“I know, madame.”

“But when—­when I saw what he had done, when I saw that we were going west, I warned him that I would leave him.  I told him, too, that he was going to his death.  He did not believe me.  No watch was kept on me.  He had a small canoe; I took it one night.  I had provision—­a little——­ I—­I—­I am here, monsieur.”

I stood with my eyes down.  “Your cousin wished to follow you.  The Indians restrained him.  It was as I told you.  He was not a coward at the last, madame."’

I heard her quick breath.  “My cousin,—­he was very weak.  But he would have liked not to be.  I think that he would have liked to be such a man as you, monsieur.”

If I had been a live man I should have cried out at the irony of having to hear her say that to me.  But I could not feel even shame.

“Hush, hush!” I said slowly.  “It is my turn now.  Madame, I knew that you were in the Seneca camp.”

“But I was not.”

“It is the same as if you were.  We had news from Indian runners that Starling had turned west and joined Pemaou.  I knew that he would take you to the Senecas.”  I stopped and forced myself to look at her.  But I found no horror in her face.  There was still that strange glow of pride that had not faded since she talked to Cadillac.  I saw that she did not understand.  My voice was thick, but I tried to speak again.  She interrupted.

“This is not a surprise to me.  This wilderness that seems so lonely is full of eyes and ears.  I feared that you would hear that we had turned west.”

Her face was unsteady with tenderness.  I had never seen her look like that.  I warded her away though she was several feet distant.  “You do not understand,” I said.  “I knew that you were in the camp, yet I gave the signal to attack it.  I gave the signal to attack it with Indians, and you were inside.”

“But I was not inside, monsieur.”

“I believed you to be, and I gave the signal.”

“But, monsieur, I”——­

“Madame, I believed you to be in the camp, and I gave the signal to attack it.”

She was silent at that, and I knew that at last she understood.  We stood side by side.  I looked at the litter in Cadillac’s tent, and counted it piece by piece.  There were clothes, papers, a handmill for grinding maize.  I felt her touch my hand.

“Will you sit beside me on the couch?”

I followed her.  She sat facing me, just out of reach of my hand.  The light in the tent was blue and dim, but I could see the breath flutter in her throat.  I looked at her.  I should never be alone with her again.  I should never again look at her in this way.  I tried to hold the moment, and not blur it.  I looked at the lips that I had never kissed.  I watched the rise and fall of the bosom where my head had never lain.  She was speaking, but I could hardly understand.