A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. Here he was preparing to leap over the hedge into the fields on the left, when he was intercepted by two horsemen, who, hearing the shouts, rode up and struck at him with the butt-ends of their heavy riding-whips. “It was my sister Anna. As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. He begged their attention for the next turn. ‘This is not love, Marthe. Only, he'll be an interesting specimen for me to observe. She felt she had to go on. Part of his head was swathed in linen bandages.
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