A Little Girl in Old Detroit | Page 4

is but one God. And the good French fathers know
what is right."
"We did well enough before the French people came, Pani," said a soft,
rather guttural voice from the handsome half-breed stretched out lazily

on the other side of the tree where the western sunshine could fall on
him.
"You were not here," replied the woman, shortly. "And the French have
been good to me. Their religion saves you from torment and teaches
you to be brave. And it takes women to the happy grounds beyond the
sky."
"Ah, they learned much of their bravery from the Indian, who can
suffer tortures without a groan or a line of pain in the face. Is there any
better God than the great Manitou? Does he not speak in the thunder, in
the roar of the mighty cataract, and is not his voice soft when he chants
in the summer night wind? He gives a brave victory over his enemies,
he makes the corn grow and fills the woods with game, the lakes with
fish. He is good enough God for me."
"Why then did he let the French take your lands?"
The man rose up on his elbow.
"Because we were cowards!" he cried fiercely. "Because the priests
made us weak with their religion, made women of us, called us to their
mumbling prayers instead of fighting our enemies! They and the
English gave us their fire water to drink and stole away our senses! And
now they are both going to be driven out by these pigs of Americans. It
serves them right."
"And what will you do, Monsieur Marsac?" asked Pani with innocent
irony.
"Oh, I do not care for their grounds nor their fights. I shall go up north
again for furs, and now the way is open for a wider trade and a man can
make more money. I take thrift from my French father, you see. But
some day my people will rise again, and this time it will not be a
Pontiac war. We have some great chiefs left. We will not be crowded
out of everything. You will see."
Then he sprang up lithe and graceful. He was of medium size but so

well proportioned that he might have been modeled from the old
Greeks. His hair was black and straight but had a certain softness, and
his skin was like fine bronze, while his features were clearly cut. Now
and then some man of good birth had married an Indian woman by the
rites of the Church, and this Hugh de Marsac had done. But of all their
children only one remained, and now the elder De Marsac had a
lucrative post at Michilimackinac, while his son went to and fro on
business. Outside of the post in the country sections the mixed
marriages were quite common, and the French made very good
husbands.
"Mam'selle Jeanne," he said with a low bow, "I admire your courage
and taste. What one can see to adore in those stuffy old fathers puzzles
me! As for praying in a cell, the whole wide heavens and earth that God
has made lifts up one's soul to finer thoughts than mumbling over beads
or worshiping a Christ on the cross. And you will be much too
handsome, my brier rose, to shut yourself up in any Recollet house.
There will be lovers suing for your pretty hand and your rosy lips."
Jeanne hid her face on Pani's shoulder. The admiring look did not suit
her just now though in a certain fashion this young fellow had been her
playmate and devoted attendant.
"Let us go back home," she exclaimed suddenly.
"Why hurry, Mam'selle? Let us go down to King's wharf and see the
boats come in."
Her eyes lighted eagerly. She gave a hop on one foot and held out her
hand to the woman, who rose slowly, then put the long, lean arm about
the child's neck, who smiled up with a face of bloom to the wrinkled
and withered one above her.
Louis Marsac frowned a little. What ailed the child to-day? She was
generally ready enough to demand his attentions.
"Mam'selle, you brought your story to an abrupt termination. I thought
you liked the accessories. The procession that marched up the aisle of

St. Anne's, the shower of kisses bestowed upon you after possible evil
had been exorcised by holy water; the being taken home in Madame
Bellestre's carriage--"
"If I wanted to hear it Pani could tell me. Walk behind, Louis, the path
is narrow."
"I will go ahead and clear the way," he returned with dignified sarcasm,
suiting his pace to the action.
"That is hardly polite, Monsieur."
"Why yes. If there was any danger, I would be here to face it. I am