Останній з Могікан

           Thewomanwascommencingalowandplaintivehowlatthesadandshamefulspectacle,whenthechiefputforthhishandandgentlypushedheraside.

           "Reed-that-bends,"hesaid,addressingtheyoungculpritbyname,andinhisproperlanguage,"thoughtheGreatSpirithasmadeyoupleasanttotheeyes,itwouldhavebeenbetterthatyouhadnotbeenborn.Yourtongueisloudinthevillage,butinbattleitisstill.Noneofmyyoungmenstrikethetomahawkdeeperintothewar-post—noneofthemsolightlyontheYengeese.Theenemyknowtheshapeofyourback,buttheyhaveneverseenthecolorofyoureyes.Threetimeshavetheycalledonyoutocome,andasoftendidyouforgettoanswer.Yournamewillneverbementionedagaininyourtribe—itisalreadyforgotten."

           Asthechiefslowlyutteredthesewords,pausingimpressivelybetweeneachsentence,theculpritraisedhisface,indeferencetotheother’srankandyears.Shame,horror,andpridestruggledinitslineaments.Hiseye,whichwascontractedwithinwardanguish,gleamedonthepersonsofthosewhosebreathwashisfame;andthelatteremotionforaninstantpredominated.Hearosetohisfeet,andbaringhisbosom,lookedsteadilyonthekeen,glitteringknife,thatwasalreadyupheldbyhisinexorablejudge.Astheweaponpassedslowlyintohisheartheevensmiled,asifinjoyathavingfounddeathlessdreadfulthanhehadanticipated,andfellheavilyonhisface,atthefeetoftherigidandunyieldingformofUncas