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Updated: June 29, 2025
"Mademoiselle Jenieve," he spoke suddenly, "you know my uncle is well established as agent of the Fur Company, and as his assistant I expect to stay here." "Yes, monsieur. Did you take in some fine bales of furs to-day?" "That is not what I was going to say." "Monsieur Crooks, you speak all languages, don't you?" "Not all. A few. I know a little of nearly every one of our Indian dialects."
Jenieve cried, and she scarcely looked at Jean Bati' McClure's wife, but darted outdoors along the beach. "Oh, children, have you lost your shoes?" "No," answered Toussaint, looking up with a countenance full of enjoyment. "Where are they?" "In the lake." "You didn't throw your new shoes in the lake?" "We took them for boats," said Gabriel freely. "But they are not even fit for boats."
But usually Jenieve felt happy enough when she put on her best red homespun bodice and petticoat for mass or to go to dances. She did wish for shoes. The ladies at the fort had shoes, with heels which clicked when they danced. Jenieve could dance better, but she always felt their eyes on her moccasins, and came to regard shoes as the chief article of one's attire.
Its broad, good-natured upper lip thinly veiled with hairs, its fleshy eyelids and thick brows, expressed a strength which she had not, yet would gladly imitate. "Jenieve Lalotte," spoke the neighbor, "before you finish whipping your mother you had better run and whip the boys. They are throwing their shoes in the lake." "Their shoes!"
"He is not a bad man," she admitted kindly. "I can see that he means very well. If the McClures would go to the Illinois Territory with him But, Monsieur Crooks," Jenieve asked sharply, "do people sometimes make sudden marriages?" "In my case they have not," sighed the young man. "But I think well of sudden marriages myself. The priest comes to the island this week."
Ignace. Jenieve felt as if she were choking, but again she asked out of her heart to his, "Monsieur the chief Pontiac, what ails the French and Indians?" He floated around to face her, the high ridges of his bleached features catching light; but this time he showed only dim dead eyes.
"Yes, and I must take the children to confession." "What are you going to do with me, Jenieve?" "I am going to say good-night to you, and shut my door." She stepped into the house. "Not yet. It is only a little while since they fired the sunset gun at the fort. You are not kind to shut me out the moment I come."
Panting from her long walk, Jenieve came out of the woods upon a grassy open cliff, called by the islanders Pontiac's Lookout, because the great war chief used to stand on that spot, forty years before, and gaze southward, as if he never could give up his hope of the union of his people. Jenieve knew the story.
And she has taken a much worse man than Michel Pensonneau in her time." "My mother and my brothers have left me here alone," repeated Jenieve; and she wrung her hands and put them over her face. The trouble was so overwhelming that it broke her down before her enemy. "Oh, don't take it to heart," said Jean Bati' McClure's wife, with ready interest in the person nearest at hand.
"What is it?" inquired the eldest, gazing betwixt the hairs scattered on his face; he stood with his back to the wind. His bare shins reddened in the wash of the lake, standing beyond its rim of shining gravel. "Shoes," answered Jenieve, in a note triumphant over fate. "What's shoes?" asked the smallest half-breed, tucking up his smock around his middle.
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