Though now so near my destination, a stupid crayfisher, of whom I unfortunately inquired the way, misdirected me; and at nightfall, instead of being at the end of my journey, I found myself in a wild and sequestered district among the mountains, where the patois of the peasants—of whom I met but two—was so quaint and barbarous that I could scarcely understand one word they uttered. To make all this more unpleasant a storm was coming on; the sky grew black and lowering; the air was full of electricity, and warm rain-drops fell heavily and at long intervals.
After a time I found myself close to a small, compact, but closely-walled town in a deep valley of the Vosges. I approached the gate joyfully, and heard a sentinel challenge in pure French; but still precaution on my part was necessary.
'Stand,' cried he, 'or I shall fire. France or Lorraine?'
To answer for either was dangerous; so I inquired,—
'What town is this?'
'Phalsbourg, on the frontier of Alsace.'
'How far is Zaberne distant?'
'Six miles to the north-east.'
'Then I have ridden fifty-four miles to-day.'
'From where, my friend?'