left the stable she found the mail-coach ready to start.
Mademoiselle de Verneuil and her new fellow-travellers were already in
it. The girl shuddered as she saw her young mistress sitting side by
side with the woman who had just ordered her death. The young man had
taken his seat facing Marie, and as soon as Francine was in hers the
heavy vehicle started at a good pace.

The sun had swept away the gray autumnal mists, and its rays were
brightening the gloomy landscape with a look of youth and holiday. Many
lovers fancy that such chance accidents of the sky are premonitions.
Francine was surprised at the strange silence which fell upon the
travellers. Mademoiselle de Verneuil had recovered her cold manner, and
sat with her eyes lowered, her head slightly inclined, and her hands
hidden under a sort of mantle in which she had wrapped herself. If she
raised her eyes it was only to look at the passing scenery. Certain of
being admired, she rejected admiration; but her apparent indifference
was evidently more coquettish than natural. Purity, which gives such
harmony to the diverse expressions by which a simple soul reveals
itself, could lend no charm to a being whose every instinct predestined
her to the storms of passion. Yielding himself up to the pleasures
of this dawning intrigue, the young man did not try to explain
the contradictions which were obvious between the coquetry and the
enthusiasm of this singular young girl. Her assumed indifference allowed
him to examine at his ease a face which was now as beautiful in its
calmness as it had been when agitated. Like the rest of us, he was not
disposed to question the sources of his enjoyment.

It is difficult for a pretty woman to avoid the glances of her
companions in a carriage when their eyes fasten upon her as a visible
distraction to the monotony of a journey. Happy, therefore, in being
able to satisfy the hunger of his dawning passion, without offence or
avoidance on the part of its object, the young man studied the pure and
brilliant lines of the girl's head and face. To him they were a picture.
Sometimes the light brought out the transparent rose of the nostrils
and the double curve which united the nose with the upper lip; at other
times a pale glint of sunshine illuminated the tints of the skin,
pearly beneath the eyes and round the mouth, rosy on the cheeks, and
ivory-white about the temples and throat. He admired the contrasts of
light and shade caused by the