Angelique now played on the harp to soothe tante-gra’mere’s digestion after her midday dinner, while outdoors all Kaskaskia buzzed with excitement.  It was a field day in territorial politics.  All the girls were at Peggy Morrison’s house, watching the processions march by, and making bouquets to send up to the speakers, of whom Rice Jones was chief.  Tante-gra’mere had her heavy green shutters closed, to keep out disturbing sights and the noise of fife and drum.  Her eyes snapped in the gloom.  It was a warm day, and the large apartment looked like a linen bazaar, so many garments had tante-gra’mere discarded on account of the heat, and hung about her.  The display made Angelique’s face burn when Colonel Menard was announced; but it was one of tante-gra’mere’s unshakable beliefs that her linen was so superior to other people’s its exposure was a favor to the public.  Any attempt to fold it away would put her into a fury.

The colonel had his hat and riding-whip in his hand.  He stood smiling at both the aged woman and the girl, with his comprehensive grasp of all individualities.  The slave woman placed a chair for him between the bed and the harp.  Angelique loved the harp; but she was glad to let her hands fall in her lap, and leave Colonel Menard to work good nature in her tante-gra’mere.  The autocrat tolerated him with as much liking as she could give to any suitor of Angelique’s.  The intentions of the others were discovered only through slaves used as spies; but he came into her state apartment and showed her consideration.  She sat up on her broad throne, against the background of pillows, and received his salute upon her hand.  Afterwards he bowed over Angelique’s fingers.

“I hope the seven children of monsieur the colonel are well,” said tante-gra’mere in her tiny scream.

“Four, madame,” corrected the visitor.  “Thanks, they are very well.”

They spoke in French, for although she understood English she never condescended to use it.  Their conference begun each time by her inquiry after his seven children.

“And madame, I hope she is comfortable to-day?”

“I neither sleep nor eat,” declared tante-gra’mere.  “And with the streets full of a shouting rabble, there is no comfort to be had in Kaskaskia.”

“We are rather noisy to-day.  But we are very earnest in this matter.  We want to be separated from the Indiana Territory and be made an independent State.”

Tante-gra’mere caught up her whip, and cracked it so suddenly on the back of her little page, who was prying into a wall closet, that he leaped like a frog, and fell on all fours at the opposite corner of the hearth.  His grandmother, the black woman, put him behind her, and looked steadily at their tyrant.  She sat on the floor like an Indian; and she was by no means a soft, full-blooded African.  High cheek-bones and lank coarse hair betrayed the half-breed.  Untamed and reticent, without the drollery of the black race, she had even a Pottawatomie name, Watch-e-kee, which French usage shortened to Wachique.