer, and Quinault, who wrote with him-and Louis spoke as warmly to them as to the more highly titled Near his throne he saw mademoiselle the Duchess de Montpensier, who was his cousin and who lived at the Luxembourg, where she received in as picturesque a state as did no one else in Louis' empire. He had banished her more than once, but in the end he always pardoned her, though he never forgave her for having ordered attack upon his own soldiers at the Bastille. With her were Madame de Scudery, who gave famous Saturdays; the Abbe de Choisy, Madame de Lafayette, Madame de Sevigne. Nearer still to the throne stood the Dauphin, fat, over-dressed, handsome, brainless, and a danger to France, so lacking in kingly qualities was he. Not far from him stood Bossuet, his old tutor, whom Louis made Bishop of Metz, and also the Duc d'Enghien, son of the great Conde.

He had pride in picking out the "Untitled nobles" -- like Moliere and Lalli -- as he called them, to receive recognition. It was not all vanity, for he was a man with artistic leanings and vast ambitious purposes, and he had faith that in good time he would, like Alexander, command the world. Littleness was in him, but also greatness, and his littleness was his age, and his greatness was for all time.

As he neared his throne he inclined his head to De Monte-span and she came to him. He gave her his hand and she kissed it, and other courtiers drew near, and among them were the Abbe Potin, whom he did not wholly like, though he was De Montespan's confessor.

"Well, eyes of heaven, what have you to say. I see there is something," he said to De Montespan with a railing kind of tenderness.

"About New France, Sire. I would speak of that. Things go not well there, as you have told me."

"And so it vexes my sweetheart. And have only I, then, told you?" he asked, his eyes turning to the Abbe Potin and then to Barbe Ranard;

"I am concerned only with what you tell me, Sire."

"Well, I have decided about New France. M. Colbert," he said, in a voice raised a little, and the courtiers made way for Colbert. "Colbert, concerning New France, there is only one grave question there, and it is that of the Sieur de la Salle. I have decided, have I not?"

Colbert inclined his head. Montespan turned to Louis, and in a soft voice said:

"To give De la Salle no encouragement?"

King Louis smiled and gently replied: "What is encouragement? Is it the right to build forts and to find the way to the mouth of the Mississippi, to carry on trade with the Indians, and solely at his own cost? If that is encouragement, then I shall encourage La Salle."

"But, Sire, you have never approved of settlements in the West -- it removed your subjects too far from your own control. You refused one, Louis Joliet, an explorer, to found a trading station in the Mississippi Valley."

"And may not a king change his mind? La Salle has the true thing in him, and I trust him. Frontenac sup ports him."

"And Duchesneau, the Intendant, and the Church and the principal people of Quebec distrust him, bear him no good will. Besides -- "

King Louis frowned. "Yes, I know that 'Besides,' and it is in our presence now. It is not far from me. But no woman save one ever traduced La Salle. Quote not 'Besides,' for she does not influence me."

"Nor do I, Sire, any more."

The King pretended not to hear. "Colbert," said he, "is the Sieur de la Salle here to-night?"

"Sire, I think so."

Louis made a motion of his hand.

Officers of the King went searching, while De Montespan made effort to turn Louis' mind, but he did not listen gravely to her, and gently smiled and said: "If you had the facts as I know them; my dulciana, you would not be so vexed. You are too much of a Jesuit. The Church shall not control my Canada."

At that moment La Salle, with Tonty behind him, came forward, and all the court observed him. He was a figure men would turn to see, having looked once. It was not alone his handsomeness, for men like Tonty were handsomer. It was the upright precision and physical grace of his person; it was the honesty in his face, his masculinity of form, his indomitable look, his apparent haughtiness, his clear energy, his concentrated look of inspiration, as though he had no thought but one, and that was his mission in life. As he came forward not only Colbert and Louis so appraised him, but he was such a contrast to the Court in the simplicity of his dress and the quiet nobility of his bearing, that all felt him to be a tower of courage and faith against whom danger and hardship would beat in vain.

