"As for me, I prefer going back on foot to waiting in that wearisome useless manner. Frank will go with me, he must return any way. You will no doubt remain in the carriage. I would not take upon myself the responsibility of giving you cold for the world."
That which the misadventure had not had power to do, was effected by the overt irony of these words. Arthur was roused out of his corner. He got up, pushed open the door, and next minute was standing on the step, offering his hand to help her alight. Eugénie hesitated.
"I beg of you, Arthur" ...
"I beg of you not to make a scene before the servants and to show them that you prefer the footman's escort to mine. Allow me."
She gave an imperceptible little shrug; there was no choice for her, however, but to accept the proffered hand; the coachman and Frank were, in truth, standing close by. She got out, and Arthur turned to the two men.
"I will see your mistress home. You must contrive to get the empty carriage to some farm where it can stay for the present, and follow us as quickly as possible with the horses."
The men took off their hats and prepared to carry out the instructions they had received. Under the circumstances it was really the only thing to be done. With a slight gesture Eugénie declined her husband's offered arm.
"I think we can hardly walk here as on a promenade," said she, evading it. "We must each look to ourselves and make our own way as best we can."
She attempted this indeed, but only to sink at the very first step into the soft slippery mud; taking refuge on the other side of the road, she found herself suddenly in water an inch deep which splashed under her feet. She stood still in it helpless. The road had not looked so bad to her from the carriage.
"Here, at any rate, we shall never get on," said Arthur, who had tried a like experiment with the like result. "We must go back through the woods."