“A princess!” said madame, ill-temperedly. “I’ve had enough of these wild princesses. What does she come for? It’s not time for her visit for two months yet.”
“I suppose that the visit portends something to us,” said the Governor. “At all events, I shall not be wanting in respect to our illustrious guest.”
And the Governor hastily arranged his costume, and left the room, to greet the approaching personage.
At the principal gate of the “palace,” as it was styled, he paused, to watch the progress of a cavalcade, coming up the street.
At the head rode, on a very handsome dappled mustang, our little friend Ruby Roland, dressed in gorgeous velvets and brocades, heavily laced with gold, and loaded with jewelry. All the finery that the wealth of a tribe could lavish on her, was displayed on her trim figure, and she rode her spirited little horse like a man, with all a man’s ease and dexterity.
She carried no arms, but this was compensated for by her escort, consisting of twelve grim-looking chiefs, armed to the teeth.
The Governor bowed very low to this strangely-situated girl, at once perfect lady and Indian princess, and himself assisted her to dismount from her horse, while a score of obedient servants came running out to perform the same service to her escort.
For every one in the town knew by this time that a great embassy was come from “La Grande Porte.” The chiefs with Ruby were recognized as being the heads of twelve independent tribes, united under the great confederacy of the Wabash, and such chiefs always expected deferential treatment.
The Governor embraced his cousin by marriage in the most courtly French style, and shook hands with all the chiefs in turn, welcoming them with a string of French and Indian compliments together, and ushering them into the drawing-room.
Here Madame la Gouverneuse, who had recovered her outward equanimity, whatever her inward feelings, embraced Ruby with a cordiality that would have deceived any male beholder, and which the quick-witted girl herself penetrated in an instant.