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Catherwood, Mary Hartwell, 1847-1902

"Old Kaskaskia"

She had a fresh and toughened
look. Her baptism in the rivers had perhaps renewed her for another
century.
"Madame, you are certainly the most remarkable woman in this Territory.
You have borne this night marvelously well, and the accident of the boat
even better."
"Not at all, monsieur the colonel."
She spoke as children do when effectually punished for ill temper.
"Are you cold?"
"I am wet, monsieur. We are all wet. It is indeed a time of flood."
"We shall soon see a blazing fire and a hot breakfast, and all the
garments in the country will be ours without asking."
The colonel raised himself on his elbow and looked around. Angelique sat
beside his head; so close that they both blushed.
They were not wet nor chilled nor hungry. They had not looked on death
nor felt the shadow of eternity. The sweet mystery of continued life was
before them. The flood, like a sea of glass, spread itself to the
thousand footsteps of the sun.
Tante-gra'mere kept her eyes upon them. But it is not easy to hear what
people say when you are riding among treetops and bird's-nests in the
early morning.


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