arthly
things, and I have no more faith in him than in the rest of them."

So he shut himself up again in his solitude, with one more illusion
destroyed. He asked himself, and his heart became heavy at the thought,
whether, in course of time, he also would undergo this stultification,
this moral depression, which ends by lowering us to the level of the
low-minded people among whom we live.

Among all the persons he had met since his arrival at Vivey, only
one had impressed him as being sympathetic and attractive: Reine
Vincart--and even her energy was directed toward matters that Julien
looked upon as secondary. And besides, Reine was a woman, and he was
afraid of women. He believed with Ecclesiastes the preacher, that "they
are more bitter than death... and whoso pleaseth God shall escape from
them." He had therefore no other refuge but in his books or his own
sullen reflections, and, consequently, his old enemy, hypochondria,
again made him its prey.

Toward the beginning of January, the snow in the valley had somewhat
melted, and a light frost made access to the woods possible. As the
hunting season seldom extended beyond the first days of February, the
huntsmen were all eager to take advantage of the few remaining weeks to
enjoy their favorite pastime. Every day the forest resounded with the
shouts of beaters-up and the barking of the hounds. From Auberive,
Praslay and Grancey, rendezvous were made in the woods of Charbonniere
or Maigrefontaine; nothing was thought of but the exploits of certain
marksmen, the number of pieces bagged, and the joyous outdoor breakfasts
which preceded each occasion. One evening, as Julien, more moody than
usual, stood yawning wearily and leaning on the corner of the stove,
Claudet noticed him, and was touched with pity for this young fellow,
who had so little idea how to employ his time, his youth, or his money.
He felt impelled, as a conscientious duty, to draw him out of his
unwholesome state of mind, and initiate him into the pleasures of
country life.

"You do not enjoy yourself with us, Monsieur Julien," said he, kindly;
"I can't bear to see you so downhearted. You are ruining yourself with
poring all day long over your books, and the worst of it is, they do not
take the frowns out of your face. Take my word for it, you must change
your way of living, or you will be ill. Come, now, if you will trust in
me, I will undertake to cure your ennui before a week is over."

"And wha