Free The Adventures of Radisson. Back to the New World by Martin Fournier

courage.”
    Catherine Guyard again looked Radisson straight in the eye, so emotional that it seemed she had come down with a fever. She was still under the spell of the strapping young man who, in her eyes, was the very embodiment of the whole colony, the faraway land she had so many times conjured up in her mind as she read her cousin’s letters.
    â€œI have so much admiration for Marie!” she exclaimed, her eyes lit up. “You know all about Canada. You understand me, I’m sure. She’s earning her place in heaven every day, while the rest of us—”
    â€œWe all have our crosses to bear, too,” interrupted Jean Roussin, who was now wondering if bringing the young man along had been such a good idea after all. “Life here isn’t easy either, Catherine. You do your bit, and so do we.”
    New France was far away and things over there weren’t all that rosy. Roussin was beginning to tire of hearing all about her saint of a cousin. Everyone had problems of their own. He had wanted to please Catherine by introducing her to the stranger. What wouldn’t he do for the woman he hoped to marry? But he feared his plan might be turning against him. Radisson was stealing his thunder and as Catherine ogled Radisson, talk had yet to turn to the big business idea he had in mind. He could see Touchet was beginning to grow impatient too, and he didn’t want to let the chance slip through his fingers.
    â€œLet’s eat,” he said.
    The widow didn’t hear him and went on. “This year, the Iroquois are everywhere, Marie wrote. They are massacring the French. They are burning the harvests. They are tearing the country apart. She says that even though the colony is under threat, she has no intention of returning. She is prepared to end her days over there. She is a saint, I’m telling you, an absolute saint.”
    Catherine lowered her eyes and blessed herself as she said a prayer under her breath.
    â€œYou, too,” Roussin interjected. “You’re a saint in your own way. Now, if you want us to send our wheat to Paris, it’s time to sit down together and eat. Bring us some soup and come sit with us.”
    Radisson was shaken. So things had gotten worse since he had been captured. The fur trade had no doubt been brought to a standstill. But for the moment it was best to turn his thoughts from the project closest to his heart. The question was now to see if it was still worth returning to New France. Perhaps he could serve the Jesuits and help the people of Trois-Rivières, while waiting for things to improve. But never would he fight the Iroquois.
    The two carters and Touchet were sitting at the end of the table nearest the fireplace. The heat and light from the fire reached them through a broad archway. Radisson reluctantly returned to his companions.
    The Guyard home was big enough for employees to eat there, day or night. Carters, day labourers, and servants all had meals there, as well as the family. Catherine Guyard’s husband had died ten months earlier and she had taken over the job of running the transportation company and the farm. Fortunately Jean Roussin and his brother helped her out. She wouldn’t have made it otherwise. It had been a tough year.
    Catherine served up a big bowl of soup, her face kept low. In her heart of hearts, she thanked God for sending her a real Canadian who had walked on the same ground as Marie. She almost felt as though she could reach out and touch her through this third party, that Radisson was bringing her closer. A fine-looking loaf of white bread landed on the table—the finest bread reserved for the big occasions—and Roussin got stuck into it, passing around a hunk to the rest of the table. It wasn’t just the treat of white bread with no bran, rye, or barley to detract from the delicate flavour that left him more talkative than usual: he also hoped the boatman—who struck him as the