Monsieur," decidedly, "is it
to be peace or war?"
"Should I be here else?"
"Else what, peace or war?"
"Neither. I shall know no peace. I have followed you, as I said,
though indirectly."
"Ah! then you really followed me this time? Did you read that letter
which I sent to you?"
"Letter? I have seen no letter from you."
"I believe I sent you one . . . after that morning."
"I have not seen it."
She breathed a sigh of relief. He did not know, then? So the comedy
must go on as of old. "So you followed me," as if musing.
"Ah, Madame, what else could I do?"
"Why, you might not have followed me;" and with this ambiguous retort,
she moved away,
The Chevalier shouldered his ax and made off toward a clump of maples
where several woodsmen were at work. His heart was gay rather than
sad. For would she not be forced to remain here indefinitely? And
whenever Father Chaumonot could spare the men, would he not be one of
them to return to Quebec with her?
The poet and Brother Jacques escorted the two women about the mission;
and squaws, children, and young braves followed them curiously. When
they arrived at the rude chapel, all four knelt reverently.
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