Then the girl advanced to Rocheblave, who stood undecided what to do, and gravely embraced him in the French fashion.
“My cousin,” she said, “I have heard of your misfortune. Why did you not listen to my words? I warned you that the door would be shut; but you see I have come, as I promised.”
“You might as well have stayed away,” said the ex-Governor, sulkily. “You must have known these people were coming, and would not warn your old allies.”
“Our old ally was my father’s king,” said Ruby, proudly; “and it was to please him that I did not betray the Big-Knives. I have been with them on their march when they knew not, and my warriors have watched every step they took. Where were your senses, that you only watched the river? The road over the prairie from Fort Massac is straight. A child could follow it to Kaskaskia.”
“Spare me your sneers, mademoiselle,” said Rocheblave, not without dignity; “there is my captor, if you wish to turn to the rising sun. I can entertain no further proposals, for I am a prisoner.”
“I did not come here to reproach you, my cousin,” said Ruby, gently; “but for a kinder purpose by far. I will open the door again, if you will enter. See now, you were born a Frenchman, and the French king owned all this place. Now France and America are allies, and I call to you to return to your old allegiance; desert this sour-faced British nation, and be a gay friend of America as I am.”
“Never,” exclaimed Rocheblave, angrily—“never will I submit to be called a friend of these accursed rebel hounds. Let them do their worst. I have eaten the king’s bread, and I will never desert him. Go, tempt Coralie, if you like. I will not yield.”
“And where is Coralie?” asked Ruby, with a slight smile.
“In her chamber, which the rebel dogs dare not profane,” said the Governor, loftily. “Even there they had the insolence to penetrate last night.”
“They found but little, I venture to say,” answered Ruby. “I know Coralie too well to doubt her ability to hoodwink these men of Kentucky, who—between us, cousin—are easily blinded by a fine woman. By this time, I doubt not that the agreements with Blackfish and the Chickasaw chiefs are burnt. How much do you pay for white scalps this year, cousin?”