Himself an old courtier, he knew
women, and he could understand how Iberville had been fascinated. She
had arranged her toilette at Levis, and there were few traces of the
long, hard journey, save that her hands and face were tanned. The
eloquence of her eyes, the sorrowful, distant smile which now was natural
to her, worked upon the old soldier before she spoke a word. And after
she had spoken, had pleaded her husband's cause, and appealed to the
nobleman's chivalry, Frontenac was moved. But his face was troubled.
He drew out his watch and studied it.
Presently he went to the door and called Maurice Joval. There was
whispering, and then the young man went away.
"Madame, you have spoken of Monsieur Iberville," said the governor.
"Years ago he spoke to me of you."
Her eyes dropped, and then they raised steadily, clearly. "I am sure,
sir," she said, "that Monsieur Iberville would tell you that my husband
could never be dishonourable. They have been enemies, but noble
enemies."
"Yet, Monsieur Iberville might be prejudiced," rejoined the governor.
"A brother's life has weight."
"A brother's life!" she broke in fearfully.
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