XLVII.


[Illustration: _RAPHAEL SEES JULIE IN PARIS_.]


No unforeseen obstacles counteracted the mysterious watchfulness which
I exercised, though still invisible. The courier gave notice secretly
to the postilions of the approach of another calèche, and, as he
ordered horses for me, I always found the relays ready. I accelerated
or slackened my speed according as I wished to keep at a distance, or
to come nearer to the first carriage, and always questioned the
postilions respecting the health of the young lady they had just
driven. From the top of the hills I could see, far down in the plain,
the carriage speeding through fog or sunshine, and bearing away my
happiness. My thoughts outstripped the horses; in fancy I entered the
carriage and saw Julie asleep, dreaming perhaps of me, or awake, and
weeping over our bright days forever flown. When I closed my eyes, to
see her better, I fancied I heard her breathe. I can scarcely now
comprehend that I had strength of mind and self-denial enough to resist
during a journey of one hundred and twenty leagues the impulse that
unceasingly impelled me towards that carriage which I followed without
attempting to overtake; my whole soul went with it, and my body alone,
insensible to the snow and sleet, followed, and was jolted, tossed and
swung about, without the least consciousness of its own sufferings. But
the fear of causing Julie an unexpected shock which might prove fatal
or of renewing a heartrending scene of separation, repelled me, and the
idea of watching over her safety like a loving Providence, and with
angel-like disinterestedness, nailed me to my resolution.