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Updated: July 2, 2025
Every woman has an idea where a man ought to make love to her, and this open road certainly ain't the place. If Carnac wins this game with Barouche I don't know where I'll be with her-maybe I'm a fool to help him." He turned the letter over and over in his hand. "No, I'm not. I ought to do it, and I will." Then he fell to brooding. He remembered about the second hidden will.
"It was very fortunate indeed, Frank. It was not a little curious too that the elephant should recognise him after so long a period. But the attachment which they show to their keepers is sometimes very great. One which in a moment of rage killed its keeper a few years ago, adopted his son as its carnac or driver, and would allow no one else to assume his place.
"That's your father that's John Grier," she said. They heard the front door open and shut, a footstep in the hall, then the door opened and John Grier came into the room. Preoccupation, abstraction, filled his face, as he came forward. It was as though he was looking at something distant that both troubled and pleased him. When he saw Carnac he stopped, his face flushed.
You thought that with your beauty yes, you are beautiful you'd conquer him, and that he'd give in, and become a real husband in a real home. Come now, isn't that it?" The other did not reply. Her face was alive with memories. The lower things were flying from it, a spirit of womanhood was living in her feebly, but truly, living. She was now conscious of the insanity of her pursuit of Carnac.
"Carnac! Carnac! Come and catch me, Carnac!" It was a day of perfect summer and hope and happiness in the sweet, wild world behind the near woods and the far circle of sky and pine and hemlock. The voice that called was young and vibrant, and had in it the simple, true soul of things. It had the clearness of a bugle-call-ample and full of life and all life's possibilities.
There were those, perhaps, who thought Carnac almost a ne'er-do-well, but they were of the commercial world where John Grier had been supreme. At the same moment, Carnac in the garden of his old home beheld the river too and the great expanse of country, saw the grey light of evening on the distant hills, and listened to Fabian who condoled with him.
Barode Baruche was excited. He had sure hope of defeating Carnac with the help of Luzanne Larue. The woman had remained hidden since her coming, and the game was now in his hands. On the night before the poll he could declare the thing, not easy to be forgiven by the French- Canadian public, which has a strong sense of domestic duty.
"Yes, yes," he said slowly, "you'd have made a great business man if you'd come with me. You refused. I don't understand you I never did. There's only one thing that's alike in us, and that's a devilish self-respect, self-assertion, self-dependence. There's nothing more to be said between us nothing that counts. Don't get into a passion, Carnac. It don't become you. Good-night good-night."
Yet since Carnac's coming back there had appeared a slight change in her, a bountiful, eager alertness, a sense of wonder and experiment, adding new interest to her personality. Carnac was conscious of this increased vitality, was impressed and even provoked by it. Somehow he felt for he had the telepathic mind that the girl admired and liked Tarboe.
Not only Carnac was stirred by the question, for Barouche, who had listened to his foe's speech with admiring anxiety, was startled. "Where's your woman?" was not a phrase to be asked anyhow, or anywhere. Barouche was glad of the incident. Ready as he was to meet challenge, he presently realized that his son had a readiness equally potent.
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