quickly
to and fro, with resolution to wait, as long as he could keep alive, the
end of an adventure which had such an uncomfortable beginning. All this
was to no purpose; for though he used every effort to keep himself warm,
and though muffled up in a thick cloak, yet he began to be benumbed in
all his limbs, and the cold gained the ascendancy over all his amorous
vivacity and eagerness. Daybreak was not far off, and judging now
that, though the accursed door should even be opened, it would be to no
purpose, he returned, as well as he could, to the place from whence he
had set out upon this wonderful expedition.

All the faggots that were in the cottage were hardly able to unfreeze
him: the more he reflected on his adventure, the circumstances attending
it appeared still the more strange and unaccountable; but so far
from accusing the charming countess, he suffered a thousand different
anxieties on her account. Sometimes he imagined that her husband might
have returned unexpectedly; sometimes, that she might suddenly have
been taken ill; in short, that some insuperable obstacle had unluckily
interposed, and prevented his happiness, notwithstanding his mistress's
kind intentions towards him. "But wherefore," said he, "did she forget
me in that cursed garden? Is it possible that she could not find a
single moment to make me at least, some sign or other, if she could
neither speak to me nor give me admittance?" He knew not which of these
conjectures to rely upon, or how to answer his own questions; but as he
flattered himself that everything would succeed better the next night,
after having vowed not to set a foot again into that unfortunate garden,
he gave orders to be awakened as soon as any person should inquire for
him: then he laid himself down in one of the worst beds in the world,
and slept as sound as if he had been in the best: he supposed that he
should not be awakened, but either by a letter or a message from Lady
Chesterfield; but he had scarce slept two hours when he was roused by
the sound of the horn and the cry of the hounds. The but which afforded
him a retreat, joining, as we before said, to the park wall, he called
his host, to know what was the occasion of that hunting, which made a
noise as if the whole pack of hounds had been in his bed-chamber. He was
told that it was my lord hunting a hare in his park. "What lord?" said
he, in great surprise. "The Earl of Chesterfield," replied the pea sant.
He was