I raised the latch and went in. The man was alone, squatting over the fire, warming his hands A black pot simmered on the ashes: as I entered, he raised the lid and peeped inside. Then he glanced over his shoulder.
"You expected me?" I said defiantly, walking to the hearth, and setting one of my damp boots on the logs.
"Yes," he answered, nodding curtly. "Your supper is just ready. I thought you would be in about this time."
He grinned as he spoke, and it was with difficulty I suppressed my wrath "Mademoiselle de Cocheforêt told you," I said, affecting indifference, "where I was?"
"Ay, Mademoiselle--or Madame," he replied, grinning afresh.
So she had told him where she had left me, and how she had tricked me! She had made me the village laughing-stock! My rage flashed out afresh at the thought, and, at the sight of his mocking face, I raised my fist.
But he read the threat in my eyes, and was up in a moment, snarling, with his hand on his knife. "Not again, Monsieur!" he cried, in his vile patois, "My head is sore still. Raise your hand, and I will rip you up as I would a pig!"
"Sit down, fool," I said. "I am not going to harm you. Where is your wife?"
"About her business."
"Which should be getting my supper," I retorted sharply.