Part 34 (2/2)

Nicholas' mental processes may not have been flattering, but their clearness was unmistakable. If Father Brachet was jealous of the rival holy man's revenue, it was time to bring out the presents.

Ol' Chief had a fine lynx-skin over his arm. He advanced at a word from Nicholas, and laid it down before the Father.

”No!” said Father Brachet, with startling suddenness; ”take it away and try to understand.”

Nicholas approached trembling, but no doubt remembering how necessary it had been to add to the Shaman's offering before he would consent to listen with favour to Pymeut prayers, he pulled out of their respective hiding--places about his person a carved ivory spoon and an embroidered bird-skin pouch, advanced boldly under the fire of the Superior's keen eyes and sharp words, and laid the further offering on the lynx-skin at his feet.

”Take zem away,” said the priest, interrupting his brief homily and standing up. ”Don't you understand yet zat we are your friends wizzout money and wizzout price? We do not want zese sings. Shaman takes ivories from ze poor, furs from ze s.h.i.+vering, and food from zem zat starve. And he gives nossing in return--nossing! Take zese sings away; no one wants zem at Holy Cross.”

Ol' Chief wiped his eyes pathetically. Nicholas, the picture of despair, turned in a speechless appeal to his despised amba.s.sador.

Before anyone could speak, the door-k.n.o.b rattled rudely, and the big bullet-head of a white man was put in.

”Pardon, mon Pere; cet homme qui vient de Minook--faudrait le coucher de suite--mais ou, mon Dieu, ou?”

While the Superior cogitated, ”How-do, Brother Etienne?” said Nicholas, and they nodded.

Brother Etienne brought the rest of his heavy body half inside the door. He wore aged, weather-beaten breeches, and a black sweater over an old hickory s.h.i.+rt.

”Ses compagnons l'ont laisse, la, je crois. Mais ca ne durera pas longtemps.”

”Faudra bien qu'il reste ici--je ne vois pas d'autre moyen,” said the Father. ”Enfin--on verra. Attendez quelques instants.”

”C'est bien.” Brother Etienne went out.

Ol' Chief was pulling the Boy's sleeve during the little colloquy, and saying, ”You tell.” But the Boy got up like one who means to make an end.

”You haven't any time or strength for this--”

”Oh yes,” said Father Brachet, smiling, and arresting the impetuous movement. ”Ziz is--part of it.”

”Well,” said the Boy, still hesitating, ”they _are_ sorry, you know, _really_ sorry.”

”You sink so?” The question rang a little sceptically.

”Yes, I do, and I'm in a position to know. You'd forgive them if you'd seen, as I did, how miserable and overwhelmed they were when Brother Paul--when--I'm not saying it's the highest kind of religion that they're so almighty afraid of losing your good opinion, but it--it gives you a hold, doesn't it?” And then, as the Superior said nothing, only kept intent eyes on the young face, the Boy wound up a little angrily: ”Unless, of course, you're like Brother Paul, ready to throw away the power you've gained--”

”Paul serves a great and n.o.ble purpose--but--zese questions are--a--not in his province.” Still he bored into the young face with those kind gimlets, his good little eyes, and--

”You are--one of us?” he asked, ”of ze Church?”

”No, I--I'm afraid I'm not of any Church.”

”Ah!”

”And I ought to take back 'afraid.' But I'm telling you the truth when I say there never were honester penitents than the Pymeuts. The whole Kachime's miserable. Even the girl, Ol' Chief's daughter she cried like anything when she thought Sister--”

”Winifred?”

”Sister Winifred would be disappointed in her.”

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