The apparent haughtiness of his manner was understood by all. It was the self-reliance of a man that lived alone, the spirit overpowering what came before it. Never a wincing courtier, he would have foes always, but at King Louis' court he had made friends of four wise men -- King Louis, Colbert, Seignelay, and Conti.

As he bowed to the King with profound respect, for he felt the august majesty of the scene, he won many hearts present, and even De Montespan was moved, for she had never seen him before, and she felt him a man who would do no mean thing -- would never have done what Barbe Ranard had said! Women know men well-such women.

"Sieur de la Salle," said Louis, "we welcome you. It is our first sight of you, but we know your work and what you would do. This France of ours has vast designs -- not only European; they include America and beyond-far beyond. We will be all-powerful, all-controlling, and we are giving you large powers of exploration and settlement in the sure hope that we shall not be dismayed. We would have you find the way to Mexico from Fort Frontenac, and you shall build forts as it seems good to you at your own cost, and you shall have sole' right to trade in buffalo hides. That is our reply to your appeal, and may God be with you and strengthen you, Robert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle." His hand was raised in kindly feeling.

Across La Salle's face there passed a swift emotion and his eyes grew dim. He was receiving far more than he had asked and it was given him in the most public manner and with all display and honor. When Louis ceased speaking, the attendant courtiers said in loud whispers: "How noble! How great! How like Jove! How dear to France! All present seemed to bend in flattery save the Abbe Potin and a few of his Jesuit brothers, and De Montespan -- yet even they put on airs of devotion to the Grand Monarch and hid the bitterness in their souls.

As for De Montespan, she looked at Barbe and was almost startled by the fierce fire of her eyes and the tragedy of her figure. She had failed in what she had come from Quebec to do, and her wild spirit was breaking loose upon this court, yet not to other eyes than those of De Montespan, who had a gift of seeing. She also had failed, and had suffered an affront which would trouble her vain, proud heart. Not far away stood Prince de Conti, and the quiet triumph in his eyes was like a stripe upon the raw flesh. He was a strong, loyal, able man, and, though Louis did not love him, he had pride that Conti was of his, own blood and family.

La Salle replied to King Louis briefly, and all present were impressed by the calm, piercing emotion of his tone. He had a voice with few inflections; it was rather monotonous, but that gave it power, and it moved even the blase circle of courtiers in the great hall. It was like the man himself, direct, incisive, convincing, enduring, and he stood a reproach to the phantasmagoria of life of which they were. It was all poppyland, and he the wide wastes, the dark forests, the barren plains, the evil citizens of the Indian world, ready to burn and destroy and never rebuild -- treacherous, brave yet cowardly, insolent yet amenable. Yet this Court had seen and should see again Jesuits who had been tortured and burned till their hands and limbs were like grotesque imitations of humanity. This King Louis had seen the broken relics of men who had escaped from the farthest regions where the fleur-de-lis waved, and yet returned to face it all again. A Court like this, outwardly insecure, had the elements of right, as was later shown when France, torn by revolution, would send to the guillotine just such people as these, and they would face their tragic end with a smile of disdain.

The flippancy and evil of the court were only the clothes. Beneath it all was the kind of truth that was in Cartier, Champlain, Frontenac, Maissoneuve, Marquette, Brebeuf Jogues and La Salle. Tear away the laces, the velvets, the wigs and the outer fripperies, and, stark, brave, true human life would prove that France at her worst was better than the surface showed. This court was a magnificent contradiction. Evil, yet good.

La Salle said: "Sire, I am honored by your commission. I have one thought, and shall ever have but one -- the increase of the greatness of your realm. Naught shall divert me from that purpose. I have seen" -- his eyes looked through Louis and far beyond -- "the ways open to an overseas empire that shall be a home for millions of my fellow-countrymen, and for France a new garden where all things shall flourish. You give me hope that my life may prove evidence of your noble purposes and, labors, and imperishable patriotism. I shall be ever Your Majesty's most faithful and devoted servant, Sire."

During these words the little, efficient, skilful, and powerful monarch looked at La Salle and round his Court with the air of the maker of the world. His ears were tuned to flattery, but in the words of La Salle was a new note -- it gave his soul a spring of virtue and purpose, it lifted him to the height of his tallest grenadier morally. He smiled and gave him a hand to kiss, and when La Salle rose he met the eyes of Barbe Ranard, who would have killed him now if she could, for he saw the savage hatred in her eyes, though her lips were smiling.

