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Updated: May 24, 2025
This court, floored with split logs, covered with bearskin rugs and furnished in handmade chairs of twisted palmetto and a rude table, years back Mic-co and his Indian aides had built above a clear, lazy stream. Now the stream crept beneath the logs to a quiet open pool in the center where lilies and grasses grew, and thence by its own channel under the logs again and out.
Poynter is at the bedside of his father. Granberry has gone to learn the tale of the other candlestick. These men, Ronador, we must see again before we sail. In the meantime, there is Poynter's physician." "Very well," said Ronador, goaded to a sudden consent by a fevered wave of nausea and shaking, "let us go to him." So came Prince Ronador and the Baron to the island lodge of Mic-co.
Mic-co had said quietly by the pool one night that he had been a doctor that he loved the peace and quiet of his island home that years back the Seminoles had saved his life. He had since devoted his own life to their service. They were a pitiful, hunted remnant of a great race who were kindred to the Aztec. He seemed to think his explanation quite enough.
I must talk in simpler ways for all I study." They fell quiet. "Read me again that live oak poem of Lanier's," said Carl. She read, as she frequently read to Carl and Mic-co in the long quiet afternoons, with an accent musical and soft, of the immortal marshes of Glynn.
She is a fine, true, splendid woman." An ineffectual aunt in the critical years of adolescence! Mic-co did not suggest that his cousin's sex had been her salvation. So nights by the pool Mic-co plumbed the depths of his young guest with the fine, tired eyes. "Tell me," he said gently another night; "this inordinate sensitiveness of which you speak. To what do you attribute it?" Carl colored.
"I am ever quiet," said Red-winged Blackbird with dignity. "Mic-co says it is better so." "Why?" "Mic-co only understands, and even to him I may not always talk." She went sedately on with the modeling of clay, her slender hands swift, graceful, unfaltering. Mic-co's lodge abounded in evidences of their deftness. "You have more grace," said Carl suddenly, "than any woman I have ever known."
With faultless courtesy Diane accepted and presently partook with healthy relish of a supper of duck and sweet potatoes. The silence of the Indian girl was utterly without constraint. "I wonder," begged Diane impetuously, "if you'll tell me who Mic-co is? I'm greatly interested. He taught you about Rome?"
Only a freak of fate has stayed my hand. And there is more that I may not tell " "So?" said Mic-co quietly. Flushing, Carl took the outstretched hand. "I I thank you," he said, and looked away. The rooms of Mic-co's lodge opened, in the fashion of the old Pompeian villas, upon a central court roofed only by the Southern sky.
There is peace here and I am tired. We traveled rapidly " Nevertheless, for all his feverish denial, his desperate attempts to keep to the thread of desultory talk were pitiful. He frowned heavily, began his sentences slowly and trailed off incoherently to a halt and silence. The Baron turned compassionately away from him to Mic-co with a question.
"My name," she offered presently with her ready smile, "is Diane." "Di-ane," said the Indian girl majestically. And added naïvely, "She was the Roman goddess of light and of hunting, is it not so?" Diane looked very blank. "Where in the world " she stammered, staring, and colored. The Indian girl smiled. "From so high," she said shyly, "I have been taught by Mic-co.
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