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"What do you want of my husband?" Madame Roussillon demanded. "Nothing unpleasant, I assure you, Madame," said Beverley. "Well, he's not at home, Mo'sieu; he's up the river for a few days." She relaxed her stare, untied her eyebrows, and even let fall her hands from her shelf-like hips. "Thank you, Madame," said Beverley, bowing again, "I am sorry not to have seen him."
"Yes," the girl responded in a tone indicative of something very like spleen, "yes, undoubtedly, Mo'sieu de Ronville; your business there seems quite pressing of late. I have noticed your industrious application to that business." "Ta-ta, little one," he wheedled, lowering his voice; "you mustn't go to making bug-bears out of nothing."
By the exercise of firmness, prudence, vast assumption, florid eloquence and a kindly liberality he had greatly endeared himself to the people; so that in the absence of a military commander he came naturally to be regarded as the chief of the town, Mo'sieu' le maire. He returned from his extended trading expedition about the middle of July, bringing, as was his invariable rule, a gift for Alice.
"And with extreme disaster to this gentleman," said Beverley, laughing in a tone of discomfiture and resignation. "Ah, Mo'sieu', there's nothing but disaster where she goes," complained Madame Roussillon, "she is a destroyer of everything. Only yesterday she dropped my pink bowl and broke it, the only one I had."
"That is the blood of the best man in the Territory," said Colonel Menard. "I would give much more of my own to bring back the man who spilled it. Are you afraid of a mere blood-spot in the gray of the morning? Go into the other room and fasten the door, then. Achille will show you that he can stay here alone." "If mo'sieu' the colonel would let me go into that room, too"
She's got on a buff silk dress that Mo'sieu' Roussillon's mother had in France." "How beautiful she must look!" cried the girl. "I wish I could see her." Rene put a hand on each side of her slender waist and lifted her high, so that her pretty head rose above the crowding people. Alice chanced to turn her face that way just then and saw the unconventional performance.
"Comment allez-vous auj ourd'hui?" "J'm'porte tres bien, merci, Mo'sieu Rene," was the quick response; "et vous?" "Oh, I'm as lively as a cricket." "Going a hunting?" "No, just up here a little way just on business up to Mo'sieu Roussillon's for a moment."
The scalpless old fighter chuckled raucously and bowed to the best of his ability. He not only took off his queer cap, but looked into it with a startled gaze, as if he expected something infinitely dangerous to jump out and seize his nose. "A thousand thanks, Ma'm'selle," he presently said, "will ye please tell Mo'sieu' Roussillon that I would wish to see 'im?"
Mo'sieu Henri. As Monsieur Benoit recorded his feats, and witnessed my unbounded admiration, his voice would grow more and more sepulchral, till it dropped to a hoarse and scarcely audible whisper.