of it all."
"His name is Dubois--Pierre Dubois," returned La Colombiere with a
gleaming smile. "He calls himself the representative of the
French-Canadian party. Bah! such men!" But Cecilia's heart had given
a mighty leap and then stopped, she almost thought, for ever.
"Pierre--Pierre Dubois?" she reiterated in her surprise. Her fan of
yellow feathers dropped from her lap, and her face showed
extraordinary interest for a moment.
"You know him M'lle.?" said La Colombiere, returning her the fan.
For an instant she was the centre of attention. Then with a flutter
of the yellow feathers that subjugated the four impressionable
Frenchmen completely, she resumed her usual manner.
"I know the name, certainly. There was somebody of that name living
at Port Joli where we go in the Summer you know."
"Oh!" said Laflamme carelessly, a little man with a bald head and a
diplomatist's white moustache, "Dubois is not a new offender. He has
been recognized as an agitator for three or four years. He has the
eyes of the ox and the wavy hair of the sculptor. He is to be admired--
_vraiment_--and has the gift of speech."
When the dinner was over Cecilia played for them in the drawing-room.
Somehow or other, she wandered into the tender yet buoyant melody of
the _chanson_ she had hummed earlier in the day.
"Un Canadien errant,
Banni de ses foyers."
"Hum-hum," trolled little Laflamme. "So you know our songs? _Ca va
bien_!"
"That was taught me" said Cecilia, "once down the river at Port Joli."
But she did not say who had taught her. Later on when the guests
were gone and Sir Robert was preparing to go back to the office, his
daughter said very quietly.
"Papa do you remember that young man at Port Joli who was staying
with the cure for his health, the one who was so kind and showed me
so many things, the woods, you know and the water, and who talked so
beautifully?"
"I remember the one you mean, I think, but not his name. Why, dear
child?"
"His name was Dubois," returned Cecilia. "Pierre Dubois!"
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