“Sir, I think we have few misfortunes that are not our fault,” she retorted sharply.
He smiled. “A few, mademoiselle,” he said; “for instance, to be born poor and forced to seek a fortune with the sword or the spade.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “’Tis better to be born poor than born a fool,” she retorted tartly.
“But worst of all to be born both poor and a fool,” he replied calmly.
They were riding through a long lane lined on either hand with trees, and before them stood a cross which marked a certain turn in the road. At the sight of it mademoiselle drew rein so suddenly that she threw the little party into confusion. She wheeled in her saddle and looked over her shoulder.
“This is the wrong road,” she said; “where is Ruel?”
“We have passed it, mademoiselle,” Péron replied, with a composed face, but a smile lurked in his eyes.
She sat erect and motionless, but he knew that behind her mask she was in a storm of passion, for he saw her hand grip the bridle fiercely. She was debating in her mind whether to attempt to go back and risk the opposition of the four stout men behind or to make the most of defeat and go on with the best grace she could. Her temper, naturally high, was fully roused, and to yield a point was bitter. Moreover, she saw the amusement in Péron’s eyes. Her woman reminded her of their situation.
“Come, mademoiselle,” she said bluntly, “you know we must go one way or the other.”
Renée turned on her quickly. “Hush!” she said sharply, and striking her horse briskly, she rode at a canter down the lane ahead of the party toward Poissy.