Rewards and Fairies - Penn State University

Rewards and Fairies
for he opened a second bottle and he told this Monsieur ‘I was looking. I protest to you I wasn’t frightened like I
Peringuey all about our great stove dispute in the church. I was when Big Hand talked to his gentlemen. I—I only looked,
remember Pastor Meder and Brother Adam Goos dropped and I wondered that even those dead dumb dice ‘ud dare to
‘in, and although they and Toby were direct opposite sides fall different from what that face wished. It—it was a face!
regarding stoves, yet this Monsieur Peringuey he made ‘em ‘“He is bad,” says Red Jacket. “But he is a great chief. The
feel as if he thought each one was in the right of it. He said he French have sent away a great chief. I thought so when he
had been a clergyman before he had to leave France. He ad- told us his lies. Now I know.”
mired at Toby’s fiddling, and he asked if Red Jacket, sitting ‘i had to go on to the party, so I asked him to call round for
by the spinet, was a simple Huron. Senecas aren’t Hurons, me afterwards and we’d have hymn-singing at Toby’s as usual.
they’re Iroquois, of course, and Toby told him so. Well, then, “No,” he says. “Tell Toby I am not Christian tonight. All
in due time he arose and left in a style which made us feel he’d Indian.” He had those fits sometimes. I wanted to know more
been favouring us, instead of us feeding him. I’ve never seen about Monsieur Peringuey, and the emigre party was the very
that so strong before—in a man. We all talked him over but place to find out. It’s neither here nor there, of course, but
couldn’t make head or tail of him, and Red Jacket come out those French emigre parties they almost make you cry. The
to walk with me to the French quarter where I was due to men that you bought fruit of in Market Street, the hairdress-
fiddle at a party. Passing Drinker’s Alley again we saw a naked ers and fencing-masters and French teachers, they turn back
window with a light in it, and there sat our button-selling again by candlelight to what they used to be at home, and
Monsieur Peringuey throwing dice all alone, right hand against you catch their real names. There wasn’t much room in the
left.
washhouse, so I sat on top of the copper and played ‘em the
‘Says Red Jacket, keeping back in the dark, “Look at his tunes they called for—“Si le Roi m’avait donne,” and such
face!”
nursery stuff. They cried sometimes. It hurt me to take their
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