ast in the mire if they ventured there after
nightfall. Julien vainly endeavored to effect an arrangement with him,
and the discussion was prolonged in the courtyard of the hotel. Just
as the man was turning away, another, who had overheard the end of the
colloquy, came up to young de Buxieres, and offered to undertake the
journey for twenty francs.

"I have a good horse," said he to Julien; "I know the roads, and will
guarantee that we reach Vivey before nightfall."

The bargain was quickly made; and in half an hour, Julien de Buxieres
was rolling over the plain above Langres, in a shaky old cabriolet, the
muddy hood of which bobbed over at every turn of the wheel, while the
horse kept up a lively trot over the stones.

The clouds were low, and the road lay across bare and stony prairies,
the gray expanse of which became lost in the distant mist. This
depressing landscape would have made a disagreeable impression on a less
unobserving traveller, but, as we have said, Julien looked only
inward, and the phenomena of the exterior world influenced him only
unconsciously. Half closing his eyes, and mechanically affected by the
rhythmical tintinnabulation of the little bells, hanging around the
horse's neck, he had resumed his meditations, and considered how he
should arrange his life in this, to him, unknown country, which would
probably be his own for some time to come. Nevertheless, when, at the
end of the level plain, the road turned off into the wooded region, the
unusual aspect of the forest aroused his curiosity. The tufted woods and
lofty trees, in endless succession under the fading light, impressed him
by their profound solitude and their religious silence. His loneliness
was in sympathy with the forest, which seemed contemporary with the
Sleeping Beauty of the wood, the verdant walls of which were to separate
him forever from the world of cities. Henceforth, he could be himself,
could move freely, dress as he wished, or give way to his dreaming,
without fearing to encounter the ironical looks of idle and wondering
neighbors. For the first time since his departure from his former home,
he experienced a feeling of joy and serenity; the influence of the
surroundings, so much in harmony with his wishes, unlocked his tongue,
and made him communicative.

He made up his mind to speak to the guide, who was smoking at his side
and whipping his horse.

"Are we far from Vivey now?"

"That depends, Monsieur--as the cro