"Is Antoine Freneau my grandfather really?" she asked that evening as she sat in the moonlight with Denys.
"Then it would be wicked not to--to have some regard for him," she remarked unwillingly.
Gaspard did not answer at once. Antoine had dropped down year by year. He had not always been so churlish, though his discourteous, hermit-like ways were of long standing. He had never doubted but that he had been the father of the girl he loved, yet she had come up as a lily out of a quagmire. But how could Renée respect or regard him? And how little he cared for her!
"That's a difficult question. We shall have to ask the good père some day. He understands these matters."
"You belong to me!" He clasped her hand fervently.
"Always, until some young lover comes;" but he drew her closer, as if he disputed her being taken away.
"You shall be my lover," with a gay laugh. "If ever I draw a bean at the king's ball you shall be my king."
Renée de Longueville was fifteen and very fair to look upon, if not as beautiful as Madame Marchand, or perhaps as some of the belles of the town. She was slight and not very tall, and her hair had not grown much darker. Her eyes kept their soft wondering expression, sometimes a curious depth that told of vehement emotions, ardent joys and a capacity for suffering. But most people looking at the gay young face when it smiled would only have read archness and mirth and a great capacity for enjoyment.
Some curious events had been happening. The colonies had beaten England and won their freedom, their recognition. From the Atlantic Ocean to the Mississippi River it was all America. This side of the river it was Spain still, a kind of French Spain. Commandant Cruzat was well-liked and very social. Madame was charming. There were balls at the Government House and at the handsome old Chouteau residence, that had been improved year by year. A long gallery ran around two sides above the first story, and it made a delightful place for dancers. The roof was high, with both ends cut off as it were, broken by two chimneys and two dormer windows. Downstairs a broad piazza also, and here the gentlemen would sit and smoke and discuss business and the changes that were going on around them, while within, Madame Chouteau dispensed charming hospitality.