The Chisera
(After a pause, with great dignity.) Because he loved me.
Indians
Ah! Ah—ah! Ah!
Simwa
(Laughing.) The Friend of the gods has eaten rattleweed. Does a man love a wild woman who goes muttering and waving her arms, when she should be weaving and grinding meal? Would he take a wander-thought to his bed, and have witless children? Sooner I had a snake in my hut to run and tattle to the gods of me.
Tavwots
(To Padahoon.) Now, if it is true that he owes his fortune to the gods, they have deserted him, else he would not speak so to a jealous woman.
Simwa
(Looking long at the Chisera, haggard and unpainted, her blanket trailing, and then to the Chief's daughter, and back again, all the eyes of the campody following.) Is there any comeliness in a witch, that a man should desire her?