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Updated: July 21, 2025
Slowly the girl's eyes had widened, as if she saw that new-born thing riding over all other things in his swiftly beating heart. And afraid of it, she drew a step away from him. "I am not St. Pierre Boulain's daughter," she said, forcing the words out one by one. "I am his wife." Afterward Carrigan wondered to what depths he had fallen in the first moments of his disillusionment.
Something was bound to happen when they got ashore. The peculiar glow of the fires had puzzled him. Now he began to understand. Jeanne Marie-Anne Boulain's men were camped in the edge of the tar-sands and had lighted a number of natural gas-jets that came up out of the earth. Many times he had seen fires like these burning up and down the Three Rivers.
"It is not fair, and she will never forgive me. You are no match for me. I am half again as heavy." "And as big a coward as you are a scoundrel, St. Pierre." "It is like a man fighting a boy." "Yet it is less dishonorable than betraying the woman who is your wife for another who should have been hanged along with her brother, St. Pierre." Boulain's face darkened.
And over these same forest tops rose the moon, the stars grew thicker and brighter, and through the finger of hardwood glowed the fire of St. Pierre Boulain's men while close beside him, silent in these hours of silence, David felt growing nearer and still nearer to him the presence of St. Pierre's wife. On the strip of sand Andre, the Broken Man, rose and stood like the stub of a misshapen tree.
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