A Little Girl in Old Quebec by Amanda Minnie Douglas (kiss me liar novel english TXT) 📖

of Quebec," he made answer, with a smile. "Her parents were dead before she came here."

"Ah, I remember hearing the Governor speak of her, and learned that there were so few real citizens in Quebec who were to grow up with the town as their birthright. It is but a dreary-looking place, yet the wild river, the great gulf, the magnificent forests give one a sense of grandeur, yet loneliness. And my husband says it is the same hundreds of miles to the westward; that there are lakes like oceans in themselves. And such furs! All Paris is wild with the beauty of them. Yet they lie around here as if of no value."

"You would find that the traders appraise them pretty well," and he raised his brows a trifle, while a rather amused expression played about his eyes.

"Is there always such a turmoil of trade?"

"Oh, no. The traders scatter before mid-autumn. The cold weather sets in and the snow and ice are our companions. The small streams freeze up. But the Sieur has written of all these things in his book."

He looked inquiringly at her for a touch of enthusiasm, but her sweet face was placid.

"Monsieur my husband desired that I should be educated in his religion in the convent. We do not take up worldly matters, that is not considered becoming to girls and women. We think more of the souls that may be saved from perdition. The men go ahead to discover, the priests come to teach these ignorant savages that they have souls that must be returned to God, or suffer eternally."

There spoke the devotee. Destournier wondered a little how the Sieur had come to choose a devote for a wife. For he was a born explorer, with a body and a will of such strength that present defeat only spurred him on. But where was there a woman to match him, to add to his courage and resolve! Perhaps men did not need such women. Destournier was not an enthusiast in religious matters. He had been here long enough to understand the hold their almost childish superstitions had on the Indians, their dull and brutish lack of any high motive, their brutal and barbarous customs. They were ready to be baptized a dozen times over just as they would use any of their own charms, or for the gain of some trifle.

Madame seemed to study the frank face of the little girl. How beautiful her eyes were; her eager, intelligent, spirited face; the fine skin that was neither light nor dark, and withstood sun and wind alike, and lost none of its attractive tints. But she was so different from the little girls sent to the nuns for training. They never looked up at you with these wide-open eyes that seemed to question you, to weigh you.

"There is no convent here where you can be taught?" addressing herself to the child.

"The fathers are building one. But it is only for the men. The women cook and learn to dress deerskins until they are like velvet. They must make the clothing, for not a great deal comes from France. And it would only do for ladies like you and Madame Giffard."

"But there must be some education, some training, some prayers," and the lady looked rather helpless.

She was very sweet and beautiful in her soft silken dress of gray, that was flowered in the same color, and trimmed with fur and velvet. From her belt depended a chain of carved ivory beads and a crucifix, from another chain a small oval looking-glass in a silver frame. Her flaring collar of lace and the stomacher were worked in pearls. Many Parisians had them sewn with jewels.

"I can read French very well," said Rose, after a pause. "And some Latin."

"Oh, the prayers, and some of the old hymns----"

"No, it isn't prayers exactly--except to their gods. There are so many gods. Jove was the great one."

"Oh, my child, this is heresy. There is but one God and the Holy Virgin, and the saints to whom you can make invocation."

"Well, then I think you have a number of gods. Do you pray to them all? And what do you pray for?"

"For the wicked world to be converted to God, for them to love Him, and serve Him."

"And how do they serve Him?" inquired the child. "If He is the great God Father Jamay teaches He can do everything, have everything. It is all His. Then why does He not keep people well, so they can work, and not blight the crops with fierce storms. Sometimes great fields of maize are swept down. And the little children die; the Indians kill each other, and at times the white men who serve them."

"Oh, child, you do not understand. There must be convents in this new world for the training of girls. They must be taught to pray that God's will may be done, not their own."

"How would I know it was God's will?" asked the irreverent child, decisively, yet with a certain sweetness.

"The good Father would tell you."

"How would he know?"

"He lives a holy life in communion with God."

"What is the convent like?" suddenly changing her thoughts.

"It is a large house full of little ones, the sisters' cells, the novices' cells----"

"There are some at the post. They put criminals in them. They are filthy and dark," with a kind of protesting vehemence.

"These are clean, because they are whitewashed, and you scrub the floor twice a week. There is a little pallet on which you sleep, a _prie-dieu_----"

"What is that?" interrupted the child.

