"Nor do I," said Jean, lighting his pipe. "But there is enough of the devil in Jean de Gravois to make him break a thousand oaths if it was for you, my Iowaka!"
Her eyes glowed upon him softly.
"A maiden's soul leaves her body when she becomes the wife of the man she loves," she whispered tenderly in Cree, resting her dark head on Jean's shoulder. "That is what my people believe, Jean; and if I have given my soul to you, why should I not break oath for you?"
"For me alone, Iowaka?"
"For you alone."
"And not for a friend?"
"For no one else in the world, Jean. You are the only one to whom the god of my people bids me make all sacrifice."
"But you do not believe in that god, Iowaka!"
"Sometimes it is better to believe in the god of my people than in yours," she replied gently. "I believed in him fifteen years ago at Churchill. Do you wish me to take back what I gave to you then?"
With a low cry of happiness Jean crushed his face against her soft cheek.