of the valley, which they could see throughout its whole length from
that elevation, laughing and verdant and fertile. Marie looked, and
asked if they could see the houses at Belair from there.

"To be sure," replied Germain, "and the farm, and your house too. Look,
that little gray speck, not far from the great poplar at Godard, just
below the church-spire."

"Ah! I see it," said the girl; and thereupon she began to weep again.

"I did wrong to remind you of that," said Germain, "I keep doing foolish
things to-day! Come, Marie, my girl, let's be off; the days are short,
and when the moon comes up, an hour from now, it won't be warm."

They resumed their journey, and rode across the great heath, and as
Germain did not urge the mare, in order not to fatigue the girl and the
child by a too rapid gait, the sun had set when they left the road to
enter the woods.

Germain knew the road as far as Magnier; but he thought that he could
shorten it by not taking the avenue of Chanteloube, but going by Presles
and La Sépulture, a route which he was not in the habit of taking when
he went to the fair. He went astray and lost a little more time before
entering the woods; even then he did not enter at the right place, and
failed to discover his mistake, so that he turned his back to Fourche
and headed much farther up, in the direction of Ardentes.

He was prevented then from taking his bearings by a mist which came with
the darkness, one of those autumn evening mists which the white
moonlight makes more vague and more deceptive. The great pools of water