Part 39 (2/2)
”What would you be willing to do, Mam'selle?”
”If I were a man I would attempt his rescue, or die with him. It would not be so hard to die holding a friend's hand.”
”You love him very much?”
The love Savignon meant had so little place in her thoughts that the question did not cause her to change color.
”He was so good to me when I was little, and ill for a long while. He used to hold me on his knee, and let my head rest on his strong breast.
And when I was well again we climbed rocks, and he showed me where the choicest wild fruit grew. And we went out in the canoe. He taught me to read, he had books of strange, beautiful stories. And after he married miladi he took me in his home as if I was a child. Ah, I could not help loving one so kind, unless I had been made of stone. And I wanted to comfort him in his sorrow.”
Her voice, in its pathos, the eyes luminous with tears that did not fall, swept through the man like a devouring flame. He must have her. He would risk all, he would test her very soul.
”You have not said what you would give.”
”My life, M'sieu, if I could exchange it for his.”
”It does not need that. Listen, Mam'selle: When I first looked upon you, I was swept away with a strange emotion. I had seen lovely girls, there are some in our own race, with eyes of velvet, and lips that tempt kisses. And I knew when I helped you get your way on this expedition, what it was; that I loved you, that I would have kissed the ground you had walked on. And on our journey here I have dreamed beautiful, thrilling dreams of you. I slept at the door of your improvised tent lest some danger should come upon you unawares. Last night when I noted your tired step I wanted to take you in my arms and carry you. You have filled my soul and my body with the rapture of love. I can think of nothing else but the bliss of straining you to my heart, of touching your lips with the fire that plays about mine, like the rosy lightning that flashes through the heavens, engendered by the heat of the day. Oh, take me for your husband, and your life shall be filled with the best I can give. You shall not weary your small hands with work, they shall be kept for a husband's kisses. I will wors.h.i.+p you as the priests do their Virgin.”
She had been transfixed at the outburst and flaming, pa.s.sionate tone, that in its vehemence seemed to grow finer, loftier. Was that love's work?
”But it will not save M. Destournier,” she wailed.
”Listen again.” He stood up, manly and strong, and somehow touched her with a subtle influence. It is not in a woman's nature to listen to a tale of pa.s.sionate love unmoved. ”Once, among the Hurons an old witch woman was wild to adopt me for her son. She gave me a great many secret charms, many you white people would think the utmost foolishness. Some were curious. And my people are superst.i.tious. I have used them more than once to the advantage of myself and others. I have brought about peace between warring tribes. I have prevented war. I will go to the Hurons, and try for M. Destournier's liberty. From what De Loie said, they mean to sacrifice the men to-morrow. There are horrid, agonizing tortures before death comes. If you will promise to marry me I will go at once and do my utmost to rescue him, them.”
”And if you fail?” Her very breath seemed like a blast of winter cold.
”Then, Mam'selle, I can ask no reward, only a share in your sorrow. I will try to lighten their sufferings. That is all I can do.”
She crossed her arms upon her breast and rocked herself to and fro.
”Oh, I cannot, I cannot,” she said, with a cry of anguish. ”Another man, our dear Madame de Champlain's brother asked this thing of me, and I could not. I do not want to marry.”
”All women do in their hearts,” he said moodily.
Was she not quite a woman yet? Had she just the soul of the little girl who had climbed trees, scaled rocks, and plunged headlong into the river to swim like a fis.h.!.+
”It is three lives,” he said, with the persuasive voice of the tempter.
Three lives! And among them her best friend! Something rose in her throat, and she thought she was dying.
”And if I cannot?” in a tone of desperate anguish.
”Then we must start homeward at once. When the Hurons have whet their appet.i.te with their h.e.l.lish pleasure, it is not easily satisfied. They will look about for more fuel to add to the flames. So we must decide. I cannot risk my own liberty for months for nothing. It will not make M.
Destournier's death pang easier.”
”Oh, go away, go away!” she almost shrieked, but the sorrow in her voice took off the harshness. ”Let me think. I do not love you! I might run away. I might drown myself. I might not be able to keep my promise.”
”I should love you so much that you would not want to break it. Ah, I could trust you, since you love no one else that you desire to marry.”
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