aning, Monsieur?"

"That I am tired of your play-acting; of your making eyes at this
forest dandy behind my back. _Sang Dieu_! I am done with all this--do
you hear?--and I have a grip now which will make you think twice, my
dear, before you work any more sly tricks on me. _Sacre_, you think me
easy, hey? I have in my hand so," and he opened and closed his fingers
suggestively, "the life of the lad."

CHAPTER XVI

MY PLEDGE SAVES DE ARTIGNY

I had one glimpse of his face as he leaned forward, and there was a
look in it which made me shudder, and turn away. His was no idle
threat, and whether the man truly loved me or not, his hatred of De
Artigny was sufficient for any cruelty.

I realized the danger, the necessity for compromise, and yet for the
moment I lacked power to speak, to question, fearful lest his demands
would be greater than I could grant. I had no thought of what I saw,
and still that which my eyes rested upon remains pictured on my brain,
the sparkle of sun on the water, the distant green of the shore, the
soldiers huddled in the canoe, the dark shining bodies of the Indians
ceaselessly plying the paddles, and beyond us, to the left, another
canoe, cleaving the water swiftly, with Pere Allouez' face turned
toward us, as though he sought to guess our conversation. I was
aroused by the grip of Cassion's hand.

"Well, my beauty," he said harshly, "haven't I waited long enough to
learn if it is war or peace between us?"

I laughed, yet I doubt if he gained any comfort from the expression of
the eyes which met his.

"Why I choose peace, of course, Monsieur," I answered, assuming a
carelessness I was far from feeling. "Am I not your wife? Surely you
remind me of it often enough, so I am not likely to forget; but I
resent the insult of your words, nor will you ever win favor from me
by such methods. I have been friendly with Sieur de Artigny, it is
true, but there is nothing more between us. Indeed no word has passed
my lips in his presence I would not be willing for you to hear. So
there is no cause for you to spare him on my account, or rest his fate
on any action of mine."

"You will have naught to do with the fellow?"

"There would be small chance if I wished, Monsieur; and do you suppose
I would seek companionship with one who had killed my uncle?"

"'Twould scarce seem so, yet I know not what you believe."

"Nor do I myself; yet the evidence is all against the man thus far. I
confess