"That is true, and it is my duty to allow that you have nobly performed that perilous task."
"Very well; but in doing so I only acted as my honour dictated; you, on your part, pledged yourself whatever the issue of the battle might be, to grant me my liberty, and give me an honourable satisfaction, in reparation for the unworthy treachery of which you rendered me the victim, and the odious part you forced me unconsciously to play."
"Oh, oh!" White Buffalo said, frowning, and striking the table with his fists. "Did you really make such a promise as that, child?"
The Count turned to the old man with a gesture sovereign contempt.
"I believe, sir," he said, "that you are doubting the honour of a gentleman."
"Nonsense, sir," the republican said, with a grin "How can you talk to us of honour and nobility? You forget that we are in the desert, and that you are addressing savage Indians, as you call us. Do we recognize your foolish caste distinctions here? Have we adopted your laws and absurd prejudices?"
"What you treat so cavalierly," the Count sharply retorted, "has hitherto been the safeguard of civilization, and the cause of intellectual progress; but I have nothing to discuss with you; I am addressing myself to your adopted son; let him answer me, yes or no, and I shall then know what remains for me to do."
"Be it so, sir," White Buffalo said, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Let my son answer, and, according to his reply, I shall then know what remains for me to do."
"As this affair concerns me alone," Natah Otann interposed, "I should feel mortally offended, my friend, if you interfered in any way in it."
The White Buffalo smiled with contempt, but made no reply. Natah Otann continued—