She looked up and nodded, while a heavy sort of smile settled about her lips, the upper one protruding a little, on account of two prominent teeth. Eustache had seen the peasant type at home, the low forehead, the deep-set eyes, the short nose, flattened at the base, the wide mouth and rather broad, unmeaning countenance, the type of women who bear burthens without complaining and do not resent when they are beaten. Marie had an abundance of blue-black hair, a clear skin, and a soft color in her cheeks.
Boullé glanced from one to the other, the lithe figure, the spirited face, the eyes that could flash and soften and sparkle with mirth almost in a minute, it seemed. What a distance lay between them.
"Marie, this is"—then Rose paused and flushed, and glanced at her unbidden companion.
"I am Eustache Boullé and my sister is the wife of the Governor de Champlain. And though I have been up and down the river I have never really visited Quebec before."
Marie nodded and went on cutting fringe.
"And he has done pictures—Temekwisa, that you would know in a minute. He did them with a pencil. Show them to her," she ordered, in a pretty peremptory manner, as with a graceful gesture of the hand she invited him to be seated on the grass, deftly rolling one baby over, who stared an instant, and then fell to sucking his fist.
Marie's heavy face lighted up with a kind of cheerful surprise.
"Why did you not go up and see them come in? And after the service of thanks, almost everybody went to see our dear Sieur's wife. She is beautiful in the face and wears a silken gown, and a little cap so fine you can see her hair through it. And she has small hands that look like snow, but not many rings, like Madame Giffard."
"Ma mère went to the prayers, but we could not both go. I saw the line of boats and heard the salute. And your sister will live here with the Governor?"
Eustache wanted to laugh, but commanded his countenance.