The young man looked amazed. He gave the fringe on his deerskin legging a sharp twitch.
"You are still briery, Mam'selle. And yet you are so beautiful that you ought to be gentle as well."
"Why do people want to tell me that I am beautiful? Do they not suppose I can see it?" Jeanne flung out, impatiently.
"Because it is a sweet thing to say what the speaker feels. And beauty and goodness should go hand in hand."
"I am for myself alone;" she returned, proudly. "And if I do not suit other people they may take the less of me. There are many pretty girls."
"Oh, Mam'selle," he exclaimed, beseechingly, "do not let us quarrel immediately, when I have thought of you so often and longed to see you so much! And now that my mother says pleasant things about you—she is not so opposed to learning since Tony Beeson has been teaching Marie to read and write and figure—and we are all such friends—"
Ah, if they could remain only friends! But Jeanne mistrusted the outcome of it.
"Then tell me about the great North instead of talking foolishness; the Straits and the wonderful land of snow beyond, and the beautiful islands! I like to hear of countries. And, Pierre, far to the south flowers bloom and fruit ripens all the year round, luscious things that we know nothing about."
Pierre's descriptive faculties were not of a high order. Still when he was once under way describing some of the skating and sledging matches he did very well, and in this there was no dangerous ground.
The great bell at the Fort clanged out nine.