CHAPTER XXVI
THE CHRONICLES OF THE NATCHEZ
These pages have been poorly written if he who reads has not discovered that I am of a nature not easily discouraged by events, or disheartened by misfortune. God had sufficiently armored me with hope; so that in the midst of much darkness I sought for whatever light of guidance there might be, making the most of it. Yet the intense, unanticipated loneliness of that bare hut chilled my blood, and I scarcely recall a more wretched time than while I waited, stung and tortured by fears, for the return of De Noyan.
In truth the rough conclusions voiced by the angry sectary merely confirmed my own fear. I had marked within the eyes of Naladi—dreamy as they appeared beneath the shading of long lashes—no promise of tenderness of heart. I believed it was seldom she inclined to mercy, seldom she would step between her warriors and their revenge. I acknowledge freely I felt to some degree the strange spell of her power, the magic influence of her soft, sinuous beauty, which I doubt if any man could utterly resist. Yet I recognized her from the first, even as she stood wrapped in the sun's rays on the rock summit, as one who, by instinct and nature, was scarce less a savage than her most desperate follower, although she possessed the rare gift of masking her cruelty beneath the pleasing smile of a woman not entirely unacquainted with the courtesies of refinement.
I marvelled greatly who she could be, thus sporting the polite graces of a reception-room in the midst of these squalid huts. What was her strange life-story? How ever came such a woman, with charm of face, and grace of manner, to be acknowledged leader over such a people? It was not so odd that a clever, resourceful woman, driven perhaps by necessity, should have made unscrupulous use of their dominant superstitions, and, by naming herself "Daughter of the Sun," have obtained supreme power. The perfect acting of such an assumed character would not prove difficult to her, while their servile worship of the protesting Puritan, whose red hair alone had elevated him to sainthood, proved how easily these savages might be deceived, and led slaves by subtle magic. Yet who was the woman? Whence came she? Why should she ever have chosen such a life?
And Eloise! Through what misfortune had she already attained the undisguised dislike of this Amazon? To what fate would this unmerited disfavor condemn her? It is a terrible thing to remain chained and helpless at such a time, to realize that cruel wrong, possibly torture, is being visited upon another, upon one you know and love, and yet be unable to uplift hand or voice in warning. I am by nature cool in action, yet there are few who fret more grievously when held in leash, compelled to await in uncertainty the coming of the unknown.
All I could do that day was to pace the hard earthen floor, vainly endeavoring to quiet the wild throbbing of my heart with every hope I might conjure up, now and then approaching the unguarded entrance of the lodge to search anxiously for some ground of hope. It was thus the long afternoon wore away, until the deepening shadows of sun-setting rested heavily along the western cliffs, and the workers in the fields began trooping through the village, their shouts of greeting shrill and discordant, while the grim priests found place before the draped entrance to their dread altar-house, with blazing fagots signalling their distant brethren on the dizzy summit. It was then De Noyan finally returned and found me raging from wall to wall like one distracted.
It required but a glance to note the subtile change the afternoon had wrought in his personal appearance, yet at the time I did not greatly marvel at it. The stains of battle and exposure, that had so decidedly disfigured him, had disappeared before the magic of new raiment, which had about it the color and cut of French fashion; so it was now a fair and prosperous gallant of the court, powdered of hair, waxen of moustache, who came jauntily forward with his greetings.
"What said I, Master Benteen?" he questioned cheerily to my stare of surprise. "Did I not boldly contend that this would yet prove a pleasant resting-place to relieve the tedium of a journey? Can you gaze upon this gay attire, longer doubting the verity of my dreams? But no happiness finds reflection in your face; 'tis gloomy as a day of rain. Prithie, the afternoon must have been passed by you far less pleasantly than its hours sped with me."
"I have been conversing with good Master Cairnes," I responded gravely. "I found him in no state of mind or body to bring me pleasant thought."