Pierre, and Andre, the Broken Man. And also with
Concombre Bateese.
He smiled a little grimly as he thought of his approaching battle
with the half-breed. St. Pierre would be astounded at the
proposition he had in store for him. But he was sure that St.
Pierre would accept. And then, if he won the fight with Bateese--
The smile faded from his lips. His face grew older as he looked
slowly about the bateau cabin, with its sweet and lingering
whispers of a woman's presence. It was a part of her. It breathed
of her fragrance and her beauty; it seemed to be waiting for her,
crying softly for her return. Yet once had there been another
woman even lovelier than the wife of St. Pierre. He had not
hesitated then. Without great effort he had triumphed over the
loveliness of Carmin Fanchet and had sent her brother to the
hangman. And now, as he recalled those days, the truth came to him
that even in the darkest hour Carmin Fanchet had made not the
slightest effort to buy him off with her beauty. She had not tried
to lure him. She had fought proudly and defiantly. And had Marie-
Anne done that? His fingers clenched slowly, and a thickening came
in his throat.
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