And he had
told him that, strangely, the de Marion records extended back only to
the late thirteenth century, though the family was wealthy and powerful
even then. According to a murky legend, one ancestor had committed
treason against the King, and that one's son had deserted his wife and
children, simply disappeared. Feeling the original name, whatever it had
been, irreparably tarnished, the first recorded Count de Marion had
destroyed all record of it--apparently with the approval and help of the
royal authorities--and had taken his mother's family's name instead. The
story had left Auguste wishing he could use his shaman's powers to learn
more, but he doubted that the Sauk spirits could see clear across the
ocean.

Elysee said, "We de Marions sometimes display an overabundance of
loyalty, as if we were still trying to expiate that ancient guilt."

Puzzled, Auguste said, "There's nothing wrong with loyalty, is there?"

"Certainly not. But remember this--if I had let loyalty keep me in
France, we would not be here in this primeval paradise."

_He sees this land as a paradise too. But it has not been kind to him._

"Looking back, Grandpapa, do you think you would have done better to
have stayed in France?"

Elysee laughed, a short, humorless bark. "Not at all. I would almost
certainly have lost my head to Dr. Guillotine's wonderful invention. Our
lands would have been confiscated, and that would have been the end of
the family."

"But now, with most of the wealth in Raoul's hands--"

Elysee raised a hand and shook his head. "This is not the end. I do not
believe in divine intervention, but I do believe there is a law of
nature that says a bad man will do badly in the end."

Auguste was about to reply when he heard footsteps coming down the road
toward the house, reminding him of how quiet it had been ever since he
awakened. A good part of the town was sleeping off Raoul's Old Kaintuck,
he suspected.

He heard the door open and close below. A moment later Frank came into
the room carrying a long rifle, with an ammunition bag and a powder horn
slung over his shoulder.

"Well, I bought you a little bateau that will get you across the
Mississippi," he said, "for five dollars, from an old trapper who
doesn't feel up to going out this winter. And for another twenty dollars
I got him to throw in his second best rifle and a good supply of
ammunition." He smiled grimly at Auguste. "I expect you'll find this
usefu