Like so many others, Robert was not made melancholy by melancholy music.

Instead, he saw through a pleasing glow and the world grew poetic and tender.

The fire sank and Americans, French, Canadians and Indians listened with the same silent interest.

Presently the violinist played a livelier tune and the _habitants_ sang to the music: "Malbrouck, s'en va t-en guerre Mironton, mironton, mirontaine; Malbrouck s'en va t-en guerre Ne sait quand reviendra." Then he left Malbrouck, and it was: "Hier sur le pont d'Avignon J'ai oui chanter la belle Lon, la, J'ai oui chanter la belle Elle chantait d'un ton si doux Comme une demoiselle Lon, la, Comme une demoiselle." The Canadians sang well, particularly in "The Bridge of Avignon," and the dying fire, the black woods around them and the sighing wind created an effect that no stage scenery could ever have given it.

When the last note melted with the wind de Courcelles sighed a little and stared into the sinking fire.
"It is a fair country, sweet France," he said; "I myself have stood upon the bridge of Avignon, and I have watched the pretty girls.