“It is not at all necessary, Monsieur,” I replied, avoiding his hand, and leaping lightly to the firm sand. “I am no dainty maid of Quebec to whom such courtesy is due.” I stood and faced him, not unpleased to mark the anger in his eyes. “Not always have you shown yourself so considerate.”
“Why blame me for the act of La Barre?”
“The act would never have been considered had you opposed it, Monsieur. It was your choice, not the Governor’s.”
“I would wed you––yes; but that is no crime. But let us understand each other. Those were harsh words you spoke in anger in the room yonder.”
“They were not in anger.”
“But surely––”
“Monsieur, you have forced me into marriage; the law holds me as your wife. I know not how I may escape that fate, or avoid accompanying you. So far 90 I submit, but no farther. I do not love you; I do not even feel friendship toward you. Let me pass.”
He grasped my arm, turning me about until I faced him, his eyes glaring into mine.
“Not until I speak,” he replied threateningly. “Do not mistake my temper, or imagine me blind. I know what has so suddenly changed you––it is that gay, simpering fool yonder. But be careful how far you go. I am your husband, and in authority here.”
“Monsieur, your words are insult; release your hand.”