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.
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