He loved a man of quick reply.

"What do you call him ?" indicating the Indian, whose dark eyes were constantly roving.
"The Black Kettle is his Indian name; but I have baptized him as Dominique." "Tell him for me that he is a man." "My son," said Chaumonot, speaking slowly in French, "the white chief says that you are a man." The Iroquois expanded under this flattery.

"The white chief has the proud eye of the eagle." "Devil take me!" cried the marquis; "but it seems that he talks very good French!" "It took some labor," replied Chaumonot; "but he was quick to learn, and he is of great assistance to me." "Is he a Catholic ?" curiously.
"Aye, and proud to be." The marquis signified his astonishment by wagging his head.

"I should like to see this Indian at mass; it must be very droll." "Monsieur," said Chaumonot, passing over the marquis's questionable irony, "will you permit me to tell you a short story before approaching the subject of my visit ?" "Rabelaisian ?" maliciously.
"No; not a monstrous story, but one relative to an act of kindness which took place many years ago." "Well, if I am not interested I shall interrupt you," said the marquis.
He swept his hand toward the wine, but the priests and the Iroquois respectfully declined.

"Proceed." "Once upon a time," began Chaumonot, his eyes directed toward the bronze console which supported the mantel, "there lived a lad whose father was a humble vine-dresser.