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"I know it," said Melisande. "But that does not stop my being sorry."
"It is unwise to steal ... no matter what. People have to be reminded of that."
It was unfortunate that on their way back through the town they should see mad A
A
Outside the tiny cottage where she lived, a crowd had gathered. A
that devils were in her; but the devils were not always so entertaining; sometimes they sulked and would not show their presence. Everybody hoped for a demonstration of the devils when they went to see A
It was a terrible shame, said the people of Liskeard, that Bodmin should have all the fun. There were plenty of lunatics in Bodmin; you could see their cages any day you liked. It was unfair to take Liskeard's entertainers and give them to the Bodmin folk. However, Liskeard and its visitors were determined to get as much fun out of A
The shrieks of laughter and shouts could be heard streets away.
"What's the excitement?" Fermor asked a man in a smock and leather gaiters.
"Don't 'ee know then, sir?" cried the man.
"That is precisely why I am asking."
" 'Tis old A
"We did. But what about A
"They'm taking her away to Bodmin soon. 'Tis a crying shame."
Two more men had come up—old men, their faces eager and alight. Talking to strangers was the greatest joy they knew, for passing on knowledge which was theirs and of which the stranger was ignorant was a tremendous stimulation to self-esteem. They touched their forelocks, recognizing John Collings and Miss Caroline Treve
"Well, sir, 'tis like this here . . ." began one.
"No, Harry, you let me tell it. You do take too long. . . ."
"Now, look here, Tom Trewi
"How'd it be if you shared the prize?" asked Fermor. "A sentence each, eh?"
They looked at him oddly. Gentry, for sure. But a foreigner with a fancy way of talking. Trying to be smart too; and they did not like foreigners.
John Collings said: "What is this all about, my good man? We're in a hurry."
"Well, sir, 'tis A
with all the devils calling out of her mouth. Then all of a sudden she'd go quiet . . . just like all the devils had come out of her. And they had too, sir, through the mouth. There's some in this town as has seen 'em. Then she'd get quiet and walk away."
"So they're taking her away and the people don't like it?"
"That's how 'tis, sir. They'm taking their last look, you might say. You see, sir, she's chained up now . . . and has been this last day or so since the rest of them Quales was drove out of the town. They'm a bad lot, them Quales. Two of the girls in trouble and the mother and father no better than they should be . . . begging the ladies' pardon. We got a party together . . . with whistles and such like . . . and we gave they a riding out of the town. That left A
The crowd about the cottage had turned to look at the four on horseback and, since some of them had fallen away from the cottage door, Melisande had a glimpse of one of the most horrible sights she had ever seen in her life.
Standing just inside the room, into which it was possible to step straight from the street, was a creature who looked more like a wild beast than a human being.
Melisande saw bare arms, mottled purple, hanging at her sides, saw the dirty skin, showing through dirtier rags, the hair which hung about the creature's face, the slobbering mouth from which came a hideous muttering sound. But it was the eyes which Melisande would never forget as long as she lived. They were bewildered, tormented eyes, wild, defiant and yet somehow appealing for help.
And in that brief second a boy in the crowd, close to the door of the cottage leaned forward. In his hand was a long branch with which he prodded the mad woman. She tried to grasp the branch, but as she nearly succeeded in doing so, the boy would pull it away. She lunged as far as the chain would allow; the ring about her waist must have caused her a good deal of pain; and as the boy again prodded her and she tried to catch the branch she cried out a second time in suppressed rage. It was clear that this had been going on for some time.
The crowd shrieked its merriment and the gentry looked on indifferently at the amusements of the poor. Only one person in that assembly experienced a passion as great as that of the tormented. Melisande, without a second's hesitation, without stopping to think of anything but the mad creature's pain, slipped from her horse, handed the reins to John Collings who happened to be nearest and was too astonished to do anything but take them, ran forward and snatched the branch from the boy's hand.
"Do not!" she cried. "It is wicked. So cruel!" In the stress of the moment she had spoken in French.
The boy, at first startled, had released his hold on the branch; he tried after that brief hesitation to retrieve it. He kicked out at Melisande, as he tried to reach for the branch which she held above her head; and as he did so, she brought it sharply down across his face.
A pair of hands seized her . . . two pair of hands. She was aware of angry distorted faces about her, of a sudden roar of fury. She heard the word: "Foreigner!" They were forcing her to the ground.
But Fermor had leaped from his horse, had thrown his reins to John Collings and was in the midst of the crowd.
"She be French!" someone was shouting.
"They French have tails. . . ."
"Now be a chance to see for ourselves. ..."
"Stand back, you swine, you oafs, you country fools . . . stand back!" That was Fermor, eyes blazing, his arms swinging out. Someone staggered and fell, and Fermor had Melisande in his grasp.
"Get to your horse ... at once!" he said.