BETRAYING in her face some disposition to pry into the customs of the New World, Claire inquired:
“What is this marriage market like, reverend mother?”
“It is too much like an unholy fair,” answered Mother Mary of the Incarnation, with mild severity. “The gallants stalk about and gaze when they should be closing contracts. The girls clatter with their tongues; they seem not to know what a charm lies in silence.”
Mademoiselle Laval stood up and closed her cloak.
“With your permission, reverend mother, I will walk through the fair with you.”
“Not you, mademoiselle!”
“Why not?”
“You are not here to select a husband. The holy cloister is thy shelter. Common soldiers and peasant farmers are not the sights for thee to meet.”
“Reverend mother, I must inure myself to the rough aspect of things in New France, for it is probable I am tossed here to stay. You and Madame Bourdon gaze upon these evil things, and my poor Louise is exposed to them.”