They stood in the doorway, watching him as he started off with a firm step, and a heart almost as light as his purse, and heartily joined in the wish, "Bon voyage, monsieur."
Frank waved his hat, smiling, and set out on his way.
Had our hero been well provided with money, nothing could have been more agreeable than a pedestrian journey amid the beautiful scenery of the Alps. Even as it was, Frank felt the exhilarating influences of the fresh morning air and the grand scenery, visible on all sides, for he was hemmed in by mountains.
His proposed terminus being Paris, he kept a general northwesterly course, making inquiries when at all at a loss as to the road.
At midday he found himself in a little village. By this time he was hungry. He did not go to a hotel. He felt that his slender store of money would not justify it. He stopped, instead, at a cottage, and for a few cents obtained a pint of milk and a small loaf. This fare was plain enough, but appetite is the best sauce, and his hunger made it taste delicious.
He rested for three hours, then, when the sun's rays were less powerful, he resumed his journey.
At seven o'clock in the evening he had accomplished about twenty-five miles, and was foot-sore and weary. He selected another cottage, and made application for supper and a bed.
"Monsieur will do better to go to the hotel," said the peasant. "We are poor people, and our accommodations are too humble for a gentleman like monsieur."
Frank smiled. He saw that they judged of his means by his clothing, which was of fine texture and fashionable cut, for he had purchased a traveling suit in London.