"What is the matter with you, General?" Zibeline asked, observing that he did not appear to take pleasure in the surprise she had prepared.
"I lived here many years a long time ago," he replied. "I am thinking of all that it recalls to me; and, if you would not consider it discourteous on my part, I should like to leave you for a little time to make a pilgrimage on foot around the neighborhood."
"Would you like to have me take you myself? I have a little English cart which can run about anywhere," said Zibeline.
The proposition was tempting. The sweetness of a tete-a-tete might diminish the bitterness of recollections. He accepted.
She ordered the cart brought around, and they climbed into the small vehicle, which was drawn by a strong pony, driven by Zibeline herself.
"Which way?" she asked, when they had passed through the gates.
"To the right," he said, pointing to a rough, half-paved slope, an abandoned part of what had been in former days the highway, which now joins the new road at the Beaumont tunnel.
Passing this point, and leaving on their left the state road of l'Ile- d'Adam, they drove through a narrow cross-cut, between embankments, by which one mounts directly to the high, plateau that overlooks the town of Presles.
The hill was steep, and the pony was out of breath. They were compelled to stop to allow him to rest.
"It is not necessary to go any farther," said Henri to his companion. "I need only to take a few steps in order to see what interests me."