ewhat
romantic. Valancourt had known little of the world. His perceptions were
clear, and his feelings just; his indignation of an unworthy, or his
admiration of a generous action, were expressed in terms of equal
vehemence. St. Aubert sometimes smiled at his warmth, but seldom checked
it, and often repeated to himself, 'This young man has never been at
Paris.' A sigh sometimes followed this silent ejaculation. He determined
not to leave Valancourt till he should be perfectly recovered; and, as
he was now well enough to travel, though not able to manage his horse,
St. Aubert invited him to accompany him for a few days in the carriage.
This he the more readily did, since he had discovered that Valancourt
was of a family of the same name in Gascony, with whose respectability
he was well acquainted. The latter accepted the offer with great
pleasure, and they again set forward among these romantic wilds about
Rousillon.

They travelled leisurely; stopping wherever a scene uncommonly grand
appeared; frequently alighting to walk to an eminence, whither the mules
could not go, from which the prospect opened in greater magnificence;
and often sauntering over hillocks covered with lavender, wild thyme,
juniper, and tamarisc; and under the shades of woods, between those
boles they caught the long mountain-vista, sublime beyond any thing that
Emily had ever imagined.

St. Aubert sometimes amused himself with botanizing, while Valancourt
and Emily strolled on; he pointing out to her notice the objects that
particularly charmed him, and reciting beautiful passages from such of
the Latin and Italian poets as he had heard her admire. In the pauses of
conversation, when he thought himself not observed, he frequently fixed
his eyes pensively on her countenance, which expressed with so much
animation the taste and energy of her mind; and when he spoke again,
there was a peculiar tenderness in the tone of his voice, that defeated
any attempt to conceal his sentiments. By degrees these silent pauses
became more frequent; till Emily, only, betrayed an anxiety to interrupt
them; and she; who had been hitherto reserved, would now talk again,
and again, of the woods and the vallies and the mountains, to avoid the
danger of sympathy and silence.

From Beaujeu the road had constantly ascended, conducting the travellers
into the higher regions of the air, where immense glaciers exhibited
their frozen horrors, and eternal snow whitened the summ