I glanced around. The lodge was unexpectedly neat, and though I
dreaded to leave the woman in the smoke, I knew it was unwise to
protest. Would she be willing to stay? She was often ruled by
impulse, and it would be like her to clamor for the clean starlight. I
told her, in short phrase, what the chief had said. "And I beg you to
show as little repugnance as possible," I added.

She listened without showing me her eyes,--which were always the only
index I had to what was in her mind.

"Thank the chief for his hospitality," she rejoined, and she looked
toward Onanguissé, and bowed with a pretty gesture of acceptance. Then
she walked over to me.

"When you thought me a man," she said hurriedly, and in a tone so low
that only I could hear, "you trusted somewhat to my judgment,--even
though you saw me fail. When you found me a woman, you trusted less,
and since--since you arranged to marry me, you have assumed that I
would fail you at every turn. Ours is a crooked road, monsieur, and
there are many turns ahead. If you burden your mind so heavily with me
you cannot attend to what is your real concern. Trust me more. Think
less about me. I will show no irritation, no initiative, and I will
follow where you point. I should like to think that you would rest
to-night,--rest care free. I wish you good-night, monsieur."

She had spoken with a hurry of low-toned words that left me no opening,
and now she turned away before my tongue was ready to serve my mind.
She bowed us to the door, and the rush mat fell between us. I watched
the old chief stalk away and wondered what was in his mind.