thousand francs. He made up his mind, therefore, that, as soon as he was
installed at Vivey, he would change his leave of absence to an unlimited
furlough of freedom. He contemplated with serene satisfaction this
perspective view of calm and solitary retirement in a chateau lost to
view in the depths of the forest, where he could in perfect security give
himself up to the studious contemplative life which he loved so much,
far from all worldly frivolities and restraint. He already imagined
himself at Vivey, shut up in his carefully selected library; he delighted
in the thought of having in future to deal only with the country people,
whose uncivilized ways would be like his own, and among whom his timidity
would not be remarked.

He arrived at Langres in the afternoon of a foggy October day, and
inquired immediately at the hotel how he could procure a carriage to
take him that evening to Vivey. They found him a driver, but, to his
surprise, the man refused to take the journey until the following
morning, on account of the dangerous state of the crossroads, where
vehicles might stick fast in the mire if they ventured there after
nightfall. Julien vainly endeavored to effect an arrangement with him,
and the discussion was prolonged in the courtyard of the hotel. Just as
the man was turning away, another, who had overheard the end of the
colloquy, came up to young de Buxieres, and offered to undertake the
journey for twenty francs.

"I have a good horse," said he to Julien; "I know the roads, and will
guarantee that we reach Vivey before nightfall."

The bargain was quickly made; and in half an hour, Julien de Buxieres was
rolling over the plain above Langres, in a shaky old cabriolet, the muddy
hood of which bobbed over at every turn of the wheel, while the horse