In his heart was triumph but his nature was free from guile or the smaller things. He knew he was now on a new and wide? pathway of life and that behind him was-for the moment -- the greatest monarch of the world, and a Minister -- Colbert -- who had even greater things in him than his master. Colbert was then in an age and at a Court where the small and the great were in sharp contrast, in hideous, yet beautiful amalgamation.

King Louis saw Prince Conti near, and inclined his head, and Conti came. Louis said: "My cousin, you have an eye-you see far. Is it done well to-day.

Conti's face showed no feeling. "Your Majesty is right to-day, as he always is. In the Sieur de la Salle is a subject who will bring honor to France -- to you. I have no tongue for flattery, Sire."

"I know it well," and Louis lightly dusted some powder from a scarf and gazed round him kindly. He saw La Salle talking to Tonty. "Ah, that Henri de Tonty, the Italian, is he a friend of La Salle, my cousin?"

"I brought them together, and Tonty goes to Canada with La Salle. He is a strong, brave man."

"I am glad. I have honored La Salle before my court. He knows all it means to him."

"Did not his speech assure?"

"I have never heard such a speech at Court and I have heard many. There is something in his voice that gets to the core of things."

Louis turned to De Montespan. "Well, my seraph, what think you of La Salle?"

De Montespan, who had the true sense of things behind her fripperies and sordidness, said: "My sovereign was benign, and La Salle is a man of men. He has not the Church behind him, but he is the soul of, the new life -- over there."

Louis was pleased now. He did not see the falsehood in the woman, for he was fond of her as yet, and he thought that he -- not La Salle -- had conquered her. He whispered in her ear, and what he said brought a slight flush to her face. Her eyes looked into his and dropped so that their light was for him only.

Barbe Ranard and Abbe Potin watched them. She said:

"La Salle has beaten us Abbe, but he has not yet left Paris for New France. There is still that to do!"

The Abbe touched her arm. "Not that. It must not be. He must return to Quebec, and then! Not here. Louis would search it out after to-night. Let be. It is not the way to fly in the face of Fate."

She clenched her hands. "The face of Fate shall be with me yet, then."

SALLE found his reception at Court had done great things for him, but he needed money. Through the Abbe Renaudot and Henri de Tonty he came to Simmonet, a notary, and Raoul, an advocate, and one Dumont, who between them lent him thirty-four thousand francs, and his cousin Francois Plet, a merchant, lent him a large sum at the stiff rate of forty per cent. His chief helpers were his family, his brothers who gave all they could at last, and before his discoveries were ended he had cost them, so they said in their extravagant memorial to King Louis, five hundred thousand francs. And on his return even Frontenac found a loan secured by a mortgage on Fort Frontenac.

The Abbe Renaudot had proved a stalwart friend by tongue and pen, and did his best to prevent Bellinzani, director of trade, who had been trained by Cardinal Mazarin, from extorting money from La Salle, but did not succeed. He thought it well, as did La Salle and Tonty, not to appeal to Colbert or Seignelay lest worst might chance in the end, but the money the director got was later reclaimed by the Abbe when Bellinzani fell into disgrace with Seignelay.

One day before La Salle sailed from Rochelle he was summoned to the home of the Comtesse Frontenac, where she lived with Mademoiselle Outrelaise -- and the two were known in France and Canada as "The Divines," so popular and courted were they. Outrelaise was not present at this visit. The Comtesse was in high spirits, and gave him warm commendation for having triumphed at Court and she said:

"You have done great service to my husband, for your success has strengthened him against intrigues. He' cannot well meet all the charges made, and I stay here to help him, for I have no love for the primitive life, and yet I never go to Court. I am too poor for that life but I will not live in the dark!"

"Madame la Comtesse could never live in the dark," said La Salle. "Her life is too bright and Les Divines are more powerful than if they were at court. I have named a river 'Les Divines.'

