ed at his
confusion.

"When I was eighteen. That was before I took the orders." He picked
up the oars again and pulled strongly and noiselessly. His thought was
far away just then: when he was eighteen.

Anne, with her shoulders resting against madame's knees, opened the
book which Victor had given her on a Sunday the year before. Sometimes
Brother Jacques's stroke beat rhythmically with the measures; sometimes
the oars trailed through the water with a low, sweet murmur. He could
see nothing but those two fair faces.

They were nearing the heights of Sillery when Anne closed the book.
"And now for Hiawatha and his white canoe," she said.

"Very well; I will tell you of the good Hiawatha, his daughter, and his
white canoe. He came from the sky one day, in this very wonderful
canoe. He had given up his rights as a deity in order to mingle with
men and teach them wisdom. He was the wisest of all Indians as Nestor
was the wisest of all the Greeks. As a god he was known as
Taounyawatha, and he presided over the fisheries and the waterways.
Whenever there was dissension among the various nations of the
Iroquois, it was his word which settled the dispute. Grey-haired he
was, penetration marked his eye, dark mystery pervaded his countenance.
One day there was internal war and great slaughter followed. The wise
men of the nations got together and summoned Hiawatha. They built
great council fires on the shores of Genentaha Lake, which we call
Onondaga. For three days these fires burned, but the great sage did
not put in appearance, and nothing could be done without his counsel.
When at last messengers found him in his secret abode, he was in a most
melancholy state of mind. Great evil lay in his path, he said; and he
had concluded not to attend the council at Genentaha. But the
messengers said that the great wise men could not proceed with business
until the council was graced with his presence. And if he did not
come, annihilation awaited his children."

Brother Jacques rested on his oars again. Only his voice was with his
narrative; his mind was filled with longing, the same longing which had
always blocked his path to priestly greatness: the love of women.

"So Hiawatha removed his sacred white canoe from the lodge built for
it, and the messengers reverentially assisted him to launch it. The
wise man once again took his accustomed seat, and bade his daughter, a
girl of twelve, and his heart's darling,