Between these and other duties, Colonel Clark found some leisure for diversion, and sought it usually in the long room of the Commandant's house, where Ellen held her court with a constantly increasing number of subjects. Madame Rocheblave had left Kaskaskia soon after Ellen's recovery, to visit friends in Detroit, while awaiting the release of M. Rocheblave, who had been sent to Virginia with several other prisoners. But Angélique had consented to accept services as Ellen's maid, and was in constant attendance upon her.
Among Ellen's admirers the most indefatigable and determined were Monsieur Légère, Colonel Clark, Thomas and I; and for each of us she had a special course of treatment that kept us hovering between hope and despair. Monsieur Légère's manner of attack was nightly to serenade Ellen with voice and guitar, and daily to present her with passionate love poems, hidden in bunches of gorgeous wild flowers, which he had gathered at risk of limb and life from the most inaccessible spurs of the bluff across the river. These offerings she would receive with just enough appearance of pleasure, and expression of appreciation to prevent that emotional youth from committing suicide. Thomas, she treated as she would a brother, took him to mass with her, and alternately commanded, scolded, and coaxed him. He alone failed to see that there was naught but cousinly regard, and a degree of gratitude and pity in her heart for him.
Colonel Clark sued, as he did everything else, masterfully. It was plain, too, that this had a certain effect upon Ellen, who moreover, could not fail to be attracted by his handsome person and winning manners. That personal charm felt so strongly by men, even by savages and foreigners must produce a more sure effect upon the feelings of the woman whom he condescended to woo. Yet Ellen did not acknowledge his power, but rather took pleasure in making him yield to her. There was almost daily warfare of words between them. She would be starting to vespers with Thomas perhaps, just as Clark would be mounting the porch steps.
"You are not going this afternoon, Miss Ellen," in his firm tone of command; "I want you to stay and talk to me."
"But I always go to vespers, Colonel Clark."
"Except when I come to see you."
"No matter who comes to see me."
"You need make exception in my case only; I have many duties, and can not choose my hours of recreation; you can say your prayers all day, if you wish."
"Vesper hour is sacred; I cannot profane it by staying away from service to amuse even you, Colonel Clark. Moreover I am neither Frenchman, Indian, nor soldier; I do not take orders from the Long-Knives," and she would flash upon him a look of smiling defiance, and pass on.
"You are as cruel as fair, Miss Ellen," in hurt, gentle tones; "you cannot guess how weary, and heart-hungry I am, or you would be more merciful. Are you not the one bit of home, and comfort, and cheer we soldiers have in this wilderness? Now, after a day of toil, with the prospect of an hour of delight with you as my only recompense, you leave me thus without a word of regret."