This pleased the Comtesse. "You will be surprised to hear that Madame Ranard is coming to-day and that is one reason why I asked you. I know what she has done and still tries to do against you, but you will conquer in the end, though she represents the Jesuits -- but herself before all and most of all! I know madame is a foe of my Frontenac, too, but I shall see her here and find what real stuff she is. She has some power through Duchesneau, the Intendant, but that is insufficient. Frontenac -- and you will win!"

La Salle smiled. "I shall be pleased to see madame again. She is vastly able, but she did not have power against the friends of Count Frontenac -- Prince de Conti, Colbert, Seignelay, and King Louis himself, though she had Madame de Montespan behind her."

At that moment a servant announced Madame Ranard, and she entered with aplomb. She could never be nonplused, and not even now when she saw La Salle near Comtesse Frontenac. After Madame Frontenac had greeted her with cordiality and had motioned her to a chair, she turned to La Salle, who bowed low.

"Ah, Sieur de la Salle," she said, "last time I saw you, you were in close touch with the Grand Monarch. You were in high favor -- for the moment -- but prince's favors are like spring showers. They do not much enrich the ground. Is it not so?"

La Salle smiled. "I am new to Court life and I am glad to have the moment's favors. Better these than naught. The favors of King Louis have their uses, and in Canada their perfect potential uses, as Madame Ranard knows. When they cease, those who lived by them cease. It is a place of mixed interests.

"A salad -- a French salad, which the oil of the Grand Monarch's favor makes good for all," said Madame Ranard, lightly.

"And the acid of intrigue make's bad for all," said the Comtesse Frontenac.

"But the oil endures to the good of all," said La Salle.

Madame Ranard smiled subtly and her tongue was soft. "The good of all is not found without some contest of mixed interests. The Sieur de la Salle has far to go in the wild West and much to do -- at his own expense!"

There was that in her tone which La Salle and the Comtesse did not miss. "Nothing can be got for nothing in this world," said La Salle. "The expense may be high, but I can meet it and outlast it.

As he said this he met the eyes of, Barbe, which had a veiled but bitter malice, and yet she waved a hand cheerfully:

"Prophet -- prophet! God save the prophet! May he outlast his prophecy!"

For the first time in his life La Salle was the sinister courtier. He leaned over, took Barbe's fingers and kissed them, as they turned cold at his lips.

"Ah, Madame Ranard, you., have given me the great hope. May it be fulfilled!"

This was too much. She withdrew her. hand sharply and looked him fiercely in the eyes:

"Your experience at Court has given you grace of words, Sieur de la Salle, but there is no grace of heart behind. Your path will be steep -- and hideous!"

"Yet, as you said, with God's help I shall win, madame." The Comtesse interposed: "Madame sees that Sieur de la Salle has the true spirit of the pioneer. With Frontenac's help he will win."

Suddenly Madame Ranard rose and turned on her with savage irony.

"You brought me here to meet this man, Comtesse. Know then that I understand. I go back to Canada with the spirit you have shown me here. You brought me here to shame me; in Canada I will bring shame to you."

"You are wrong, madame. I brought you not to shame you, but in the hope that you and the Sieur de la Salle might find peace here in the house of the Governor of Canada."

"Peace -- peace, to talk of peace between us! He used me vilely in Quebec."

"Madame, that has no glint of truth," said La Salle.

Without a word, but with a sweeping curtesy to Madame Frontenac, she turned brusquely with an acrid laugh, and left the room.

The Comtesse raised her hand in disdain.

"I am glad she came, rude as she was, for now I understand her. She is able and beautiful and bad. She will stop at naught!"

"She has been stopped. She will start again. I go back to Count Frontenac with a strong heart."

The Comtesse looked at him sadly: "Strength is good, but love is better, Sieur de la Salle."

La Salle inclined his head and smiled as he looked into the distance:

"There is a wonderful Canadian chans on, madame: The sentimenta lists sing it there. It is popular -- and forceful ?"

"Il ya longtemps que je t'aime,
Jamais je ne t'oublierai."

The Comtesse turned away sadly.

