Owaissa had said that she sent the child home under proper escort. Louis Marsac ground his teeth, and yet--did he care so much for the girl only to gratify a mean revenge for one thing?--the other he was not quite sure of. At all events Jeanne Angelot would always be the loser. The Detroit foundling,--and he gave a short laugh like the snarl of a dog.
Delightful as everything was, Jeanne counted the days. She was up at the great house and read to its lovely mistress, sang and danced with baby Angelique, taking hold of the tiny hands and swinging round in graceful circles, playing games with the boys and doing feats, and trying to laugh off the lamentations, which sometimes came near to tears.
"How strange," said Miladi the last evening, "that we have never heard your family name. Or--had you none?"
"Oh, yes, Madame. Some one took good care of that. It was written on a paper pinned to me; and," laughing, "pricked into my skin so I could not deny it. It is Jeanne Angelot. But there are no Angelots in Detroit."
Miladi grasped her arm so tightly that Jeanne's breath came with a flutter.
"Are there none? Are you quite sure?" There was a strained sound in her voice wont to be so musical.
"It grows chilly," she said, presently. "Shall we go in, or--" Somehow her voice seemed changed.
"I had better run down to the dame's. Good night, Miladi. I have been so happy. It is like a lovely dream of the summer under the trees. I am sorry I cannot be content to stay;" and she kissed the soft hand, that now was cold.
Miladi made no reply. Only she stood still longer in the cold, and murmured, "Jeanne Angelot, Jeanne Angelot." And then she recalled a laughing remark of Gaston's only that morning:--
"Jeanne has wintry blue eyes like my father's! Look, maman, the frost almost sparkles in them. And he says his came from the wonderful skies above the Arctic seas. Do you know where that is?"
No, Jeanne did not know where that was. But there were plenty of blue-eyed people in Detroit.
She ran down the steps in the light of the young crescent moon, and rubbed her arm a little where the fingers had almost made a dent.
The next day the "Return" touched at the island. It was not at all out of her way, and the captain and Loudac were warm friends. The boys clung to Jeanne and would hardly let her go.