When the highway was reached, de Sigognac again fell behind the chariot—­which moved more quickly over the smooth, hard road—­so that Pierre might be able to catch up to him, and rode slowly forward, lost in thought; he roused himself, however, in time to take one last look at the towers of Sigognac, which were still visible over the tops of the pine trees.  Bayard came to a full stop as he gazed, and Miraut took advantage of the pause to endeavour to climb up and lick his master’s face once more; but he was so old and stiff that de Sigognac had to lift him up in front of him; holding him there he tenderly caressed the faithful companion of many sad, lonely years, even bending down and kissing him between the eyes.  Meantime the more agile Beelzebub had scrambled up on the other side, springing from the ground to the baron’s foot, and then climbing up by his leg; he purred loudly as his master affectionately stroked his head, looking up in his face as if he understood perfectly that this was a leave-taking.  We trust that the kind reader will not laugh at our poor young hero, when we say that he was so deeply touched by these evidences of affection from his humble followers that two great tears rolled down his pale cheeks and fell upon the heads of his dumb favourites, before he put them gently from him and resumed his journey.

Miraut and Beelzebub stood where he had put them down, looking after their beloved master until a turn in the road hid him from their sight, and then quietly returned to the chateau together.  The rain of the previous night had left no traces in the sandy expanse of the Landes, save that it had freshened up the heather with its tiny purple bells, and the furze bushes with their bright yellow blossoms.  The very pine trees themselves looked less dark and mournful than usual, and their penetrating, resinous odour filled the fresh morning air.  Here and there a little column of smoke rising from amid a grove of chestnut trees betrayed the homestead of some farmer, and scattered over the gently rolling plain, that extended as far as the eye could reach, great flocks of sheep could be discerned, carefully guarded by shepherd and dog; the former mounted on stilts, and looking very odd to those unaccustomed to the shepherds of the Landes.  On the southern horizon the snow-clad tops of the more lofty peaks of the Pyrenees rose boldly into the clear sky, with light wreaths of mist still clinging round them here and there.

Oxen travel slowly, especially over roads where at times the wheels sink deep into the sand, and the sun was high above the horizon before they had gone two leagues on their way.  The baron, loath to fatigue his old servant and poor Bayard, determined to bid adieu to them without further delay; so he sprang lightly to the ground, put the bridle into Pierre’s trembling hand, and affectionately stroked the old pony’s neck, as he never failed to do when he dismounted.  It was a painful moment.  The faithful servant had taken care of his young master from his infancy, and he turned very pale as he said in faltering tones, “God bless and keep your lordship.  How I wish that I could go with you.”