“Greetings to everyone!” The tones rang clear, and François Paradis, emerging from the smoke, stood upon the threshold. For weeks Maria had been expecting him. Half an hour earlier the sound of a step without had sent the blood to her cheek, and yet the arrival of him she awaited moved her with joyous surprise.
“Offer your chair, Da’Bé!” cried mother Chapdelaine. Four callers from three different quarters converging upon her, truly nothing more was needed to fill her with delightful excitement. An evening indeed to be remembered!
“There! You are forever saying that we are buried in the woods and see no company,” triumphed her husband. “Count them over: eleven grown-up people!” Every chair in the house was filled; Esdras, Tit’Bé and Eutrope Gagnon occupied the bench, Chapdelaine, a box turned upside down; from the step Telesphore and Alma Rose watched the mounting smoke.
“And look,” said Ephrem Surprenant, “how many young fellows and only one girl!” The young men were duly counted: three Chapdelaines, Eutrope Gagnon, Lorenzo Surprenant, François Paradis. As for the one girl … Every eye was turned upon Maria, who smiled feebly and looked down, confused.
“Had you a good trip, François?—He went up the river with strangers to buy furs from the Indians,” explained Chapdelaine; who presented to the others with formality—“François Paradis, son of François Paradis from St. Michel de Mistassini.” Eutrope Gagnon knew him by name, Ephrem Surprenant had met his father:—“A tall man, taller still than he, of a strength not to be matched.” It only remained to account for Lorenzo Surprenant—“who has come home from the States”—and all the conventions had been honoured.
“A good trip,” answered François. “No, not very good. One of the Belgians took a fever and nearly died. After that it was rather late in the season; many Indian families had already gone down to Ste. Anne de Chicoutimi and could not be found; and on top of it all a canoe was wrecked when running a rapid on the way back, and it was hard work fishing the pelts out of the river, without mentioning the fact that one of the bosses was nearly drowned—the same one that had the fever. No, we were unlucky all through. But here we are none the less, and it is always another job over and done with.” A gesture signified to the listeners that the task was completed, the wages paid and the ultimate profits or losses not his affair.
“Always another job over and done with,”—he slowly repeated the words. “The Belgians were in a hurry to reach Peribonka on Sunday, tomorrow; but, as they had another man, I left them to finish the journey without me so that I might spend the evening with you. It does one’s heart good to see a house again.”
His glance strayed contentedly over the meager smoke-filled interior and those who peopled it. In the circle of faces tanned by wind and sun, his was the brownest and most weather-beaten; his garments showed many rents, one side of the torn woollen jersey flapped upon his shoulder, moccasins replaced the long boots he had worn in the spring. He seemed to have brought back something of natures wildness from the headwaters of the rivers where the Indians and the great creatures of the woods find sanctuary. And Maria, whose life would not allow her to discern the beauty of that wilderness because it lay too near her, yet felt that some strange charm was at work and was throwing its influence about her.
Esdras had gone for the cards; cards with faded red backs and dog-eared corners, where the lost queen of hearts was replaced by a square of pink cardboard bearing the plainly-written legend dame de cœur. They played at quatre-sept. The two Surprenants, uncle and nephew, had Madame Chapdelaine and Maria for partners; after each game the beaten couple left the table and gave place to two other players. Night had fallen; some mosquitos made their way through the open window and went hither and thither with their stings and irritating music.
“Telesphore!” called out Esdras, “see to the smudge, the flies are coming in.” In a few minutes smoke pervaded the house again, thick, almost stifling, but greeted with delight. The party ran its quiet course. An hour of cards, some talk with a visitor who bears news from the great world, these are still accounted happiness in the Province of Quebec.
Between the games, Lorenzo Surprenant entertained Maria with a description of his life and his journeyings; in turn asking questions about her. He was far from putting on airs, yet she felt disconcerted at finding so little to say, and her replies were halting and timid.
The others talked among themselves or watched the play. Madame recalled the many gatherings at St. Gedeon in the days of her girlhood, and looked from one to the other, with unconcealed pleasure at the fact that three young men should thus assemble beneath her roof. But Maria sat at the table devoting herself to the cards, and left it for some vacant seat near the door with scarcely a glance about her. Lorenzo Surprenant was always by her side and talking; she felt the continual
