" Suddenly, with a soft
fierceness, he added: "If I looked in her room, what of that? In all the
North is there a woman to say I wrong her? No. Well, what if I carry
her room in my eye; does that hurt her or you?"
Perhaps something of the loneliness of the outlaw crept into Pierre's
voice for an instant, for Halby suddenly put a hand on his shoulder and
said: "Let's drop the thing, Pierre."
Pierre looked at him musingly.
"When Throng is put to By-by what will you do?" he asked.
"I will marry her, if she'll have me."
"But she is prairie-born, and you!"
"I'm a prairie-rider."
After a moment Pierre said, as if to himself: "So quiet and clean, and
the print calico and muslin, and the ivory brush!"
It is hard to say whether he was merely working on Halby that he be true
to the girl, or was himself softhearted for the moment. He had a curious
store of legend and chanson, and he had the Frenchman's power of applying
them, though he did it seldom. But now he said in a half monotone:
"Have you seen the way I have built my nest?
(O brave and tall is the Grand Seigneur!)
I have trailed the East, I have searched the West,
(O clear of eye is the Grand Seigneur!)
From South and North I have brought the best:
The feathers fine from an eagle's crest,
The silken threads from a prince's vest,
The warm rose-leaf from a maiden's breast
(O long he bideth, the Grand Seigneur!).
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