But here, too, was no sign of life or company, no comfort, no attendance. The ashes of the logs, by whose blaze Mademoiselle had told me the secret, lay on the hearth white and cold; and now and then a drop of moisture, sliding down the great chimney, pattered among them. The great door stood open as if the house had no longer anything to guard. The only living thing to be seen was a hound which roamed about restlessly, now gazing at the empty hearth, now lying down with pricked ears and watchful eyes. Some leaves which had been blown in rustled in a corner.
I went out moodily into the garden, and wandered down one path, and up another, looking at the dripping woods and remembering things, until I came to the stone seat. On it, against the wall, trickling with rain-drops, and with a dead leaf half filling its narrow neck, stood the pitcher of food. I thought how much had happened since Mademoiselle took her hand off it and the sergeant's lanthorn disclosed it to me. And sighing grimly, I went in again through the parlour door.
A woman was on her knees, kindling the belated fire. I stood a moment, looking at her doubtfully, wondering how she would bear herself, and what she would say to me: and then she turned, and I cried out her name in horror; for it was Madame!
She was very plainly dressed; her childish face was wan, and piteous with weeping. But either the night had worn out her passion and drained her tears, or this great exigency gave her temporary calmness; for she was perfectly composed. She shivered as her eyes met mine, and she blinked as if a light had been suddenly thrust before her. But she turned again to her task, without speaking.
"Madame! Madame!" I cried, in a frenzy of distress. "What is this?"
"The servants would not do it," she answered, in a low but steady voice. "You are still our guest, Monsieur, and it must be done."
"But--I cannot suffer it!" I cried, in misery. "Madame de Cocheforêt, I will--I would rather do it myself!"
She raised her hand, with a strange, patient expression on her face. "Hush, please," she said. "Hush! you trouble me."
The fire took light and blazed up as she spoke, and she rose slowly from it, and, with a lingering look at it, went out; leaving me to stand and stare and listen in the middle of the floor. Presently I heard her coming back along the passage, and she entered, bearing a tray with wine and meat and bread. She set it down on the table, and with the same wan face, trembling always on the verge of tears, she began to lay out the things. The glasses clinked pitifully against the plates as she handled them; the knives jarred with one another; and I stood by, trembling myself, and endured this strange, this awful penance.
She signed to me at last to sit down and eat; and she went herself, and stood in the garden doorway, with her back to me. I obeyed. I sat down; but though I had eaten nothing since the afternoon of the day before, and a little earlier had had appetite enough, I could not swallow. I fumbled with my knife, and munched and drank; and grew hot and angry at this farce; and then looked through the window at the dripping bushes, and the rain, and the distant sundial, and grew cold again.