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Updated: May 31, 2025
In a single leap he was at the side of the sledge, throwing off the furs and bundles and all other objects except his rifle. "He is dead, Iowaka. Look at the purple and black in his face. It is Jean de Gravois who will catch the murderer, and you will stay here and make yourself a camp. Hi-o-o-o-o!" he shouted to the Malemutes.
They did not lunch on the trail, but drove into the post in time for dinner. Jean de Gravois and Croisset came forth from the store to meet them. "You have company, my dear!" cried Jean to Melisse. "Two gentlemen fresh from London on the last boat, and one of them younger and handsomer than your own Jan Thoreau.
It formed a bond between him and Cummins' people. His heart went out to them, and he went more freely among them, and made friends. Jan had not played upon his violin since the coming of Jean de Gravois; but one evening he tuned his strings, and said to Melisse: "They have been good to you, my Melisse. I will give them ze museek of ze violon."
"You go inside, or you'll take cold." Mr. Renault protested, asked about all the residents of Gravois way, and finally obeyed. Eliphalet's heart was in his mouth. A bolder spirit would have dashed for liberty. Eliphalet did not possess that kind of bravery. He was waiting for the Captain to turn toward his wagon. He looked down the area instead, with the light from the street lamp on his face.
He darted in again, in his quick, cat-like way, and received a blow that dazed him. This time he held to his feet. "Bah, this is like striking a baby!" exclaimed Dixon. "What are you fighting about, Gravois? Is it a crime up here to kiss a pretty girl?" "I am going to kill you!" said Jean as coolly as before. There was something terribly calm and decisive in his voice. He was not excited.
Madame Gravois, elderly, wizened, primp in a starched cotton gown, opened the door herself, fell upon Monsieur Vigo in the Creole fashion; and within a quarter of an hour I was installed in her best room, which gave out on a little court behind. Monsieur Vigo promised to send his servant with my baggage, told me his address, bade me call on him for what I wanted, and took his leave.
And you, who are not used to the climate, must not be out after dark." "And you?" I said. "I am used to it," she replied; "I have been here three months. Lest anything should happen, it might be well for you to give me your address." "I am with Madame Gravois, in the Rue Bienville." "Madame Gravois, in the Rue Bienville," she repeated. "I shall remember. A demain, Monsieur."
On the day that Jean de Gravois left for Hudson's Bay, the company's supplies came in from Fort Churchill seven toboggans drawn by Eskimo dogs, laden with flour and cloth; fifty pounds of beads, ammunition, and a hundred other things to be exchanged for the furs that would soon be in London and Paris. Fearfully Jan Thoreau ran out to meet the sledges. There were seven Indians and one white man.
"And I always shall be, my dear, so long as the daughter of a princess and the great-granddaughter of a chef de bataillon allows me to mix her dough!" Melisse flung the red shawl over her head, still laughing. "I will go and help her, Jean." "Mon Dieu!" gasped Gravois, looking searchingly at Jan, when she had left. "Shall I give you my best wishes, Jan Thoreau? Does it signify?" "Signify what?"
Each summer increased his happiness; each succeeding winter made it larger and more complete. Every fiber of his being sang in joyful response as he watched Melisse pass from childhood into young girlhood. He marked every turn in her development, the slightest change in her transformation, as if she had been a beautiful flower. He possessed none of the quick impetuosity of Jean de Gravois.
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