“What is it?” I asked, none too gently.
“That my prediction will come true,” she answered, laughing. “That you will fall madly in love with this lady—oh, desperately in love with her! and once you have safely married her will remember this youthful passion only with a smile. Come; the stake shall be anything you like.”
This time I was thoroughly angry. Even if she did not love me she had no right to wound me, to stab me deliberately, maliciously, with a smile on her lips. She had no right to draw amusement from my sufferings, to torture me just for the pleasure of watching my agony. So I quickened my pace and strode on in silence, my hands clinched, trying to stifle the pain at my heart.
A touch on my arm aroused me.
“Ciel!” gasped a voice; and I turned to see my companion still at my side indeed, but spent and breathless. “Did you fancy these shoes of yours were seven-league boots?” she questioned when she could speak. “Or did you desire to abandon me out here in this wilderness?”
“It would be no more than you deserve!” I retorted; then, as I remembered how fast I had been walking and pictured her uncomplaining struggle to keep pace with me, I relented. “Pardon me,” I said, humbly; “I am a brute. Come; sit here in the shadow of this tree and rest. We are beyond danger of pursuit—besides, no one can see us here.”
She permitted me to lead her to the shadow and sat down. I leaned against the tree and stared moodily along the road.
“What is it, monsieur?” she asked at last. “Still brooding on the future?”
“No, mademoiselle,” I answered; “since it must be endured I shall waste no more thought upon it.”
“That is wise,” she commended. “That is what I have advised from the first. Besides, you should remember it is when troubles are approaching that they appear most terrible.”