had been brought by the courier, and the warmth of my hands on hers,
recalled heat to the extremities. The color which began to appear in
her cheeks, and a long and feeble sigh which escaped her lips,
indicated her return to life. I jumped out on the road, so that she
might not see me when she opened her eyes, and remained there, behind
the carriage, my face muffled up in my cloak. I desired the servants to
make no mention of my sudden appearance. They soon made a sign to me
that she was recovering consciousness, and I heard her voice stammer
forth these words, as if in a dream: "Oh, if Raphael were here! I
thought it was Raphael!" I hastily returned to my own carriage; the
horses started afresh, and a wide distance soon lay between us. In the
evening I went to inquire after her at the inn where she had alighted
at Sens. I was told that she was quite well, and was sleeping soundly.

I followed in her track as far as Fossard, a stage near the little town
of Montereau; there the road from Sens to Paris branches off in two
directions,--one branch passing through Fontainebleau, the other
through Melun. This latter being shorter by several leagues, I followed
it in order to precede Julie by a few hours in Paris, and see her get
down at her own door. I paid the postilions double, and arrived long
before dark at the hotel where I was accustomed to put up in Paris. At
nightfall I stationed myself on the quay opposite to Julie's house,
that she had so often described to me; I knew it as if I had lived
there all my life. I observed through the windows that hurrying to and
fro of shadows within, which one sees in a house where some new guest
is expected. I could see on the ceiling of her room the reflection of
the fire which had been lighted on the hearth. An old man's face showed
itself several times at the window, and appeared to watch and listen to
the noises of the quay. It was her husband,--her second father. The
concierge held the door open, and stepped out from time to time, to