The Governor was already well-advanced in years. He had entered
upon the winter of life, that sprinkles the head with snow that
never melts, but he was still hale, ruddy, and active. Nature had,
indeed, moulded him in an unpropitious hour for personal comeliness,
but in compensation had seated a great heart and a graceful mind in
a body low of stature, and marked by a slight deformity. His
piercing eyes, luminous with intelligence and full of sympathy for
everything noble and elevated, overpowered with their fascination
the blemishes that a too curious scrutiny might discover upon his
figure; while his mobile, handsome lips poured out the natural
eloquence of clear thoughts and noble sentiments. The Count grew
great while speaking: his listeners were carried away by the magic
of his voice and the clearness of his intellect.
He was very happy this morning by the side of his old friend, Peter
Kalm, who was paying him a most welcome visit in New France. They
had been fellow-students, both at Upsal and at Paris, and loved each
other with a cordiality that, like good wine, grew richer and more
generous with age.
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