"So your conscience is not at ease? My son, you are as strong as a
Flemish work horse. I limped to mass for the next fortnight, and my
gown was in fiddle-strings,--you may send me another. As for the rest,
we need new altar hangings. Now, come, come, come. Tell us what has
happened."
And there it ended. One makes enemies in strange ways in this world
and friends in stranger. I should not have said that the way to win a
man's heart was to bind him like a Christmas fowl and then leave him
with his back on the sand.
The priest's cry had waked the garrison, and the officers came running.
Cadillac, stout as he was, was in the lead. I knew, from the press of
his arms about me, that he had thought me dead.
"Is Madame de Montlivet safe? Are the Senecas here?" I clamored at him.
A babel of affirmatives arose. Yes, madame was there. The Senecas
were there. So the English prisoner had proved to be a woman. Had I
known it at the time? I was a sly dog. All tongues talked at once,
while I fought for a hearing. We turned toward the commandant's. The
door of the nearest cabin opened and Starling came out. He did not
look toward us, and he walked the other way. The woman walked beside
him.
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