“You haven't seen my boat,” she said to Andrews. “Let's go for a row. I'll row you about.” Andrews jumped up eagerly. “Make her be careful, Monsieur Andrews, she's dreadfully imprudent,'” said Madame Rod. “You were bored to death,” said Genevieve, as they walked out on the road. “No, but those people all seemed to be building new walls between you and me. God knows there are enough already.” She looked him sharply in the eyes a second, but said nothing. They walked slowly through the sand of the river edge, till they came to an old flat-bottomed boat painted green with an orange stripe, drawn up among the reeds. “It will probably sink; can you swim?” she asked, laughing. Andrews smiled, and said in a stiff voice: “I can swim. It was by swimming that I got out of the army.” “What do you mean?” “When I deserted.” “When you deserted?” Genevieve leaned over to pull on the boat. Their heads almost touching, they pulled the boat down to the water's edge, then pushed it half out on to the river. “And if you are caught?” “They might shoot me; I don't know. Still, as the war is over, it would probably be life imprisonment, or at least twenty years.” “You can speak of it as coolly as that?” “It is no new idea to my mind.” “What induced you to do such a thing?” “I was not willing to submit any longer to the treadmill.” “Come let's go out on the river.” Genevieve stepped into the boat and caught up the oars. “Now push her off, and don't fall in,” she cried. The boat glided out into the water. Genevieve began pulling on the oars slowly and regularly. Andrews looked at her without speaking. “When you're tired, I'll row,” he said after a while. Behind them the village, patched white and buff-color and russet and pale red with stucco walls and steep, tiled roofs, rose in an irregular pyramid to the church. Through the wide pointed arches of the belfry they could see the bells hanging against the sky. Below in the river the town was reflected complete, with a great rift of steely blue across it where the wind ruffled the water. The oars creaked rhythmically as Genevieve pulled on them. “Remember, when you are tired,” said Andrews again after a long pause. Genevieve spoke through clenched teeth: “Of course, you have no patriotism.” “As you mean it, none.” They rounded the edge of a sand bank where the current ran hard. Andrews put his hands beside her hands on the oars, and pushed with her. The bow of the boat grounded in some reeds under willows. “We'll stay here,” she said, pulling in the oars that flashed in the sun as she jerked them, dripping silver, out of the water. She clasped her hands round her knees and leaned over towards him. “So that is why you want my revolver.... Tell me all about it, from Chartres,” she said, in a choked voice.