Still, hot as I was, an hour might have restored me to coolness. But when I started to return, I fell into a fresh rage, for I remembered that I did not know my way out of the maze of rides and paths into which she had drawn me; and this and the mishaps which followed, kept my rage hot. For a full hour I wandered in the wood, unable, though I knew where the village lay, to find any track which led continuously in one direction. Whenever, at the end of each attempt, the thicket brought me up short, I fancied that I heard her laughing on the farther side of the brake; and the ignominy of this chance punishment, and the check which the confinement placed on my rage, almost maddened me. In the darkness I fell, and rose cursing; I tore my hands with thorns; I stained my suit, which had suffered sadly once before. At length, when I had almost resigned myself to lie in the wood, I caught sight of the lights of the village, and, trembling between haste and anger, pressed towards them. In a few minutes I stood in the little street. The lights of the inn shone only fifty yards away; but before I could show myself even there pride suggested that I should do something to repair my clothes. I stopped, and scraped and brushed them; and, at the same time, did what I could to compose my features. Then I advanced to the door and knocked. Almost on the instant the landlord’s voice cried from the inside, ‘Enter, Monsieur!’ I raised the latch and went in. The man was alone, squatting over the fire warming his hands. A black pot simmered on the ashes, As I entered he raised the lid and peeped inside. Then he glanced over his shoulder. ‘You expected me?’ I said defiantly, walking to the hearth, and setting one of my damp boots on the logs. ‘Yes,’ he answered, nodding curtly. ‘Your supper is just ready. I thought that you would be in about this time.’ He grinned as he spoke, and it was with difficulty I suppressed my wrath. ‘Mademoiselle de Cocheforet told you,’ I said, affecting indifference, ‘where I was?’ ‘Ay, Mademoiselle--or Madame,’ he replied, grinning afresh. So she had told him; where she had left me, and how she had tricked me! She had, made me the village laughing-stock! My rage flashed out afresh at the thought, and, at the sight of his mocking face, I raised my fist. But he read the threat in my eyes, and was up in a moment, snarling, with his hand on his knife. ‘Not again, Monsieur!’ he cried, in his vile patois. ‘My head is sore still raise your hand and I will rip you up as I would a pig!’ ‘Sit down, fool,’ I said. ‘I am not going to harm you. Where is your wife?’ ‘About her business.’ ‘Which should be getting my supper,’ I retorted. He rose sullenly, and, fetching a platter, poured the mess of broth and vegetables into it. Then he went to a cupboard and brought out a loaf of black bread and a measure of wine, and set them also on the table. ‘You see it,’ he said laconically. ‘And a poor welcome!’ I replied.