"As for the cows," said I, "perhaps they will carry them off."
"I think not," said Hogvardt, taking an aim with the rifle through the
window.
I looked at my watch. It was five minutes past six.
"Well, we can't go now," said I. "It's settled. What a comfort!" I
wonder if I had ever in my heart meant to go!
The next hour passed very quietly. We sat smoking pipes and cigars,
and talking in subdued tones. The recollection of the dead man in
the adjoining room sobered the excitement to which our position would
otherwise have given occasion. Indeed, I suppose that I, at least, who
had led the rest into this _imbroglio_ through my whim, should have
been utterly overwhelmed by the burden on me. But I was not. Perhaps
Hogvardt's assumption of responsibility relieved me; perhaps I was too
full of anger against Constantine to think of the risks we ourselves
ran; and I was more than half persuaded that the revelation of what he
had done would rob him of his power to hurt us. Moreover, if I might
judge from the words I heard on the road, we had on our side an ally
of uncertain, but probably considerable, power, in the sweet-voiced
girl whom the old woman called the Lady Euphrosyne; and she would not
support her uncle's murderer even though he were her cousin.
Presently Watkins carried me off to view his pen of goats, and, having
passed through the lofty, flagged kitchen, I found myself in a sort of
compound formed by the rocks.
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