"White men only laugh at a bad man," said Nahnya, "and put him in jail. You are going to make yourself a wise, big man now."
Philippe's self-love made its last stand. "I am a man," he said scowling. "It is not for a woman to tell me what to do."
Nahnya made no answer. She was playing with some bits of broken stone.
"I will be the master in my own lodge!" Philippe said louder. "You will work and keep quiet!"
"If you want me to live with you, you must live straight," said Nahnya, with an ominous softness. "You think it is fun to be a bad man. It is not fun to be a bad man's wife!"
"I will do what I want!" said Philippe boastfully.
"Look!" said Nahnya, pointing to the stones she had been arranging. "Here I have made the sign of the cross. Kneel, and put your right hand on it, and swear to live straight!"
Philippe laughed. Nahnya rose to her feet with the same dangerously quiet air. She did not look at him. Anxiety began to undermine his scornful smile.
"What are you going to do?" he asked sullenly.
"Swear!" she said. "Or I will jump off this rock into the valley!"