United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Fiction
Her words were knives. I would have drawn her away, but Cadillac was
before me. "Wait, Montlivet, wait! This is my time. I have more to
say. Then, madame, to the point. These chiefs that you see are
leaving. They would have been gone now if you had not come. They are
leaving us because your husband said he would not lead them further.
Talk to him. I can hold the tribes here a few hours longer. If he
comes back to sanity by night, there will still be time for him to undo
his folly. Talk to him, madame."
Again I tried to interrupt, but the pressure of her hand begged me to
be silent. "What would you have me say to my husband?" she asked
Cadillac, and she stood close to me with her head high.
He drove his fists together. "I would have you bring him to reason,"
he groaned. "For three days he has lived in a trance. He planned the
attack, and led it without a quiver, but since then he has tried to
wash his hands of us and of the whole affair. It is a crucial time,
and he is acting like a madman. His anxiety about you has unbalanced
him. Bring him to reason, madame."
I saw her steal a glance at me as a girl might at her lover, and there
was a strange, fierce pride in her look. She bowed to Cadillac. "I am
glad you told me this, monsieur." Then she turned to me. "Shall we
go?"
But I looked over her head at the commandant. "It will be useless to
keep the tribes in waiting," I warned.
I went to Onanguisse, the woman on my arm. "My heart is at your feet,"
I said to him. "My blood belongs to you, and my sword!'"
He looked at the woman and at me, and he spoke thoughtfully. "When I
found her in my lodge we had no speech in common, but I understood. I
brought her to you. Now keep what you have. The best fisherman may
let a fish slip once from his net by accident, but his wits are fat if
he lets it go a second time."
I knew he was troubled. He saw no possession in my face, and he
thought me weak.
And then I took the woman to Cadillac's tent.
CHAPTER XXXII
I TELL THE WOMAN
Cadillac's tent held a couch of brush covered with skins, and I led the
woman to it and bade her sit. Then I moved away and stood by the rough
table.
"Madame," I said, "I have something that I must tell you. I"----
She rose from the couch and came toward me. "Will you wait?" she
interrupted. "May I speak first?" She stood beside me, and I saw how
thin her hand was as it rested on the table. She had been through
danger, starvation. I found myself shaking.
"You went alone through the woods!" I cried, and my voice was hoarse,
so that I had to stop and control it. "Did you suffer? You must have
suffered, madame?"
She smiled up at me. "Monsieur, do not grieve. It is all over. And
the greatest suffering was in my mind. I feared that you would think I
disobeyed you."
I clenched my hands. "Madame, you must not say such things to me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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