He smiled, but not pleasantly.
"Be seated, Messieurs," he said, waving his hand toward the chairs, and eying the Iroquois with that curiosity with which one eyes a new species of animal.

Next his gaze fell upon Brother Jacques, whose look, burning and intense, aroused a sense of impatience in the marquis's breast.

"Monsieur," he said peevishly, "have not the women told you that you are too handsome for a priest ?" "If so, Monsieur," imperturbably, "I have not heard." And while a shade of color grew in his cheeks, Brother Jacques's look was calm and undisturbed.
"And you are Father Chaumonot ?" said the marquis turning to the elder.
His glance discovered a finely modeled head, a high benevolent brow, eyes mild and intelligent, a face marred neither by greed nor by cunning; not handsome, rather plain, but wholesome, amiable, and with a touch of those human qualities which go toward making a man whole.
There was even a suspicion of humor in the fine wrinkles gathered around the eyes.

The marquis pictured this religious pioneer in the garb of a soldier.

"You would be a man but for that robe," he said, when his scrutiny was brought to an end.
"I pray God that I may be a man for it." The marquis laughed.