The Marquis reined up his horse to allow them to pass. He supposed they were going to set her in the stocks for witchcraft or scolding; that look on her face he supposed must be stupidity. The whole spectacle roused in him sad distaste.
The rabble of peasantry, seeing that he was a gentleman, fell to silence till they were well past him, then broke out again into shouts and curses. The soldiers turned off the high road across a field that led to a long slope and a little thin wood.
The Marquis remained still, with his patient servant behind him, watching the little procession.
He noticed the girl stumble and saw one of the soldiers thrust at her so that she fell on to her knees. The crowd at once broke into laughter and pelted her with dirt.
Luc touched up his horse, crossed the field, and in a moment was among them. One of the guard had dragged the prisoner to her feet; she was being assailed by such horrid terms of abuse that he thought she must be some shameless thief or murderess. He spoke to the serjeant with quiet disgust, and his fine appearance, lofty manner, and long habit of command served to win the man’s respectful answer: he could not, he declared, keep the people off. As he spoke he threatened with his sword the nearest of the crowd, which had already scattered at the sight of the gentleman.
“The law,” said Luc, “is no matter for me to interfere with,” for he saw the fellow pulling a warrant from his pocket; “but I will use my whip on these should they further molest yonder wretch.”
He glanced at the prisoner, who stood for the moment isolated with her head bent. Her feet and the edge of her dress were covered with mud; her shoulders were bruised and her legs scratched and bleeding; her face, which was handsome, but of low type, was flooded with sudden colour and her wide lips twitched uncontrollably. The Marquis sickened to see her; he was turning back when she looked up straight into his face. Her eyes were large, far apart, and bloodshot, the lashes white with dust. As she gazed at Luc her disfigured, almost stupid-looking countenance was changed by a smile which was like a lady’s thanks for courtesy.
Then she bent her head again and began to walk on painfully. The soldiers closed round her, the serjeant fell in with a salute to the Marquis, and the crowd followed, but at some distance and in silence.
Luc watched them till they were over the hill and out of sight; he frowned in absorption and hardly troubled to notice two horsemen who had joined him and reined their horses near his. When he turned, indifferently, to look at them, he saw that they were the same remarkable couple that he had noticed at the inn.
The Italian saluted him instantly.