"I go to chapel, M'sieu, when one can get there. I know a great many prayers, but they are much alike. I would like all the world to be upright and good, but I do not want to stay in a stifling little box until my breath is almost gone, and my knees stiff, saying a thing over and over. M'sieu, I can feel the Great Presence out on the beautiful rocks, as I look down on the river and watch the colors come and go, amber and rose, and greens of so many tints; and the music that is always so different. Then I think God does not mean us to shut it all out and be melancholy."
"You were ever a wild little thing."
"I can be grave, M'sieu, and silent, when there is need, for others. But I cannot give up all of my own life. I say to my heart—'Be still, it is only for a little while'—then comes the dance of freedom."
She laughed, with a ripple of music.
"I wonder," he began, after a pause, watching her lithe step and the proud way she carried her head—"I wonder if you would like to cross the ocean, to go to France?"
"With the beautiful Madame? It is said she is to sail as soon as the boats are loaded."
"Miladi might go with her. I could not be spared. And you——"
He saw the sudden, great throb that moved her breast up to her very shoulders.
"I should not want to go," in a quiet tone.
"But if I found at the last hour that I could go?"