Trappers and traders came in, and the talk was of wilderness trails and Indian villages friendly and unfriendly, of deer and mink and otter and beaver, sable, marten and beautiful fox and wolfskins from the far north. Many of the fleets went straight down the river to New Orleans, others came up from there with beads and gewgaws and spun silk and threads of various colors, calicoes and blankets and coarse thick stuffs for tents. There was much dickering, great supplies of arms and ammunitions, and then the crowd melted away and only familiar faces were seen again. The country round about put on its white coverlet of snow to keep warm the little earth children, streams and ponds were frozen over and all was merriment again.
François Marchand and his pretty wife set up a home of their own only a short distance away, but business had increased so much that it needed the attention of both. Next year they would buy some boats or have them built, and do some trading up and down the river.
André Valbonais was much pleased with his new home and the cordiality of his relatives. He soon attracted the attention of Colonel Chouteau, for he had considerable education, and was put in a clerkship, which gratified him extremely. But he often ran up to the Rue de Rive to chat with Denys and Marchand over their adventures, and to watch the pretty, dark-eyed girl who always sat so close to her uncle and held his hand.
And then came the winter gayeties. Throngs of children went out on the great mound when the snow had a crust on it, and the girls, gathering up their skirts, squatted down and were given a little push, and away they went, swift as an arrow. One would tumble over and roll down to the bottom, throwing about numerous little fleets, but they were so well wrapped in furs no one was ever hurt. The great achievement was to spin the whole length without a break.
It was merry again at Christmastide, and Renée enjoyed it much more than last year; but there was a tender devoutness in her worship. Then the great Feast of Lights, Epiphany and all the fun and frolic. André was chosen a king by one of the pretty girls. He was a fine dancer and a very good-looking young fellow.
Perhaps it made Renée more light-hearted to know that Barbe had a real lover, and that he hardly allowed her to smile at any one else. She was not quite betrothed as yet, but there could be no objections. He belonged to a good New Orleans family, and was in a trading house second only to the Chouteaus’. All the Guions said it would be an excellent match, and Barbe was plenty old enough to marry. Bachelor girls had not come in fashion, and when one had passed twenty the younger girls really flouted her and thought she ought to step in the background.
She danced once with Gaspard Denys. No, he had never been a real lover. But if he had not gone to Quebec after this little girl—well, all things might have been different. And as well Jean Gardepier as any one. She would go to New Orleans with him when he went down on trading expeditions, and the gayety would delight her. She would have some fine clothes and jewels, still she sighed a little when Denys took her back to her sister.
“And here is Elise the second,” said Madame Renaud gayly. “See what a tall girl she has grown. You must dance once with her. Oh, how soon they are women, and then it is lovers and husbands. Gaspard, are you going to stay single forever?” and Madame laughed softly.
“I’m such an old fellow now! I feel like a grandfather to these young girls,” he returned jocosely.
But Elise thought him charming, and in her turn almost envied Renée.