They put up the horse at the little solitary inn, and went forth strolling.

The gorge was dyed deeply with heather; the rocks and birches standing luminous in the sun.

A great humming of bees about the flowers disposed Jean-Marie to sleep, and he sat down against a clump of heather, while the Doctor went briskly to and fro, with quick turns, culling his simples.
The boy's head had fallen a little forward, his eyes were closed, his fingers had fallen lax about his knees, when a sudden cry called him to his feet.

It was a strange sound, thin and brief; it fell dead, and silence returned as though it had never been interrupted.

He had not recognised the Doctor's voice; but, as there was no one else in all the valley, it was plainly the Doctor who had given utterance to the sound.
He looked right and left, and there was Desprez, standing in a niche between two boulders, and looking round on his adopted son with a countenance as white as paper.
'A viper!' cried Jean-Marie, running towards him.