looked at her in amazement. Two tears which filled his eyes
overflowed down his withered cheeks. He could not take Julie in his arms
in that crowded place; but he pressed her hand tenderly. A few minutes
later when they had taken their places in the cabriolet, all the anxious
thought which had gathered about his brow had completely disappeared.
Julie's pensive attitude gave him far less concern than the innocent joy
which had betrayed her secret during the review.

Nearly a year had passed since the Emperor's last review. In early March
1814 a caleche was rolling along the highroad from Amboise to Tours.
As the carriage came out from beneath the green-roofed aisle of walnut
trees by the post-house of la Frilliere, the horses dashed forward with
such speed that in a moment they gained the bridge built across the Cise
at the point of its confluence with the Loire. There, however, they come
to a sudden stand. One of the traces had given way in consequence of the
furious pace at which the post-boy, obedient to his orders, had urged on
four horses, the most vigorous of their breed. Chance, therefore, gave
the two recently awakened occupants of the carriage an opportunity of
seeing one of the most lovely landscapes along the enchanting banks of
the Loire, and that at their full leisure.

At a glance the travelers could see to the right the whole winding
course of the Cise meandering like a silver snake among the meadows,
where the grass had taken the deep, bright green of early spring. To the
left lay the Loire in all its glory. A chill morning breeze, ruffling
the surface of the stately river, had fretted the broad sheets of water
far and wide into a network of ripples, which caught the gleams of the
sun, so that the green islets here and there in its course shone like
gems set in a gold necklace. On the opposite bank the fair rich meadows
of Touraine stretched away as far as the eye could see; the low hills
of the Cher, the only limits to the view, lay on the far horizon, a
luminous line against the clear blue sky. Tours itself, framed by the
trees on the islands in a setting of spring leaves, seemed to rise like
Venice out of the waters, and her old cathedral towers soaring in air
were blended with the pale fantastic cloud shapes in the sky.

Over the side of the bridge, where the carriage had come to a stand, the
traveler looks along a line of cliffs stretching as far as Tours.
Nature in some freakish mood must have