t on the gallery for exercise. She
was a very cheerful invalid; indeed miladi was so entertaining she was
never weary when with her, and if her husband needed her, Wanamee came
to sit with the child. Rose knew many words in the language, as well as
that of the unfortunate Iroquois.

All they had been able to learn about Catherine Arlac was that she had
come from Paris to Honfleur, a widow, with a little girl. And Paris was
such a great and puzzling place for a search.

"But she is a sweet human rose with no thorns, and I must keep her,"
declared miladi.

Laurent Giffard made no demur. He was really glad for his wife to have
an interest while he was away.

The party threaded their way through the narrow winding paths that were
to be so famous afterward and witness the heroic struggle, when the
lilies of France went down for the last time, and the heritage that had
cost so much in valiant endeavor and blood and treasure was signed away.

There were flaming torches and swinging lanterns and throngs wending to
the part beyond the tents. The dance was not to pass a certain radius,
where guards were stationed. Already there was a central fire of logs,
around which the braves sat with their knees drawn up and their chins
resting upon them, looking as if they were asleep.

"A fire this warm night," said miladi, in irony.

"We could hardly see them without it," returned her husband.

At the summons of a rude drum that made a startling noise, the braves
rose, threw down their blankets and displayed their holiday attire of
paint, fringes, beads, and dressed deerskins with great headdresses of
feathers. Another ring formed round them. One brave, an old man, came
forward, and gesticulating wildly, went through a series of antics. One
after another fell in, and the slow tread began to increase. Then shrill
songs, with a kind of musical rhythm, low at first, but growing louder
and louder, the two or three circles joining in, the speed increasing
until they went whirling around like madmen, shouting, thrusting at each
other with their brawny arms, until all seemed like a sudden frenzy.

"Oh, they will kill each other!" almost shrieked Madame.

"_Non, non_, but small loss if they did," commented Madame Dubray.

They paused suddenly. It seemed like disentangling a chain. The
confusion was heightened by the cries and the dancing feather
headdresses that might have been a flock of giant birds. But presently
they resolved into a