The colonel realized that he was lying flat in a boat which had not been bailed dry, and that his head rested on wet homespun, by its odor belonging to Louis or Jacques; and he saw their black naked arms paddling with the oars.  Beyond them he saw Wachique holding her mistress carefully and unrestrained; and the negro in her quailed before him at the deed the Indian had done, scarcely comforted by the twinkle in the colonel’s eye.  Tante-gra’mere was sitting up meekly, less affected by dampness than anybody else in the boat.  She had a fresh and toughened look.  Her baptism in the rivers had perhaps renewed her for another century.

“Madame, you are certainly the most remarkable woman in this Territory.  You have borne this night marvelously well, and the accident of the boat even better.”

“Not at all, monsieur the colonel.”

She spoke as children do when effectually punished for ill temper.

“Are you cold?”

“I am wet, monsieur.  We are all wet.  It is indeed a time of flood.”

“We shall soon see a blazing fire and a hot breakfast, and all the garments in the country will be ours without asking.”

The colonel raised himself on his elbow and looked around.  Angelique sat beside his head; so close that they both blushed.

They were not wet nor chilled nor hungry.  They had not looked on death nor felt the shadow of eternity.  The sweet mystery of continued life was before them.  The flood, like a sea of glass, spread itself to the thousand footsteps of the sun.

Tante-gra’mere kept her eyes upon them.  But it is not easy to hear what people say when you are riding among treetops and bird’s-nests in the early morning.

“Mademoiselle, we are nearly home.”

“Yes, monsieur.”

“It has been to me a great night.”

“I can understand that, monsieur.”

“The children will be dancing when they see you.  Odile and Pierre were awake, and they both cried when the first boat came home last night without you.”

“Monsieur the colonel, you are too good to us.”

“Angelique, do you love me?”

“It is true, monsieur.”

“But it must be owned I am a dozen years older than you, and I have loved before.”

“I never have.”

“Does it not seem a pity, then, that you who have had the pick of the Territory should become the second wife of Pierre Menard?”

“I should rather be the second choice with you, monsieur, than the first choice of any other man in the Territory.”

“Mademoiselle, I adore you.”

“That remains to be seen, monsieur.”

“What did you think when I was under water?”

“I did not think, monsieur.  I perished.  It was then you conquered me.”

“Good.  I will take to the water whenever any little difference arises between us.  It is a lucky thing for me that I am a practiced river man.”