The incident had a manner, an air, which struck Gaston, he knew not why.

Perhaps it was the easy finesse of ceremonial.

He looked at Brillon.

He had seen him sit arms folded like that, looking from the top of a bluff down on an Indian village or a herd of buffaloes.

There was wonder, but no shyness or agitation, on his face; rather the naive, naked look of a child.