Don Miguel knows not that the mariners from Salem and the whalers
of New England hold different religious views from the impassioned
Creoles of the Crescent City.

The prisoner's eye catches the black robe of the priest fluttering
among the rose walks of the garden. Walking with him is a lady,
while a pretty girl of seven or eight years plays in the shady
bowers.

The sergeant gruffly fulfils the orders of his chief. Maxime is
given the articles needed for his immediate use. He fears now, at
least, a long captivity, but a war may bring his doom suddenly on
him.

There is an air of authority in Miguel Peralta's eye, which is
a guarantee of honor, as well as a personal menace. His detention
will depend on the actions of the besieged Fremont.

Valois prays that bloodshed may not occur. His slender chances hang
now on a peaceable solution of the question of this Yankee visit.

There have been days in the dreary winter, when Maxime Valois has
tried to divine the future of the magnificent realm he traverses.
His education and birth gave him the companionship of the scientific
subordinates of the party. His services claimed friendly treatment
of the three engineer officers in command. That the American flag
will finally reach the western ocean he doubts not. Born in the
South, waited upon by patrimonial slaves, he is attached to the
"peculiar institution" which throws its dark shadow on the flag of
this country. Already statesmen of the party have discussed the