"
"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
can endure loneliness of soul. I must thrust you back upon yourself.
There must be no woman in the camp. Come, monsieur, let us not talk of
this longer. Are you ready?" And not waiting for assent, I led the
way back to camp without word or look; I even kept myself from putting
out a helping hand when I heard the steps behind me falter and almost
fall.
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