Madame crushed a bur with her foot … and gasped. She had forgotten the loose seam in her moccasin. The delicate needles had penetrated the flesh. This little comedy, however, passed over his head.
"I did not ask you to accompany me to-day."
"So I observed. Nor did I ask to come. That is why I believed in silence. Besides, I have said all I have to say," quietly. He cast aside the bur.
"Then your vocabulary consists of a dozen words, such as, 'It is a far cry from the Louvre to this spot'?"
"I believe I used the word 'galleries.'" Their past was indissolubly linked to this word.
"On a certain day you vowed that you should force me to love you. What progress have you made, Monsieur? I am curious."
"No man escapes being an ass sometimes, Madame. That was my particular morning."
Decidedly, this lack of interest on his part annoyed her. He had held her in his arms one night, and had not kissed her; he had vowed to force her to love him, and now he sat still and unruffled under her contempt. What manner of man was it?
"When are we to be returned to Quebec? I am weary, very weary, of all this. There are no wits; men have no tongues, but purposes."
"Whenever Father Chaumonot thinks it safe and men can be spared, he will make preparations. It will be before the winter sets in."