He filled the glass of wine, ready for the marquis's awakening, and
again found his gaze entrapped by the envelope. His hand reached out
for it absently and without purpose. He read the address
indifferently--"To Monsieur le Marquis de Perigny, to be delivered into
his hands at my death." The marquis, then, had lost some friend? He
put back the letter, placing a book upon it to prevent its being swept
to the floor.
There was a sound. The marquis had recovered his senses. He looked
blankly around, at the candles, at Brother Jacques, at the sheets which
covered his strangely deadened limbs.
"Ah! I have had only a bad dream, then? Pour me a glass of wine, and
I shall sleep."
CHAPTER XXIV
SISTER BENIE AND A DISSERTATION ON CHARITY
Three days passed. At Orleans the settlers had had two or three
brushes with marauding Mohawks. A letter from Father Chaumonot at the
mission in Onondaga reported favorable progress. D'Herouville was
again out of hospital; and De Leviston had stolen quietly away to
Montreal, where he was shortly to succumb to the plague. Only three
persons knew of the remarkable conflict between the marquis and
D'Herouville: the son, Brother Jacques, and the Vicomte d'Halluys, who
possessed that mysterious faculty of finding out many things of which
the majority were unaware.
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