"May my friend Waubeno come with me? I am the daughter of a chief, and he is the son of a warrior. It would be befitting that we should come together. I wish that he might see the great Lafayette." "As you like," said the officer, hurrying away with uncovered head. Mary Panisciowa prepared to go to the grand reception. Early in the evening she and Waubeno, followed by Jasper, came up to the Morrison mansion, where a kind of court reception was to be held. The streets were full of people. The houses were everywhere illuminated, and people were hurrying to and fro, or listening to the music in the hall. Lafayette was now nearly threescore and ten years of age, the beloved hero of France and America, and the leader of human liberty in all lands. He had left Havre on July 12th, 1824, and had arrived in New York on the 15th of August. He was accompanied by his son, George Washington Lafayette, and his private secretary, M. Levasseur. His passage through the country had been a triumphal procession, under continuous arches of flags, evergreens, and flowers, bearing the words, "Welcome, Lafayette." Forty years had passed since he was last in America. The thirteen States had become twenty-four. He had visited Joseph Bonaparte, the grave of Washington, and the battle-field of Yorktown. His reception in the South had been an outpouring of hearts. And now he had turned aside from the great Mississippi to see Kaskaskia, the romantic town of the vanished French empire of the Mississippi. Mary and Waubeno waited outside of the door. The Indian woman listened for a time to the gay music, and watched the bright uniforms as they passed to and fro under the glittering astrals. At last an American officer came down the steps, lifted his hat, and said to the two Indians and to Jasper: "Follow me." Lafayette had already received the public men of the place. Airy music arose, and the officials and their wives and guests were going through the form of the old court minuet. The music of Mozart's Don Giovanni minuet has been heard in a thousand halls of state and at the festivals of many lands. We may imagine the charm that such music had here, in this oaken room of the forest and prairie. At the head of the plumed ladies and men in glittering uniforms stood the Marquis of France, whom the world delighted to honor, and led the stately obeisances to the picturesque movement of the music under the flags and astrals. A remnant of the old romantic French families were there, soldiers of the Revolution, the leaders of the new order of American life, Governor Coles and his officers, and rich traders of St. Louis. As the music swayed these stately forms backward and forward with the fascinating poetry of motion that can hardly be called a dance, the two Indian faces caught the spirit of the scene. Waubeno had never heard the music of the minuet before, and the strains entranced him as they rose and fell. [Illustration: Minuet from Don Giovanni.