It was a city ten times its real size and the distance
turned gray wood to gray stone. Everything was solid, immovable, and it
seemed fit to defy the world.
Robert felt a catch in his breath. He had often seen Quebec, great and
beautiful, in his dreams, but the reality was equal to it and more. To
the American of that day Quebec was one of the vital facts of life. From
that fortress issued the daring young French soldiers of fortune who led
the forays against New York and New England. It was the seat of the
power that threatened them continually. Many of the Bostonnais, seized
in their fields, had been brought here as prisoners to be returned home
only after years, or never. From this citadel, too, poured the stream of
arms and presents for the Indians who were to lie in ambush along the
English border, or to make murderous incursions upon the villages. From
it flowed the countless dangers that had threatened the northern
provinces almost continually for a century and a half. The Bostonnais
themselves, mark of the initiative and energy that were to distinguish
them so greatly later on, made a mighty effort against it, and doubtless
would have succeeded, had they been allowed to carry the fight to a
finish.
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