When we had sat by the fire for an hour, the old men and the warriors came to visit us, and the smoking began. The women laid mats in a great half circle, and each savage took his seat with perfect breeding: that is, in absolute silence and with a face like a stone. The peace paint was upon them all--red, or red and white--and they sat and looked at the ground until I had made the speech of welcome. Soon the air was dense with fragrant smoke; in the thick blue haze the sweep of painted figures had the seeming of some fantastic dream. An old man arose and made a long and touching speech, with much reference to calumets and buried hatchets. Then they waited for my contribution of honeyed words. The Pamunkeys, living at a distance from the settlements, had but little English, and the learning of the Paspaheghs was not much greater. I repeated to them the better part of a canto of Master Spenser's _Faery Queen_, after which I told them the moving story of the Moor of Venice. It answered the purpose to admiration. The day wore on, with relay after relay of food, which we must taste at least, with endless smoking of pipes and speeches which must be listened to and answered. When evening came and our entertainers drew off to prepare for the dance, they left us as wearied as by a long day's march. Suddenly, as we sat staring at the fire, we were beset by a band of maidens, coming out of the woods, painted, with antlers upon their heads and pine branches in their hands. They danced about us, now advancing until the green needles met above our heads, now retreating until there was a space of turf between us. They moved with grace, keeping time to a plaintive song, now raised by the whole choir, now fallen to a single voice. The Indian girls danced more and more swiftly, and their song changed, becoming gay and shrill and sweet. Higher and higher rang the notes, faster and faster moved the dark feet; then quite suddenly song and motion ceased together. From the darkness now came a burst of savage cries only less appalling than the war whoop itself. In a moment the men of the village had rushed from the shadow of the trees into the broad, firelit space before us. They circled around us, then around the fire; now each man danced and stamped and muttered to himself. For the most part they were painted red, but some were white from head to heel--statues come to life--while others had first oiled their bodies, then plastered them over with small, bright-colored feathers. Diccon and I watched that uncouth spectacle, that Virginian [v]masque, as we had watched many another one, with disgust and weariness. It would last, we knew, for the better part of the night. For a time we must stay and testify our pleasure, but after a while we might retire, and leave the women and children the sole spectators. They never wearied of gazing at the rhythmic movement.