have to fight snow. I proposed this way
originally because I wanted you to see the Gorge of the Tarn, and
because I thought that you'd like Clermont-Ferrand, and the road there.
It was to be _your_ adventure, you know, and I shall feel a brute if I
let you in for a worse one than I bargained for. Even this morning it
wasn't too late. I could have hinted at horrors, and they would have
gone by rail like lambs, taking you with them."

"Lady Turnour can do nothing like a lamb," I contradicted him. "I should
never have forgiven you for sending me away from--the car. Besides, Lady
Turnour wants to teuf-teuf up to the chateau in her sixty-horse-power
Aigle, and make an impression on the aristocracy."

"Well, we must hope for the best now," said he. "But look, the snow's an
inch thick by the roadside even at this level, so I don't know what we
mayn't be in for, between here and St. Flour, which is much higher--the
highest point we shall have to pass in getting to the Chateau de
Roquemartine, a few miles out of Clermont-Ferrand."

"You think we may get stuck?"

"It's possible."

"Well, that _would_ be an adventure. You know I love adventures."

"But I know the Turnours don't. And if--" He didn't finish his
sentence.

Higher we mounted, until half France seemed to lie spread out before us,
and a solitary sign-post with "Paris-Perpignans" suggested unbelievable
distances. The Aigle glided up gradients like the side of a somewhat
toppling house, and scarcely needed to change speed, so well did she
like the rarefied mountain air. I liked it too, though I had to be
thankful for the plaid; and above all I liked the wild loneliness of the
Causse, which was unlike anything I ever saw or imagined. The savage
monotony of the heights was broken just often enough by oases of pine
wood; and the plains on which we looked down were blistered with conical
hills, crowned by ancient castles which would have rejoiced the hearts
of mediaeval painters, as they did mine. Severac-le-Chateau, perched on
its naked pinnacle of rock, was best of all, as we saw it from our
bird's-eye view, and then again, almost startlingly impressive when we
had somehow whirled down below it, to pass under its old huddled town,
before we flew up once more to higher and whiter levels.

Never had the car gone better; but Lady Turnour had objected to the
early start which the chauffeur wanted, and the sun was nearly overhead
when many a huge shoulder of glittering