expostulated, and I turned my back, and gave myself to my pipe and
silence.

The birds sang softly as if wearied, and the earth was warm to the
hand. I held the flowers in my fingers, and they smelled, somehow,
like the roses on our terrace at home on moonlight evenings when I had
been young and thought myself in love. I watched a drift of white
butterflies hang over an opening red blossom. Such moments pay for
hours of famine. It disturbed me to have the Englishman rise and go
away.

"Why do you go?" I demanded.

He came back at once. "What can I do for you, monsieur?"

His gentleness shamed my shortness of speech. "It was nothing," I
replied. "The truth is, it was pleasant to have you here beside me."
I laughed at my own folly. "Starling, I will put you in man's dress
to-morrow!" I cried.

He turned away. "As you like, monsieur. I think myself it would be
best. Will you get out the clothes to-night?"

But I stared at him. "Why blush about it, Starling?" I shrugged. I
felt some disdain of his sensitiveness. "I did not mean to twit you.
I understand that you have worn the squaw's dress to help us. But I
think that the necessity for disguise is past. I see the skirts
embarrass you."

He turned to look at me fairly. "I am not blushing, monsieur," he