M. Bellestre had not come yet. This time a long illness had intervened.
Jeanne went out in the procession and sang in the hymns and the rosary. And she heard about the betrothal. The house had been crowded with guests and Marie had on a white frock and a beautiful sash, and her hair was curled.
In spite of her protests Jeanne did feel deeply hurt that she should be left out. Marie had made a timid plea for her friend.
"We cannot ask all the children in the town," said her mother emphatically. "And no one knows whether she has any real position. She is a foundling, and no company for you."
Pani went down the river with her in the afternoon. She was gayety itself, singing little songs and laughing over everything so that she quite misled her nurse into thinking that she really did not care. Then she made Pani tell some old legends of the spirits who haunted the lakes and rivers, and she added to them some she had heard Wenonah relate.
"I should like to live down in some depths, one of the beautiful caves where there are gems and all lovely things," said the child.
"As if there were not lovely things in the forests. There are no birds in the waters. And fishes are not as bright and merry as squirrels."
"That is true enough. I'll stay on the earth a little while longer," laughingly. "But look at the lovely colors. O Pani, how many beautiful things there are! And yet Berthê Campeau is going to Quebec to become a nun and be shut out of it. How can you praise God for things you do not see and cannot enjoy? And is it such a good thing to suffer? Does God rejoice in the pain that he doesn't send and that you take upon yourself? Her poor mother will die and she will not be here to comfort her."
Pani shook her head. The child had queer thoughts.
"Pani, we must go and see Madame Campeau afterward. She will be very lonely. You would not be happy if I went away?"