And yet my joy was not entirely without alloy. For I thought of the forest. We should of course go there to gather wild flowers and berries; that would be delightful! But if we met with wolves, boars, robbers, or snakes! Besides in a forest there would be sure to be thickets so obscure, so dark and terrible, that it made me ill to think of them. It is true we would fish in the little streams for cray-fish, that would be very nice! but supposing the cray-fish were to pinch our fingers with their claws! or supposing we found adders instead of cray-fish, or perhaps frogs! horrid frogs which are so like toads! Yes, but we would go to the banks of the river and fish for gudgeon. Ah! but suppose the bank gave way—as really happened once to my father—and we should be plunged in the Indre, which is over three feet deep quite in-shore.

Marc spoke of all these chances with a smile on his lips, and such perfect confidence in all turning out well, that I began to feel reassured. I began to think that courage was contagious. Not that I can say that I was courageous, that I had courage myself—alas! far from it, I knew I could not trust myself to be brave. But it seemed as if I somehow so trusted in Marc that his courage did for both of us.

If I had dared to tell him how really frightened I was about many things, he would have made me happy by telling me at once something I only learnt by chance in conversation, and that was that FranÇois would be with us wherever we went. FranÇois was his father’s servant: an old soldier and a worthy man.