"Madame Destournier talks about France. Why, if Paris is all gayety and pleasure, are people put in dungeons, and then to death? And there seem so many rulers. They are not always good to the Sieur, either."
"They do not understand. But these are too weighty matters for a young head."
"Why do they not want a great, beautiful town here! All they care about is the furs, and the rough men and Indians spoil the summer. I like to hear the Sieur tell what might be, houses and castles, and streets, instead of these crooked, winding paths, and—there are fine shops, where you buy beautiful things," glancing vaguely at him.
"Why should you not like to go thither then, if you can dream of these delights?"
"I want the Sieur to have his way, and do some of the things he has set his heart upon. Miladi would like it too. But I am well enough satisfied."
She tossed her head in her superb strength. He had not known many women, and they were older. There was something in her fresh sweetness that touched him to the soul.
"This way, M'sieu." He was plunging ahead, keeping pace with some tumultuous thoughts.
"Ah——!"
"And see—you have been careless. You are sowing plums along the way. This is no place for them to take root."
She gave a little laugh as well, though she had begun in a sharp tone.