Bidiane dimly felt her powerlessness, and, accompanied by Claudine, went back to her raking, and left the two sitting on the hay.
While the girl was undressing that night, Claudine tapped at her door. "It is all arranged, Bidiane. They are going to dig."
Bidiane impatiently shook her hanging mass of hair, and stamped her foot on the floor. "They shall not."
"Nannichette did not go away," continued Claudine. "She hung about the stable, and Mirabelle Marie took her up some food. I was feeding the pig, and I overheard whispering. They are to get some women together, and Nannichette will lead them to the place the spirit told her of."
"Oh, the simpleton! She shall not come here again, and my aunt shall not accompany her—but where do they wish to go?"
"To the Sleeping Water Lake."
"Claudine, you know there is no gold there. The Indians had none, the French had none,—where would the poor exiles get it?"
"All this is reasonable, but there are people who are foolish,—always foolish. I tell you, this seeking for gold is like a fever. One catches it from another. I had an uncle who thought there was a treasure hid on his farm; he dug it all over, then he went crazy."
Bidiane's head, that, in the light of her lamp, had turned to a dull red-gold, sank on her breast. "I have it," she said at last, flinging it up, and choking with irrepressible laughter. "Let them go,—we will play them a trick. Nothing else will cure my aunt. Listen,—" and she laid a hand on the shoulder of the young woman confronting her, and earnestly unfolded a primitive plan.