ness stirring in me that I have not known. I wonder if you
understand?"

I watched the starlight draw elfin lines across her face, and my heart
suddenly cried through my tongue words that my brain would have
forbidden.

"I understand this at least. Madame, you talk of happiness. I am
finding happiness at this moment that I never felt at court,--no, nor
in the wilderness till now."

She did not draw back nor protest, but she looked at me with wistful
gravity.

"Monsieur---- Monsieur"----

"I am your servant, madame."

She halted. "This is a masque, a comedy," she stumbled. "This--this
life in the greenwood. Does it not seem a fantasy?"

"You seem very real to me, madame."

"Monsieur, I tell you, it is a masque. Will you not help me play it as
such?"

"You treat it as a masque in your own heart, madame?"

She turned her face into the shadow. "I eat, I sleep, I laugh with the
birds, and I play with Singing Arrow. I do not look ahead." She rose.
"Play with me. Play it is a dream, monsieur."

I rose and stepped beside her toward her cabin. "I am a man," I said,
with a short laugh of my own. "I cannot spin words nor cheat myself.
But I shall not distress you. Do not fear me, madame."

But her step lingered. "You leave us soon?"

"At dawn to-morrow."

"Monsieur! And you go"----

"To the Winnebagoes. I shall return in a week."

She clasped her hands behind her as if her white cloak bound her. "To
the Winnebagoes,--to another tribe of Indians! Are you sure that they
are friendly? I forget that there are Indians in the forest, since I
see none here. Ah, you must sleep now if you are to rise so early.
Good-night, and--thank you, monsieur. Good-night." I had hardly bowed
to her in turn before her long light step had brought her to her door.

And then I went back to work. The furs had been sorted, labeled, and
cached; the canoe had been dried, and its splints examined and new
bales of merchandise had been made up for the trip on the morrow. But
there remained much writing and figuring to be gone over. It seemed as
if I had but closed my eyes when Labarthe touched me on the shoulder
and told me it was dawn.

And out in the dawn I found the woman. She had seen to it that the
whole camp was astir, and the fire was crackling and the kettle already
puffing steam. The morning was austere and gray-veiled, so that the
red blaze was like the cheer of home. We ate with laughter, and sleepy