hellish scene. It seemed as if all
strength, all manhood, had deserted me before the utter helplessness of
our position. There was nothing left except useless sacrifice--a
moment's hopeless struggle, the sole reward death under the war-club or
by torture. God knows it was not myself I considered, but Eloise. It
was thought of her which so unnerved me, so paralyzed body and mind.
The Puritan dropped his heavy hand on my shoulder.
"Great Jehovah," he muttered, "look there!"
How he ever made it I know not; how he ever crept on tortured stumps
down those rude steps, and along the dark, rocky tunnel; how he ever
succeeded in penetrating unscathed that howling mob of savages--yet
there, in the very midst of them, fully revealed in the torch glare,
his pallid, girlish face uplifted, but concealed beneath the shadow of
his cowl, the silver cross gleaming in the light, beside Eloise, knelt
the black-robed Jesuit. Amid the sudden hush of surprise I overheard
his voice, fearless, calm, unfaltering, as he gave the weeping woman
sacrament of the Church. A great brute struck at him; the frail figure
reeled sideways to the force of the blow, but the words of prayer did
not cease, nor his grasp on her hand relax. Rallying from their
astonishment, the warriors crowded in upon them, and a fanatical priest
hurled the _pere_ headlong to the floor. I saw a brandishing of clubs,
a glitter of spears, yet the poor fellow came erect once more, his arm
resting for support on the woman's shoulder. It was all in a flash of
time, like some swift transformation on the stage we could scarcely
comprehend. At the instant a voice spoke, ringing above the babel,
which ceased suddenly. I glanced involuntarily toward Naladi. She
stood leaning forward, her hands gripping the stone parapet,
conflicting emotions playing across her face.
As the torches, uplifted, gleamed brighter upon the motionless Queen,
they revealed a look of perplexity, almost fear, in her cold eyes.
What held her speechless? Was it remembrance of another life, when the
stern word of the Church had been law? or was she merely troubled by so
mysterious an appearance, her guilty soul swayed by superstitious
terror? She was all too strange a riddle for my reading, but some
occult power held her helpless, silent. The vengeful cries of her
savage followers died away into threatening murmurs; the _pere_
remained motionless, one hand on Eloise's bowed head, his white face
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