Then they had a feast in the new house, and it was the first occasion of real note there had been in Quebec. Rose was very quiet and reserved among the grown folks, though M. de Champlain found time to chat with her, and tell her that now she had found real parents.
After this there was a busy season preparing for the winter, as usual, drying and preserving fruits, taking up root vegetables and storing them, gathering nuts, and getting in grains of all kinds. Now they kept pigs alive until about midwinter, and tried to have fresh game quite often. The scurvy was practically banished.
As for Rose, the marriage made not so much difference. She was let very much alone, and rambled about as she listed, until the snows came. Occasionally she visited Marie, but everything was in a huddle in the small place, and the chimney often smoked when the wind was east. But Marie seemed strangely content and happy. Or she went to the Gaudrions, which she really liked, even if the babies did tumble over her.
She went sometimes to the classes the Governor's wife was teaching, and translated to the Indian children many things it was difficult for them to understand.
Madame de Champlain would say—"Child, thou ought to be in the service of the good God and His Virgin Mother. He has given thee many attractions, but they are to be trained for His work, not for thy own pleasure. We are not to live a life of ease, but to deny ourselves for the sake of the souls of those around us."
"I think oftentimes, Madame, they have no souls," returned the daring girl. "They seem never able to distinguish between the true God and their many gods. And if they are ill they use charms. Their religion, I observe, makes them very happy."
"There are many false things that please the carnal soul. That is what we are to fight against. Oh, child, I am afraid the evil one desires thee strongly. Thou shouldst go to confession, as we do at home, and accept the penances the good priests put upon thee."
Confession had not made much headway with these children of the new world. Father Jamay, to his great disgust, found they would tell almost anything, thinking to please him with a multitude of sins, and they went off to forget their penance. So it was not strongly insisted upon.
Madame de Champlain was a dévote. In her secret heart she longed for the old convent life. Still she was deeply interested in the plans of the Récollet fathers, who were establishing missions among the Hurons and the Nipissings, and learning the languages. She gave generously of her allowance, and denied herself many things; would, indeed, have given up more had her husband allowed it.
Captain Pontgrave came in to spend the winter, brave and cheerful, though he had lost his only son. While the men exchanged plans for the future, and smoked in comfort, Madame was often kneeling on a flat stone she had ordered sent to her little convent-like niche, praying for the salvation of the new world to be laid at the foot of God's throne, and to be a glory to old France. But the court of old France was revelling in pleasure and demanding furs for profit.