"She was dead beside her husband. Do not
grieve for her. Her face is more than happy; it is triumphant. My men
called me to look. Will you see her now, madame?"
But she could not answer. The hands that held mine began to chill, and
I saw the brown throat quiver. I turned to Cadillac. "I have no tent.
May I take madame to yours?"
He placed all that he had at her service. He was moved, for he did it
with scant phrase.
"But one moment," he begged. "Montlivet, one word with your wife
first. Madame, I beg you to listen. Will you look around you here?"
She stopped. "I have looked, monsieur."
"Madame, you see those Indians. They are war chiefs and picked braves.
The brawn and brain of six tribes are collected here before you. Do
you know what that means?"
I saw her look at him gravely. "I should understand. I have lived in
Indian camps, monsieur."
He looked back at her with sudden admiration that crowded the
calculation out of his eyes. "Madame!" he exclaimed. "We know your
spirit and knowledge; we wish that you could teach us some new way to
show you homage. But do you understand your husband's power? You have
never seen him in the field. Look at these war chiefs.
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