ond to see her fall. But with a sudden movement she
straightened herself, and, quickly slipping by me, with eyes that seemed
to see nothing, she set off swiftly down the walk towards the meadow
gate.

I ran after her; but, taken by surprise as I was, it was only by a great
effort I reached the gate before her, and thrusting myself in the road,
barred the way.

'Let me pass!' she panted, striving to thrust me on one side. 'Out of my
way, sir! I am going to the village.'

'You are not going to the village,' I said sternly. 'Go back; to the
house, Mademoiselle, and at once.'

'My servant!' she wailed. 'Let me go! Let me go! Do you think I can rest
here while they torture him? He cannot speak, and they--they--'

'Go back, Mademoiselle,' I said, with decision. 'Your presence would
only make matters worse! I will go myself, and what one man can do
against many, I will! Louis, give your mistress your arm and take her to
the house. Take her to Madame.'

'But you will go?' she cried. And before I could stay her--I swear I
would have stopped her if I could--she raised my hand and carried it
to her trembling lips. 'You will go! Go and stop them! Stop them, and
Heaven reward you, Monsieur!'

I did not answer; nay, I did not once look back, as I crossed the
meadow; but I did not look forward either. Doubtless it was grass I
trod, and the wood was before me with the sun shining aslant on it;
doubtless the house rose behind me with a flame here and there in the
windows. But I went in a dream, among shadows; with a racing pulse, in
a glow from head to heel; conscious of nothing but the touch of
Mademoiselle's warm lips on my hand, seeing neither meadow nor house,
nor even the dark fringe of wood before me, but only Mademoiselle's
passionate face. For the moment I was drunk: drunk with that to which I
had been so long a stranger, with that which a man may scorn for years,
to find it at last beyond his reach drunk with the touch of a good
woman's lips.

I passed the bridge in this state; and my feet were among the brushwood
before the heat and fervour in which I moved found on a sudden their
direction. Something began to penetrate to my veiled senses--a hoarse
inarticulate cry, now deep, now shrilling horribly, that of itself
seemed to fill the wood. It came at intervals of half a minute or so,
and made the flesh creep, it rang so full of dumb pain, of impotent
wrestling, of unspeakable agony. I am a man and have seen things. I