Where I go, my men will follow."
Their pact was made. They sat there in silence till the grey light of
morning crept slowly in. Still they did not lie down to rest; they were
waiting for De Casson. He came before a ray of sunshine had pierced the
leaden light. Tall, massive, proudly built, his white hair a rim about
his forehead, his deep eyes watchful and piercing, he looked a soldier in
disguise, as indeed he was to-day as much a soldier as when he fought
under Turenne forty years before.
The three comrades were together again.
Iberville told his plans. The abbe lifted his fingers in admonition
once or twice, but his eyes flashed as Iberville spoke of an attempt to
capture the admiral on his own ship. When Iberville had finished, he
said in a low voice:
"Pierre, must it still be so--that the woman shall prompt you to these
things?"
"I have spoken of no woman, abbe."
"Yet you have spoken." He sighed and raised his hand. "The man--the
men--down there would destroy our country. They are our enemies, and we
do well to slay. But remember, Pierre--'What God hath joined let no man
put asunder!' To fight him as an enemy of your country--well; to fight
him that you may put asunder is not well.
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