This marriage made him one of the tribe, and he soon became their leader. The restless and warlike Indians almost worshipped the chivalrous young Frenchman; he was their apostle, and led them in repeated raids against their English and Indian foes. But ultimately tiring of this roving life in the forests, he returned to "his château in the Pyrenees," taking his Indian bride along. They were welcomed with surprise and admiration: "Down in the village day by day The people gossip in their way, And stare to see the Baroness pass On Sunday morning to early mass; And when she kneeleth down to pray, They wonder, and whisper together, and say, 'Surely this is no heathen lass!' And in course of time they learn to bless The Baron and the Baroness. "And in course of time the curate learns A secret so dreadful, that by turns He is ice and fire, he freezes and burns. The Baron at confession hath said, That though this woman be his wife, He hath wed her as the Indians wed, He hath bought her for a gun and a knife!" Then there was trouble, but it seems to have been soon cured by a Christian wedding: "The choir is singing the matin song, The doors of the church are opened wide, The people crowd, and press and throng, To see the bridegroom and the bride. They enter and pass along the nave; They stand upon the father's grave; The bells are ringing soft and slow; The living above and the dead below Give their blessing on one and twain; The warm wind blows from the hills of Spain, The birds are building, the leaves are green, And Baron Castine of St. Castine Hath come at last to his own again."