At the north extremity of the town that huge stone windmill built by the seigniors for defence, cast a long dewy shadow toward the west. Its loopholes showed like dark specks on the body of masonry.
Sun-sparkles on the river were no more buoyant and changeable than the child at Tonty's side. Dimples came and went in her cheeks. Her blood was stirred by the swarming life around her.
"Monsieur," she confided to her uncle's lieutenant, "I am meditating something very wicked."
"Certainly that is impossible, mademoiselle," said Tonty, accommodating his step to her reluctant gait.
"I am meditating on not going back to the convent."
"But my orders are to escort you to the nuns. You would disgrace me as a soldier."
Barbe lifted her gaze to his face and was diverted from rebellion. Tonty put out his arm to guard her, but a tall stalking brave was pushed against her in passing and immediately startled by the thud of her prompt fist upon his back. The Indian turned, unsheathing his knife.
"Get out of my way, thou ugly big warrior," said Barbe, meeting his eye, which softened from fierceness to laughter, and holding her fist ready for further encounter.
The Indian made some mocking gestures and menaced her playfully with his thumb. Tonty threw his arm across her shoulder and moved her on toward the convent. Barbe escaped from this touch, an entirely new matter filling her mind.
"Monsieur, even old Jonaneaux in our Hôtel Dieu hath not such a heavy hand as thou hast. Many a time hath he pulled me down off the palisade when I looked over to see the coureurs de bois go roaring by. But thou hast a hand like iron!"
Tonty flushed, being not yet hardened to his misfortune.
"It is a hand of iron. I am called Main-de-fer."[2]
Barbe took hold of it in its glove. Of all the people she had ever met Tonty was the only person whose touch she did not resent.
"The other hand is not like unto it, monsieur?"
He gave her the other also, and she compared their weight. With a roguish lifting of her nostrils she inquired,--
"Will every bit of you turn to metal like this heavy hand?"
"Alas, no, mademoiselle; there is no hope of that."
Tonty stripped his gauntlet off. With half afraid fingers she examined the artificial member. It was of copper.