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Updated: June 2, 2025
What right's that kind of man to come ogling after a decent white girl whose father and mother were married in the Presbyterian Church?" Susan did not take it so much to heart. What was the good when Lucy obviously didn't care? As for Zavier, she felt sorry for him, for those keen observing faculties of hers had told her that the voyageur's raillery hid a real feeling. Poor Zavier was in love.
Zavier shot a glance at them in which for one unguarded moment, race antagonism gleamed. "Why is it wicked?" he said gently. David answered heatedly, the words bursting out: "Why, the treachery of it, the meanness. The chief carried the pipe of peace. That's like our flag of truce. You never heard of any civilized man shooting another under the flag of truce." Zavier looked stolid.
It was the song Courant had sung, and as he heard it he lifted up his voice at the head of the train, and the two strains blending, the old French chanson swept out over the barren land: "A la claire fontaine! M'en allant promener J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle Que je me suis baigné!" Susan waved a beckoning hand to the voyageur, then turned to Lucy and said joyously: "What fun to have Zavier!
Zavier was on sentry duty that night, and she could hear the padding of his step as he moved back and forth through the sleeping camp. On the dark walls of the tent the vision she had seen kept repeating itself, and as it returned upon her mental sight, new questions surged into her mind.
The woman's passion for interference in matters of sentiment was developing in her. "Lucy, you're the most hard-hearted girl! Poor Zavier, who's going off into the mountains and may be killed by the Indians. Don't you feel any pity for him? And he's in love with you truly in love. I've watched him and I know."
"What's it matter what a man's parents are if he's kind to you?" she said, cutting viciously into the meat. "It's a lot to have some one fill the kettles for you and help you get the firewood, and when you're tired tell you to go back in the wagon and go to sleep. Nobody does that for me but Zavier." It was the first time she had shown any appreciation of her swain's attentions.
With the knowledge that Zavier was just then so far from contemplating union with a squaw, she could not say the contemptuous "yes" that was on her tongue. As for the strange man she shot a glance at him and met the gray eyes still twinkling with amusement. "Savage!" she thought, "I've no doubt he has" and she secretly felt a great desire to know.
He'll keep us laughing all the time. Aren't you glad he's coming?" Lucy gave an unenthusiastic "Yes." After the first glance backward she had bent over her horse smoothing its mane her face suddenly dyed with a flood of red. Everybody was glad Zavier had come.
"Trois cavalières bien montées L'une a cheval, l'autre a pied L'on, ton, laridon danée L'on ton laridon dai." Zavier furnished another diversion in the monotony of the days, injected into the weary routine, a coloring drop of romance, for, as he himself would have said, he was diablement épris with Lucy. This was regarded as one of the best of Zavier's jokes.
It was impossible to make Zavier see, and this new development in what had seemed a boyish and light-hearted being, full to the brim with the milk of human kindness, was a thing to sink before in puzzled speechlessness. Courant tried to explain: "You can't see it Zavier's way because it's a different way from yours.
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