It was not long before the followers of these vaudoux leaders had constructed a high seat for us. They brought some red cloth from the banqueting hall and began to cover it like the other; but I told the guide to say that in the higher vaudoux worship only white was used. Strange to say, some one soon appeared with a large piece of cotton like a sheet. This was draped over our throne, and upon this we seated ourselves. I then turned to the guard who had interpreted for us, and said with all seriousness:
"I suppose you do not belong to the sect in reality?"
"Belong!" said he. "I only did it as you do, to save my life."
I did not intend to divulge our secret to this stranger, as I was not sure at what moment he might become unfriendly, and so I determined that he should believe us what we had pretended to be.
"You seem to think that we are not really members of the vaudoux in North America," said I, "but there is where you are wrong, my friend."
"And the Captain?" broke in the guard.
I looked at him in astonishment.
"How do you know he is a captain?" asked I.
"Haven't I heard you call him so?" asked the guard.
"I think not," answered I, wondering. "I want these people to know," said I, "that we are what we say; that the Papaloi, the Grand Papaloi, has gone to North America. That there he has established his sect, and that in reality we were coming to visit Christophe when we were cast away, as well as to inspect the temples here and discover if the rites are observed with all due formalities."