seemed to linger
in the barn no longer than was necessary. Michel's absence, though
it was unlooked-for, raised no suspicion in her breast, for he would
frequently go down to the village to spend the afternoon. The sun
sank lower, and the shadow of the great monolith, which, standing
on the highest point of the moor, about a mile away, rose gaunt and
black against a roseate sky, grew longer and longer; and then, as
twilight fell, the two coming home met a few paces from the cottage.
He asked some questions about the work she had been doing, and she
answered briefly. Then, silent and uncommunicative, they went in
together. The girl set the bread and cider on the table, and going to
the great black pot which had been simmering all day upon the fire,
poured some broth into two pitchers. It did not escape Michel's
frugal eye that there was still a little broth left in the bottom
of the pot, and this induced a new feeling in him--anger. When his
wife hailed him by a sign to the meal, he went instead to the door,
and fastened it. Thence he went to the corner and picked up the
wood-chopper, and armed with this came back to his seat.

The girl watched his movements first with surprise, and then with
secret terror. The twilight was come, and the cottage was almost dark,
and she was alone with him; or, if not alone, yet with no one near who
could help her. Yet she met his grin of triumph bravely. "What is
this?" she said. "Why do you want that?"

"For the rat," he answered grimly, his eyes on hers.

"Why not use your stool?" she strove to murmur, her heart sinking.

"Not for this rat," he answered. "It might not do, my girl. Oh, I know
all about it," he continued. "I have been down to the village, and
seen the mayor, and he is coming up to fetch him." He nodded towards
the partition, and she knew that her secret was known.

"It is Pierre," she said, trembling violently, and turning first
crimson and then white.

"I know it, Jeanne. It was excellent of you! Excellent! It is long
since you have done such a day's work."

"You will not give him up?"

"My faith, I shall!" he answered, affecting, and perhaps really
feeling, wonder at her simplicity. "He is five crowns, girl! You do
not understand. He is worth five crowns, and the risk nothing at
all."

If he had been angry, or shown anything of the fury of the suspicious
husband; if he had been about to do this out of jealousy or revenge,
she would have quailed before him,