eeling. It was a sad and suitable
accompaniment of his own gloomy thoughts.

He was deeply mortified at the sorry figure he had presented at the
breakfast-table. He acknowledged sorrowfully to himself that, at
twenty-eight years of age, he was less young and less really alive than
all these country squires, although all, except Claudet, had passed
their fortieth year. Having missed his season of childhood, was he
also doomed to have no youth? Others found delight in the most ordinary
amusements, why, to him, did life seem so insipid and colorless?

Why was he so unfortunately constituted that all human joys lost their
sweetness as soon as he opened his heart to them? Nothing made any
powerful impression on him; everything that happened seemed to be a
perpetual reiteration, a song sung for the hundredth time, a story a
hundred times related.

He was like a new vase, cracked before it had served its use, and he
felt thoroughly ashamed of the weakness and infirmity of his inner self.
Thus pondering, he traversed much ground, hardly knowing where he
was going. The fog, which now filled the air and which almost hid the
trenches with its thin bluish veil, made it impossible to discover his
bearings. At last he reached the border of some pastureland, which he
crossed, and then he perceived, not many steps away, some buildings with
tiled roofs, which had something familiar to him in their aspect. After
he had gone a few feet farther he recognized the court and facade of
La Thuiliere; and, as he looked over the outer wall, a sight altogether
novel and unexpected presented itself.

Standing in the centre of the courtyard, her outline showing in dark
relief against the light "sugar-frosting," stood Reine Vincart, her back
turned to Julien. She held up a corner of her apron with one hand, and
with the other took out handfuls of grain, which she scattered among
the birds fluttering around her. At each moment the little band was
augmented by a new arrival. All these little creatures were of species
which do not emigrate, but pass the winter in the shelter of the wooded
dells. There were blackbirds with yellow bills, who advanced boldly
over the snow up to the very feet of the distributing fairy; robin
redbreasts, nearly as tame, hopping gayly over the stones, bobbing their
heads and puffing out their red breasts; and tomtits, prudently watching
awhile from the tops of neighboring trees, then suddenly taking flight,
and with quick