mists of the distant valleys. The least fluttering of
the leaves heralded her fancied approach. At times the hallucination was
so complete that he could see, in the interlacing of the branches,
the undulations of her supple form, and the graceful outlines of her
profile. Then he would be seized by an insane desire to reach the
fugitive and speak to her once more, and would go tearing along the
brushwood for that purpose. Now and then, in the half light formed by
the hanging boughs, he would see rays of golden light, coming
straight down to the ground, and resting there lightly like diaphanous
apparitions. Sometimes the rustling of birds taking flight, would sound
in his ears like the timid frou-frou of a skirt, and Julien, fascinated
by the mysterious charm of these indefinite objects, and following the
impulse of their mystical suggestions, would fling himself impetuously
into the jungle, repeating to him self the words of the "Canticle of
Canticles": "I hear the voice of my beloved; behold! she cometh leaping
upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills." He would continue to press
forward in pursuit of the intangible apparition, until he sank with
exhaustion near some stream or fountain. Under the influence of the
fever, which was consuming his brain, he would imagine the trickling
water to be the song of a feminine voice. He would wind his arms around
the young saplings, he would tear the berries from the bushes, pressing
them against his thirsty lips, and imagining their odoriferous sweetness
to be a fond caress from the loved one.

He would return from these expeditions exhausted but not appeased.
Sometimes he would come across Claudet, also returning home from paying
his court to Reine Vincart; and the unhappy Julien would scrutinize his
rival's countenance, seeking eagerly for some trace of the impressions
he had received during the loving interview. His curiosity was nearly
always baffled; for Claudet seemed to have left all his gayety and
conversational powers at La Thuiliere. During their tete-a-tete meals,
he hardly spoke at all, maintaining a reserved attitude and a taciturn
countenance. Julien, provoked at this unexpected sobriety, privately
accused his cousin of dissimulation, and of trying to conceal his
happiness. His jealousy so blinded him that he considered the silence
of Claudet as pure hypocrisy not recognizing that it was assumed for the
purpose of concealing some unpleasantness rather than satisfa