d
like seeds by the passing of the light carriage; the occupants as
they rolled along caught glimpses of the mysterious visions of the
woods,--those cool depths, where the verdure is moist and dark, where
the light softens as it fades; those white-birch glades o'ertopped
by some centennial tree, the Hercules of the forest; those glorious
assemblages of knotted, mossy trunks, whitened and furrowed, and the
banks of delicate wild plants and fragile flowers which grow between a
woodland road and the forest. The brooks sang. Truly there is a nameless
pleasure in driving a woman along the ups and downs of a slippery way
carpeted with moss, where she pretends to be afraid or really is so, and
you are conscious that she is drawing closer to you, letting you feel,
voluntarily or involuntarily, the cool moisture of her arm, the weight
of her round, white shoulder, though she merely smiles when told that
she hinders you in driving. The horse seems to know the secret of these
interruptions, and he looks about him from right to left.

It was a new sight to the countess; this nature so vigorous in its
effects, so little seen and yet so grand, threw her into a languid
revery; she leaned back in the tilbury and yielded herself up to the
pleasure of being there with Emile; her eyes were charmed, her heart
spoke, she answered to the inward voice that harmonized with hers. He,
too, glanced at her furtively; he enjoyed that dreamy meditation, while
the ribbons of the bonnet floated on the morning breeze with the silky
curls of the golden hair. In consequence of going they knew not where,
they presently came to a locked gate, of which they had not the key.
Joseph was called up, but neither had he a key.

"Never mind, let us walk; Joseph can take care of the tilbury; we shall
easily find it again."

Emile and the countess plunged into the forest, and soon reached a small
interior cleared space, such as is often met with in the woods. Twenty
years earlier the charcoal-burners had made it their kiln, and the place
still remained open, quite a large circumference having been burned
over. But during those twenty years Nature had made herself a garden of
flowers, a blooming "parterre" for her own enjoyment, just as an artist
gives himself the delight of painting a picture for his own happiness.
The enchanting spot was surrounded by fine trees, whose tops hung over
like vast fringes and made a dais above this flowery couch where slept
the godd