There was contempt in my eyes, nor did I strive to disguise it.
“Am I your wife, Monsieur, or your slave?”
“My wife, and I know how to hold you! Mon Dieu! but you shall learn that lesson. I was a fool to ever give the brat place in the boats. La Barre warned me that he would make trouble. Now I tell you what will occur if you play false with me.”
“You may spare your threats––they weigh nothing. The Sieur de Artigny is my friend, and I shall address him when it pleases me. With whatever quarrel may arise between you I have no interest. Let 162 that suffice, and now I bid you good night, Monsieur.”
He made no effort to halt me, nor to follow, and I made my way down the darkening path, without so much as turning my head to observe his movements. It was almost like a play to me, and I was reckless of the consequences, intent only on my purpose.
I was awake a long time, lying alone on my blankets within the silent tent, and staring out at the darkness. I saw Cassion descend the deer path, perhaps an hour after I left him, and go on to the main camp below. He made no pause as he passed, yet walked slowly as though in thought. Where he went I could not determine in the gloom, yet was convinced he had no purpose then of seeking De Artigny or of putting his threat into immediate action. In all probability he believed that his words would render me cautious, in spite of my defiant response, and that I would avoid creating trouble by keeping away from the younger man. He was no brawler, except as he felt safe, and this young frontiersman was hardly the antagonist he would choose. It would be more apt to be a blow in the dark, or an overturned canoe.
I cannot recall now that I experienced any regret for what had occurred. Perhaps I might if I had known the end, yet I felt perfectly justified in all my actions. I had done no conscious wrong, and was only seeking that which was mine by every standard of 163 justice. I knew I despised Cassion, while my feeling’s toward De Artigny were so confused, and indefinite as to be a continual puzzle. I knew nothing of what love was––I was merely aware that the man interested me, and that I felt confidence in him. I recalled his words, the expression of his face, and felt the sharp sting of his rebuke, yet all was strangely softened by the message I had read in his eyes.
He had not approved of my course, yet in his heart had not blamed; he would not lend himself to my purpose, yet remained no less loyal to me. I could ask no more. Indeed, I had no wish to precipitate an open quarrel between the two men. However it ended, such an occurrence would serve me ill, and all that my plan contemplated was that they should distrust each other, and thus permit me to play the one against the other, until I won my game. I felt no fear of the result, no doubt of my ability to manipulate the strings adroitly enough to achieve the end sought.
The one point I ignored was the primitive passions of men. These were beyond my control; were already beyond, although I knew it not. Fires were smouldering in hearts which out yonder in the dark woods would burst into flame of destruction. Innocent as my purpose was, it had in it the germs of tragedy; but I was then too young, too inexperienced to know.
Nor had I reason to anticipate the result of my simple 164 ruse, or occasion to note any serious change in my surroundings. The routine of our journey gave me no hint of the hidden passions seething below the outward appearance of things. In the early dawn we broke camp as usual, except that chosen boatmen guided the emptied canoes through the rapids, while the others of the party made portage along the rough shore. In the smooth water above we all embarked again, and won slow way against the current. The advance company had departed before our arrival, nor did I again obtain glimpse of De Artigny for many days.