Part 18 (1/2)

”Oh, the prayers, and some of the old hymns----”

”No, it isn't prayers exactly--except to their G.o.ds. There are so many G.o.ds. Jove was the great one.”

”Oh, my child, this is heresy. There is but one G.o.d and the Holy Virgin, and the saints to whom you can make invocation.”

”Well, then I think you have a number of G.o.ds. Do you pray to them all?

And what do you pray for?”

”For the wicked world to be converted to G.o.d, for them to love Him, and serve Him.”

”And how do they serve Him?” inquired the child. ”If He is the great G.o.d Father Jamay teaches He can do everything, have everything. It is all His. Then why does He not keep people well, so they can work, and not blight the crops with fierce storms. Sometimes great fields of maize are swept down. And the little children die; the Indians kill each other, and at times the white men who serve them.”

”Oh, child, you do not understand. There must be convents in this new world for the training of girls. They must be taught to pray that G.o.d's will may be done, not their own.”

”How would I know it was G.o.d's will?” asked the irreverent child, decisively, yet with a certain sweetness.

”The good Father would tell you.”

”How would he know?”

”He lives a holy life in communion with G.o.d.”

”What is the convent like?” suddenly changing her thoughts.

”It is a large house full of little ones, the sisters' cells, the novices' cells----”

”There are some at the post. They put criminals in them. They are filthy and dark,” with a kind of protesting vehemence.

”These are clean, because they are whitewashed, and you scrub the floor twice a week. There is a little pallet on which you sleep, a _prie-dieu_----”

”What is that?” interrupted the child.

”A little altar, with a stone step on which you kneel. And a crucifix at the top, a book of prayer and invocation. Many of the sisters pray an hour at midnight. All pray an hour in the morning, then breakfast and the chapel for another hour, with prayers and singing. After that the cla.s.ses. The little girls are taught the catechism and manners, if they are to go out in the world, sewing and embroidery. At noon prayers again and a little lunch, then work out of doors for an hour, and running about for exercise, catechising again, singing, supper and a chapel hour, and then to bed. But the nuns spend the evening in prayer, so do the devout.”

”Madame, I shall never go in a convent, if the Fathers build one for girls. I like the big out-of-doors. And if G.o.d made the world He made it for some purpose, that people should go out and enjoy it. I like the wilderness, the great blue sky, the sun and the stars at night, the trees and the river, and the birds and the deer and the beautiful wild geese, as they sail in great flocks. If I was shut up in a cell I should beat my head against the stones until it was a jelly, and then I should be dead.”

Madame de Champlain looked at the child in amaze. In her decorous life she had known nothing like it.

”And I wish there were no women. I do not like women any more. Men are better because they live out of doors and do not pray so much. Except the priests. And they are dirty.”

Then she turned away and went out on the gallery, with a curiously swelling heart. Oh, why was not Marie Gaudrion different? What made people so unlike. If there was some one----

”Ha, little maid, where are you running to so fast?” exclaimed a laughing voice. ”Have you seen my sister yet?”

Eustache Boulle caught her arm, but she shook him off, and stood up squarely, facing him. What vigor and resolution there was in her small bewitching face.

”Hi, hi! thou art a plucky little _fille_, ready for a quarrel by the looks of thy flas.h.i.+ng eyes. What have I done to thee, that thou shouldst shake me off as a viper?”

”Nothing! I am not to be handled roughly. I am going my way, and I think it will not interfere with thine.”