eping. So the
matter stood until the night of which I speak.

It was the Sunday evening, and I had ridden over from the camp. There
were several of our fellows who were visiting the village, and we all
left our horses at the inn. Thence I had to walk to the Ravons, which
was only separated by a single very large field extending to the very
door. I was about to start when the landlord ran after me. "Excuse
me, lieutenant," said he, "it is farther by the road, and yet I should
advise you to take it."

"It is a mile or more out of my way."

"I know it. But I think that it would be wiser," and he smiled as he
spoke.

"And why?" I asked.

"Because," said he, "the English bull is loose in the field."

If it were not for that odious smile, I might have considered it. But to
hold a danger over me and then to smile in such a fashion was more than
my proud temper could bear. I indicated by a gesture what I thought of
the English bull.

"I will go by the shortest way," said I.

I had no sooner set my foot in the field than I felt that my spirit had
betrayed me into rashness. It was a very large square field, and as I
came further out into it I felt like the cockle-shell which ventures out
from land and sees no port save that from which it has issued. There was
a wall on every side of the field save that from which I had come. In
front of me was the farmhouse of the Ravons, with wall extending to
right and left. A back door opened upon the field, and there were
several windows, but all were barred, as is usual in the Norman farms.
I pushed on rapidly to the door, as being the only harbour of safety,
walking with dignity as befits a soldier, and yet with such speed as
I could summon. From the waist upwards I was unconcerned and even
debonnaire. Below, I was swift and alert.

I had nearly reached the middle of the field when I perceived the
creature. He was rooting about with his fore feet under a large beech
tree which lay upon my right hand. I did not turn my head, nor would
the bystander have detected that I took notice of him, but my eye was
watching him with anxiety. It may have been that he was in a contented
mood, or it may have been that he was arrested by the nonchalance of my
bearing, but he made no movement in my direction. Reassured, I fixed my
eyes upon the open window of Marie's bed-chamber, which was immediately
over the back door, in the hope that those dear, tender, dark eyes,
were surveying me from behin