"Some day, my friend," said Philippe, pressing his hand, and thanking
him for his mute repentance by a heart-rending look, "I will relate to
you my life. To-day I cannot."

They continued their way in silence. When the colonel's pain seemed
soothed, the marquis resumed his fatigue; and with the instinct, or
rather the will, of a wearied man his eye took in the very depths of
the forest; he questioned the tree-tops and examined the branching
paths, hoping to discover some dwelling where he could ask
hospitality. Arriving at a cross-ways, he thought he noticed a slight
smoke rising among the trees; he stopped, looked more attentively, and
saw, in the midst of a vast copse, the dark-green branches of several
pine-trees.

"A house! a house!" he cried, with the joy the sailor feels in crying
"Land!"

Then he sprang quickly into the copse, and the colonel, who had fallen
into a deep reverie, followed him mechanically.

"I'd rather get an omelet, some cottage bread, and a chair here," he
said, "than go to Cassan for sofas, truffles, and Bordeaux."

These words were an exclamation of enthusiasm, elicited from the
councillor on catching sight of a wall, the white towers of which
glimmered in the distance through the brown masses of the tree trunks.

"Ha! ha! this looks to me as if it had once been a priory," cried the
marquis, as they reached a very old and blackened gate, through which