Jean had strongly the instinct of accumulation. He gauged the discovery and settlement of a continent by its promise of wealth to himself. His adherence to La Salle was therefore delicately adjusted by La Salle’s varying fortunes; though at all times he gratified himself by handling with tyranny this younger and distinguished brother. Generous admiration of another’s genius flowering from his stock with the perfect expression denied him, was scarcely possible in Jean Cavelier.
“The Sisters said I might come hither with my uncle La Salle,” replied Barbe, to his unspoken rebuke.
“Into whose charge were your brother and yourself put when your parents died?”
“Into the charge of my uncle the Abbé Cavelier.”
“Who brought your brother and you to this colony that he might watch over your nurture?”
“My uncle the Abbé Cavelier.”
“It is therefore your uncle the Abbé Cavelier who will decide when to turn you out among Indians and traders.”
“You carry too bitter a tongue, my brother Jean,” observed La Salle. “The child has caught no harm. My own youth was cramped within religious walls.”
“You carry too arrogant a mind now, my brother La Salle. I heard it noted of you to-day that you last night sat apart and deigned no word to them that have been of use to you in Montreal.”