Her cheeks were flushed, her lips half parted in
excitement; and no sooner had he gone from view than she hurried to
Iowaka's home across the clearing.
It was fully three quarters of an hour later when Jan saw Melisse,
with Iowaka's red shawl over her head, walking slowly and with extreme
precision of step back to the cabin.
"I wonder if she has the earache," he said to himself, watching her
curiously. "That is Iowaka's shawl, and she has it all about her
head."
"A clear half-inch of the rarest wool from London," added the cheery
voice of Jean de Gravois, whose moccasins had made no sound behind
him. He always spoke in French to Jan. "There is but one person in the
world who looks better in it than your Melisse, Jan Thoreau, and that
is Iowaka, my wife. Blessed saints, man, but is she not growing more
beautiful every day?"
"Yes," said Jan. "She will soon be a woman."
"A woman!" shouted Jean, who, not having his caribou whip, jumped up
and down to emphasize his words. "She will soon be a woman, did you
say, Jan Thoreau? And if she is not a woman at thirty, with two
children--God send others like them!--when will she be, I ask you?"
"I meant Melisse," laughed Jan.
"And I meant Iowaka," said Jean. "Ah, there she is now, come out to
see if her Jean de Gravois is on his way home with the sugar for which
she sent him something like an hour ago; for you know she is chef de
cuisine of this affair to-night.
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