t now brown and bare and cheerless to the
eye.

Fanchette turned and asked me abruptly if that were Poitiers.

I answered that it was, but added that for certain reasons I proposed
not to halt, but to lie at a village a league beyond the city, where
there was a tolerable inn.

'We shall do very well here,' the woman answered rudely. 'Any way, my
lady will go no farther. She is tired and cold, and wet besides, and has
gone far enough.'

'Still,' I answered, nettled by the woman's familiarity, 'I think
mademoiselle will change her mind when she hears my reasons for going
farther.'

'Mademoiselle does not wish to hear them, sir,' the lady replied
herself, and very sharply.

'Nevertheless, I think you had better hear them,' I persisted, turning
to her respectfully. 'You see, mademoiselle--'

'I see only one thing, sir,' she exclaimed, snatching off her mask and
displaying a countenance beautiful indeed, but flushed for the moment
with anger and impatience, 'that, whatever betides, I stay at Poitiers
to-night.'

'If it would content you to rest an hour?' I suggested gently.

'It will not content me!' she rejoined with spirit. 'And let me tell
you, sir,' she went on impetuously, 'once for all, that you take too
much upon yourself. You are here to escort me, and to give orders to
these ragamuffins, for they are nothing better, with whom you have
thought fit to disgrace our company; but not to give orders to me or
to control my movements. Confine yourself for the future, sir, to your
duties, if you please.'

'I desire only to obey you,' I answered, suppressing the angry feelings
which rose in my breast, and speaking as coolly as lay in my power.
'But, as the first of my duties is to provide for your safety, I am
determined to omit nothing which can conduce to that end. You have not
considered that, if a party in pursuit of us reaches Poitiers to-night,
search will be made for us in the city, and we shall be taken. If, on
the other hand, we are known to have passed through, the hunt may go no
farther; certainly will go no farther to-night. Therefore we must not,
mademoiselle,' I added firmly, 'lie in Poitiers to-night.'

'Sir,' she exclaimed, looking at me, her face crimson with wonder and
indignation, 'do you dare to--?'

'I dare do my duty, mademoiselle,' I answered, plucking up a spirit,
though my heart was sore. 'I am a man old enough to be your father, and
with little to lose, or I had not been here. I care