hadowed by the hood, calmly fronting her who had commanded quiet.
Slowly he lifted one arm, the loose sleeve lending dignity and power to
the simple gesture, his white extended hand seeming to have in it the
authority of command. A moment, heedless of the scowling, painted
faces all about, the slight figure stood erect and firm, the dark eyes
bearing witness to his earnestness, and never wavering from Naladi's
scornful face.

"Woman," he said calmly, even as I imagine Christ may have spoken of
old, "release this prisoner, and make thy peace with God."

She endeavored to laugh mockingly, yet only a hollow semblance came
from between her white lips. "Pah!" she cried nervously, "you speak
bravely; pray, who gave you authority to give orders to the Daughter of
the Sun?"

"One greater than the Sun, woman," he answered. "I speak to you in the
name of Jesus of Nazareth, and by authority of the Holy Catholic
Church."

She leaned yet farther forward, as though seeking to penetrate the
shadow concealing his face, a perceptible tremor apparent in her voice.

"Who are you? Answer me!"

"I am called Father Ignatius, a priest of the Order of Jesuits."

"And what do you suppose I care for your Romish orders? They have no
power here; a single wave of my hand would condemn you to the place of
yonder slaves." Her color rose in the wave of passion, sweeping fear
aside. "I have nothing but hatred for your black robe, and your
interference only intensifies my purpose. Mark you now what I say; if
it be the will of my people to put this cringing French woman to the
torture, I lift not so much as a finger to change her fate. More,
because of your insolence I give you also into their hands. We take no
orders from the Church of Rome."

"Your people!" the words rang forth with such clearness as almost to
bring me to my feet. "You foul fiend of hell, do you think thus to
impose your vile imposture on me? I fear neither your power nor the
cruelty of your savage satellites. My life is in the hands of my
Master, who will give me strength to mock your torture. Two months ago
I was bound to a stake in the valley below. Ask these fiends, who do
your bidding, whether I shrank back in terror, or made outcry as the
flame ate into my flesh. Gaze on these stumps blackened by fire, and
learn how I value your threats. Peace, woman, and no longer mock the
faith of your childhood."

"My childhood? You know nothing of that!"

"Do I