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Updated: June 12, 2025
She and the Etchemin found it a dismal place, on their first visit after the winter retreat. She reproached herself for coming so late; but day and night an influence now encompassed Madockawando's daughter which she felt as a restraint on her freedom. A voice singing softly the love-songs of southern France often waked her from her sleep.
"Go back," commanded Madockawando's daughter, turning. The officer of the Carignan-Salières regiment halted, but did not retreat. "You must not follow me, sagamore," she remonstrated, as with a child. "I cannot talk to you." "You must let me talk to you," said Saint-Castin. "I want you for my wife." She looked at him in a way that made his face scorch.
The tide made thunder as it rose among caverns and frothed almost at the verge of the heights. From this headland Mount Desert could be seen, leading the host of islands which go out into the Atlantic, ethereal in fog or lurid in the glare of sunset. Madockawando's daughter tended the old chapel in summer, for she had first seen religion through its door.
They must have been a premonition of his fate in falling completely under the spell of an unloving woman. Saint-Castin took a roundabout course, and went to Madockawando's lodge, near the fort. All the members of the family, except the old chief, were away at the sugar-making.
"A warm fire, hot collops, a black eye to be coaxed out of a blanket, and full permission given to enjoy all. What, man! Out of countenance at thought of facing a pretty squaw, when you have three keeping house with you at the fort?" "Come out, La Hontan," whispered back Saint-Castin, on his part grasping the elder's arm. "It is Madockawando's daughter." "The red nun thou hast told me about?
A French marriage contract was no better than an Abenaqui marriage contract in Madockawando's eyes; but if Saint-Castin could bind up his daughter for good, he would be glad of it.
"But he says he has not yet had her," answered the Etchemin woman, glancing aside at the princess. "The sagamore will not see the end of the sugar-making to-night." "Because he sits alone every night by his fire," said Madockawando's daughter; "there is too much talk about the sagamore. It is the end of the sugar-making that your mind is set on."
He had more than once watched a slim young doe stand gazing curiously at him, and had not startled it by a breath. Therefore he was able to become a stump behind the tree which Madockawando's daughter sought with her sap pail. Usually he wore buckskins, in the free and easy life of Pentegoet. But he had put on his Carignan-Salières uniform, filling its boyish outlines with his full man's figure.
Madockawando's daughter looked at the unguarded bastions, and the chimneys of Pentegoet rising in a stack above the walls. "What new law has the sagamore made?" she inquired. "He says he will no more allow a man to put away his first and true wife, for he is convinced that God does not love inconstancy in men." "The sagamore should have kept his first wife himself."
"The doors were all standing wide," said a cautious nasal voice, speaking English, at the other side of the wall. "Our fox hath barely sprung from cover. He must be near." "Is not that the top of a ladder?" inquired another voice. At this there was a rush for the gate. Madockawando's daughter ran like the wind, with Saint-Castin's hand locked in hers.
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