"Yes. I did not think it could be done. You are an able
man, monsieur."
He did not answer for a moment, and he followed me silently along the
edge of the maize field. Then he touched my shoulder.
"Monsieur, how strange the world looks to-night. The moon,--have you
ever seen it so remote and chill? Oh, we are puppets! No, it was not
my wit that carried me through. It was Fate. Life has been hard on
me. She is saving me now for some further trick she has to play. I
pray that it may not bring you ill, monsieur."
I knew not how to answer, for I was moved. As he said, the moon made
the world strange. Great beauty is disturbing, and the night was like
enchantment. He had come to me like a dream spirit in his woman's
dress. I felt the need of a dash of cold water on my spirit.
"You must not put on woman's fancies with your petticoats, monsieur," I
cautioned over my shoulder. "Now we had best not talk till we are safe
afloat in the canoes."
The men were ebon, the canoes vague gray, and the water like sheet ice
under the moon. The Englishman and I crept across the pebbles with
panther feet, and the splash of a frightened otter was the only sound.
I laid my finger on my lips, and my men checked their breathing.
Pages:
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89