Prisoners of Chance

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."

"Parbleu! I warrant not from all I hear of that worthy servant," the Chevalier laughed gayly. "'T is told me the grim-faced old hypocrite sits in worshipful state, a veritable god, trussed like a bronze idol or some mummy of the Egyptians. By my faith, I should enjoy gazing on his solemn face, and listening to his words withal."

"'T is an unhappy experience for a Christian."

"Ay! a pity; yet it should do the canting preacher good to play heathen god a while. She pictured to me most vividly his struggles to escape a fit draping with which to match his hair. Sacre! I have not laughed so heartily since leaving New Orleans."

"She?" I exclaimed in new interest. "Have you been with your wife?"