the same I do."

When Beverley, taking his leave, passed through the gate at Roussillon
place, he met Rene de Ronville going in. It was a notable coincidence
that each young man felt something troublesome rise in his throat as he
looked into the other's eyes.

A week of dreamy autumn weather came on, during which Beverley managed
to be with Alice a great deal, mostly sitting on the Roussillon
gallery, where the fading vine leaves made fairy whispering, and where
the tempered breeze blew deliciously cool from over the distant
multi-colored woods. The men of Vincennes were gathering their Indian
corn early to dry it on the cob for grating into winter meal. Many
women made wine from the native grapes and from the sweeter and richer
fruit of imported vines. Madame Roussillon and Alice stained their
hands a deep purple during the pressing season, and Beverley found
himself engaged in helping them handle the juicy crop, while around the
overflowing earthen pots the wild bees, wasps and hornets hummed with
an incessant, jarring monotony.

Jean, the hunchback, gathered ample stores of hickory nuts, walnuts,
hazel-nuts and pin-oak acorns. Indeed, the whole population of the
village made a great spurt of industry just before the falling of
winter; and presently, when every preparation had been completed for
the dreaded cold season, M. Roussillon carried out his long-cherished
plan, and gave a great party at the river house. After the most
successful trading experience of all his life he felt irrepressibly
liberal.

"Let's have one more roaring good time," he said, "that's what life is
for."

CHAPTER VII

THE MAYOR'S PARTY

Beverley was so surprised and confused in his mind by the ease with
which he had been mastered at swordplay by a mere girl, that he felt as
if just coming out of a dream. In fact the whole affair seemed unreal,
yet so vivid and impressive in all its main features, that he could not
emerge from it and look it calmly over from without. His experience
with women had not prepared him for a ready understanding and
acceptance of a girl like Alice. While he was fully aware of her
beauty, freshness, vivacity and grace, this Amazonian strength of hers,
this boldness of spirit, this curious mixture of frontier crudeness and
a certain adumbration--so to call it--of patrician sensibilities and
aspirations, affected him both pleasantly and unpleasantly. He did not
sympathize promptly with her semi-barbari