go to bed at once, but sat down by a corner of the kitchen
fire to warm Pretty-Heart, who was suffering terribly from the cold. The
monkey had not ceased moaning, although we had wrapped him up in plenty
of coverlets.

The next morning I got up early as I had been told. It was not yet day,
the sky was lowering and black, and there was not a star to be seen.
When we opened the door a strong wind almost took us off our feet.

"If I were in your place," said the innkeeper to Vitalis, "I wouldn't
venture out. We're going to have a terrible snowstorm."

"I'm in a hurry," replied Vitalis, "and I want to get to Troyes before
it comes on."

"Thirty miles."

Nevertheless, we started.

Vitalis held Pretty-Heart tight against his body so as to give him some
of his own warmth, and the dogs, pleased with the hard dry roads, raced
before us. My master had bought a sheepskin for me at Dijon, and I
wrapped myself up in it with the wool inside.

It was anything but agreeable when we opened our mouths, so we walked
along in silence, hurrying as much to get warm as to get ahead. Although
it was long past the hour of daybreak, the sky was still quite black.
Although to the east a whitish band cut the clouds, yet the sun would
not come out. Looking across the country, objects were now becoming more
distinct. We could see the trees stripped of their leaves, and the
shrubs and bushes with dry foliage rustling and cracking with the heavy
gusts of wind. There was no one on the roads, nor in the fields, not a
sound of cart wheels, nor the crack of a whip.

Suddenly, in the distance, we could see a pale streak which got larger
and larger as it came towards us. Then we heard a sort of hissing
murmur, the strange, harsh cry of the wild geese. The maddened flock
flew over our heads; on they went, wildly fleeing from the north towards
the south. Before they were out of sight, soft flakes were dropping
gently from the skies and floating in the atmosphere.

The country through which we tramped was desolate and bleak, the
mournful aspect seemed to add to the silence; only the shrill whistling
of the north wind was heard. Snowflakes, like tiny butterflies,
fluttered around us, whirling incessantly without touching the ground.

We made little headway. It seemed impossible that we could reach Troyes
before the storm was fully upon us. But I did not worry; I thought that
if the snow fell it would not be so cold.

I did not know what a snow sto