it was by her shawl,
seemed familiar. I waited while she hung over the fire whispering, and
while the goodwife slowly filled her pitcher out of the great black pot.
But when she turned to go, I took a step forward so as to bar her way.
And our eyes met.

I could not see her features; they were lost in the shadow of the hood.
But I saw a shiver run through her from head to foot. And I knew then
that I had made no mistake.

'That is too heavy for you, my girl,' I said familiarly, as I might have
spoken to a village wench. 'I will carry it for you.'

One of the men, who remained lolling at the table, laughed, and the
other began to sing a low song. The woman trembled in rage or fear; but
she kept silence and let me take the jug from her hands; and when I went
to the door and opened it, she followed mechanically. An instant, and
the door fell to behind us, shutting off the light and glow, and we two
stood together in the growing dusk.

'It is late for you to be out, Mademoiselle,' I said politely. 'You
might meet with some rudeness, dressed as you are. Permit me to see you
home.'

She shuddered, and I thought that I heard her sob, but she did not
answer. Instead, she turned and walked quickly through the village in
the direction of the Chateau, keeping in the shadow of the houses. I
carried the pitcher and walked close to her, beside her; and in the dark
I smiled. I knew how shame and impotent rage were working in her. This
was something like revenge!

Presently I spoke.

'Well, Mademoiselle,' I said, 'where are your grooms?'

She gave me one look, her eyes blazing with anger, her face like hate
itself; and after that I said no more, but left her in peace, and
contented myself with walking at her shoulder until we came to the end
of the village, where the track to the great house plunged into the
wood. There she stopped, and turned on me like a wild creature at bay.

'What do you want?' she cried hoarsely, breathing as if she had been
running.

'To see you safe to the house,' I answered coolly. 'Alone you might be
insulted.'

'And if I will not?' she retorted.

'The choice does not lie with you, Mademoiselle,' I answered sternly,
'You will go to the house with me, and on the way you will give me an
interview--late as it is; but not here. Here we are not private enough.
We may be interrupted at any moment, and I wish to speak to you at
length.'

'At length?' she muttered.

'Yes, Mademoiselle.'

I saw h