human
Why do you shiver?
gpt
I beg of you not to touch it, mademoiselle. It--it hurts to see you touching it.
human
Did you kill him?
gpt
Of whom is mademoiselle speaking?
human
Pray do not pretend to be stupid, monsieur. I am speaking of that other man--the owner of this tunic--the sergeant who took you into the forest. Did you kill him?
gpt
He died in fair fight, mademoiselle.
human
It was a duel, then? He did not answer, and she continued,
gpt
I can trust your face, monsieur. I am sure it was only in fair fight. But why should you think me afraid to touch _this_? Oh, why, M. a Clive, will men take it so cruelly for granted that we women are afraid of the thought of blood--nay, even that we owe it to ourselves to be afraid? If we are what you all insist we should be, what right have we to be born in these times? Think of New France fighting now for dear life--ah! why should I ask _you_ to think, who have bled for her? Yet you would have me shudder at the touch of a stained piece of cloth; and while you hold these foolish prejudices, can you wonder that New France has no Jeanne d'Arc? When I was at the Ursulines at Quebec, they used to pray to her on this side of sainthood, and ask for her intercession; but what they taught was needlework.
human
The world has altered since her time, mademoiselle,
gpt
Has it? It burnt her; even in those days it did its best according to its lights, she answered bitterly.
human
Only in these days there are no heroines to burn. No heroines . . . no fires . . . and even in our needlework we must be demure, and not touch a garment that has been touched with blood! Monsieur, was this man a coward?
gpt
He was a vain fellow and a bully, mademoiselle, but by no means a coward.
human
He fought for France?
gpt
Yes; and, I believe, with credit.
human
Then, monsieur, because he was a bully, I commend the man who killed him fairly. And because he was brave and fought for France, I am proud to handle his tunic.