The officer was allowed to land, but first his eyes were blindfolded.
Then as he stepped on shore a sailor seized each arm, and thus he
was led through the streets.
Quebec is built on a height, and the streets are steep and narrow,
sometimes being nothing more than flights of steps. And now,
instead of being taken directly to the Governor, the young officer
was dragged up and down these steep and stony streets. Now here,
now there, he was led, stumbling blindly over stones and steps, and
followed by a laughing, jeering crowd, who told him it was a game
of blind man's bluff.
At last, thoroughly bewildered and exhausted, he was led into the
castle, and the bandage was suddenly taken from his eyes. Confused
and dazzled by the bright light he stood for a moment gazing stupidly
about him.
Before him, haughty and defiant, stood Frontenac surrounded by his
officers. Their splendid uniforms glittered with gold and silver
lace, their wigs were curled and powdered, their hats were decked
with feathers, as if for a ball rather than for war.
For a moment the young Englishman stood abashed before them. Then,
recovering himself, he handed his commander's letters to Frontenac.
The letter was written in English, but an interpreter read it
aloud, translating it into French. In haughty language it demanded
the surrender of Quebec, in the name of William and Mary, within
an hour.
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