“It is she! it is she!” he cries, in a voice trembling with emotion. “Oh, God! it is she! Adèle! Adèle! do you not know me? Me—your father?”
Her screams continue. She pushes him off, stretching out her arms to the Indian, and calling upon him to protect her!
The father entreats her in wild and pathetic words. She heeds him not. She turns her face from him, and crouches down, hugging the knees of the priest!
“She knows me not! Oh, God! my child! my child!”
Again Seguin speaks in the Indian tongue, and with imploring accents—
“Adèle! Adèle! I am your father!”
“You! Who are you? The white men; our foes! Touch me not! Away, white men! away!”
“Dear, dearest Adèle! do not repel me—me, your father! You remember—”
“My father! My father was a great chief. He is dead. This is my father now. The Sun is my father. I am a daughter of Montezuma! I am a queen of the Navajoes!”
As she utters these words, a change seems to come over her spirit. She crouches no longer. She rises to her feet. Her screaming has ended, and she stands in an attitude of pride and indignation.