TUKE DAROIS had found employment in the offices of the Farmer of the King's revenue. He had been in the employ of the Hudson's Bay Company. He spoke the French language perfectly and came as a spy on the doings of La Salle and the coureurs de bois , who were rivals in trade with the Hudson's Bay Company in the far West and North. With his combined origin, Darois was a capable man and had no morals. He had a good-looking and enterprising face, he was bearded, was about medium height, and had an attractive personality. He did not say he had been with the Hudson's Bay Company, but had been a trapper in the North, and he was welcomed to Quebec by officials of the Province, for he had the rare ability to write and keep accounts, and his services were welcome in the department of Rojet Ranard.

His daughter, Lya, with brown hair, brown eyes, rather a large mouth exquisitely shaped, and a broad, low, fine forehead, lived with him. Her hands we're capable and fine and she had a long firm grip. From her hand you would judge her character. It told so much. She had been commanded not to say they had been with the Hudson's Bay Company; and this was to prevent prejudice against her father. She had no mother -- her mother had died at giving her birth, and she had living with her an old black-eyed, lame Frenchwoman called Luce Hontard, who was devoted to her. She was one who might go far in the world, if aught could be judged by outer form.

One day after La Salle and Tonty had arrived from France with La Motte de Lussiere, they were coming from the citadel where Frontenac had received them with cordiality, and La Salle saw Lya walking towards her father's office. She had so much spirit, yet was so modest, so simply yet becomingly dressed, with none of the hair-dressings and flounces of other girls of the city, and with a resolution of her slight figure at variance with her vivacious face. Somehow she arrested La Salle's attention. He had never been impressionable, and no woman ever had a hold on him. He drew Tonty's attention to her. Tonty was also attracted and was unable to say why.

"A newcomer and a beauty. Who?" said Tonty.

La Salle shook his head in negation. They saw her enter her father's office.

Tonty spoke. "Ah, Tuke Darois's daughter, no doubt! That is his office. I met him this morning. He is watching the coureurs de bois , of whom Du Lhut is chief. How do I know? I don't. It is only instinct, but I'm right, for I saw signs of it in his office. He does not ring true. He's got a twist somewhere. I saw on his table a manuscript marked Du Lhut. So, I made up my mind. He is working against the coureurs de bois and Du Lhut. But not his beautiful daughter -- no, if that is she! She is as straight as the sun!"

La Salle nodded and gave a short, hasty laugh. "Perhaps you are right. Let us go to his office. I have some business with him. It concerns the accounts of Fort Frontenac. He is a man to know. We start for the West in two days, my friend. See! There is Rojet Ranard coming towards us. How cheerful -- as though he had not a care in the world. But he is Mephistopheles -- as black as a pan."

Tonty nodded, and M. Ranard came towards them, smiling. He knew Tonty and had not seen him yet, as he had been in the West.

He raised a hand in greeting. "Ah, M. Tonty, I welcome you to Quebec. You would do much here, I know, and you have left much behind you: He held out a hand and Tonty. took it with a bow.

"I greet you well, M. Ranard, and. I left behind naught I could not afford to leave. I work with my friend Sieur de la Salle."

M. Ranard turned slowly to La Salle. "Sieur de la Salle and I are old friends, and we meet as always -- in good feeling."

La Salle looked coldly at him. "It is as M. Ranard says, we meet in the feeling we' had when I left for France."

"I am told you met my wife there, Sieur de la Salle."

"I had that felicity, monsieur-at the home of Comtesse de Frontenac, and before that at the palace of the Prince de Conti."

"She was charmed by your success -- you were received by the Grand Monarch at Versailles and were given your commission before the court. It was a triumph for you, Sieur de la Salle." There was veiled sarcasm in Ranard's tone.

"It was a triumph for New France, let us say," remarked Tonty. "It had the soul of exploration and trade."

"It had the soul of Sieur de la Salle," said Ranard, with a biting tongue. "And his is the soul of New France," said Tonty;

"May it flourish for the good of old France!" returned Ranard.

"If all here say Yea, who shall say Nay?" said La Salle, ironically.

"But all say Yea," sneered Ranard.

"Then things have changed since I went to France," said La Salle.

"What else could happen. Your absence is a vast event," remarked Ranard maliciously.

