MONSIEUR LE COMTE D'HEROUVILLE TAKES THE JOURNEY TO QUEBEC Victor ran most of the way back to the Corne d'Abondance.

Gabrielle and Paul were together, unconscious puppets in the booth of Fate, that master of subtile ironies! How many times had their paths neared, always to diverge again, because Fate had yet to prepare the cup of misery?
How well he had contrived to bring them together: she, her cup running bitter with disillusion and dread of imprisonment; he, dashed from the summit of worldly hopes, his birth impugned, stripped of riches and pride, his lips brushed with the ashes of greatness! And on this night, of all nights, their paths melted and became as one.

It was true that they had never met; but this night was one of dupes and fools, and nothing was impossible.

He cursed the vicomte for having put the lust to kill into his head, when he needed clearness and precision and delicacy to avert this final catastrophe.

After the morrow all would he well; Gabrielle would be on the way to Spain, the Chevalier on the way to New France.