Verily the little kingdom had brought forth its Princess.
And with her coming there was one heart that burned hot with passion,
that fashioned itself after the form of hatred, for little Francette
had seen, first a glow in a man's eyes and then a gift in his hand, and
she fingered a small, flat blade that hung in her sash with one hand,
the while the other strayed on the head of Loup. Dark was the fire that
played in her pretty eyes, heavy the anguish that rode her breast.
She hated the memory of that white garment spread out on Maren Le
Moyne's bed.
"Tessa," she said one day, sidling up to that Tessa Bibye who had cast
a taunt in her teeth, "know you the charm which that doctress of the
Crees gave to Marci Varendree when she sickened for love of that half-
breed, Tohi Stannard?"
"Oho!" cried Tessa gleefully, "a man again! Who lacks one now,
Francette?"
"Nay," said Francette, "but I know of one who sickens inwardly and I
would give her the charm."
"Go into the flats of the Beaver House after Marci and her Indian,
whither they went," Tessa laughed. "I know not the charm. But it was
good, for she got him, and went to the wilds with him.
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