oking fierce as if she might
attack Madame. "Do not utter it. She was made a Christian child in the
church. She is sweet and good, and if she cannot love a husband, the
saints and the holy Mother know why, and will forgive her."

"My poor Pierre! But she is not worth his sorrow. Only he is so
obstinate. Last night he declared he would never take a wife while she
was single. And to deprive him of happiness! To refuse when I had
sacrificed my own feelings and meant to be a mother to her! No, she is
not human. I pity you, Pani."

Then Madame swept out of the door with majestic dignity. Pani clasped
her arms about her knees and rocked herself to and fro, while the old
superstitions and weird legends of her race rushed over her. The mother
might have died, but who was the father? There was some strange blood in
the child.

"Heaven and the saints and the good God keep watch over her!" she prayed
passionately. Then she ran out into the small yard.

"Little one, little one--" her voice was tremulous with fear.

Jeanne sprang up and clasped her arms about Pani's neck. How warm and
soft they were. And her cheek was like a rose leaf.

"Pani," between a cry and a laugh, "do lovers keep coming on forever?
There was Louis Marsac and Pierre, and Martin Lavosse angry with Rose,
and"--her cheek was hot now against Pani's cool one, throbbing with
girlish confusion.

"Because thou art beautiful, child."

"Then I wish I were ugly. Oh, no, I do not, either." Would M. St. Armand
like her so well if she were ugly? "Ah, I do not wonder women become
nuns--sometimes. And I am sincerely sorry for Pierre. I suppose the De
Bers will never speak to me again. Pani, it is growing cooler now, let
us go out in the woods. I feel stifled. I wish we had a wigwam up in the
forest. Come."

Pani put away her work.

"Let us go the other way, the _chemin du ronde_, to the gate. Rose may
be gossiping with some of the neighbors."

They walked down that way. There was quite a throng at King's wharf.
Some new boats had come in. One and another nodded to Jeanne; but just
as she was turning a hand touched her arm, too lightly to be the jostle
of the throng. She was in no mood for familiarities, and shook it off
indignantly.

"Mam'selle Jeanne Angelot," a rather rich voice said in a laughing tone.

She guessed before she even changed the poise of her head. What cruel
fate followed her!

"Nay, do not look so fierce! How you have grown, yet I should ha