I am sending an aged lady there to gather the wax of the wild myrtle.

This good soldier of mine buys it for our king at twelve livres the pound.

Do you not know that women can make money?
The place is not safe; but there are no safe places in Louisiana.

There are no nuns to trouble you there; only a few Indians and soldiers.

You and Madame will live together, quite to yourselves, and can pray as you like." "And not marry a soldier," said the Grand Marquis.
"No," said the lady, "not if you can gather enough myrtle-berries to afford me a profit and you a living." It was some thirty leagues or more eastward to the country of the Biloxis, a beautiful land of low, evergreen hills looking out across the pine-covered sand-keys of Mississippi Sound to the Gulf of Mexico.