this life which I am at
last to know; and I gaze absent-mindedly at the Bray country, that
lovely country red with the gold of autumn. By force of habit, my
nerves spell out a few sensations which my thoughts do not put into
words. My heart is beating. Now, with no idea or purpose in my mind, I
am speeding with a full heart towards the girl who was at least the
inspiration of a splendid hope and above all an incentive to action.

CHAPTER II

1

I arrived at Neufchatel at the gracious hour when the sun is paling; and
I was at once charmed with the kindly aspect of this little Norman town.

The house-fronts gleaming with fresh paint, the pigeons picking their
way across the streets, the grass growing between the cobble-stones, the
flowers outside the windows and doors, a cleanliness that adorns the
smallest details: all this is so calm and so empty that our life at once
settles there as in a frame that takes with equal ease the happy or the
sad picture which we propose to fit into it.

It reminds me of Bruges, whose infinite, patient calm is a clean page on
which the visitor's life is printed, happy or distressful at will, since
there is nothing to define its character. It also has the silence of the
little Flemish towns, with their streets without carriages or wayfarers.
The gardens look as though they were artificial; and in the frame of
the open windows we see interiors which are as sharp as pictures.

Leading out of the main street is a mysterious little alley, dark and
badly paved. It runs upwards and ends in a clump of trees arching
against the blue of the sky. There is no visible gate or doorway. I turn
up it. All along a high wall hang old fire-backs, bas-reliefs of
cracked, rusty-red iron, once licked by the flames, now washed by the
rain.

I loiter to examine the subjects: coats of arms, trophies of weapons, or
allegories and half-obliterated love-scenes. It is curious to see these
homely relics thus exposed in the street, conjuring up the peaceful soul
of families gathered round the hearth. From over the wall, the air
reaches me laden with hallowed fragrance. I picture the box-bordered
walks on the other side.

Then I climb higher; and, when I come to the trees, I find a charming
surprise. The public gardens lie in front of me. In the shade of the
public gardens we seem to find the very spirit of a town; it is to the
gardens or to the church that our curiosity always turns in the first
place.