"A little altar, with a stone step on which you kneel. And a crucifix at the top, a book of prayer and invocation. Many of the sisters pray an hour at midnight. All pray an hour in the morning, then breakfast and the chapel for another hour, with prayers and singing. After that the classes. The little girls are taught the catechism and manners, if they are to go out in the world, sewing and embroidery. At noon prayers again and a little lunch, then work out of doors for an hour, and running about for exercise, catechising again, singing, supper and a chapel hour, and then to bed. But the nuns spend the evening in prayer, so do the devout."

"Madame, I shall never go in a convent, if the Fathers build one for girls. I like the big out-of-doors. And if God made the world He made it for some purpose, that people should go out and enjoy it. I like the wilderness, the great blue sky, the sun and the stars at night, the trees and the river, and the birds and the deer and the beautiful wild geese, as they sail in great flocks. If I was shut up in a cell I should beat my head against the stones until it was a jelly, and then I should be dead."

Madame de Champlain looked at the child in amaze. In her decorous life she had known nothing like it.

"And I wish there were no women. I do not like women any more. Men are better because they live out of doors and do not pray so much. Except the priests. And they are dirty."

Then she turned away and went out on the gallery, with a curiously swelling heart. Oh, why was not Marie Gaudrion different? What made people so unlike. If there was some one----

"Ha, little maid, where are you running to so fast?" exclaimed a laughing voice. "Have you seen my sister yet?"

Eustache Boulle caught her arm, but she shook him off, and stood up squarely, facing him. What vigor and resolution there was in her small bewitching face.

"Hi, hi! thou art a plucky little _fille_, ready for a quarrel by the looks of thy flashing eyes. What have I done to thee, that thou shouldst shake me off as a viper?"

"Nothing! I am not to be handled roughly. I am going my way, and I think it will not interfere with thine."

A pleasant smile crossed his face which made him really attractive, and half disarmed her fierceness.

"My way is set in no special lines until I return to Tadoussac. Hast thou seen my sister?"

She nodded.

"Every one loves her. She is as good as she is beautiful. And she will charm thee," in a triumphant tone, gathering that the interview had not already done this.

"I am not to be charmed in that fashion. Yes, she is beautiful, but she would like me to be put in a convent. And I would throw myself in the river first."

"There are no convents, little one. And but few people to put into them. In a new country it is best that they marry and have families. When there are too many women then convents play a useful part."

"Let me pass," she cried disdainfully, but not trying to push aside.

"Tell me where you go!"

"To Mere Gaudrion's to see that soft-headed Marie. I wish she had some ideas, but she is good and cheerful, and does as she is told."

"You are not very complimentary to your friend."

"But if I said she had a bad temper, and told what was not true, and slapped her little brothers and sisters, that would be a falsehood. And if I said she understood the song of the birds and the sough of the wind among the trees, and the running, tumbling little streams that are always saying 'oh! let me get to the gulf as soon as possible, for I want to see what a great ocean is like,' it would not be true either. I like Marie," calmly.

"Thou art a curious little casuist. I am glad you like her. It shows that you are human. There are strange creatures in the woods and wilds of this new world."

"There is the Loup Garou, but I have not seen him. He gets changed from a man to a fierce dog, and if you kill the dog, the man dies. There is the Windigo, and the old medicine woman can call strange things out of a sick person who has been bewitched, and then he gets well. But M. Destournier laughs at these stories."

The young man had been backing slowly toward the steps and she had followed without taking note.

Now he said--"Let me help you down."

"I am not lame, M'sieu, neither am I blind."

"Will you take me to see Marie Gaudrion?"

"You would laugh at her, I see it in your eyes."

"Are my eyes such telltales?"

He had not the placid fairness of his sister, and his chestnut hair curled about his temples. His cheeks were red enough for a girl.

"Why should you want to see her?"

"I want to see all there is in Quebec. I want to know how the colony progresses. I may put it in a book."

"Like the Governor. But you could not make maps out of people," with an air of triumph.

"I'm not so sure. See here."

He drew from his pocket a roll and held one of the leaves before her eyes.

"Oh, that is old Temekwisa sitting out by the hut. And, M'sieu, he looks half drunken, as he nearly always is. And that is Jacques Barbeau breaking stone. Why, it is wonderful. And who else have you?"