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Updated: June 6, 2025
"This is Jeanne Angelot," exclaimed Father Rameau. She, in her youth and health and beauty, coming out of the warm and glowing sunshine of May, brought with her an atmosphere and radiance that seemed like a sudden sunrise in the dingy apartment.
The walls seemed full of arms and hunting trophies and fishing tackle, and in the center of the room a sort of table with drawers down one side. "Yes, here. 'Mademoiselle Jeanne Angelot." She seemed to study the writing. She was quite pretty, Jeanne thought, though rather pale, and her silken gown looped up at the side with a great bow of ribbon, fell at the back in a long train.
Clair river. The Indian nodded. "You are going north?" A great terror overwhelmed her like a sudden revelation. The answer was a solemn nod. "Some one has hired you to do this." Not a muscle in any stolid face moved. "If I guess rightly will you tell me?" There was a refusal in the shake of the head. Jeanne Angelot at that moment could have leaped from the boat.
"That gave me the clew," interrupted his hearer. "By some mysterious chain of events she was brought to her father's house. I was up North at the time, and only recently heard the story. The name Jeanne Angelot roused me. There could not be a mistake. Some miracle must have intervened to save the child. Then I came at once. But you think she the mother believes her marriage was a sin?"
We are very fond of each other." "And your mother " she asked hesitatingly. "I do not remember her, for I was an infant when she died. But my father keeps her in mind always. And I must give you his message." He took out a beautifully embossed leathern case with silver mountings and ran over the letters. "Ah here. 'I want you to see my little friend, Jeanne Angelot, and report her progress to me.
Armand repeated what he knew of her story. "Her mother may have been killed by the Indians. There will be many a sad romance linked in with our early history, Sieur St. Armand." As for Jeanne Angelot, many a time in after years she recalled her meeting with the brave general, and no one dreamed then that his brilliant career was to end so soon.
There was a shuffling of steps in the hall and a glitter of trappings. The Commandant of the Fort stepped forward to the doorway and glanced in. The priests questioned with their eyes, the nuns turned aside. "We were told we should find Father Rameau here. There is some curious business. Ah, here is the girl herself, Mademoiselle Jeanne Angelot.
As if deprived of resistance she suffered herself to be led forward and then down a few steps. He opened a door. "See," he said, "I have arranged a pretty bower for you, and a servant to wait upon you. And now, Mam'selle Angelot, further refusal is useless. To-morrow or next day at the latest the priest will make us man and wife." "I will never be your wife alive," she said.
It was a proud day for Madame De Ber, and she glanced about among the girls to see whom of them she would choose for a daughter-in-law. For now Pierre could have his pick of them all. Jeanne Angelot sat in the doorway in the moonlight silvering the street. There were so many nooks and places in shadow that everything had a weird, fantastic look.
Oh, Margot, help me, or we shall be burned to death. Pani, dear, we must fly." "Where is Jeanne Angelot," exclaimed a sturdy voice. "Jeanne, if you do not escape now see, the flames have struck the house." It was the tall, strong form of Pierre De Ber, and he caught her in his arms. "No, no! O Pierre, take Pani. She is dazed. I can follow.
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