‘Come!’ she said, ‘if you will. But some day God will punish you!’ Without another word she turned and entered the path through the trees, and I followed her. I suppose that every one of its windings, every hollow and broken place in it had been known to her from childhood, for she followed it swiftly and unerringly, barefoot as she was. I had to walk fast through the darkness to keep up with her. The wood was quiet, but the frogs were beginning to croak in the pool, and their persistent chorus reminded me of the night when I had come to the house-door, hurt and worn out, and Clon had admitted me, and she had stood under the gallery in the hall. Things had looked dark then. I had seen but a very little way ahead then. Now all was plain. The commandant might be here with all his soldiers, but it was I who held the strings. We came to the little wooden bridge and saw beyond the dark meadows the lights of the house. All the windows were bright. Doubtless the troopers were making merry. ‘Now, Mademoiselle,’ I said quietly, ‘I must trouble you to stop here, and give me your attention for a few minutes. Afterwards you may go your way.’ ‘Speak!’ she said defiantly. ‘And be quick! I cannot breathe the air where you are! It poisons me!’ ‘Ah!’ I said slowly. ‘Do you think that you make things better by such speeches as those?’ ‘Oh!’ she cried and I heard her teeth click together. ‘Would you have me fawn on you?’ ‘Perhaps not,’ I answered. ‘Still you make one mistake.’ ‘What is it?’ she panted. ‘You forget that I am to be feared as well as--loathed, Mademoiselle! Ay, Mademoiselle, to be feared!’ I continued grimly. ‘Do you think that I do not know why you are here in this guise? Do you think that I do not know for whom that pitcher of broth was intended? Or who will now have to fast to-night? I tell you I know all these things. Your house was full of soldiers; your servants were watched and could not leave. You had to come yourself and get food for him?’ She clutched at the handrail of the bridge, and for an instant clung to it for support. Her face, from which the shawl had fallen, glimmered white in the shadow of the trees. At last I had shaken her pride. At last! ‘What is your price?’ she murmured faintly. ‘I am going to tell you,’ I replied, speaking so that every word might fall distinctly on her ears, and sating my eyes the while on her proud face. I had never dreamed of such revenge as this! ‘About a fortnight ago, M. de Cocheforet left here at night with a little orange-coloured sachet in his possession.’ She uttered a stifled cry, and drew herself stiffly erect. ‘It contained--but there, Mademoiselle, you know its contents,’ I went on. ‘Whatever they were, M. de Cocheforet lost it and them at starting. A week ago he came back--unfortunately for himself--to seek them.’ She was looking full in my face now. She seemed scarcely to breathe in the intensity of her surprise and expectation.