"Yes?"
"My uncle he is a very strong man; he threw Simon Barit into the stream, and the other he chased almost to the village."
"And so, like the mill-stream, he goes on forever?"
"Ah, yes, monsieur, like the war—forever. Listen!"
A great voice, sonorous as that of the fabled giant calling for his evening meal of an Englishman, rent the air. The October wind seemed to quiver to its lowest note, and the water racing over the chute was quieter than it had been for hours.
"I must go, monsieur. It is his supper he wants."
"And may I not come too?"
"Ah—but no! I am frightened."
"Of me?"
She raised her wide brown eyes to his, and her eyelashes, which so jealously guarded those guileless depths, parted grudgingly, revealing to him their full beauty…. Another roar shattered the air, and she laid her hand upon his wrist. "You must not come," she said earnestly. "He would throw you into the stream."