"I knew it," the Count interrupted him.
"Good," the hunter continued, "I say, then, that this girl's life is extraordinary; instead of being sportive and laughing, like girls of her age, she is gloomy, dreamy, and wild, wandering ever alone on the prairie, flying over the dew-laden grass like a gazelle; or else, at night, dreaming in the moonlight, and muttering words no one hears. At times, from a distance (for no one ventures to approach her), another shadow may be traced by the side of her's, and moving for hours at her side: then she returns alone to the village; if questioned, only shakes her head, and begins crying."
"That is really strange."
"Is it not? so much so, that the chiefs assembled in council, and agreed that Prairie-Flower had cast a charm over her adopted father."
"The asses!" the Count muttered.
"Perhaps so," the hunter went on, turning his head; "at any rate, they agreed that she should be left alone to perish in the desert."
"Poor child! Well, what happened then?"
"Natah Otann and White Buffalo, who were not summoned to the council, went there on learning this decision, and succeeded by their deceitful words in so thoroughly altering the chiefs' sentiments, that they not only gave up all idea of deserting her, but she has since been regarded as the tutelary genius of the tribe."
"And Natah Otann?"
"His condition is still the same."