“What will you think when I own my depravity now? The abbess might well smile. She doubtless knows I will say this to you. Are those yellow-feathered men watching us?” “Not at all. They watch the St. Lawrence.” “Louise’s back is turned. But your servant?” “Can he do anything but stare at Louise?” “I forgot the priest.” “His boat is many lengths behind.” “Sieur des Ormeaux, this is a lovely voyage. But do you remember climbing the convent wall and dropping into the garden once where your cousin and I sat with our needlework?” “Once? Say many times. I spent much of my life on that convent wall. You saw me once.” “You fell on one knee, monsieur, and seized my work and kissed it. That silk mess; I often looked at it afterward. Men have very queer tastes, have they not? It is a shocking thing when a girl has just flown the convent and her own family, but, O Sieur des Ormeaux! I want to kiss you!” A sail-boat, perhaps venturing down from Three Rivers, cut past them in the distance. Other craft disappeared. No stealthy canoe shot from cover of rock or headland. As Claire half closed her eyes and leaned against the rest provided for her, she thought she saw a heron rise from shallows at the water’s edge, trailing its legs in flight. Catbirds and blue jays could be seen like darting specks, describing lineless curves against the sky or shore. Sometimes Dollier de Casson’s boat lagged, or again it shot close behind Dollard’s. The first stop was made on a flat rocky island where there was a spring of clear water. Louise and Jacques spread out as a bridal repast such provisions as Dollard had hurriedly bought in Quebec, with dried eels and cured fish from the St. Bernard cellar. The pause was a brief one. And no tale of this island was dropped in Claire’s ear, or of another island nearer the St. Lawrence’s mouth: how two hundred Micmac Indians camped there for the night, beaching their canoes and hiding their wives and children in a recess of the rocks; how the Iroquois surprised and blotted them all out. That dreaded war-cry, “Kohe--Kohe!” might well be living in the air along the river yet. Before reëntering the boat Claire went to the spring for a last cup of water, taking Louise with her. “And what did the bishop say?” she seized this chance to inquire. “Mademoiselle--madame, he did nothing but look, as my husband said. We were all four surprised, the bishop, the abbess, my husband, and I.” “Did the abbess accept my purse I bade you leave for the convent?” “Madame, I left it lying on the floor where she dropped it. She has no doubt picked it up and counted the coins out to charity by this. The whole marriage seems a miracle, with my mother helping the blessed saints.” “Were you, then, pleased, my child?” “Mademoiselle, I was stupid with delight. For you will now be my mistress and have me to wait on you the rest of our lives. Had _you_ no terrors at coming away with a strange man, mademoiselle?”