"Especially when Madame Ranard was gone also, bent upon the good of Canada, and helpful to me in France!"

A dark light came into Ranard's eyes. "She will always help you in the same way, as you well know, Sieur de la Salle. She never changes, and if you but visited our house again, you would flourish more."

"I have flourished because I did not remain in your house, monsieur, and I hope I shall never enter it again !"

"Yet we shall meet often in this small place, Quebec, and we cannot escape each other's influence, can we "That is made plain by the difference between the Governor and the Intendant, and yet we know our influence on the Intendant," said Tonty.

The eyes of Ranard grew sullen, for he felt what Tonty would convey, but with a sneer he said:

"Monsieur Duchesneau is not like you or me -- or he would take return for your insolence, M. Tonty."

He laid his hand angrily upon his sword, and Tonty shrugged a shoulder. "I was not insolent to the Intendant, monsieur.

"You were insolent to me -- then draw, monsieur, and see which can uphold his honor best."

A cold light blazed in Tonty's eyes. "I do not care to fight you, monsieur, but you have ways I do not like. I would find what is inside you -- blood or ditch water."

They at once began to fight, and had made but a few strokes, in which Tonty was at an advantage, when Bishop Laval came upon them on his way from the Church council. He was, as always, plainly dressed, and his striking face with long nose and piercing eyes gave him a singular personality. He had been master of New France in other days.

"Messieurs, messieurs," the bishop said, in amazement, "what do you broiling in the street! Is Canada to be governed thus! Stop fighting, messieurs!"

"He insulted the Intendant," said Ranard.

"I did not insult the Intendant, Monsieur de Quebec. I said what monsieur thought reflected on the Intendant, but it was not meant so. I came with Sieur de la Salle from France."

The Bishop turned towards La Salle and smiled in a frigid way. "The Sieur de la Salle has a high place in the heart of Canada, M. Tonty."

He held out his hand, this spare; almost emaciated bishop, but there was power in his whole bearing and authority in all he said. He lived a life of abject poverty, had been a Jesuit in his youth, and had brought to Canada two things -- self-effacement physically, and the ever -- present love of his Church -- its advancement. He had no love for La Salle, for he would extend immigration in the West, and that he and the Church did not wish. His Church had once been all-powerful, and received four-fifths of the revenue sent by the King, but of late years that power had declined, and the old man resented it in so far as his nature could. The Bishop had done much for Canada, and his thin lips now drew tighter as he turned to M. Ranard.

"It is not seemly, M. Ranard, that you should act so -- an officer of the Government; yet maybe your temper took umbrage where none was meant."

At first Tonty would say that umbrage was meant to Ranard, but he abstained; and all seemed settled, for the two men put up their swords, but La Salle said:

"M. Tonty took up the quarrel on his own part, but the difference of opinion was with me, monseigneur, and I would gladly have fought with M. Ranard, for a reason which he and you will understand. I do not forget what happened in his house and what was said at the Saint Famille. These things should not be handed over to one's friends. M. Tonty said what I would have said with more point.

The Bishop's face flushed slightly at the mention of Saint Famille, for he knew what had been said there, and he had given this society of Jesuit ladies his approval; but he said:

"Sieur de la Salle, we have no knowledge of your difference with M. Ranard -- "

"And his wife," interrupted La Salle.

"And his wife; but this is a small place and we should live in peace. There have been misunderstandings, no doubt, but we should overcome our feelings for the sake of unity in this pioneer land. Why should we' not all be friends?"

"Why not?" said Ranard.

"I will say, why not, then!" said La Salle. "The greatest Governor Canada ever had is opposed by good men like Le Moyne and his sons, and Le Ber and La Chesnaye; Damours, De Villeray and De Lotbiniere, and many others, and they are all against me because I open new territory and advance new trade in furs. I know what forces are against me, and what intrigue goes to hurt good things, but the good will prevail, monseigneur. I will help advance that, but I will yield naught in all I do to open up the West and South."

