The promenade, in fact, was not ill-timed, especially for those who were dreamers or lovers.

From the little open space where the halt had taken place, three beautiful long walks, shady and undulating, stretched out before them.
These walks were covered with moss, with leaves lying scattered idly about; and each walk had its horizon in the distance, consisting of about a handbreadth of sky, apparent through the interlacing of the branches of the trees.

At the end of the walks, evidently in great tribulation and uneasiness, the startled deer were seen hurrying to and fro, first stopping for a moment in the middle of the path, and then raising their heads, they fled with the speed of an arrow, or bounded into the depths of the forest, where they disappeared from view; now and then a rabbit of philosophical mien could be noticed quietly sitting upright, rubbing his muzzle with his fore-paws, and looking about inquiringly, as though wondering whether all these people, who were approaching in his direction, and who had just disturbed him in his meditations and his meal, were not followed by their dogs, or had not their guns under their arms.

All alighted from their carriages as soon as they observed that the queen was doing so.

Maria Theresa took the arm of one of her ladies of honor, and, with a side-glance toward the king, who did not perceive that he was in the slightest degree the object of the queen's attention, entered the forest by the first path before her.
Two of the out-riders preceded her majesty with long poles, which they used for the purpose of putting the branches of the trees aside, or removing the bushes which might impede her progress.