"`Ah, that you do,' replied the neighbour. "`And,' pursued Marguerite, `he pulled me to him and tried to kiss me, and said if I would be amiable he would get me a new silk kerchief, and would persuade his father not to be harsh with us for the rent. Put I tried to push him away--and Louis, he got so angry--my poor Louis!--he seized a stick and hit him.' "`Hit Martin, the bailiff's son!' exclaimed Madelon, an expression of fear and anxiety replacing the sort of hard indifference on her face. `My poor child--he must have been mad!' "`He did not hurt him much,' continued Marguerite, `but Martin was furious. He went out vowing vengeance, and with an evil smile on his face. And not half-an-hour after he left, one of the bailiff's men came down, late as it was, to order Louis to be there at five this morning. Louis, so delicate as he is, and so cold and dark and miserable as it was! But that is not the worst; the man--it was Andre Michaud--was sorry for us, and warned us that Louis is to be terribly punished. The bailiff swore he would put him in harness--the roads are so bad for the horses in this weather; he laughed and said it would give one of them a rest. Oh, Madelon, you know how dreadful it is--and Louis so weak as he is still--it will kill him! I have been all the morning running to the door, thinking he would be coming back, or that perhaps they would be carrying him back, all torn and bleeding, like Felix--you remember Felix, when they put him in the horse's place, and he broke a blood vessel?' "Madelon turned away--ah, yes, she remembered but too well, but what could she say? It was true what Marguerite had described, and there was no use in complaining. The lords, such as were cruel enough to do so, were allowed by law to drive the peasants in their employ, in the place of horses or oxen, and even if lashed or goaded till they dropped, the wretched sufferers could claim no redress. "`Warm yourself, my child,' she said at last to the weeping girl. `Keep up your heart, for Louis' sake, as well as you can. Have you a bit of fire in there?' "Marguerite shook her head. Madelon went to a corner of the cottage, and came back with some twigs. "`I will try to make it up for you,' she said; `come back with me. This wood is dry.' "`But, Madelon, you have so little for yourself,' said Marguerite. `I had meant to try to find some this morning, though there is scarcely any now, but my fears for Louis, have stopped my doing anything.'