"You did not let me know," I said, and I stooped to pick up her bundle.
"I know nothing. I was always the blindest of men. Come, Monsieur
Starling, let us go back to camp."

Again she put her hands to her throat. "You mean that?"

I took the bundle in my arm. "It is the only way. Come, monsieur."

"I cannot."

"I think that you must."

"And can we go on as before?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "We can try. Come, Monsieur Starling, the
men are growling, for you should have made the fire. Remember, you
strayed into the woods and lost your way. Come, come, you must do your
part."

She looked at me, and a sudden dry sob shook her. "Forgive me,
monsieur!" she cried. "Yes, I will come." She tried to square her
shoulders. "I must get my spirit back before I can meet the men in
camp. Why am I such a coward!"

I dropped the bundle that I might take both her hands. "Mademoiselle,"
I said, "look at me. We are puppets in this matter. You have been
thrown into my hands against my will and your own, and I swear to you
that I will deal with you as fairly as I have strength. But you must
play your part. So long as I treat you as a woman you will be a
coward. Therefore I must be harsh with you. You have great will and