He asked me some question in a tongue which I did not know.
He probably asked me if I had a hook. I shook my head. The lady
said something to him in French, which made him laugh. Then he
began to lead back the horse towards the town. The lady, after
waving her hand to him, started to ride slowly forward in front
of me. Like most ladies at that time she wore a little black
velvet domino mask over her eyes. All people could ride in those
days; but I remember it occurred to me that this lady rode
beautifully. So many women look like meal-sacks in the saddle.
This one rode as though she were a part of the horse.
She kept about twenty yards ahead of me till I sighted the inn,
where an ostler was walking the little nag which I was to ride.
She halted at the inn-door, looking back towards the town for her
companion. Then, without calling to anybody, she dismounted,
flinging her mare's reins over a hook in the wall. She went into
the inn boldly, drawing her whip through her left hand. When I
entered the inn-door a moment later, she was talking in Dutch to
the landlord, who was bowing to her as though she were a great
lady.
I handed over my bottle-basket, with the letter, to a woman who
served the customers at the drinking bar. Then, as I was going
out to take my horse, the lady spoke to me in broken English.
"Walk my horse, so he not take cold," she said. It was in the
twilight of the passage from the door, so that I could not see
her very clearly, but the voice was certainly like the voice of
the woman who had fired at me in the courtyard.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113