to cut my throat for a trifle.

It was not my cue to quarrel, however. I made therefore, as if I
had seen nothing, and when we were back in the inn praised the
horse grudgingly, and like a man but half convinced. The ugly
looks and ugly weapons I saw round me were fine incentives to
caution; and no Italian, I flatter myself, could have played his
part more nicely than I did. But I was heartily glad when it was
over, and I found myself, at last, left alone for the night in a
little garret--a mere fowl-house--upstairs, formed by the roof
and gable walls, and hung with strings of apples and chestnuts.
It was a poor sleeping-place--rough, chilly, and unclean. I
ascended to it by a ladder; my cloak and a little fern formed my
only bed. But I was glad to accept it, for it enabled me to he
alone and to think out the position unwatched.

Of course M. de Cocheforet was at the Chateau. He had left his
horse here, and gone up on foot; probably that was his usual
plan. He was therefore within my reach, in one sense--I could
not have come at a better time--but in another he was as much
beyond it as if I were still in Paris. For so far was I from
being able to seize him that I dared not ask a question, or let
fall a rash word, or even look about me freely. I saw I dared
not. The slightest hint of my mission, the faintest breath of
distrust, would lead to throat-cutting--and the throat would be
mine; while the longer I lay in the village, the greater
suspicion I should incur, and the closer would be the watch kept
upon me.

In such a position some men might have given up the attempt in