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Updated: May 31, 2025
Madame Gravois was awaiting me. Was Monsieur mad to remain out at night? Had Monsieur not heard of the yellow fever? Madame Gravois even had prepared some concoction which she poured out of a bottle, and which I took with the docility of a child. Monsieur Vigo had called, and there was a note. A note? It was a small note. I glanced stupidly at the seal, recognized the swan of the St.
The next day he was still gone, and Gravois drove along the top of the mountain ridge until he came to the Frenchman's, where he found that Dixon had started for Lac Bain the preceding afternoon. He brought word back to the post. Then he went to Melisse. "It is as good as death to go out in search of him," he said. "We can no longer use the dogs.
"Ah, if I was only Jan Thoreau a Jan Thoreau with the heart of Jean de Gravois what a surprise I'd give that foreigner!" he said to himself, leaping quickly from the trail into the thicket. He peered forth from the bushes, his loyal heart beating a wrathful tattoo when he saw that Dixon dared put his hand on Melisse's arm.
It was to prove to that fool of a Jan Thoreau that she loved him WHATEVER HE WAS. NOW what do you think of Jean de Gravois, you daughter of a princess, you you " "Wife of the greatest man in the world," laughed Iowaka softly. "Come, my foolish Jean, we can not stand out for ever. I am growing cold. And besides, do you not suppose that Jan would like to see ME?"
I've learned a lot about you people up here in the snows since then, and I'll never do anything like that again." He laughed into Jean's face as they shook hands, and his voice was filled with unbounded sincerity. "How is Mrs. Gravois, and the little Gravois and Melisse?" he added, before Jean had spoken. "All well, M'seur Dixon," replied Jean.
"I knew I should get a beating, or something worse, for forgetting that sugar," cried the little Frenchman, holding up his bared arms. "Dough dough dough I'm rolling dough dough for the bread, dough for the cakes, dough for the pies dough, Jan Thoreau, just common flour and water mixed and swabbed I, Jean de Gravois, chief man at Post Lac Bain, am mixing dough!
To-night he longed to go to Thornton, as he had gone to Jean, and to tell him the same story, and what had passed that day in the office of the sub- commissioner. In his heart there had grown something for Thornton that was stronger than friendship something that would have made him fight for him, and die for him, as he would have fought and died for Jean de Gravois.
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.
Outside Jean de Gravois was dancing up and down in the starlit edge of the forest, and Iowaka was looking at him. "And NOW what do you think of your Jean de Gravois?" cried Jean for the hundredth time at least. "NOW what do you think of him, my beautiful one?" and he caught Iowaka's head in his arms, for the hundredth time, too, and kissed her until she pushed him away.
He advanced, his white teeth still gleaming in a smile, and not until he launched himself like a cat at Dixon's throat was the Englishman convinced that he meant attack. In a flash Dixon stepped a little to one side, and sent out a crashing blow that caught Jean on the side of the head and sent him flat upon his back in the trail. Half stunned, Gravois came to his feet.
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