"Tamalan," he called, dividing his attention between the soldier he was addressing and his aunt, "prepare your pony for the use of the first lady in this great colony of France—the lady Madeleine Labroquerie."
He bowed slightly towards the silent girl.
For one instant Madame appeared to stifle. Then she drew back her lips and snarled at her nephew, yet without uttering a word.
"This is not Normandy, Madame," said Roussilac calmly. "And you have not here the boy whose cheeks you would smite when the angry fit was on you. This is the New World, and I am the Representative of his most sacred Majesty, King Louis the Thirteenth."
Madame started forward, two passionate red spots upon her cheeks, her bony hand uplifted; but Roussilac indicated the golden fleur-de-lys upon his breast and said, in the quiet consciousness of power: "Remember!"
The little woman stood for a moment motionless, grinding her teeth, her black eyes starting from a ghastly countenance, then flung herself back into the cabin, tearing at her hair and cap in the madness of her anger. Roussilac watched with the same quiet smile, and when she had gone turned to Madeleine and said:
"My aunt forgets that time may work a change."
"Pardon her," murmured the girl. "This solitude has touched her brain."
Then La Salle strode up with angry questionings: "Shall we tarry here all the day, Sir Commandant, while the heretic escapes? Know you not that New England swarms with Puritans, who, if they but hear of our weakness, shall fill this land and compel us forth by their numbers?"
"You speak truly, Sir Priest," Roussilac answered. "We do but waste our time."