"Death rather than that!" said she, clasping her hands to her heart, and turning away.
"Stay, stay. Here is bread for you. It is all we have."
"Ah! bless—." She could say no more, but sobbed bitterly. La Croissette turned his face away.
"There are many of us, many!" sobbed she. "We shall so bless you. We will pray for you."
"Do so; do," said he, affecting composure, and whipping on.
CHAPTER IX.
CAST DOWN, BUT NOT DESTROYED.
The moon had now risen, and shone full on our road, which was completely exposed; but happily we met with no hindrance. The motion of the cart now made me very drowsy, and I fell into deep dreamless sleep. When I woke, feeling stiff and chilled, I wondered where I was. The cart had stopped, I was alone, the gray light of morning was forcing its way through the chinks of my little lodging-house, but the door was locked. I thought my position a curious one, and wondered whether La Croissette was going to give me up after all, to my enemies, but could not readily distrust a fellow apparently so kind-hearted. I lay still and listened to the sounds about me; the clucking of hens, gobbling of turkeys, stamping of horses, and lowing of calves, told me I was in a farm-yard. Then I heard voices, including that of La Croissette, and presently a sharp cry and then a laugh. By-and-by, the key turned in the lock and he looked in on me.
"So ho, you are awake after a famous long nap," said he. "Do you want your breakfast?"