Princess. [Turning.] Ah!
Miami. Miami has followed thy steps. Thou art the friend of the white men.
Princess. Yes, for they are good and godlike.
Miami. Mine eyes beheld the pale youth part from you; your arms were entwined, your lips were together!
[Struggling with jealousy.
Princess. He is my lover; I am his lover.
[Still looking after Rolfe.
Miami. [Stamps with anger.] Hear me! In what do the red yield to the white men? and who among the red men is like Miami? While I was yet a child, did the dart which my breath blew through my sarbacan ever fail to pierce the eye of the bird? What youth dared, like Miami, to leap from the precipice, and drag the struggling bear from the foaming torrent? Is there a hunter—is there a warrior—skilful and brave as Miami? Come to my cabin, and see the scalps and the skins that adorn it. They are the trophies of the Susquehannock!
Princess. Man, mine eyes will never behold thy trophies. They are not pleased to look on thee.
[Averting her eyes with disgust.