We hope that the reader has not quite forgotten the young traveler whom we left on the road to Flanders.
In losing sight of his , whom he had quitted, gazing after him in front of the royal basilican, Raoul spurred on his horse, in order not only to escape from his own reflections, but also to hide from Olivain the emotion his face might betray.
One hour’s rapid progress, however, sufficed to the gloomy fancies that had clouded the young man’s bright ; and the hitherto unfelt pleasure of freedom--a pleasure which is sweet even to those who have never known dependence--seemed to Raoul to not only Heaven and earth, but especially that blue but dim horizon of life we call the future.
Nevertheless, after several attempts at conversation with Olivain he foresaw that many days passed thus would prove exceedingly dull; and the count’s agreeable voice, his gentle and , to his mind at the various towns through which they journeyed and about which he had no longer any one to give him those interesting details which he would have from Athos, the most amusing and the best informed of guides. Another recollection contributed also to sadden Raoul: on their arrival at Sonores he had perceived, hidden behind a screen of poplars, a little which so recalled that of La Valliere to his mind that he halted for nearly ten minutes to gaze at it, and resumed his journey with a sigh too abstracted even to reply to Olivain’s respectful about the cause of so much attention. The aspect of external objects is often a mysterious guide communicating with the fibres of memory, which in spite of us will arouse them at times; this thread, like that of Ariadne, when once unraveled will conduct one through a of thought, in which one loses one’s self in endeavoring to follow that of the past which is called recollection.
Now the sight of this chateau had taken Raoul back fifty leagues and had caused him to review his life from the moment when he had taken leave of little Louise to that in which he had seen her for the first time; and every branch of oak, every weathercock on roof of , reminded him that, instead of returning to the friends of his childhood, every instant him further and that perhaps he had even left them forever.
With a full heart and burning head he desired Olivain to lead on the horses to a wayside inn, which he observed within gunshot range, a little in advance of the place they had reached.
As for himself, he dismounted and remained under a beautiful group of in flower, amidst which were murmuring a multitude of happy bees, and bade Olivain send the host to him with writing paper and ink, to be placed on a table which he found there, conveniently ready. Olivain obeyed and continued on his way, whilst Raoul remained sitting, with his elbow leaning on the table, from time to time gently shaking the flowers from his head, which fell upon him like snow, and gazing on the charming landscape spread out before him, dotted over with green fields and groups of trees. Raoul had been there about ten minutes, during five of which he was lost in reverie, when there appeared within the circle comprised in his rolling gaze a man with a face, who, with a napkin around his body, another under his arm, and a white cap upon his head, approached him, holding paper, pen and ink in hand.
“Ha! ha!” laughed the , “every gentleman seems to have the same fancy, for not a quarter of an hour ago a young lad, well mounted like you, as tall as you and of about your age, halted before this of trees and had this table and this chair brought here, and dined here, with an old gentleman who seemed to be his tutor, upon a pie, of which they haven’t left a mouthful, and two bottles of Macon wine, of which they haven’t left a drop, but fortunately we have still some of the same wine and some of the same pies left, and if your worship will but give your orders----”
“No, friend,” replied Raoul, smiling, “I am obliged to you, but at this moment I want nothing but the things for which I have asked--only I shall be very glad if the ink prove black and the pen good; upon these conditions I will pay for the pen the price of the bottle, and for the ink the price of the pie.”
“Do as you like,” said Raoul, who was beginning his with that particular class of society, who, when there were robbers on the highroads, were connected with them, and who, since highwaymen no longer exist, have advantageously and aptly filled their vacant place.
The host, his mind at ease about his bill, placed pen, ink and paper upon the table. By a lucky chance the pen was tolerably good and Raoul began to write. The host remained in front of him, looking with a kind of involuntary at his handsome face, combining both gravity and sweetness of expression. Beauty has always been and always will be all-powerful.
“He’s not a guest like the other one here just now,” observed mine host to Olivain, who had rejoined his master to see if he wanted anything, “and your young master has no appetite.”
“My master had appetite enough three days ago, but what can one do? he lost it the day before yesterday.”
And Olivain and the host took their way together toward the inn, Olivain, according to the custom of serving-men well pleased with their place, relating to the tavern-keeper all that he could say in favor of the young gentleman; whilst Raoul wrote on thus:
“Sir,--After a four hours’ march I stop to write to you, for I miss you every moment, and I am always on the point of turning my head as if to reply when you speak to me. I was so bewildered by your departure and so overcome with grief at our separation, that I am sure I was able to but very feebly express all the affection and I feel toward you. You will forgive me, sir, for your heart is of such a generous nature that you can well understand all that has passed in mine. I you to write to me, for you form a part of my existence, and, if I may venture to tell you so, I also feel anxious. It seemed to me as if you were yourself preparing for some dangerous , about which I did not dare to question you, since you told me nothing. I have, therefore, as you see, great need of hearing from you. Now that you are no longer beside me I am afraid every moment of . You sustained me powerfully, sir, and I protest to you that to-day I feel very lonely. Will you have the goodness, sir, should you receive news from Blois, to send me a few lines about my little friend Mademoiselle de la Valliere, about whose health, when we left, so much anxiety was felt? You can understand, honored and dear guardian, how precious and indispensable to me is the remembrance of the years that I have passed with you. I hope that you will sometimes, too, think of me, and if at certain hours you should miss me, if you should feel any slight regret at my absence, I shall be overwhelmed with joy at the thought that you appreciate my affection for and my devotion to yourself, and that I have been able to prove them to you whilst I had the happiness of living with you.”
After finishing this letter Raoul felt more composed; he looked well around him to see if Olivain and the host might not be watching him, whilst he impressed a kiss upon the paper, a mute and , which the heart of Athos might well divine on opening the letter.
During this time Olivain had finished his bottle and eaten his pie; the horses were also refreshed. Raoul motioned to the host to approach, threw a crown upon the table, mounted his horse, and posted his letter at Senlis. The rest that had been thus afforded to men and horses enabled them to continue their journey at a good round pace. At Verberie, Raoul desired Olivain to make some inquiry about the young man who was preceding them; he had been observed to pass only three-quarters of an hour , but he was well mounted, as the tavern-keeper had already said, and rode at a rapid pace.
“Let us try and overtake this gentleman,” said Raoul to Olivain; “like ourselves he is on his way to join the army and may prove agreeable company.”
It was about four o’clock in the afternoon when Raoul arrived at Compiegne; there he dined and again inquired about the young gentleman who was in advance of them. He had stopped, like Raoul, at the Hotel of the Bell and Bottle, the best at Compiegne; and had started again on his journey, saying that he should sleep at Noyon.
“Well, let us sleep at Noyon,” said Raoul.
“Sir,” replied Olivain, respectfully, “allow me to remark that we have already much the horses this morning. I think it would be well to sleep here and to start again very early tomorrow. Eighteen leagues is enough for the first stage.”
“The Comte de la Fere wished me to hasten on,” replied Raoul, “that I might rejoin the prince on the morning of the fourth day; let us push on, then, to Noyon; it will be a stage similar to those we traveled from Blois to Paris. We shall arrive at eight clock. The horses will have a long night’s rest, and at five clock tomorrow morning we can be again on the road.”
Olivain dared offer no to this determination but he followed his master, .
“Go on, go on,” said he, between his teeth, “expend your the first day; tomorrow, instead of journeying twenty leagues, you will travel ten, the day aft............