"Bah! bah!"
"I even appreciate your fears about me."
"My fears?"
"Yes. Do you think that I did not see that there is another question which interests me intensely, and of which you have not spoken to me for six days?"
This time Jean did not see his uncle's profile; he saw his full face, and its expression was a little anxious.
"My boy, I did that purposely," said M. Ulrich. "When you questioned me, I told you what we were and what we are. And then I saw that I must not insist too much, because you would be full of grief. You see, grief is good for me; but for you, youth, it is better that you should start off like the horses which have not yet run a race, and only carry a very slight weight."
The last house was passed. They were in the country, between a stream strewn with many boulders, and a steep slope which joined the forest up above.
"Too late," said Jean Oberlé, holding out his hand and stopping, "too late; you have said too much, Uncle Ulrich. I feel I belong to the older times, as you do. And so much the worse, as to-morrow I go up to the Schlucht. I shall see her—I shall say good day to our country of France!"
He laughed as he uttered these words. M. Ulrich shook his head once or twice to scold him, but without answering, and he went away into the mist.