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Marie's wedding has set thee astray." "And Pierre is a slow, stupid fellow." "Pierre would be no match for thee, and I doubt if the De Bers would countenance such a thing if he were older. That is nonsense." "Pierre asked me to be his wife. He said twice that he wanted to marry me at the raising of the flag, when we were on the water, and one Sunday in the autumn.
I said 'no' and 'no' and 'no, until it was like this mighty wind rushing through the forest, and he was very angry. So I should not go to the De Bers any more. And, Pani, if I had a father who would make me marry him when I was older, I should go and throw myself into the Strait." "His father sends him up in the fur country in the spring."
I suppose the De Bers will never speak to me again. Pani, it is growing cooler now, let us go out in the woods. I feel stifled. I wish we had a wigwam up in the forest. Come." Pani put away her work. "Let us go the other way, the chemin du ronde, to the gate. Rose may be gossiping with some of the neighbors." They walked down that way. There was quite a throng at King's wharf.
The church, which is not of great size, is in the last and most flamboyant phase of Gothic, and in admirable preservation; the west front, before which a quaint old sun-dial is laid out on the ground, a circle of num- bers marked in stone, like those on a clock face, let into the earth, is covered with delicate ornament.
He must make his adieus to several friends. Madame Ganeau must be congratulated on so fine a son-in-law, the De Bers must have an opportunity to wish him bon voyage. Pani sat out on the cedar plank that made the door-sill, and she was cutting deerskin fringe for next winter's leggings. "Jeanne," she called, "Louis has come to say good-by."
After all she did not care for the De Bers and yet it seemed as if she had been stabbed to the heart. Pierre and Marie had pretended to care so much for her. Then, in spite of her sadness, she laughed. "What is it amuses thee so, little one?" asked the Indian woman. "I am not old enough to have a lover, Pani, am I?" and she looked out of her furry wrap. "No, child, no. What folly!
The De Bers had a father, many children had, she remembered. And her mother was dead. The address ended and there was a thundering roll of drums, while cheers went up here and there. Cautious French habitans and traders thought it wiser to wait and see how long this standard of stripes and stars would wave over them.
The spot is, in short, one of the sweetest legacies of the ancient world; and there seems no profanation in the fact that by day it is open to the good people of Arles, who use it to pass, by no means in great num- bers, from one part of the town to the other; treading the old marble floor, and brushing, if need be, the empty benches.
She rather liked being hidden here in the darkness. There were the De Bers, then Marie and her lover, then Rose and Pierre. How much did dull Pierre believe and understand? The master's faith seemed simpler to her.
In a vague way she had known before there were many things Pani could not understand; now she felt the keen, far-reaching difference between them, between her and the De Bers, and Louis Marsac, and all the people she had ever known. But her mother, who could tell most about her, was dead.
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