The Chase of Saint-Castin and Other Stories of the French in the New World by Mary Hartwell Catherwood
page 14 of 166 (08%)
page 14 of 166 (08%)
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"I did not listen to him." Her fingers sought the cross on her neck. She seemed to threaten a prayer which might stop her ears to Saint-Castin. "He meant no discourtesy. If you knew his good heart, you would like him." "I do not like men." She made a calm statement of her peculiar tastes. "Why?" inquired Saint-Castin. Madockawando's daughter summoned her reasons from distant vistas of the woods, with meditative dark eyes. Evidently her dislike of men had no element of fear or of sentimental avoidance. "I cannot like them," she apologized, declining to set forth her reasons. "I wish they would always stay away from me." "Your father and the priest are men." "I know it," admitted the girl, with a deep breath like commiseration. "They cannot help it; and our Etchemin's husband, who keeps the lodge supplied with meat, he cannot help it, either, any more than he can his deformity. But there is grace for men," she added. "They may, by repenting of their sins and living holy lives, finally save their souls." Saint-Castin repented of his sins that moment, and tried to look contrite. |
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