And the White Bear arose in his mind, as clearly as if he had suddenly stood up here among the corn stalks. The White Bear said, _Your people need you_. "Auguste, please, _please_," Nancy whispered. "It isn't wrong. It's right for us. There's no other man but you who's right for me. I don't want to end up a dried-up old spinster who never knew the man she truly loved." She slid down the length of him, falling to her knees in the furrow. She pressed her cheek against the hard bulge in his trousers, sending a thrill through his whole body. "Please." He wanted to let himself sink to the ground with her. He shut his eyes and saw the White Bear more vividly in his mind. It seemed to glow. He held himself rigid, fighting the pressure inside him that made him want to give in to her. He told himself he could give Nancy this moment of love she wanted and still go back to the Sauk. If he did not take her now as she wanted to be taken, he would regret it bitterly later. But if he did this with her it would tie them in a bond that would be wrong to break. If he gave her what she wanted and then left, it would hurt her, might even kill her. He took a step backward, then another. His legs felt as if they were made of wood; he could barely move them. Nancy let him go, put her hands to her face and sobbed, kneeling between the rows of corn. He stood there a moment, feeling helpless. Then he went to her, took her arms and helped her to stand up. "I do love you, Nancy," he said. "But if I knew you as Adam knew Eve, I would still have to leave you. And it would hurt both of us much more." Sobs still shook her body. He did not even know if she heard him. But she let him lead her out of the cornfield, around the locked and silent church, and back to the wagon where his trunk lay. As they walked she pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve, wiped her face and blew her nose. His heart felt heavy as lead. Sure as he was that this was the right thing to do, he was almost as sure it was wrong. When they got to the wagon, he was still holding her arm. Gently she pulled free of him. "You're a good man, Auguste. I'm afraid I'll always love you. Whether you want me to or not." "Are you all right?" he asked. He wanted to make her happy, and he felt terribly helpless. "I will be," she said. * * * * * As he rode in the wagon back to the chateau with Marchette, the back of Auguste's neck tingled. He pictured silent hunters crouched out in the prairie, their Kentucky long rifles ready, their thoughts fixed on fifty pieces of silver. His eyes moved restlessly over the low hills around them. The nearly full moon was sinking before them in the west, a lantern at the end of their trail. In some places the prairie grass closed in around the horse and wagon, high as the horse's rump and the wagon's wheels, and it looked to Auguste as if they were pushing their way through a moonlit lake.