Nothing daunted, Jean continued to smoke his pipe reflectively.
“I have never been greatly inclined to matrimony myself. When I picture the perils through which I have passed—aye, I myself, Jean Ameron—with damsels of every description to choose from, brown and blonde, fat and lean, tall and short, all awaiting but a look, and some not absolutely ill-favored; one, indeed, with a barrel of bacon entirely her own, was offered me, but I found myself obliged to decline, my friends trying in vain to persuade me to accept the King’s gift.”
Bras de Fer was taking his supper in the same room. In general the stalwart voyageur had an inordinate capacity for devouring the various colonial dainties, such as eels in sailor guise, pigeons with cabbages, partridges served with onions, soup with plums, eggs and tripe, brown bread and cheese. He had been hungry when he entered the house, but the Frenchman’s facility of utterance quite reduced the big Canadian’s enjoyment of his food. Were he but master of such captivating eloquence he might long ago have won the desire of his heart. Nanon never appeared more attractive. Her full lips took a richer red, a livelier crimson suffused her sunburnt cheek, there was a dancing merriment in her bright, dark eyes as she asked demurely:
“Was it not the damsels who escaped so sad a fate? To me it is equal. I see on every side husbands and wives who quarrel and spit at each other like cats, and where is the gain, my heart? In this country it is not difficult to marry. Brown and lean as a weasel is Mam’selle Anne, yet even she could become a wife if she would.”
Baptiste felt that to sit silently listening was the hardest trial he had ever endured. He had been no stranger to manifold dangers and adventures, having served as guide in nine expeditions against the Five Cantons. He had killed with his own hand more than sixty Iroquois, had twice been tied to the stake waiting to be burned alive; had bravely sung the death-song, while the joints of two of his fingers had been broken, after they had been smoked in an Indian pipe; had in genuine savage fashion learned to mock at his own torments, when a necklace of hatchets, heated red hot, had been suspended round his neck, causing wounds of which he still kept the scars; yet with all this his valor failed him when he had most need of it. He could have demolished his paltry rival at a blow, yet he dared not contemplate the possibility of having Nanon turn on him with scorn and anger.
“Nanon!”
By a tremendous effort Baptiste concentrated his will. Rising, he left his untasted supper with the determination to crush his rival’s pretensions, plead his own suit, or perish in the attempt! At the impassioned utterance of her name the girl quickly turned her head. When he felt the sharp, bright glance of his beloved resting upon him, the giant’s courage oozed away. With a long drawn sigh he sank back on his chair disconsolately.
“If you please, Bras de Fer?” Nanon inquired politely.
Baptiste shook his head with the most helpless and mournful resignation; both ideas and words had escaped him; he felt himself turning hot and cold all over as he gazed at her deprecatingly. Nanon shrugged her plump shoulders with an air of amused amazement.
“What wouldst thou say, Bras de Fer? Surely thou wouldst not make sugar-plum compliments like those of Jean? Is it the week of the three Thursdays, that thou shouldst attempt to make compliments? Even Balaam’s ass had the power of speech conferred upon it at times, but thine eloquence is overpowering. Ta, ta, ta! there would be no peace in Paradise if thou wert there, unless thou couldst contrive to mend thy manners, my friend.” Nanon’s brown face dimpled with coquettish smiles, and Jean indulged in a malicious grin for which the Canadian could have found it in his heart to slay him.