"The fathers are building one. But it is only for the men. The women cook and learn to dress deerskins until they are like velvet. They must make the clothing, for not a great deal comes from France. And it would only do for ladies like you and Madame Giffard."
"But there must be some education, some training, some prayers," and the lady looked rather helpless.
She was very sweet and beautiful in her soft silken dress of gray, that was flowered in the same color, and trimmed with fur and velvet. From her belt depended a chain of carved ivory beads and a crucifix, from another chain a small oval looking-glass in a silver frame. Her flaring collar of lace and the stomacher were worked in pearls. Many Parisians had them sewn with jewels.
"I can read French very well," said Rose, after a pause. "And some Latin."
"Oh, the prayers, and some of the old hymns——"
"No, it isn't prayers exactly—except to their gods. There are so many gods. Jove was the great one."
"Oh, my child, this is heresy. There is but one God and the Holy Virgin, and the saints to whom you can make invocation."
"Well, then I think you have a number of gods. Do you pray to them all? And what do you pray for?"
"For the wicked world to be converted to God, for them to love Him, and serve Him."
"And how do they serve Him?" inquired the child. "If He is the great God Father Jamay teaches He can do everything, have everything. It is all His. Then why does He not keep people well, so they can work, and not blight the crops with fierce storms. Sometimes great fields of maize are swept down. And the little children die; the Indians kill each other, and at times the white men who serve them."