ubies and the fathomless radiance of sapphires.
Silks and satins and cloth of gold and silver had few novelties for
them. The costumers of Paris, center of the world of art, even in those
times of unrivaled extravagance and unbridled self-gratification, held
no new surprise for these beauties, possessed so long of all that their
imagination required or that princely liberality could supply. Yet here
indeed was a surprise.

As she stood at the regent's right, calmly and composedly looking down
the long board as she arranged her drapery before reseating herself,
this new favorite of the regent appeared in the full costume of the
American native! A long soft tunic of exquisitely dressed white leather
fell below her hips, intricately embroidered in the native bead work of
America, and stained with great blotches of colors done in the quills of
the porcupine--heavy reds, sprightly yellows, and deep blues. Down the
seams of this loose-fitting tunic depended little waving fringes. The
belt which caught it at the waist was wrought likewise in beads. Beneath
the level of the table, as she stood, the inquiring eyes might not so
clearly see; yet the white leggings, fringed and beaded, and covered by
a sweeping blanket of snowy buckskin, might have been seen to finish at
the ankle and blend in texture and ornamentation with tiny shoes, which
covered the smallest foot yet seen in Paris--shoes at the side of which
there dangled the little bells of metal whose tones had told her coming.

Here and there upon the bead work of the native artist, who had made
this attire at the expense of so much patient effort, there blazed the
changing rays of real gems, diamonds, rubies, emeralds--every stone
known as precious. As the full bosom of the scornful beauty rose and
fell there were cast about in sprays of light the reflections of these
gems. Bracelets of dull, beaten metal hung about her wrists. In her hair
were ornaments of some dull blue stone. Barbaric, beautiful,
fascinating, savage she surely seemed as she met unruffled the startled
gaze of these beautiful women of the court, who never, at even the most
fanciful _bal masque_ in all Paris, had seen costume like to this.

"Ladies, _la voila_!" spoke the regent. "_Ma belle sauvage_!"

The newcomer swept a careless courtesy as she took her seat. As yet she
had spoken no word. The door at the lower end of the hall opened.

"His Grace le Duc de Richelieu," announced the attendant, who stoo