I went to the wedding and saw Pierre the savage transformed into Pierre the citizen, the yoke-bearer. I feared the transformation was not final. Yet I could never read my giant. There were unexpected ridges of principle in the general slough of his makeup and perhaps the Indian girl was resting on one of them. The woman came to the wedding, Starling with her. I bowed to them both, but I would do no more, for the Indians were watching. The woman looked pale and grave. I had seen her angry and I had seen her despairing, but I had never before seen her dispirited. She looked so now. And then came the general council with Cadillac in the chair. It was held in a barrack room and the tribes had forty chiefs in waiting. There were Ottawas, Hurons, and the party of Senecas. Feathered and painted, they were as expressionless as the stone calumets in their hands; by contrast, our French faces were childishly open and expressive. Cadillac looked them over and began his speech. Commonly his tongue ran trippingly, but with the opening words his speech halted. I knew he was moved. With all his volubility the man took responsibility heavily, and these strange bronze men with their cruel eyes and impassive faces were his wards. He spoke in French, and I translated first to the Hurons, then to the Ottawas. He called the tribes to aid him in brightening the covenant chain, and his rhetoric mounted with his theme till I felt my blood heat with admiration for him. He concluded with a plea for loyalty, and he gave each nation a belt to bind his words. And then the chiefs rose in reply. The Hurons spoke first, and though they hedged their meaning by look and word I could feel the sentiment swaying toward our side. They brought up many minor points and gave belts in confirmation. Kondiaronk's clan were openly friendly, openly touched by Cadillac's speech, and when one of the Baron's band took the cue and gave a wampum necklace, "to deter the French brothers from unkind thoughts," I felt that the worst of the day was over, and welcomed the Ottawa speakers with a relaxation of the tension that had held me, for I had been upon the rack. Mind and ear had been taxed to miss no word or intonation, for a slighted syllable might lose our cause. The speeches had droned like flies at midday, but all the verbiage had been heavy with significance. I spoke French, Huron, and Ottawa in turn, and through it all I listened, listened for the opening of the door. For Cadillac had told me that Madame de Montlivet had asked if she might come in for a moment and listen to the council, and he had referred the matter to me. It had seemed a strange request, but I could see no reason for refusing it. The woman had seen Indians in camp and field; it was perhaps no wonder that she wished to see the machinery of their politics. It was agreed that Dubisson should bring her in for a short time.