you cannot wish to take
advantage, or make claim upon me, until I can bid you welcome. I
appeal to you as a gentleman."

He stared into my face, scarcely comprehending all my meaning.

"You would bar me without? You forbid me entrance?"

"Would you seek to enter against my wish?"

"But you are my wife; that you will not deny! What will be said,
thought, if I seek rest elsewhere?"

"Monsieur, save for Hugo Chevet, none in this company know the story
of that marriage, or why I am here. What I ask brings no stain upon
you. 'Tis not that I so dislike you, Monsieur, but I am the daughter
of Pierre la Chesnayne, and 'tis not in my blood to yield to force. It
will be best to yield me respect and consideration."

"You threatened me yonder--before La Barre."

"I spoke wildly, in anger. That passion has passed--now I appeal to
your manhood."

He glanced about, to assure himself we were alone.

"You are a sly wench," he said, laughing unpleasantly, "but it may be
best that I give you your own way for this once. There is time enough
in which to teach you my power. And so you shut the tent to me, fair
lady, in spite of your pledge to Holy Church. Ah, well! there are
nights a plenty between here and St. Ignace, and you will become
lonely enough in the wilderness to welcome me. One kiss, and I leave
you."

"No, Monsieur."

His eyes were ugly.

"You refuse that! _Mon Dieu!_ Do you think I play? I will have the
kiss--or more."

Furious as the man was I felt no fear of him, merely an intense
disgust that his hands should touch me, an indignation that he should
offer me such insult. He must have read all this in my eyes, for he
made but the one move, and I flung his hand aside as easily as though
it had been that of a child. I was angry, so that my lips trembled,
and my face grew white, yet it was not the anger that stormed.

"Enough, Monsieur--go!" I said, and pointed to where the fires
reddened the darkness. "Do not dare speak to me again this night."

An instant he hesitated, trying to muster courage, but the bully in
him failed, and with an oath, he turned away, and vanished. It was
nearly dark then, and I sat down on a blanket at the entrance, and
waited, watching the figures between me and the river. I did not think
he would come again, but I did not know; it would be safer if I could
have word with Chevet. A soldier brought me food, and when he returned
for the tins I made him promise to seek my uncle, and send