There had been very little said between Michel Voss
and Urmand on their journey towards Granpere till
they were at the top of the Vosges, on the mountain
road, at which place they had to leave their little
carriage and bait their horse. Indeed Michel
had been asleep during almost the entire time.
On the night but one before he had not been in bed
at all, having reached Basle after midnight, and having
passed the hours ’twixt that and his morning
visit to Urmand’s house in his futile endeavours
to stop poor Marie’s letter. And the departure
of the travellers from Basle on this morning had been
very early, so that the poor innkeeper had been robbed
of his proper allowance of natural rest. He
had slept soundly in the train to Colmar, and had
afterwards slept in the little caleche which had taken
them to the top of the mountain. Urmand had sat
silent by his side,—by no means anxious
to disturb his companion, because he had no determined
plan ready to communicate. Once or twice before
he reached Colmar he had thought that he would go
back again. He had been, he felt, badly treated;
and, though he was very fond of Marie, it would be
better for him perhaps to wash his hands of the whole
affair. He was so thinking the whole way to Colmar.
But he was afraid of Michel Voss, and when they got
out upon the platform there, he had no resolution
ready to be declared as fixed. Then they had
hired the little carriage, and Michel Voss had slept
again. He had slept all through Munster, and
up the steep mountain, and was not thoroughly awake
till they were summoned to get out at the wonderfully
fine house for refreshment which the late Emperor caused
to be built at the top of the hill. Here they
went into the restaurant, and as Michel Voss was known
to the man who kept it, he ordered a bottle of wine.
’What a terrible place to live in all the winter!’
he said, as he looked down through the window right
into the deep valley below. From the spot on
which the house is built you can see all the broken
wooded ground of the steep descent, and then the broad
plain that stretches away to the valley of the Rhine.
‘There is nothing but snow here after Christmas,’
continued Michel, ’and perhaps not a Christian
over the road for days together. I shouldn’t
like it, I know. It may be all very well just
now.’
But Adrian Urmand was altogether inattentive either
to the scenery now before him, or to the prospect
of the mountain innkeeper’s winter life.
He knew that two hours and a half would take them
down the mountain into Granpere, and that when there,
it would be at once necessary that he should begin
a task the idea of which was by no means pleasant
to him. He was quite sure now that he wished
he had remained at Basle, and that he had accepted
Marie’s letter as final. He told himself
again and again that he could not make her marry him
if she chose to change her mind. What was he
