"Señor," she said coldly, still speaking the Spanish tongue, "it did please my humor but now to play a small trick upon these innocent children of nature, knowing their faith and tribal customs. For the time being I won, and it is you who benefit. You, and these others, are for the present delivered from that torture to which you were condemned: the rising of yonder Sun has saved you; 'tis the law of the Natchez. Nay, thank me not," as I sought to express my words of gratitude. "I told you before it was not from any desire to show mercy, but for a purpose of my own. Yet if you would continue to profit through my strange whim—and surely I have seldom been thus swayed to action—then it will be well to give heed unto my words. I bid you proceed at once to that second hut yonder, nor dare venture forth again until I send. The children of the Sun bow now to the commands of their ancient faith, yet are of temper hard to control."
"You fear they may yet demand us in sacrifice?"
"Not to-day, unless you do that which shall arouse their passions beyond my power of restraint. While the sun dominates the sky your lives are preserved from violence, but if you would live longer it must be through careful guarding of speech and action. I promise nothing beyond the present day. But now," she bent over, severing my bonds with a flint blade, "go; do exactly as I bade you, and no longer bandy words with me."
"But the lady within the lodge?" I ventured anxiously, as I struggled to my feet, standing erect before her.
"She bides elsewhere."
"It will be hard for her alone—"
"What is all that to you, sirrah?" she interrupted haughtily. "According to the tale told, you are not her husband. He who might have right to question separation has made no complaint."
"He does not comprehend your speech. For that reason he remains dumb."
"Mean you it is he who inspires your objection?" she asked scornfully.
"No; yet I doubt not 'tis in his heart even as upon my lips."