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Updated: May 2, 2025
"What could a prelate from Ghent want with me?" "Says he wants to make inquiries about the native tribes." "Oh! Did you recommend me as an expert in native tribes?" "Naturally. But not until he asked if you were here." "He mentioned my name?" "Yes. He wanted to see you. You'll not have to step out of your way to gratify him." "From that I infer there is a new face at Pierre Grignon's."
By this I do not mean social grandees, but the true men of light and leading, in science, literature, the Arts, philosophy, and politics. Though Lord Arthur never held office, he had been for many years a Liberal Member of Parliament, and had also been a member of almost every literary and political club in London, such as "The Club," "Grignon's," "The Breakfast Club," and so on.
The little Grignon daughter who had stood lost in wonder at the dancing of Annabel de Chaumont, was now a turner of heads herself, all flaxen white, and contrasting with the darkness of Katarina Tank. Katarina was taken home to the Grignon's after her mother's death. Both girls had been educated in Montreal. The seigniorial state in which Pierre Grignon lived became at once evident.
Our walks and rides, our fireside talks and evening diversions were never separate. At Pierre Grignon's the family flocked in companies. When the padlocked book sent me out of the house I forgot that she was used to my presence and might be disturbed by an absence no one could explain. "The first sailing vessel is in from the straits," said the lieutenant.
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