Part 19 (2/2)
She laughed brightly and went dancing about singing whatever sounds entered her mind. Now it was a call of birds, then a sharp high cry, anon a merry whistle that one might fancy came from the woods. She ran out and in, she looked up and down the narrow street with its crooks that had never been smoothed out, and with some houses standing in the very road as it were. Everything was crowded in the business part.
Rose De Ber spied her out and came running up to greet her; tossing her head consequentially.
”We had a gay time last night. I wish you could have peeped in the windows. But you know it was not for children, only grown people. Martin Lavosse danced ever so many times with me, but he moaned about Marie, and I said, 'By the time thou art old enough to marry she will have a houseful of babies, perhaps she will give you her first daughter,' and he replied, 'I shall not wait that length of time. There are still good fish in the lakes and rivers, but I am sorry to see her wed before she has had a taste of true life and pleasure.' And, Jeanne, I have resolved that mother shall not marry me off to the first comer.”
Jeanne nodded approval.
”I do not see what has come over Pierre,” she went on. ”He was grumpy as a wounded bear last night and only a day or two ago he made such a mistake in reckoning that father beat him. And Monsieur Beeson and mother nearly quarreled over the kind of learning girls should have. He said every one should know how to read and write and figure a little so that she could overlook her husband's affairs if he should be ill. Marie is going to learn to read afterward, and she is greatly pleased.”
It was true that ignorance prevailed largely among the common people.
The children were taught prayers and parts of the service and catechism orally, since that was all that concerned their souls' salvation, and it kept a wider distinction between the cla.s.ses. But the jolly, merry Frenchman, used to the tradition of royalty, cared little. His place was at the end of the line and he enjoyed the freedom. He would not have exchanged his rough, comfortable dress for all the satin waistcoats, velvet small clothes and lace ruffles in the world. Like the Indian he had come to love his liberty and the absence of troublesome restrictions.
But the English had brought in new methods, although education with them was only for the few. The colonist from New England made this a specialty. As soon as possible in a new settlement schools were established, but there were other restrictions before them and learning of most kinds had to fight its way.
Jeanne saw her visitor coming up the street just as her patience was almost exhausted. She was struck with a sudden awe at the sight of the well dressed young man.
”Did you think I would not keep my word?” he asked gayly.
”But your father did,” she answered gravely.
”Ah, I am afraid I shall never make so fine a man. I have seen no one like him, Mam'selle, though there are many courageous and honorable men in the world. But you know I have not met everybody,” laughing and showing white, even teeth between the red lips. ”Good day!” to Pani, who invited him in into the room where she had set a chair for him.
”I want to ask your pardon for my rudeness yesterday,” bowing to the child and the woman. ”Perhaps my handling of the canoe did not impress you with the idea of superior knowledge, but I have been used to it from boyhood, and have shot rapids, been caught in gales, oh, almost everything!”
”It was not that, Monsieur. We had seen the tree with its branches like so many clinging arms, and it was getting purple and dun as you came up, so we thought it best to warn.”
”And I obstinately ran right into danger, which shows how much good advice is thrown away. You see the paddle caught and over I went. But the first thing this morning some boatmen went down and removed it.
However, I did not mind the wetting. It was not the first time.”
”And Monsieur did not take cold? The nights are chilly now along the river's edge. The sun slips down suddenly,” was Pani's anxious comment.
”Oh, no. I am inured to such things. I have been a traveler, too. It was a gay day yesterday, Mam'selle.”
”Yes,” answered Jeanne. Yet she had felt strangely solitary. ”Your father, Monsieur, is in France. I have been learning about that country.”
”Oh, no, not yet. There was some business in Was.h.i.+ngton. To-morrow I leave Detroit to rejoin him in New York, from which place we set sail, though the journey is a somewhat dangerous one now, what with pirate s.h.i.+ps and England claiming a right of search. But we shall trust a good Providence.”
”You go also,” she said with a touch of disappointment. It gave a bewitching gravity to her countenance.
”Oh, yes. My father and I are never long apart. We are very fond of each other.”
”And your mother--” she asked hesitatingly.
”I do not remember her, for I was an infant when she died. But my father keeps her in mind always. And I must give you his message.”
He took out a beautifully embossed leathern case with silver mountings and ran over the letters.
”Ah--here. 'I want you to see my little friend, Jeanne Angelot, and report her progress to me. I hope the school has not frightened her.
<script>