He held himself modestly, firmly erect, for this was the first time he had opened his mind to the Bishop, and he wished it to be plain what sort of man he was and what he meant to do. Bishop Laval liked La Salle -- he knew him as one who never spared himself and fought with clean hands. But his ambitions clashed with those of the Church and the Intendant, and that was against him sorely.

He said, quietly: "Your designs have support from all who care for Canada, but your methods are not those we all approve. Our ways are not your ways, and we work by different rules. Yet" -- he raised his hand in benediction, and the men dropped to their knees -- "I give you blessing in your work, for I know your heart is full of high purpose."

As they all stood up, Ranard said: "Monsieur de Quebec, I shall wipe this dark thing from my mind. I will be a friend to Sieur de la Salle. I offer him my hand."

La Salle instantly said: "I have no faith in the friendship of M. Ranard. I cannot take his hand."

The Bishop looked at him sternly for a moment, then his face cleared and he said, "At least the Sieur de la Salle is an honest man," and he turned and went towards his palace.

Habitants and rivermen and a few coureurs de bois and a burgher or two had gathered, but they came not among them, and though they wondered what the quarrel and the consultation were, they were too much in awe of Bishop Laval to come too near. Quebec was too often roused by combats to be astonished.

Ranard looked at La Salle with grim irony. "You have refused my hand; be sure you can justify that."

"I am ready to sustain it," answered La Salle, with bitter coolness, for this man and his wife were the limit of endurance -- so clever, so corrupt, so bad, and yet outwardly so fair.

Lifting his hand in courtesy La Salle moved away with Tonty, while Ranard stood for a moment in furtive mood, and then walked on with malign purpose.

As they passed along the street there came to their ears a song of the pioneers of France, brought to Canada by the Carignan-Sallieres Regiment It floated out on the clear air with sweet melody and happy resonance:

"I am a very good knife-grinder,
I am a very good knife-grinder,
And for my daughter I have great fear-
And in the islands I have a great fear
When I am there,
As she is very good."

"If I go on the sea,
If I go on the sea,
It will be never to return,
And, in the islands I have a great fear,
When I am there,
For she is very good."

As they listened, Tonty laughed: "He may be a good knife-grinder but I doubt it' and for his daughter, he may well have a great fear, for she is good! That's so, isn't it?"

La Salle nodded. "He's bad enough, I doubt not, and she's good, I doubt not, and we shall see them both soon. Here we are at his door." La Salle flow said to Tonty: "We are on the bank of a turbulent river, but we shall cross it safely. Our heaviest trials are before us. Naught borne in the past can equal what I must bear -- what we must bear -- in the future. As I open this door, I open a new and horrible chapter of life. This I know."

He opened the door and Father Louis Hennepin stepped out. Hennepin was clothed in a coarse gray capote and peaked hood, with sandaled feet, a crucifix at his side, and a cord of St. Francis at his waist. From a convent at Artois he had gone to Calais at the herring-fishing season, had made friends of sailors and become enamored of foreign lands. After many requests there came permission to go to Canada, and he sailed in the same ship as La Salle; and scolded a party of girls who were enjoying themselves with officers and passengers on deck. La Salle had told him he was acting like a pedagogue, and Hennepin retorted that La Salle had once been a pedagogue in a Jesuit school! This La Salle resented, for his foes were now Jesuits and he wished not to be linked with them. Besides, he pierced the hollowness of Hennepin's character.

Hennepin had a quick, cheerful spirit, and his enthusiasm, physical health, and stature were great. Now when he saw La Salle, he bowed and smiled, and said:

"I am deeply glad to see, you, Sieur de la Salle. I would join you in your explorations. If I had permission from my superior -- Ah, may I not go?"

La Salle had mind to see all sides of a question, and, while he had not faith in him, Hennepin was not a Jesuit. After studying the friar briefly, he said:

"I will get you permission, and you must start at once. We shall meet at Fort Frontenac."

Hennepin raised hands in joy.

"You give me great news, and I will serve you to my life's end."

It was clear Hennepin wished to stand well with him, and that was much in Canada where so many were against him. La Salle said:

"Be ready to start to-morrow."

With an exclaimed blessing Hennepin paced away, bold and hardy and daring, but as fake a friar as ever wore the gray capot