If the Etchemin woman had absorbed from her mistress a habit of meditation which shut out the world, Saint-Castin had not.  He gave La Hontan the sign to move before him out of the lodge, and no choice but to obey it, crowding the reluctant and comfortable man into undignified attitudes.  La Hontan saw that he had taken offense.  There was no accounting for the humors of those disbanded soldiers of the Carignan-Salieres, though Saint-Castin was usually a gentle fellow.  They spread out their sensitive military honor over every inch of their new seigniories; and if you chucked the wrong little Indian or habitant’s naked baby under the chin, you might unconsciously stir up war in the mind of your host.  La Hontan was glad he was directly leaving Acadia.  He was fond of Saint-Castin.  Few people could approach that young man without feeling the charm which made the Indians adore him.  But any one who establishes himself in the woods loses touch with the light manners of civilization; his very vices take on an air of brutal candor.

Next evening, however, both men were merry by the hall fire at Pentegoet over their parting cup.  La Hontan was returning to Quebec.  A vessel waited the tide at the Penobscot’s mouth, a bay which the Indians call “bad harbor.”

The long, low, and irregular building which Saint-Castin had constructed as his baronial seat was as snug as the governor’s castle at Quebec.  It was only one story high, and the small square windows were set under the eaves, so outsiders could not look in.  Saint-Castin’s enemies said he built thus to hide his deeds; but Father Petit himself could see how excellent a plan it was for defense.  A holding already claimed by the encroaching English needed loop-holes, not windows.  The fort surrounding the house was also well adapted to its situation.  Twelve cannon guarded the bastions.  All the necessary buildings, besides a chapel with a bell, were within the walls, and a deep well insured a supply of water.  A garden and fruit orchard were laid out opposite the fort, and encompassed by palisades.

The luxury of the house consisted in an abundant use of crude, unpolished material.  Though built grotesquely of stone and wood intermingled, it had the solid dignity of that rugged coast.  A chimney spacious as a crater let smoke and white ashes upward, and sections of trees smouldered on Saint-Castin’s hearth.  An Indian girl, ruddy from high living, and wearing the brightest stuffs imported from France, sat on the floor at the hearth corner.  This was the usual night scene at Pentegoet.  Candle and firelight shone on her, on oak timbers, and settles made of unpeeled balsam, on plate and glasses which always heaped a table with ready food and drink, on moose horns and gun racks, on stores of books, on festoons of wampum, and usually on a dozen figures beside Saint-Castin.  The other rooms in the house were mere tributaries to this baronial presence chamber.  Madockawando