nearly an hour without being able to shake off the prophetic melancholy
that oppressed me. Perceiving at last, on the edge of one of the avenues
that traverse the forest, and under the dense shade of some beech-trees, a
thick bed of moss, I stretched myself upon it, together with my remorse,
and it was not long before I fell into a sound sleep. Mon Dieu! why was it
not the sleep of death?

I have no idea how long I had been asleep, when I was suddenly awakened by
a certain concussion of the soil in my immediate vicinity; I jumped
abruptly to my feet, and I saw, within five steps of me, on the road, a
young lady on horseback. My unexpected apparition had somewhat frightened
the horse, who had shied with some violence. The fair equestrian, who had
not yet noticed me, was talking to him and trying to quiet him. She
appeared to be pretty, slender, elegant. I caught a rapid glimpse of blond
hair, eyebrows of a darker shade, keen eyes, a bold expression of
countenance, and a felt hat with blue feathers, set over one ear in rather
too rakish a style. For the better understanding of what is about to
follow, you should know that I was attired in a tourist's blouse stained
with red ochre; besides, I must have had that haggard look and startled
expression which impart to one rudely snatched from sleep a countenance at
once comical and alarming. Add to all this, my hair in utter disorder, my
beard strewn with dead leaves, and you will have no difficulty in
understanding the terror that suddenly overpowered the young huntress at
the first glance she cast upon me; she uttered a feeble cry, and wheeling
her horse around, she fled at full gallop.

It was impossible for me to mistake the nature of the impression I had
just produced; there was nothing flattering about it. However, I am
thirty-five years of age, and the more or less kindly glance of a woman is
no longer sufficient to disturb the serenity of my soul. I followed with a