But so charming and peaceful was the deserted plantation through which they passed, that they yielded to a desire to sit down and taste the delight of resting amidst all the budding springtide around them.

A fallen tree served them as a bench, and it was possible for them to fancy themselves far away from Paris, in the depths of some real forest.

It was, too, of a real forest that Guillaume began to think on thus emerging from his long, voluntary imprisonment.

Ah! for the space; and for the health-bringing air which courses between that forest's branches, that forest of the world which by right should be man's inalienable domain! However, the name of Barthes, the perpetual prisoner, came back to Guillaume's lips, and he sighed mournfully.

The thought that there should be even a single man whose liberty was thus ever assailed, sufficed to poison the pure atmosphere he breathed.
"What will you say to Barthes ?" he asked his brother.