Bildungsromans; First loves -- Juvenile fiction; Saint Louis (Mo.) -- History -- Juvenile fiction
What a new sound his voice had! A strength and resolution that swayed
one curiously, a definite manner of stating opinions that somehow
impressed one not only with a sense of security, but a sense of power
that she was minded to rebel against.
They talked late. Why could she not slyly disappear, as she often did,
and leave him with Uncle Denys, since he would remain all night?
But she shook off the mysterious chain with an effort and rose and
wished them good-night in a timid sort of way, though she stood up very
straight.
He caught her hand. “I am tempted to wish there could be no nights for a
long while,” he said. “They are not good nights.”
“Think how sleepy we should get. And mine are always good,” laughing
lightly. But she did not go across and kiss Uncle Denys.
There were several busy days, and friends that proffered André a warm
welcome. The Valbonais cousins were wedded long ago, but they claimed
him quite as cordially, and the old people were proud enough of him. The
Marchands offered him their home, and were delighted to have him drop
in. Then he was being asked to dine or sup with the Chouteaus, and he
was at the Government House, for his intelligent understanding of other
subjects besides commercial matters made him a desirable guest.
Renée experienced a curious sensation, as if she was being neglected.
She had lost her old power over him, which was mortifying. He teased her
a little, then he let her trifle with him and say saucy things. But it
was like a bird with a chain; he brought her back, he let her see it was
only playing. Then she grew indignant and flounced away, met him coldly
the next time, or was proud and silent.
Uncle Gaspard never raised a finger in the matter.
“I do not like him. I almost hate him!” she cried vehemently one day.
“Of course, I know he saved me in that dreadful peril, but he has been
thanked a hundred times over. And we do not owe him anything.”
“Oh, yes,” Uncle Gaspard said tenderly, as he pressed her to his heart.
“I owe him a great deal. For if I had lost you——”
“And you could never give me to any one else?”
“Well, whoever wanted one would have to take both.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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