Mas. That's guessing, sir. There's fernseed on her wings.
She flits invisible, then bat your eyes
You see her.
Cha. I've her word she'd meet me here.
Mas. Queer place. You come from Quito?
Cha. Yes. 'Twas there
I had her letter making this strange tryst.
I've travelled from that hour. Famette has left
Her name upon the air, and all the way
I heard it.
Mas. She's the bird of courage, dares
Go far as our LeVal himself. But here's
What brought me, sir. [Gives Chartrien a letter]
'Tis from LeVal.
Cha. His hand!
His living hand! [Reads, pales, and stands silent]
Mas. Bad, sir?
Cha. No, good. 'Tis good.
Mas. Then I'll be off. My head's no show variety,
But I'd not trust it long in th' grove of Peace.
We'll see you soon in camp?
Cha. To-night, I hope.
Famette holds key to that.