can understand. It was as if I had been reborn into a
new set of beliefs. All that had seemed inevitable and great had grown
trivial. I could not see distinctions as I had. God made us--English,
French, Indians. I could not understand what patriotism stood for,
after all. I did not know what had come upon my mind, but I saw that
words that I had thought worth sacrificing life for had lost their
meaning. And so--and so---- You see what I would say. I have
changed. If you wish to lead the tribes you are not to think of me."

I rose and drew her to me. "But, Mary, I no longer wish to lead the
tribes."

She could not understand me, as indeed I could not wholly understand
myself. She looked at me gravely and long, and she tried to find the
truth in me,--the truth that was out of sight; the truth about myself
that even I did not know.

"Was the commandant right?" she queried. "Is it anxiety about me that
has changed your plans?"

I could only shake my head at her. "I am not sure." Then I sat beside
her and tried to explain. "Simon is dead, Pierre died saving me.
Leclerc and Labarthe died under torture. I sacrificed them to enforce
a belief. And now the belief is a phantom. It is very strange. Mary,
we have traveled by different roads, but we have reached the same goal.
My ambition for conquest is put away."

She drew a long breath, and I saw splendid understanding of me in the
look she gave. Yet she was unconvinced.

"Perhaps this feeling may pass," she argued. "It may be temporary.
Then you will regret your lost hold with the tribes."

I smiled at her. "I love you," I murmured. "I love you. I love you.
I am tired of talk of blood and war. Mary, you accepted me as I was,
accept me, if you can, as I am now. I cannot analyze myself. I cannot
promise what I will believe as time goes on. But this I know. I was
born with a sword in my hand, but now I cannot use it--for aggression.
I do not mean that I think it is wrong. I do not know what I believe.
Time will tell."

The strange light that made her seem all spirit flamed in the glance
that thanked me.

"Yet think well," she cautioned. "I--I am proud of you." Her voice
sank to a whisper. "Sometimes even my love seems swallowed in my pride
in you. I live on my pride in your power. Think of your unfinished
work. No, no, you must go on."

I took her by the shoulders. "You strange, double woman!" I cried,
with my voice unsteady. "You