“Is it true you are going back to New Orleans?” Renée asked one day in her charming, but imperious fashion.
“Yes, ma’m’selle. And I must start in another month.”
He looked so brave and dignified, his clear eyes shining, his shoulders thrown back, his head securely poised, as if he could lead an army. There was not his match in all St. Louis. Oh, yes, Uncle Gaspard and M. Marchand, and Madame Chouteau’s splendid sons, who had risked various dangers! And M. Marchand had carried off the pretty Wawataysee when he knew if they should be captured he would be put to cruel tortures and death. Well, had not André escaped with them both when a like fate would have awaited him in being taken?
“You care nothing for us now, André,” in her most plaintive tone, a hundred times more dangerous than her pride tinctured with sweetness. And the sorrow that flooded her beautiful brown eyes almost swept him from his standing-ground.
“Yes, ma’m’selle, I care a great deal. I love M. Denys as an elder brother. And you—” hesitatingly.
She blushed scarlet and her eyes drooped.
“No, you want the gayety and the excitement and the crowds of pretty women and the theatres. We are dull and simple here, yet I think we are good and happy and honest and true. And, then, you are all absorbed in money-making. Uncle Gaspard said you would be a rich man before you died. But they do dreadful things in New Orleans, and drink and carouse. You may be murdered some day, and then what will all the money be worth?”
She looked so aggrieved, so bewitching in her regret that, after all, was half assumed, though she would not confess it to herself even, that he had much ado to keep tranquil.
“Ma’m’selle, I go because I see it is quite necessary. A man who hopes for advancement must study the interest of those who have his welfare at heart and can favor him in many ways. Then I hold the key to much of the business at that end of the line, and I do not see who there is to put in my place. It is true the life here is simple and delightful. There one has a good deal of sharp dealing to fight against, since he must meet men of all governments and all sorts of schemes. If M’sieu Chouteau could go—but he cannot. Do not for a moment think it is the gayety and the pretty women.”
“Then you will go. There is no use in arguing.”