They arranged for her in spite of protest, however. Rice muffled her in
a shawl, Mademoiselle Saucier sat down at her right side and Peggy
Morrison at her left, and the next dance began.

Maria Jones had repressed and nestling habits. She curled herself into a
very small compass in the easy gallery chair, and looked off into the
humid mysteries of the June night. Colonel Menard's substantial slave
cabins of logs and stone were in sight, and up the bluff near the house
was a sort of donjon of stone, having only one door letting into its
base.

"That's where Colonel Menard puts his bad Indians," said Peggy Morrison,
following Maria's glance.

"It is simply a little fortress for times of danger," said Mademoiselle
Saucier, laughing. "It is also the colonel's bureau for valuable papers,
and the dairy is underneath."

"Well, you French understand one another's housekeeping better than we
English do; and may be the colonel has been explaining these things to
you."

"But are there any savage men about here now?"

"Oh, plenty of them," declared Peggy. "We have some Pottawatomies and
Kickapoos and Kaskaskias always with us,--like the poor. Nobody is
afraid of them, though. Colonel Menard has them all under his thumb, and
if nobody else could manage them he could. My father says they will
give their furs to him for nothing rather than sell them to other
people. You must see that Colonel Menard is very fascinating, but I
don't think he charms Angelique as he does the Indians."

Mademoiselle Saucier's smile excused anything Peggy might say. Maria
thought this French girl the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. The
waist of her clinging white gown ended under the curve of her girlish
breasts, and face, neck, and arms blossomed out with the polish of
flower-petals. Around her throat she wore gold beads suspending a cross.
Her dark hair, which had an elusive bluish mist, like grapes, was pinned
high with a gold comb. Her oval face was full of a mature sympathy
unusual in girls. Maria had thought at first she would rather be alone
on the gallery, but this reposeful and tender French girl at once became
a necessity to her.

"Peggy," said Angelique, "I hear Jules Vigo inquiring for you in the
hall."

"Then I shall take to the roof," responded Peggy.

"Have some regard for Jules."

"You may have, but I shan't. I will not dance with a kangaroo."

"Do you not promise dances ahead?" inquired Maria.

"No, our mothers d