t had
formerly appeared beyond his capabilities.

He now rose always at daybreak. Gaitered like a huntsman, and escorted
by Montagnard, who had taken a great liking to him, he would proceed to
the forest, visit the cuttings, hire fresh workmen, familiarize himself
with the woodsmen, interest himself in their labors, their joys and
their sorrows; then, when evening came, he was quite astonished to find
himself less weary, less isolated, and eating with considerable appetite
the supper prepared for him by Manette. Since he had been traversing
the forest, not as a stranger or a person of leisure, but with the
predetermination to accomplish some useful work, he had learned to
appreciate its beauties. The charms of nature and the living creatures
around no longer inspired him with the defiant scorn which he had
imbibed from his early solitary life and his priestly education; he now
viewed them with pleasure and interest. In proportion, as his sympathies
expanded and his mind became more virile, the exterior world presented a
more attractive appearance to him.

While this work of transformation was going on within him, he was aided
and sustained by the ever dear and ever present image of Reine Vincart.
The trenches, filled with dead leaves, the rows of beech-trees, stripped
of their foliage by the rude breath of winter, the odor peculiar
to underwood during the dead season, all recalled to his mind the
impressions he had received while in company with the woodland queen.
Now that, he could better understand the young girl's adoration of the
marvellous forest world, he sought out, with loving interest, the sites
where she had gone into ecstasy, the details of the landscape which she
had pointed out to him the year before, and had made him admire. The
beauty of the scene was associated in his thoughts with Reine's love,
and he could not think of either separately. But, notwithstanding the
steadfastness and force of his love, he had not yet made any effort to
see Mademoiselle Vincart. At first, the increase of occupation caused
by Claudet's departure, the new duties devolving upon him, together with
his inexperience, had prevented Julien from entertaining the possibility
of renewing relations that had been so violently sundered. Little by
little, however; as he reviewed the situation of affairs, which his
cousin's generous sacrifice had engendered, he began to consider how he
could benefit thereby. Claudet's departure had left