"He didn't come in last night," said the hostler.

"Didn't come in!" cried Dubourg; "are you sure?"

"Yes, monsieur; neither him nor the horse."

"The devil!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Dubourg; "this begins to be alarming. To stay out all night--it's very strange."

He went up to tell Menard, and that gentleman, after reflecting for fifteen minutes, inquired:

"What do you think about it, monsieur le baron?"

"Morbleu! that's what I ask you, Monsieur Menard?"

"I don't dare to form any opinion, monsieur le baron--that's my opinion."

"It's very much like Brid'oison's."

They pa.s.sed the day waiting for Frederic, who did not appear. Dubourg was anxious about his friend, Menard trembled for his pupil, and the innkeeper would have been disturbed about his horse if he had not had the carriage for security.

The next morning, at daybreak, Dubourg appeared at Menard's bedside, with his hat on his head, and said:

"Come, we must find Frederic."

"Let us find him, monsieur le baron."

"To find him, we must look for him."

"That is what I was thinking, monsieur le baron."

"That doesn't seem to prevent your lying quietly in bed."

"I am awaiting your final opinion."

"My opinion is that we should start at once. That young man has a face and figure so far from commonplace that we must be able to learn which way he went; he can't be lost!"

"We must hope not, for what would monsieur le comte his father say to me?"

"Get up, then, and come with me."

Menard dressed and breakfasted, and accompanied Dubourg, who ordered saddles placed on two venerable farm horses, which the innkeeper intrusted to them with a bad grace, because their account was beginning to exceed the value of their carriage. At last they were mounted; Menard warned his companion that he could not ride faster than a walk, and Dubourg replied that when one is making a search he does not travel rapidly.

When they left the inn, they inquired and were told which direction Frederic had taken. All along the road, people had noticed the young horseman who pa.s.sed every morning, urging his horse to his utmost speed, and returned very slowly in the evening. Dubourg soon learned beyond question that Frederic rode to Vizille every day.

"What does he go there for?" queried Dubourg.

"He has probably found some charming view."

"I think it's more likely to be some charming face."

"What! monsieur le baron, you think----"

"Why, yes; Frederic isn't fool enough to stare at nothing but trees and mountains all day. He was in search of a heart that would sympathize with his, a nature as loving as his own--in a word, a woman who would take his fancy; and who knows that he hasn't found some artless, simple-minded peasant girl who has turned his head?"

"For my part, I'll wager that he spends his time looking at the Grande Chartreuse."

"Consider, Monsieur Menard, that Frederic is only twenty-one."

"Remember, monsieur le baron, that women have deceived him many times, and that he left Paris to avoid them."

"Is that any reason why he should never love another woman? Indeed, Monsieur Menard, when a man runs away from a thing, it's because he feels that he couldn't resist it long."

"Joseph fled from Potiphar's wife, monsieur le baron; but it was not for fear of giving way to her."

"Joseph allowed himself to be seduced at last, Monsieur Menard, for his posterity peopled Canaan."

Arguing thus, they arrived at Vizille. They inquired about Frederic in the village; but the villagers, being busily employed, had paid little attention to the young man, who had dined at the inn only twice; for we have seen that he dined in the woods on what Sister Anne brought him.

They had seen him several times, to be sure, but they had not noticed in which direction he went, or what he did in the village. So Dubourg and his companion left Vizille, knowing little more than when they arrived.

"All is lost!" cried Menard, from time to time; "my pupil must have been eaten by wolves or killed by highwaymen, or else he has fallen over a precipice while watching a sunset! Poor Frederic! so gentle, amiable, and well-informed! there is nothing left for me but to weep for you!

"'Qualis populea moerens Philomela sub umbra Amissos queritur foetus!'"

"Oh! no, Monsieur Menard; Frederic hasn't been killed or eaten. There's no question here of a resemblance to Philomela weeping for her children; what we have to do is to find out where the young man has gone. Ah! look yonder--there's an animal who could give us some information about him, I fancy."

On leaving the village, they had gone down into the valley, and were now on the outskirts of the forest, where Frederic's horse was wandering at will along the paths leading into the valley.

"That's his horse," said Menard. "I know him by that white spot; I've seen him in the innyard; it's Frederic's horse. And he's alone, without a rider. An additional proof, monsieur le baron, that the young man has fallen a victim to his imprudence. The horse undoubtedly threw him; my pupil is dead; he probably tried to climb one of these mountains; it was dark and he couldn't see the road at his feet. All is lost!"

"I believe, on the contrary, that Frederic is in these woods, and that he left his horse here so that he could go where he chose. Let us adopt the same method in looking for him; but let's be more prudent than he, and tie our horses to one of these firs."

They dismounted, and entered the woods, Menard still holding his handkerchief to his eyes, because he believed that Frederic was dead or wounded, and Dubourg marching ahead and peering intently in every direction. Ere long he came quickly back to the tutor, with a triumphant air, and said, pointing to a gra.s.sy mound:

"Look! see if my presentiments misled me? there's the marvel of nature that Frederic comes here to admire."

Menard looked in the direction indicated, and saw, beneath a spreading tree, his pupil lying carelessly on the gra.s.s, holding in his arms a lovely girl, whose head rested against her lover's breast, and whose arms were about his neck.

"You were right, monsieur le baron," said Menard, after a moment of speechless surprise; "that isn't the Chartreuse! it is more modern."

"That looks to me to be a lovely girl."

"And to me also, monsieur le baron."

"That sly dog of a Frederic! It was decidedly clever of him to find such a pretty face in this desert. Do you still think that he shuns the ladies, Monsieur Menard?"

"It doesn't look like it at this moment."

"Pshaw! Monsieur Menard, Frederic, although rather sentimental, is made like other men; but we must go and offer him our respects."