As they neared the encampment Lydia gave a frightened start. “I dread the savages. The very glance of these painted monsters makes me faint and ill,” she whispered nervously.
Diane paused with quick compunction.
“It is I who should have thought of that. You have nothing to fear, little one, with du Chesne at your side. Leave her not, even for an instant, my friend. Remember the terrible trial through which she has passed.”
Lydia reddened to her very throat, and turning around flashed upon the young man such an odd, piteous, pleading glance that it startled him. Her naivété was as novel as her beauty; every glance had a glamor of magic. She was attractive with that undefinable charm that belongs to some women, a magnetic quality not depending upon faultlessness of physical beauty. A very child, she carried herself with an air of innocently transparent indifference, with her ready blushes and her pettish, winning face. She was so petulant that du Chesne was amused, and found his charge extremely interesting. When, some time later, Diane, finding herself at his side, whispered words of thanks for his consideration, he shook his head in protest, laughing in a startled, gratified sort of way; then turned from the subject with the careless ease which was one of his characteristics.
“It is to you she owes her life. I want you really to like her, du Chesne,” the girl pleaded warmly.
“It would not be difficult to do that!” and du Chesne laughed again.
CHAPTER X.
THE COUNCIL.
A LARGE oblong space was marked out on a common between St. Paul street and the river, and enclosed by a fence of branches. In this enclosure the Council upon which such momentous issues depended was held. Some of the Indians who attended had gathered from a distance of fully two thousand miles. The assembly presented a strange and grotesque appearance. There were Hurons and Ottawas from Michillimackinac; Pottawatomies from Lake Michigan; Ojibways from Lake Superior; Crees from the remote north; Mascoutins, Sacs, Foxes, Winnebagoes and Menominies from Wisconsin; Miamis from St. Joseph; Illinois from River Illinois; Abenakis from Acadia, and many allied tribes of less account. These sang, whooped and harangued in their several accents. Their features were different; so were their manners, their weapons, their decorations, their dances. Each savage was painted in diverse hues and patterns, and each appeared in his dress of ceremony—leather shirt fringed with scalp-locks, colored blanket, robe of bison-hide or beaver-skin, bristling crest of hair or long lank tresses, eagle feathers or skins of beasts. A young Algonquin warrior, in the dress of a Canadian, was crowned with drooping scarlet feathers and a tall ridge of hair like a cock’s crest. A chief of the Foxes, whose face was painted red, wore an elaborate French wig, the abundant curls of which were in a state of complete entanglement. He persisted in bowing right and left with great affability, lifting his wig like a hat to show that he was perfect in French politeness.