Gabriel’s benumbed senses, together with the spirit that in some natures never slumbers long, were reawakening. He found himself wondering why this autocratic priest, before whom all trembled, should find it necessary to explain his conduct to a mere boy. Then, as mental vigor returned more fully, he drew his exhausted body into a sitting posture, and said:
“M. l’Abbé commands that I shall go with these savages?”
“Converts to the true church,” interrupted Le Loutre imperiously. “Who dares call baptized Christians savages?”
“I name them according to their deeds,” continued Gabriel, with a certain manly dignity which had come to him of late. “Holy water on the brow does not change the heart.”
“It doth not!” cried the priest in the same tone. “Jean Jacques is a pervert—perverted by thyself from the true faith.”
“Yet he has played me false,” exclaimed Gabriel bitterly.
“Dull-witted boy! Knowest thou no better than that?”
Could it be? Was Jean Jacques faithful? Not only that, but free to help him again? Hope kindled once more within his breast. Then he rose to his feet and looked straight into the eyes of Le Loutre.
