e potentate's
chrysalid should be lowered. For the first time in her life Angelique
leaned back, letting slip from herself all responsibility. Colonel
Menard could bring her great-grand-aunt out. The sense of moving in a
picture, of not feeling what she handled, and of being cut off from the
realities of life followed Angelique into the boat. She was worn to
exhaustion. Her torpid pulses owned the chill upon the waters.

There was room in which a few of the little blacks might be stowed
without annoying tante-gra'mere, but their mothers begged to keep them
until all could go together.

"Now, my children," said Colonel Menard, "have patience for another hour
or two, when the boats shall return and bring you all off. The house is
safe; there is no longer a strong wind driving waves over it. A few
people in Kaskaskia have had to sit on their roofs since the water
rose."

Achille promised to take charge of his master's household. But one of
the women pointed to the stain on the floor. The lantern yet burned at
the head of Rice's deserted pillows. Superstition began to rise from
that spot. They no longer had Angelique among them, with her atmosphere
of invisible angels.

"That is the blood of the best man in the Territory," said Colonel
Menard. "I would give much more of my own to bring back the man who
spilled it. Are you afraid of a mere blood-spot in the gray of the
morning? Go into the other room and fasten the door, then. Achille will
show you that he can stay here alone."

"If mo'sieu' the colonel would let me go into that room, too"--

"Go in, Achille," said the colonel indulgently.

Colonel Menard made short work of embarking tante-gra'mere. In
emergencies, he was deft and delicate with his hands. She never knew who
caught her in coverlets and did her up like a papoose, with a pillow
under her head.

"Pull westward to the next street," he gave orders to his oarsmen. "We
found it easy going with the current that way. It will double the
distance, but give us less trouble to get into dead water the other side
of the Okaw."

Early summer dawn was breaking over that deluged world, a whiter light
than moonshine giving increasing distinctness to every object. This hint
of day gave rest to the tired ringers in church tower and convent
belfry. The bells died away, and stillness brooded on the water plain.
Hoarse roaring of the yellow current became a mere monotonous background
for other sounds. A breath stole from