(_Rising from the window_.)
_Helen_. Listen.
_Jan_. 'Tis nothing but the sound of the river. You can make nothing
else of it, Ma'amselle,--unless it is these locusts that you hear. I
wish they would cease their everlasting din a moment.
How that breeze has died away! Every leaf is still now! There's not a
cloud or a speck in all the sky.
_Helen_. Look in the west--have you looked there?
_Jan_. Yes, there are a few little clouds beginning to gather there
indeed. We shall have a shower yet ere night.
(_The war-whoop is heard, loud and near_.)
_Jan_. Mon Dieu! Here they are! It is all over with us! We shall be
murdered!
(_She clasps her hands, and shrieks wildly_.)
_Helen_. Hush! hush! Put down that window, and come away. We must be
calm now.
_Jan_. It is all over with us,--what use is there? Do you hear that
trampling?--in the street!--they are coming!
_Helen_. Janette--Hear me. Will you throw away your life and mine? For
shame! Be calm. These Indians cannot know that we are here. They will
see these houses _all_ deserted. Why should they stop to search _this?_
Hush! hush! they are passing now.
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