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Updated: May 25, 2025
There was much anxiety when the cups were turned, and blushes and giggles and exclamations, as an old Indian woman, who had a great reputation for foretelling, and would surely have been hung in the Salem witchcraft, looked them over with an air of mystery, and found the figure of a man with an outstretched hand, in the bottom of Marie De Ber's cup. "And she's the youngest.
M. Fleury nodded assentingly. Jeanne had been quite taken into Madame De Ber's good graces again. The money had worked wonders with her, only she did not see the need of it being spent upon an education. There was Pierre, who would be about the right age, but would she want Pierre to have that kind of a wife? Rose and Jeanne became very neighborly.
It made little difference to the lad who fought and who won so that they were kept safe inside of the stockade, and business was good, for then his father was better natured. On bad days Pierre often had a liberal dose of strap. "Come, Pani, let us go to Madame De Ber's." Marie was out on the doorstep tending the baby, who was teething and fretful.
There were great doings at the Citadel and in some of the grand houses. There were dances and dinners, and weddings so brilliant that Marie De Ber's was only a little rushlight in comparison. The master went down to Marietta for a visit. Jeanne seemed like a pendulum swinging this way and that. She was lonely and miserable.
Jeanne gave a regretful smile. But then he would come. Oh, how proud he looked on his handsome horse! She felt as if something had gone out of the day, but the sun was shining. At the corner of old St. Louis street they paused. Here was M. De Ber's warehouse, the close, unfragrant smell of left-over furs mingling with other smells and scenting the summer air.
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