"I shall come often to see the little one. And when they have finished the—the hut, the child must come often to me. I have brought some furnishings and pictures and a few books. There is much more in the old château, and my aunt is there to take care of it. But I wanted some old friends about me."
At the mention of books Rose had glanced up eagerly at Destournier. Then there was a sudden rush without. Both Indian boys were racing and yelling in their broken language.
"They are coming; they are coming! The canoes are in," and both began to caper about.
Mère Dubray took down a leathern thong and laid it about them; but they were like eels and glided out of her reach.
"One was bad enough, but I could manage him. The other"—and she gave her shoulders a shrug.
The lady laughed. "That is like home," she said.
"It is quite a sight. And I hope you will not be frightened, for the next few days. I had better escort you back, I think, for there will be a crowd."
They were guests of M. de Champlain, who had quite comfortable quarters. Beside his governmental business he was much engrossed with a history of his journeys and explorations and the maps he was making. All the furnishings were plain, as became a hardy soldier who often slept out in the open. But the keeping room already showed some traces of a woman's love for adornment. He looked rather grim over it, but made no comment.
"I will come again to-morrow." Madame Giffard pressed a kiss upon the white forehead. The child grasped her hand with convulsive warmth.
An hour had changed the aspect of everything. Instead of the quiet, deserted, winding ways, you could hardly call them streets, everything seemed alive with a motley, moving throng. A long line of boats, and what one might call a caravan, seemed to have risen from the very earth, or been evolved from the wilderness. There were shouting and singing, white men turned to brown by exposure, Indians, half-breeds of varying shades, and attire that was really indescribable.