On leaving the village, they had gone down into the valley, and were now on the outskirts of the forest, where Frédéric's horse was wandering at will along the paths leading into the valley.
"That's his horse," said Ménard. "I know him by that white spot; I've seen him in the innyard; it's Frédéric's horse. And he's alone, without a rider. An additional proof, monsieur le baron, that the young man has fallen a victim to his imprudence. The horse undoubtedly threw him; my pupil is dead; he probably tried to climb one of these mountains; it was dark and he couldn't see the road at his feet. All is lost!"
"I believe, on the contrary, that Frédéric is in these woods, and that he left his horse here so that he could go where he chose. Let us adopt the same method in looking for him; but let's be more prudent than he, and tie our horses to one of these firs."
They dismounted, and entered the woods, Ménard still holding his handkerchief to his eyes, because he believed that Frédéric was dead or wounded, and Dubourg marching ahead and peering intently in every direction. Ere long he came quickly back to the tutor, with a triumphant air, and said, pointing to a grassy mound:
"Look! see if my presentiments misled me? there's the marvel of nature that Frédéric comes here to admire."
Ménard looked in the direction indicated, and saw, beneath a spreading tree, his pupil lying carelessly on the grass, holding in his arms a lovely girl, whose head rested against her lover's breast, and whose arms were about his neck.
"You were right, monsieur le baron," said Ménard, after a moment of speechless surprise; "that isn't the Chartreuse! it is more modern."
"That looks to me to be a lovely girl."
"And to me also, monsieur le baron."
"That sly dog of a Frédéric! It was decidedly clever of him to find such a pretty face in this desert. Do you still think that he shuns the ladies, Monsieur Ménard?"