One of the men, who remained lolling at the table, laughed, and the other began to sing a low song. The woman trembled in rage or fear; but she kept silence and let me take the jug from her hands; and when I went to the door and opened it, she followed mechanically. An instant, and the door fell to behind us, shutting off the light and glow, and we two stood together in the growing dusk. ‘It is late for you to be out, Mademoiselle,’ I said politely. ‘You might meet with some rudeness, dressed as you are. Permit me to see you home.’ She shuddered, and I thought that I heard her sob, but she did not answer. Instead, she turned and walked quickly through the village in the direction of the Chateau, keeping in the shadow of the houses. I carried the pitcher and walked close to her, beside her; and in the dark I smiled. I knew how shame and impotent rage were working in her. This was something like revenge! Presently I spoke. ‘Well, Mademoiselle,’ I said, ‘where are your grooms?’ She gave me one look, her eyes blazing with anger, her face like hate itself; and after that I said no more, but left her in peace, and contented myself with walking at her shoulder until we came to the end of the village, where the track to the great house plunged into the wood. There she stopped, and turned on me like a wild creature at bay. ‘What do you want?’ she cried hoarsely, breathing as if she had been running. ‘To see you safe to the house,’ I answered coolly. ‘Alone you might be insulted.’ ‘And if I will not?’ she retorted. ‘The choice does not lie with you, Mademoiselle,’ I answered sternly, ‘You will go to the house with me, and on the way you will give me an interview--late as it is; but not here. Here we are not private enough. We may be interrupted at any moment, and I wish to speak to you at length.’ ‘At length?’ she muttered. ‘Yes, Mademoiselle.’ I saw her shiver. ‘What if I will not?’ she said again. ‘I might call to the nearest soldiers and tell them who you are,’ I answered coolly. ‘I might do that, but I should not. That were a clumsy way of punishing you, and I know a better way. I should go to the Captain, Mademoiselle, and tell him whose horse is locked up in the inn stable. A trooper told me--as someone had told him--that it belonged to one of his officers; but I looked through the crack, and I knew the horse again.’ She could not repress a groan. I waited; still she did not speak. ‘Shall I go to the Captain?’ I said ruthlessly. She shook the hood back from her face and looked at me. ‘Oh, you coward! you coward!’ she hissed through her teeth. ‘If I had a knife!’ ‘But you have not, Mademoiselle,’ I answered, unmoved. ‘Be good enough, therefore, to make up your mind which it is to be. Am I to go with my news to the captain, or am I to come with you?’ ‘Give me the pitcher,’ she said harshly. I did so, wondering. In a moment she flung it with a savage gesture far into the bushes.