Mère Michelle turned her back upon him and beckoned Pierre to the window. “’Tis about Alaine I wish to speak,” she began, in a low tone. “This will be upon the tongues of all, and monsieur there is too ready of speech. We must not let the whole story be known. We shall say that Alaine was captured by the Indians, who in their drunken frolic did not know what they were doing, but coming to their senses abandoned her and she was rescued by M. Verplanck; that you came upon them returning here; that M. Dupont was found wounded in the wood, and you brought him also. This is all strictly true, Pierre; a good Huguenot cannot lie, yet we must shield Alaine. You must say, Pierre, that our patients are too ill to receive company, and so will we keep off the curious ones. You agree, Pierre?”
“I agree.”
“Then tell Alaine that I wish her here. Cœur de mon cœur, but I fear to have her out of my sight.” She turned back toward the fire as Pierre closed the door and went out.
“I detest you, monsieur, I am ready to confess; I detest you. To yon funeral-faced Huguenot I am grateful because, though I would have fired at him, it was to secure my liberty, and he understands; but as for you, Monsieur Ox, Monsieur Beef, I detest you, sleeping there like a log.” François rambled on. “No, Michelle, I will not be still. I am entertaining to myself, and I talk. I will drink your well dry, but I will take none of your herbs, nor your nauseous potions. I shall not die because I will to live. I am of a strong will, Madame Mercier, who was Michelle Assire back there in France, and I do not mean to die just yet. A drink of water when I ask it, and you are free to pour your messes down yonder bumpkin’s throat. I confess I would heal the sooner were he elsewhere, for I detest him, that Monsieur Blubber-fat.”
“For shame, monsieur,” Michelle chid him gravely. “You have done much more to offend than has M. Verplanck, and you must not call him such names here in my house.”
“You cannot help it, Michelle, for you do not desire to pitch me out of doors and have my life on your conscience. Besides, he cannot speak French, and it amuses me to call him names. Ho, there, Ox! Wake up.”
Michelle, distressed, hurried to Lendert’s bedside.
“His brain wanders, good sir. I pray you do not mind him,” she said, in anxious explanation.
Lendert smiled and turned his head. “Ho there, Mosquito!” he said, sleepily. “I thought I heard you buzz some time ago.”
Michelle looked helplessly from one to the other. “You see he does understand more than you think. I shall have to separate you, gentlemen, if you are bound to carry on your differences here side by side.”