"And have you no suggestions to make, Sage?" asked Irais, turning to the Man of Wrath, who was blowing out clouds of smoke in silence.
"Oh, do you call him Sage?" cried Minora; "and always in English?"
"Oh, I know,--how stupid of me!" cried Minora eagerly, her pencil in mid-air and her brain clutching at the elusive recollection, "sage and,-- why,--yes,--no,--yes, of course--oh," disappointedly, "but that's vulgar-- I can't put it in."
"She thinks sage and onions is vulgar," said Irais languidly; "but it isn't, it is very good." She got up and walked to the piano, and, sitting down, began, after a little wandering over the keys, to sing.
The effect was equally strong on the sage, though differently exhibited.
The sage started, and bent his head aside, as if to catch the fleeting sounds of some passing melody.
After a patient pause, however, one of the aged men, perceiving that the sage had lost the recollection of the subject before them, ventured to remind him again of the presence of the prisoner.
"Delaware!" resumed the sage, "little art thou worthy of thy name.
"The hour of Tamenund is nigh!" exclaimed the sage; "the day is come, at last, to the night!
"It is true--it is true," returned the sage, a flash of recollection destroying all his pleasing fancies, and restoring him at once to a consciousness of the true history of his nation.
"Tell me, son of my brother," returned the sage, avoiding the dark countenance of Le Subtil, and turning gladly to the more ingenuous features of Uncas, "has the stranger a conqueror's right over you?"