is to go back to the house, and she was the one that made me go astray.
If we want to go home, we have only to give her her head. But when we
may be within two steps of the place where we are to spend the night,
we should be mad to give up finding it, and begin such a long ride over
again. But I don't know what to do. I can't see either the sky or the
ground, and I am afraid this child will take the fever if we stay in
this infernal fog, or be crushed by our weight if the horse should fall
forward."

"We mustn't persist in riding any farther," said little Marie. "Let's
get down, Germain; give me the child; I can carry him very well, and
keep him covered up with the cloak better than you can. You can lead the
mare, and perhaps we shall see better when we're nearer the ground."

That expedient succeeded only so far as to save them from a fall, for
the fog crawled along the damp earth and seemed to cling to it. It was
very hard walking, and they were so exhausted by it that they stopped
when they at last found a dry place under some great oaks. Little Marie
was drenched, but she did not complain or seem disturbed. Thinking only
of the child, she sat down in the sand and took him on her knees, while
Germain explored the neighborhood after throwing Grise's rein over the
branch of a tree.

But Grise, who was thoroughly disgusted with the journey, jumped back,
released the reins, broke the girths, and, kicking up her heels higher
than her head some half-dozen times, by way of salutation, started off
through the brush, showing very plainly that she needed no one's
assistance in finding her way.

"Well, well," said Germain, after he had tried in vain to catch her,