ch had fallen into the
possession of the Church; and, as I had several English friends at
Tours, I awaited the answer to my request to Monseigneur de----, at
that town. I was ready to accept any invitation; but I received very
few; and was sometimes a little at a loss what to do with my evenings.
The _table d'hote_ was at five o'clock; I did not wish to go to the
expense of a private sitting-room, disliked the dinnery atmosphere of
the _salle a manger_, could not play either at pool or billiards, and
the aspect of my fellow guests was unprepossessing enough to make me
unwilling to enter into any _tete-a-tete_ gamblings with them. So I
usually rose from table early, and tried to make the most of the
remaining light of the August evenings in walking briskly off to
explore the surrounding country; the middle of the day was too hot for
this purpose, and better employed in lounging on a bench in the
Boulevards, lazily listening to the distant band, and noticing with
equal laziness the faces and figures of the women who passed by.

One Thursday evening, the 18th of August it was, I think, I had gone
further than usual in my walk, and I found that it was later than I had
imagined when I paused to turn back. I fancied I could make a round; I
had enough notion of the direction in which I was, to see that by
turning up a narrow straight lane to my left I should shorten my way
back to Tours. And so I believe I should have done, could I have found
an outlet at the right place, but field-paths are almost unknown in
that part of France, and my lane, stiff and straight as any street, and
marked into terribly vanishing perspective by the regular row of
poplars on each side, seemed interminable. Of course night came on, and
I was in darkness. In England I might have had a chance of seeing a
light in some cottage only a field or two off, and asking my way from
the inhabitants; but here I could see no such welcome sight; indeed, I
believe French peasants go to bed with the summer daylight, so if there
were any habitations in the neighbourhood I never saw them. At last--I
believe I must have walked two hours in the darkness,--I saw the dusky
outline of a wood on one side of the weariful lane, and, impatiently
careless of all forest laws and penalties for trespassers, I made my
way to it, thinking that if the worst came to the worst, I could find
some covert--some shelter where I could lie down and rest, until the
morning light gave me a ch