Aymery’s fingers twisted themselves into his horse’s mane. “Still, a little breathing. They have put her to bed.” Marpasse nodded. “I have no great hope——” “The devil will make sure of that,” said Marpasse; “he loves a nunnery,” and she grimaced. Aymery walked his horse along the track, but Marpasse did not follow him. She stood there morosely, biting her lip, and holding Aymery’s wallet in her hands. He glanced back, and finding that she had not moved, he reined in again and waited. Marpasse came on slowly, one hand in the wallet, her eyes on the grass. When she had rejoined Aymery she stopped and stood unsolicitous and silent. The man appeared to be considering something. Yet he saw that the woman’s face was hard and gloomy in the twilight. “What are your plans?” he asked suddenly. Marpasse stared. “A ditch has often served me well enough, lording. We strollers count for little.” She laughed, fished a loaf out of the wallet, and broke off a crust. “Do not trouble your head about me, lording,” she said, “go your way. One pull at the bottle, and you shall have your wallet back.” She took out the flask, drank, and replaced it in the leather bag. “Good-night to you, lording. We have our own ways to go. Mine is a common track, and I know the tread of my own shoes.” Aymery still held his horse in hand. He had something to say to Marpasse, and the words did not come to him easily. The woman was more human than Ursula, and his heart went out to her because of Denise. But before he had spoken twenty words, Marpasse broke in with a rough and bitter laugh. “Lording,” said she, “you cannot make silk out of sackcloth, however much you try. Go your way, I am safe enough on the road. I have a bit of bread here, and I shall sleep soundly under a bush. And to-morrow and the next day, I shall be, just what I have been these five years.” Aymery’s eyes were still troubled on her behalf. Marpasse shook her hair, and shrugged her shoulders. “The mule must carry its load, and be given the stick if it kicks, or turns aside. Bah, I know what I am! Denise, there, that was a piece of gold to be picked up out of the dust. Go your way, lording, and do not waste your words. I should only laugh in your face to-morrow, and call you a fool.” She sat down in the grass and began to eat her bread, ignoring the man on the horse, as though that were the surest way of answering him. There was nothing for Aymery to do but to go, and leave Marpasse to her own road. “God’s speed, lording,” she said as he turned his horse. “God’s speed to you, sister.” “Ah, that would be too slow for me, sir!” and her laughter rang out with forced audacity.