n't watch your sister die," Raoul said. "So that just the sight
of an Indian makes you want to kill."

Pierre saw that Raoul was working himself up into a rage. He would talk
and talk, and every word he said would make him angrier, until at last,
the explosion. A spasm of pain shot across Pierre's stomach.

_Not now_, he prayed. _God, let the illness leave me alone until I can
be alone with it._

Nicole's cheeks were an even brighter red than was usual for her, but
she spoke gently. "Raoul, you do have a living sister. If it had been me
at Fort Dearborn instead of Helene--if I had been raped and murdered--I
would be looking down from Heaven, and I would be hoping your wound
would heal. I would pray that you would welcome Pierre's son, your
nephew, into your home."

"Stop saying that this filthy savage is my nephew," said Raoul. "Look at
him standing there, staring at me. You know what the word mongrel means,
redskin?"

Pierre felt a surge of pride as he saw Auguste standing straight and
slender, gazing levelly at Raoul. Savage? Even though he had been sick
only a moment ago, Auguste held himself as regally as a young prince.

"As for you, Nicole," Raoul went on, "don't ever think you can speak for
Helene. She may be in Heaven now, but she got there by way of Hell. No
decent woman could imagine what she suffered."

Pierre almost screamed aloud as the pain in his belly stabbed him again.
He clutched at his stomach. Just when he needed all his strength!

Auguste looked into his eyes, then down at his hand.

"You hurt, Father," Auguste said in English. "Must sit down."

"Oh? He's already got a few words of English?" said Raoul. "You're
training him to talk, eh? Like a parrot? Going to put him in a medicine
show?"

Elysee suddenly spoke in a loud voice, "My friends--those who were
invited to dine with us here today--will you please excuse us and give
us privacy? We have family matters to discuss."

Silently, eyes cast down, the thirty or so servants and field workers
who had been invited to celebrate the coming of Pierre's son filed out
of the hall.

Pierre thought, _In so many things I have failed today_.

"Raoul," Elysee said, "I have not forgiven Helene's killers. But I am
not stupid enough to hate all Indians, and neither should you be. Do you
think whites have never tortured and killed Indian women?"

Raoul bared his teeth again. "If you can't hate the Indians for what
they did to your daughter and to