The Chase of Saint-Castin and Other Stories of the French in the New World by Mary Hartwell Catherwood
page 98 of 166 (59%)
page 98 of 166 (59%)
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"Not in the least, monsieur. I only desire to have a new man in love
with me every day." Her mischievous mouth was a scarlet button in her face, and Louizon leaped to the floor, and kicked the stool across the room. "The devil himself is no match at all for you!" "But I married him before I knew that," returned Archange; and Louizon grinned in his wrath. "I don't like such women." "Oh yes, you do. Men always like women whom they cannot chain." "I have never tried to chain you." Her husband approached, shaking his finger at her. "There is not another woman in the settlement who has her way as you have. And see how you treat me!" "How do I treat you?" inquired Archange, sitting down and resigning herself to statistics. "Ste. Marie! St. Joseph!" shouted the Frenchman. "How does she treat me! And every man in the seigniory dangling at her apron string!" "You are mistaken. There is the young seignior; and there is the new English commandant, who must be now within the seigniory, for they expect him at the post to-morrow morning. It is all the same: if I look at a man you are furious, and if I refuse to look at him you are more furious still." |
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