“How will this do?” asked my host, placing the bottles, the loaf and the fowl on the table before me, his vexation quite vanished.
“Excellently,” I answered, noting with surprise that the fowl had really some flesh upon its bones. “One thing more: this road, I suppose, leads to——”
“Loudun,” he said.
“And from there to Thouars?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“I am on the right track, then,” I said, simulating a sigh of relief. “That is all,” I added; for I saw it was useless, as well as dangerous, to ask for shoes. “The silver is yours;” and while he tested it with his teeth, I placed a bottle in either pocket, and with the loaf under my arm, and the fowl in my hand, opened the door and stepped out into the night.
I had my pistol ready, and looked sharply to right and left, but saw no one. Then, taking care to walk in the middle of the road, I pushed forward at a good pace until I was well away from the inn. I glanced around from time to time, but saw no sign that I was followed nor heard any sound of pursuing footsteps. So telling myself at last that my fears were groundless, I leaped the ditch at the side of the road and retraced my steps, until I came again to the hedge back of the inn. From this I had but to follow the course of the brook, here the merest thread of water, and at the end of ten minutes I was back again at my starting-point. I stopped and bent over the hollow, when a soft hand rose and touched my cheek.
“Is it you, M. de Tavernay?” asked a voice. “Oh, but I am glad! I was beginning to fear for you. What is that in your hand?”
“It is food,” I answered, sitting down beside her and laughing with sheer joy. I drew my knife and severed loaf and fowl alike into two equal portions; then with the point of it drew the corks and placed the bottles carefully in a hollow of the grass, propping them upright with some little stones. “There!” I said, “the meal is served. I think we may dispense with grace, as we must with knives and forks.”
She laughed delightedly as she took the portions I placed in her hands.