"No," she said. "No, I believe not," and fell silent again, playing with the ends of her sash.
It seemed to her that the peace of their being together was broken, and a constraint had come between them.
His words had hurt her, and he knew that they had hurt her, and as they stared into the fire without a word all the unspoken hidden things flamed in the air, creating a brittle atmosphere of unrest.
At last he broke the silence, his voice very low and quiet.
"In the winter," he said, "when I used to lie in your room at Navron, and look at your picture, I made my own pictures of you in my mind: I would see you fishing perhaps, as we did this afternoon, or watching the sea from the decks of La Mouette.
And somehow, the pictures would not fit with the servants' gossip I had heard from time to time. The two were not in keeping."
"How unwise of you," she said slowly, "to make pictures of someone you had never seen."
"Possibly," he said, "but it was unwise of you to leave your portrait in your bedroom, untended and alone, when pirates such as myself make landings on the English coast."
"You might have turned it," she said, "with its face to the wall - or even put another in its place, of the true Dona St. Columb, roystering at the Swan, and dressing up in the breeches of her husband's friends, and riding at midnight with a mask on her face to frighten old solitary women."
"Was that one of your pastimes?"
"It was the last one, before I became a fugitive.
I wonder you did not hear it, with the rest of the servants' gossip."
Suddenly he laughed, and reaching to the little pile of wood behind him, he threw fresh fuel onto the fire, and the flames crackled and leapt into the air.
"It is a pity you were not born a boy," he said, "you could have discovered then what danger meant.
Like myself, you are an outlaw at heart, and dressing up in breeches and frightening old women was the nearest thing to piracy you could imagine."
"Yes," she said, "but you - when you have captured your prize or made your landing - sail away with a sense of achievement, whereas I, in my pitiful little attempt at piracy, was filled with self-hatred, and a feeling of degradation."
"You are a woman," he said, "and you do not care for killing fishes either."
This time, looking across the fire, she saw that he was smiling at her in a mocking way, and it seemed as though the constraint between them vanished, they were themselves again, and she could lean back on her elbow and relax.
"When I was a lad," he said, "I used to play at soldiers, and fight for my king.
And then, in a thunderstorm, when the lightning came and the thunder clapped, I would hide my head in my mother's lap and put my fingers in my ears.
Also, to make my soldiering more realistic, I would paint my hands red and pretend tо be wounded - but when I saw blood for the first time on a dog that was dying, I ran away and was sick."
"That was like me," she said, "that was how I felt, after my masquerade."
"Yes," he said, "that is why I told you."
"And now," she said, "you don't mind blood any more, you are a pirate, and fighting is your life - robbing and killing, and hurting. All the things you pretended to do and were afraid to do - now you don't mind them any longer."
"On the contrary," he said, "I am often very frightened."
"Yes," she said, "but not in the same way. Not frightened of yourself.
Not frightened of being afraid."
"No," he said. "No, that has gone for ever. That went when I became a pirate."
The long twigs in the fire began to crumple and fall, and to break into fragments.
The flames burnt low, and the ashes were white.
"Tomorrow," he said, "I must begin to plan again."
She glanced across at him, but the firelight no longer shone upon him, and his face was in shadow.
"You mean - you must go away?" she said.
"I have been idle too long," he answered, "the fault lies in the creek. I have allowed it to take a hold on me.
No, your friends Eustick and Godolphin shall have a run for their money.
I shall see if I can bring them into the open."
"You are going to do something dangerous?"
"Of course."
"Will you make another landing along the coast?"
"Very probably."
"And risk capture, and possibly death?"
"Yes."
"Why - and for what reason?"
"Because I want the satisfaction of proving to myself that my brain is better than theirs."
"But that is a ridiculous reason."
"It is my reason, nevertheless."
"It is an egotistical thing to say.
A sublime form of conceit."
"I know that."
"It would be wiser to sail back to Brittany."