She smiled faintly.
“Yes,” she said, and for the first time he perceived the faintness and weariness of her voice. He inquired with some anxiety:
“You are still ill?”
She shook her head.
“Quite well,” she said, “but when one has lain long upon the honorable back, then one’s speech sometimes becomes exhausted.”
“Ah!”
This response, he took it, might be an intimation that she was not strong enough for conversation. On the other hand, it was longer than her previous monosyllabic answers, and therefore more encouraging. Well, he would speak to her of the child. This subject must surely interest her.
“Permit me to inquire,” he continued, with bland interest, “the sex of your honorable offspring?”
“Male,” she answered simply.
“Ah! you are indeed fortunate.” He went a step nearer to her, looking solicitously at the child’s head. The projecting gable above mother and child was a sufficient shade for the upturned face of the sleeping child; but the mother must be moved from her apathetic listlessness in some way. So the Nakoda exclaimed in alarm: