A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. Eggs were procured for her, and she sat out the subsequent emotions and eloquence with the dignity becoming an injured lady of good family. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that.
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