demonstration. Valmond, the bizarre but popular Napoleonic pretender, had raised his standard there, the stones before the parish church had been stained with his blood, and he lay in the churchyard of St. Saviour's forgiven and unforgotten. How was it possible for Pontiac to forget him? Had he not left his little fortune to the parish? and had he not also left twenty thousand francs for the musical education of Madelinette Lajeunesse, the daughter of the village forgeron, to learn singing of the best masters in Paris? Pontiac's wrong-doings had brought it more profit than penalty, more praise than punishment: for, after five years in France in the care of the Little Chemist's widow, Madelinette Lajeunesse had become the greatest singer of her day. But what had put the severest strain upon the modesty of Pontiac was the fact that, on the morrow of Madelinette's first triumph in Paris, she had married M. Louis Racine, the new Seigneur of Pontiac.
What more could Pontiac wish? It had been rewarded for its mistakes; it had not even been chastened, save that it was marked "Suspicious," as to its loyalty, at the headquarters of the English Government in Quebec. It should have worn a crown of thorns, but it flaunted a crown of roses. A most unreasonable good fortune seemed to pursue it. It had been led to expect that its new Seigneur would be an Englishman, one George Fournel, to whom, as the late Seigneur had more than once declared, the property had been left by will; but at his death no will had been found, and Louis Racine, the direct heir in blood, had succeeded to the property and the title.
Brilliant, enthusiastic, fanatically French, the new Seigneur had set himself to revive certain old tradi-
