A hard look entered her eyes. To be led away before everybody appeared to her, at that moment, the acme of humiliation. It was wiser to concede to her husband’s wishes, she well knew, for he loved her ardently, and had only her welfare at heart. But she did not wish to seem so meek before her friends. Indeed, she would show them that she was not to be bullied. “It would have been surprising had you not come to spoil all our sport. But, as I said before, you may go. I shall remain longer.” “Poor little one,” said Andoche, hatefully. The gamekeeper’s wife turned toward a group of peasants, some of whom were regarding her approvingly, others with displeasure. “Catherine,” said Barrau, in vibrating tones, “I am the master, you understand, and never shall I submit to being laughed at by a Firmin.” “Pooh! You always see evil in everything. Am I doing wrong? Whenever I try to enjoy myself you are angry. In order to please you, I ought always to stay at home. But I don’t care for that sort of life--not I.” “Come!” “No.” Savin was visibly disturbed. His resolute face looked pained. He said nothing, but going straight up to his wife, he took her by the arm and forced her to go by his side. Vexed with rage, she attempted to free herself, but in vain. Her husband held her closely. But rather than go with him she fell to the ground, sobbing. “Catherine, my girl, come,” urged Savin, more gently. “Do not be a baby; come willingly. People are mocking at us.” Did the young woman believe her husband would weaken? Or did she think it dramatic to make a scene? Who knows? At all events, she raised her hand to strike her husband on the face, when he, foreseeing the intention, arrested the blow. His movement was so rapid that he did not realize what strength he exerted in seizing her fingers. Held as firmly as though she were in a vice, Catherine uttered a little cry of pain. “You hurt me, Savin. See! You hurt me!” But the gamekeeper, swayed by his anger, did not listen to her complaint. “A blow!” cried he. “You wished to strike me--_you_! Before all these people!” Catherine reiterated her complaint. “Be quiet,” said her husband, in tones of thunder. “Do not forget that I am Savin Barrau. You will have cause to remember this twentieth of July. Ask my pardon!” At these words Catherine made another effort to release herself from his grasp, but Savin held her all the more firmly. “Apologize, I tell you!” “I will not!” Pride overcame her pain. Her arm was aching terribly, but--she would never yield. Drops of perspiration stood on her forehead. Her heart within her seemed to stop beating. Though ready to faint, she still would have resisted, but her suffering was too great. “Pardon me,” she cried, at length, in a grieved voice. “You will not do so again?” demanded Savin, severely. “No, no. Release me!” “You will never again do so rude a thing?” “No. Oh, how you hurt me!” Savin dropped her arm and pushed her toward the pathway.