Once or twice during the next few days Bathsheba saw Troy working in her hayflelds. He behaved in a pleasant，friendly manner towards her，and she began to lose her fear of him.

‘Cutting your hay¹ is harder work than sword practice！’he told her one day，a smile lighting² up his handsome face.

‘Is it？I've never seen sword practice，’she answered.

‘Ah！Would you like to？’asked Troy.

Bathsheba hesitated. She had heard wonderful stories from people who had watched soldiers practising，stories of shining metal flashing through the air.

‘I would like to see it，very much. ’

‘Well，I'll show you. I can get a sword by this evening. Will you…’and he bent³ over her，whispering in her ear.

‘Oh no！’said Bathsheba，blushing. ‘I couldn't. ’

‘Surely you could？ Nobody would know. ’

‘Well，if I came，Liddy would have to come with me. ’

‘I don't see why you want to bring her，’Troy said coldly.

‘Well then，I won't bring her—and I'll come. But only for a very short time. ’

So at eight o'clock that evening，Bathsheba found herself，in spite⁴ of her doubts，climbing the hill near her house and go－ing down the other side. Now she was in what seemed like a natural theatre，a deep，round hollow⁵ in the ground . It was completely hidden from her house and the path. This was the place where Troy had asked her to meet him.

And Troy，in his bright red uniform，was there.

‘Now，he said，producing his sword，which flashed in the evening sunlight，‘let me show you. One，two，three，four. Like this！A sword can kill a man in a second. ’

Bathsheba saw a kind of rainbow in the air，and gasped⁶.

‘How cruel and murderous！’she cried.

‘Yes. Now I'll pretend to fight you. You are my enemy，but the only difference from a real fight is that I'll miss you each time. Stand in front of me，and don't move！’

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