"Why, three short leagues, monsieur, at most."

"Three leagues more! What road must we take?"

"Why! you must go by crossroads now. First to Chadrat; then you will see Saint-Amand, and you can inquire there."

"If we get there before dark, we shall be very lucky!--Well! I'll run after those gentlemen and then we'll be off."

Robineau left the cottage and asked some peasants in which direction his companions had gone; they pointed to the lake and he hastened thither and soon discovered Edouard sitting on the sh.o.r.e, writing on his tablets, while Alfred, a little farther on, was dancing with a girl to the strains of a fife played by a small boy.

"Let's be off, messieurs, it will soon be dark!" cried Robineau.

But Alfred continued to dance and Edouard to write.

"They have the very devil in them!" muttered Robineau; and he walked up to Edouard and tapped him on the shoulder as he was reading over the lines he had written.

"We must start, Monsieur Edouard!"

Edouard looked up at Robineau, and declaimed:

"Que j'aime ce sejour! pres de cette onde pure, Qu'il est doux, sur le soir, d'admirer la nature!"

"I tell you that it will soon be dark."

"Ne sous cet humble toit, l'habitant de ces lieux, D'un il indifferent, voit ces monts sourcilleux!"

"We have three good leagues to travel through these frowning mountains, monsieur."

"Mais, pour un cur sensible a la melancolie, Ce site romantique est plein de poesie!

Ces rochers escarpes, ces limpides ruisseaux, Ces sentiers tortueux, ces flexibles roseaux."

"It is almost eight o'clock, and we shall break our necks on these winding paths."

"Tout m'agite, m'emeut, et cet endroit sauvage a mes sens etonnes parle un nouveau langage."[3]

"Oh! if the streams speak to you, they must make some poor joke, Monsieur Edouard!"

"Well, my dear Jules, what say you to those lines?" said Edouard, as he rose and put his tablets in his pocket.

"I say that they are charming, admirable; but I say also that, with your poetry, you will make us pa.s.s the night in these mountains, which will not amuse me in the least."

"Would you like me to repeat them to you?"

"No, I want to push on.--And there is Alfred dancing like one possessed!--A young man of his rank, a baron, dancing _flicflacs_ with a buxom Auvergnate!--Alfred! Alfred!"

"One minute! she's teaching me a _bourree_," said Alfred, continuing his dance, and whirling his partner about in his arms.

The dance came to an end at last; Alfred kissed the peasant girl and joined his companions, saying:

"Messieurs, the Auvergnat dance is not light and ethereal, but I a.s.sure you that it has its merits. So, my dear Robineau, I promise to dance with all your female va.s.sals."

"Have you finished, messieurs?"

"Yes, we are ready to go with you."

"I am not sorry for that! Let us walk faster, I beg you. This road should take us to Chadrat, and thence, if G.o.d please, we will go to La Roche-Noire."

The three travellers waved their hands to the people of the village and resumed their journey, Alfred practising the step of the _bourree_, Edouard reading over his verses, and Robineau looking at his watch every instant.

VIII

THE WHITE HOUSE

They had been walking for a considerable time through the mountains when they descried a small village in the distance. It was growing dark; Alfred was obliged to cease dancing, because he was in danger of stepping into some hole; Edouard could read no longer, and Robineau could not see the time by his watch. It soon became impossible to see even the village toward which they were walking, whereupon Robineau wrung his hands in despair. Alfred laughed and Edouard uttered poetry.

"I foresaw what has happened!" said Robineau with a dismal groan. "Here it is dark, and we are in the midst of the mountains, in a region of which we know nothing! At every step we are in danger of falling over some precipice, or at least of plunging down some horribly steep slope!

Instead of finding my chateau, we may be going farther and farther away from it--and that makes you laugh, messieurs! I can't understand that!"

"Do you want us to weep, Robineau? would that please you? Come, come, O chatelain of La Roche-Noire, recall your high-born courage. When one is about to take up one's abode in an ancient chateau, one should possess the heart of a paladin, eh, Edouard?"

Edouard's only reply was to declaim:

"Tout repose dans l'ombre, et le seul Idamore Des mues de Benares s'echappe avant l'aurore.

Quel est ce bois antique ou vos pas m'ont conduit?

Mais j'entrevois un temple, et l'astre de la nuit!"[4]

"You see a temple?" cried Robineau. "Where, in heaven's name? I can't see anything at all."

"Ha! ha! ha! Do you mean to say, Robineau, that you don't recognize Casimir Delavigne's beautiful verses? Don't you realize that Edouard is declaiming _Le Paria_?"

"Faith, messieurs, I didn't suspect that you were going to begin on tragedy!--Oh! that's all right! laugh away! you don't know what you lose by not reaching my estate before dark. You fancy that we should have been received by the concierge alone. But you would have seen something very different!--The bouquets and the dancing and the congratulations that awaited us--we are missing all those!"

"Why, how do you know they would have celebrated our arrival?" asked Edouard.

"Ah! I can guess!" cried Alfred; "Francois didn't go on before for nothing.--Oh! I understand: Robineau had ordered an extemporaneous reception--that his people should surprise him with cries of _Vive monseigneur!_ and bombs, after the style of popular celebrations."

"No, messieurs, no; I ordered nothing; but I know Francois's zeal, he is certain not to have concealed the fact that I should soon arrive, and it seems to me quite natural to think that the news would make some sensation in the neighborhood."

"Well! don't be disheartened; if we don't arrive until to-morrow morning, the fete will be all the better for the delay; they will have had time to prepare, to commit complimentary speeches to memory, and to wash their faces, which is never a disadvantage. To be sure, if they have a display of fireworks for you, it will be in the daylight; but that's the fashion in China, and the Seigneur de la Roche-Noire cannot object to bear some resemblance to a great Mandarin."

"And poor Francois! how anxious he will be when we don't appear! You forget that, messieurs."

"Oh! my dear Robineau, it isn't on Francois's account that you are so annoyed!--But, after all, there is some hope left, we are sure to arrive somewhere!"

"Yes! somewhere! in some excavation into which we shall tumble without a branch to hold on to! You can't see your hand before your face."