I fell asleep with a sense of relief, as if I
had made a sacrifice of my life and hopes. Apparently Edmee did not find
my letter, for she gave me no answer. She generally replied verbally,
and these letters of mine were a means of drawing from her those
professions of sisterly friendship with which I had perforce to be
satisfied, and which, at least, poured soothing balm into my wound.
I ought to have known that this time my letter must either lead to a
decisive explanation, or be passed over in silence. I suspected the abbe
of having taken it and thrown it into the fire; I accused Edmee of scorn
and cruelty; nevertheless, I held my tongue.

The next day the weather was quite settled again. My uncle went for a
drive, and during the course of it told us that he should not like to
die without having had one last great fox-hunt. He was passionately
devoted to this sport, and his health had so far improved that he again
began to show a slight inclination for pleasure and exercise. Seated in
a very light, narrow _berline_, drawn by strong mules, so that he might
move rapidly over the sandy paths in our woods, he had already followed
one or two little hunts which we had arranged for his amusement. Since
the Trappist's visit, the chevalier had entered, as it were, upon a
fresh term of life. Endowed with strength and pertinacity, like all his
race, it seemed as if he had been decaying for want of excitement, for
the slightest demand on his energy immediately set his stagnant blood
in motion. As he was very much pleased with this idea of a hunt, Edmee
undertook to organize, with my help, a general battue and to join in the
sport herself. One of the greatest delights of the good old man was
to see her on horseback, as she boldly pranced around his carriage and
offered him all the flowering sprigs which she plucked from the bushes
she passed. It was arranged that I should ride with her, and that
the abbe should accompany the chevalier in the carriage. All the
gamekeepers, foresters, huntsmen, and even poachers of Varenne were
invited to this family function. A splendid meal was prepared with many
goose-pies and much local wine. Marcasse, whom I had made my manager
at Roche-Mauprat, and who had a considerable knowledge of the art of
fox-hunting, spent two whole days in stopping up the earths. A few young
farmers in the neighbourhood, interested in the battue and able to give
useful advice, graciously offered to join the party; and,