"Jehan, you will see to the
portmanteaus."
"Yes, Monsieur."
A priest elbowed his way toward them. On seeing him, the marquis
raised and lowered his bushy white brows. It was the handsome Jesuit
whose face had stolen into many a dream of late. Brother Jacques was
greatly astonished. The marquis greeted him, but without marked
cordiality. At a sign from the governor the quartet moved up the path
toward the cliffs, which the marquis measured with the eye of one who
understood thoroughly the art and value of military strategy.
"Superb!" he murmured. "With a few men and plenty of ammunition, I
could hold even England at bay."
"I am proud of it," acknowledged the governor; but there was a twinge
of envy when it occurred to him that a handful of savages had worried
him more than once. And here was a man who would defy the whole world.
Jehan felt a pressure on his arm. Turning, he beheld the shining face
of Breton. He caught the lad in his arms and kissed him on the cheek.
"I expected to find you, lad. Ah, but you have done wrong. You should
have told us. You should not have run away with Monsieur le
Comte .
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