Annette - The Metis Spy

The girl was trembling like a bird when the eagle's wings hover over

its nest. "O, why does a great hero like Monsieur address such words

to me? I am only a simple girl, living here upon the plains; besides,

if I could give the brave leader my heart, it would be wrong to do

so, for he is already wedded."

"Do not speak of the ceremonies which men have muttered, binding man

and woman, when the heart cries out. Do not deny me your love my sweet

girl," and the villain once more seized the maiden's waist, and sought

to kiss her lips. But she screamed, and struggled from his embrace.

"Paul, Paul, mon frere, come to me." Her cries speedily brought her

brother. But Monsieur Riel had taken his seat, and he lowered upon

the girl who sat like a frightened fawn upon her chair, her great

eyes glimmering with starting tears.

"What is wrong Annette?" the boy asked, leaning affectionately over

his sister.

"She is not brave Paul. A shadow passed the window which was nothing

more than my own, and she believed it to be that of a hostile Indian."

"What a silly girl you are, Annette," her brother said, softly

smiting her cheek with his finger-tips.

The maiden did not make any explanation, but in a very wretched and

embarrassed way arose and said, "Good night."

Nothing was said about the matter in the morning, and as the girl

passed on her way to milk the cows Riel murmured, "Mademoiselle will not say anything of the cause of her out-cry last

night?"

"I will not Monsieur; if you will promise not to address any words

of love-making to me again."

"I promise nothing, foolish maiden; but I have to ask that you will

not make of Louis Riel an enemy."

When breakfast was ended he perceived Annette rush to the window,

and then hastily and with a dainty coyness withdraw her head from the

pane; and at the same moment he heard a sprightly tune whistle'd.

Looking down the meadow he saw a tall, well-formed young white man, a

gun on his back, and a dog at his heels, walking along the little

path toward the cottage, "This is the lover," he muttered; "curses upon him." From that

moment he hated with all the bitterness of his nature the man now

striding carelessly up towards the cottage door.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle et messieurs" the newcomer said in cheery

tones, as he entered, making a low bow.