I bowed to them
both, but I would do no more, for the Indians were watching. The woman
looked pale and grave. I had seen her angry and I had seen her
despairing, but I had never before seen her dispirited. She looked so
now.
And then came the general council with Cadillac in the chair. It was
held in a barrack room and the tribes had forty chiefs in waiting.
There were Ottawas, Hurons, and the party of Senecas. Feathered and
painted, they were as expressionless as the stone calumets in their
hands; by contrast, our French faces were childishly open and
expressive.
Cadillac looked them over and began his speech. Commonly his tongue
ran trippingly, but with the opening words his speech halted. I knew
he was moved. With all his volubility the man took responsibility
heavily, and these strange bronze men with their cruel eyes and
impassive faces were his wards. He spoke in French, and I translated
first to the Hurons, then to the Ottawas. He called the tribes to aid
him in brightening the covenant chain, and his rhetoric mounted with
his theme till I felt my blood heat with admiration for him. He
concluded with a plea for loyalty, and he gave each nation a belt to
bind his words.
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