"Titine, if you and I were free—"
"If I were free I would be a nun," she broke in. "Give me the pitcher."
"Wait just a moment. Let me kiss you."
She shrieked with laughter. "Oh, how blunt you are. Look out, you'll break that pitcher."
"Then I could be classed with Gideon's men. They broke their pitchers before they fought."
"But you are not going to break the pitcher and fight."
"Yes, I'm going to break it and fight for a kiss."
"Oh, what a fool you are. What good would breaking the pitcher do? Give it to me."
She spoke in a tone of such command that I gave her the vessel, but I pleaded with her to stay longer; and now I caught her hand. She struggled to free herself but my grasp was vice-like. "Wait until I have told you something. Nature intended you for me and I am going to have you—"
She spat at me like an angry cat, snatched her hand away, so strong was she, and ran up the path toward the house, the water leaping from the mouth of the pitcher. I caught up with her.