She missed the step, and fell heavily to the ground. A peasant in a blue blouse, who was working in a little patch of garden by the side of the road, ran up and assisted her to rise. Then hailed by Gerard, he went to the horses’ heads, and Gerard sprang to Minna’s assistance. “You haven’t hurt yourself?” “I have twisted my foot,” she said sullenly, steadying herself by the phaeton. She was pale with anger and pain. Her veil and hat were awry, one of her gloves had split. The daffodil-yellow costume was white with dust. The consciousness of her aspect incensed her further. “You’re in a great mess,” he said. And clumsily he began to brush the dust from her skirt. But she twitched it away from him with her free hand. “Don’t touch me,” she said angrily. He stood up, thrust his hands in his pockets, and looked at her somewhat satirically. “I am awfully sorry. But I’ll have to do something for you, if you have twisted your foot. You can’t remain there all the afternoon.” “It’s better,” she declared. “Leave me--go away--I can walk home.” With the words she removed her supporting hand and put her weight upon the sprained foot. But she uttered an involuntary little cry, and would have fallen, had not Gerard sprang forward and caught her. “I’m afraid you’ll have to accept my escort back,” he said. For reply she called out in French to the man who was holding the ponies. “Is there an inn or café near by?” The man broke into polite smiles, showing his white teeth. Effectively there was an inn, just at the turn of the road. Many visitors from Nice stopped there to eat fruit and drink coffee. Madame had hurt herself, without doubt, and wanted to rest. She would find herself quite comfortable there. “I shall go to the inn,” she said, turning to Gerard. “Perhaps you’ll leave word at my house to send me a comfortable carriage. You need not come back with it.” “Oh, nonsense,” he replied. “I can lift you into the phaeton and lift you out again. It’s idiotic to make this fuss.” “I’d sooner crawl than drive back with you,” she flashed, vindictively. Two sturdy and swarthy peasants had meanwhile come up with the group, and pausing by the horse-tender, received a voluble account of the situation. Gerard shrugged his shoulders. “How do you propose to get to the inn?” “These creatures will carry me.” “I suppose you know you’re making yourself supremely ridiculous?” “I am accustomed to do what I choose,” retorted Minna. “_Dites donc, vous_,” she said to the new arrivals.