"
Robert was conscious of some meaning in his words, perhaps a trace of
apology for a deed that he had done or would do, but in the mind of
young Lennox men's standards should be the same, whether in the
wilderness of New York and Canada or in the open fields of France and
England. De Courcelles, thoughtful for a moment, turned suddenly to the
man with the violin and cried:
"Play! Play again!"
The man played quaint old airs, folk songs that had been brought from
Normandy and Brittany, and the _habitants_ sang them in low voices or
rather hummed them in the subdued manner that seemed fitting to the
night, since the black shadows were creeping up closer, leaving only the
fire, as a core of light with the dusky figures around it. During all
the talk the Indians had been silent. They had eaten their food and
remained now, sitting in Turkish fashion, the flickering flames that
played across their faces giving to them a look sinister and menacing to
the last degree.
The Frenchmen, too, fell silent, as if their courtesy was exhausted and
conversation had become an effort.
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