Often, as the carriage moved slowly over uneven ground, St. Aubert
alighted, and amused himself with examining the curious plants that grew
on the banks of the road, and with which these regions abound; while
Emily, wrapt in high enthusiasm, wandered away under the shades,
listening in deep silence to the lonely murmur of the woods.
Neither village nor hamlet was seen for many leagues; the goat-herd's or
the hunter's cabin, perched among the cliffs of the rocks, were the only
human habitations that appeared.
The travellers again took their dinner in the open air, on a pleasant
spot in the valley, under the spreading shade of cedars; and then set
forward towards Beaujeu.
The road now began to descend, and, leaving the pine forests behind,
wound among rocky precipices. The evening twilight again fell over the
scene, and the travellers were ignorant how far they might yet be from
Beaujeu. St. Aubert, however, conjectured that the distance could not be
very great, and comforted himself with the prospect of travelling on a
more frequented road after reaching that town, where he designed to pass
the night. Mingled woods, and rocks, and heathy mountains were now seen
obscurely through the dusk; but soon even these imperfect images faded
in darkness. Michael proceeded with caution, for he could scarcely
distinguish the road; his mules, however, seemed to have more sagacity,
and their steps were sure.
On turning the angle of a mountain, a light appeared at a distance, that
illumined the rocks, and the horizon to a great extent. It was evidently
a large fire, but whether accidental, or otherwise, there were no means
of knowing. St. Aubert thought it was probably kindled by some of the
numerous banditti, that infested the Pyrenees, and he became watchful
and anxious to know whether the road passed near this fire. He had arms
with him, which, on an emergency, might afford some protection, though
certainly a very unequal one, against a band of robbers, so desperate
too as those usually were who haunted these wild regions. While many
reflections rose upon his mind, he heard a voice shouting from the road
behind, and ordering the muleteer to stop. St. Aubert bade him proceed
as fast as possible; but either Michael, or his mules were obstinate,
for they did not quit the old pace. Horses' feet were now heard; a man
rode up to the carriage, still ordering the driver to stop; and St.
Aubert, who could no longer doubt his purpose, was with difficulty able
to prepare a pistol for his defence, when his hand was upon the door of
the chaise. The man staggered on his horse, the report of the pistol was
followed by a groan, and St. Aubert's horror may be imagined, when in
the next instant he thought he heard the faint voice of Valancourt.
He now himself bade the muleteer stop; and, pronouncing the name of
Valancourt, was answered in a voice, that no longer suffered him to
doubt.