Adele gave a cry of delight as her hands sank into the depths of its
softness. She might well admire it, for no king in the world could have
had a finer skin. "Ah, it is beautiful, monsieur," she cried; "and what
creature is it? and where did it come from?"

"It is a black fox. I shot it myself last fall up near the Iroquois
villages at Lake Oneida."

She pressed it to her cheek, her white face showing up like marble
against its absolute blackness. "I am sorry my father is not here to
welcome you, monsieur," she said; "but I do so very heartily in his
place. Your room is above. Pierre will show you to it, if you wish."

"My room? For what?"

"Why, monsieur, to sleep in!"

"And must I sleep in a room?"

De Catinat laughed at the gloomy face of the American.

"You shall not sleep there if you do not wish," said he.

The other brightened at once and stepped across to the further window,
which looked down upon the court-yard. "Ah," he cried. "There is a
beech-tree there, mademoiselle, and if I might take my blanket out
yonder, I should like it better than any room. In winter, indeed, one
must do it, but in summer I am smothered with a ceiling pressing down
upon me."