In Search of Mademoiselle

by George Gibbs

Then said my lady, “Will Maheera grieve when the Moon-Princess is gone?”

“Not so much as Olotoraca will grieve.”

“But Maheera will be here and he will soon forget the Moon-Princess.”

“Maheera knows not. She is sorry. She loves Olotoraca with her whole heart but she has no hatred for the Moon-Princess. She will think of her and love her always—even when she has gone into the water of the coming day.”

There was trembling in the soft voice of the maid. It is a sadness to make so true a friend only to lose her again.

The following morning, with many pauses, Mademoiselle told the dreadful story of her sufferings. Nicholas Challeux had spoken the truth. For hidden in their hollow tree, covered by branches, Diane and Madame lay concealed throughout the terrific wind and rain-storm of that frightful night and through the terror of the next day. I did not press her to tell me more than she offered, for it grieved her to the soul to live over again that unhappy time. With hushed voice she told how she had fallen into the sleep of utter exhaustion and had wakened to find her hand clasped in the icy one of Madame, whose wide eyes showed that she had died of fear; she shuddered as she told of her escape upon the second night, worn almost to death by the agony through which she had passed; of her struggle, worn and draggled, more dead than alive, to the river upon whose bank she had fallen from exhaustion. Then her face lightened a little as she told how an Indian warrior had discovered her in the long grass and how he had carried her stealthily to the hiding-place among the Tacatacourous. But a Spanish soldier had seen her, and three times Diego de Baçan had come himself to the camps and villages of Satouriona telling of the death of the Sieur de la Notte and of the massacres upon the sand-spit, asking for her and offering great rewards if they would return her to the Fort, saying that she should be treated as a princess. Spanish spies were always upon the track of Olotoraca; but he, wary and skilled in woodcraft, had ever slipped away from them,—save once, when two of them traced him to the palisade. They had surprised him at a time when no guards were about the enclosure. Fearing to arouse the Tacatacourous they would not fire their arquebuses and so set upon him both at once with their swords. With his spear he had pierced one through the neck. The other, taking to flight, he lamed badly with an arrow,—so badly that the fellow could not get back to the fort to tell his discovery, but was killed that same night not a league away. Could I wonder after the tale of this service that Mademoiselle would have no blood-letting between the Paracousi and me?

Then I in my turn, sick even at the memory of it, told how the braves of Emola had found the ring with the ancient setting and how I had given her up for lost, and then I learned how she had given this ring to a waiting-maid of the household of Laudonnière in recompense for her kindness and service to Madame. Thus all was explained.

That night when we had eaten, we went out into the sweet-scented woods and seated ourselves upon a bed of moss under a wide-spreading oak. The sun had set and the twilight fell down upon us warm and soft as the touch of velvet. The breeze had blown into the west, where great banks of clouds hid the last glorious rays of this wonderful day of ours. For a long time we sat silent, fearing to break upon the hush of the animate things about us. Every twig was sleeping and over us fell that deep mysterious spell of the giant forest which linked us with time. For the nonce we were instincts only, symbols of nature, apiece with eternity.

We were so happy that we knew how little was the meaning of mere words. At last Mademoiselle sighed deeply.