"We must hope not, for what would monsieur le comte his father say to me?"
"Get up, then, and come with me."
Ménard dressed and breakfasted, and accompanied Dubourg, who ordered saddles placed on two venerable farm horses, which the innkeeper intrusted to them with a bad grace, because their account was beginning to exceed the value of their carriage. At last they were mounted; Ménard warned his companion that he could not ride faster than a walk, and Dubourg replied that when one is making a search he does not travel rapidly.
When they left the inn, they inquired and were told which direction Frédéric had taken. All along the road, people had noticed the young horseman who passed every morning, urging his horse to his utmost speed, and returned very slowly in the evening. Dubourg soon learned beyond question that Frédéric rode to Vizille every day.
"What does he go there for?" queried Dubourg.
"He has probably found some charming view."
"I think it's more likely to be some charming face."
"What! monsieur le baron, you think——"
"Why, yes; Frédéric isn't fool enough to stare at nothing but trees and mountains all day. He was in search of a heart that would sympathize with his, a nature as loving as his own—in a word, a woman who would take his fancy; and who knows that he hasn't found some artless, simple-minded peasant girl who has turned his head?"
"For my part, I'll wager that he spends his time looking at the Grande Chartreuse."