“The wife of the French Governor is Mahaska’s prisoner,” returned she, with a fearful laugh. “This time, these hands shall strangle the viper; there is no escape now.”
The chief uttered an exclamation of horror.
“The Nations have not declared war,” he said, hurriedly; “Mahaska will ruin herself by this act.”
“Fool!” she exclaimed. “Will you try to teach Mahaska? Out of my path, or I will trample you under my horse’s feet!”
But he stood his ground firmly, and after one prolonged glance of fiendish hate, Mahaska turned toward her prisoner.
Adèle caught sight of her old friend and arch-enemy, as she was seated upon the powerful black horse. A light from the fires fell full upon Mahaska’s face, and in spite of the changes evil passions and her wild life had made, Adèle recognized her foster-sister at once. From that instant she resigned all hope; she uttered no cry, but remained gazing at the face turned upon her as if fascinated by the glare of those basilisk eyes.
The savages placed her upon the ground. She leaned against a tree for support, but did not turn her eyes from the face of her captor.
A cold, deadly smile wreathed the white queen’s lip. She bowed low, with an affectation of extreme courtesy, and said in her blandest voice:
“Queen Mahaska bows herself before the guest who honors her camp; the wife of the French Governor is welcome.”
Adèle shuddered at that voice, for she knew well the hatred and danger expressed in its accents.