d
leading to the wood.

I had brought with me a map of the environs of Paris, so that I might not
lose my way amid the paths which cross in every direction these little
forests where Parisians take their outings.

As soon as I was unperceived I began to study my guide, which seemed to
be perfectly clear. I was to turn to the right, then to the left, then
again to the left and I should reach Versailles by evening in time for
dinner.

I walked slowly beneath the young leaves, drinking in the air, fragrant
with the odor of young buds and sap. I sauntered along, forgetful of
musty papers, of the offices, of my chief, my colleagues, my documents,
and thinking of the good things that were sure to come to me, of all the
veiled unknown contained in the future. A thousand recollections of
childhood came over me, awakened by these country odors, and I walked
along, permeated with the fragrant, living enchantment, the emotional
enchantment of the woods warmed by the sun of June.

At times I sat down to look at all sorts of little flowers growing on a
bank, with the names of which I was familiar. I recognized them all just
as if they were the ones I had seen long ago in the country. They were
yellow, red, violet, delicate, dainty, perched on long stems or close to
the ground. Insects of all colors and shapes, short, long, of peculiar
form, frightful, and microscopic monsters, climbed quietly up the stalks
of grass which bent beneath their weight.

Then I went to sleep for some hours in a hollow and started off again,
refreshed by my doze.

In front of me lay an enchanting pathway and through its somewhat scanty
foliage the sun poured down drops of light on the marguerites which grew
there. It stretched out interminably, quiet and deserted, save for an
occasional big wasp, who would stop buzzing now and then to sip from a
flower, and then continue his way.

All at once I perceived at the end of the path two persons, a man and a
woman, coming towards me. Annoyed at being disturbed in my quiet walk, I
was about to dive into the thicket, when I thought I heard someone
calling me. The woman was, in fact, shaking her parasol, and the man, in
his shirt sleeves, his coat over one arm, was waving the other as a
signal of distress.

I went towards them. They were walking hurriedly, their faces very red,
she with short, quick steps and he with long strides. They both looked
annoyed and fatigued.

The woman asked:

"Can you tell