Shadows on the Rock by Willa Cather — Read

Count Frontenac sat at the writing-table in his long room, driving his quill across sheets of paper. He was finishing a report to Pontchartrain, the Minister, which was to go by Le Soleil d'Afrique, sailing now in three days. Auclair stood by the fireplace, where the birch logs were smouldering,--it was now the end of October. He was remarking to himself that his master, often so put about by trifles, could bear with calmness a crushing disappointment.

All summer the Count had been waiting for his release from office, had confidently expected a letter summoning him to return to France to fill some post worthy of his past services.