Another day was done, and Chaval had seated himself near Catherine, sharing with her his last half-slice. She was chewing the mouthfuls painfully; he made her pay for each with a caress, in his jealous obstinacy not willing to die until he had had her again in the other man's presence. She abandoned herself in exhaustion. But when he tried to take her she complained.
"Oh, leave me! you're breaking my bones."
Étienne, with a shudder, had placed his forehead against the timber so as not to see. He came back with a wild leap.
"Leave her, by God!"
"Does it concern you?" said Chaval. "She's my woman; I suppose she belongs to me!"
And he took her again and pressed her, out of bravado, crushing his red moustache against her mouth, and continuing:
"Will you leave us alone, eh? Will you be go
