persuasive as when she had been drinking, had formed acquaintance with one of the ostlers of the inn, who, on his side, was easily led by persuasion, when in the same condition. She had obtained from him a gratuitous place in the stable for Martin, and, though against his master's express orders, a corner also for Thomas. Hence, furnished with some of the remains of the travellers' supper, which he had obtained from his protector, it was an easy matter for Thomas to enter the yard, and entrap the too confiding Medor, who had no suspicion of treachery from the hand of an acquaintance. At the moment when Medor, without abandoning his post, raised his head to smell what was presented to him, Thomas passed the muzzle on his nose, and the slip knot round his neck, and the poor animal found himself tied up to a tree, without having been able to make the least resistance; for, could he have made any, he would easily have triumphed over his adversary. Thus master of the field, Thomas had no difficulty in prosecuting his designs, by means of the key which, at all risks, he had possessed himself of at the first opportunity that offered. Martin, taken from the stable before daybreak, carried off the stolen goods, and scarcely had the morning begun to dawn, when Matthew, roused from the heavy sleep of intoxication, and, almost unconscious of what he was doing, left the arch of the bridge, beneath which he had slept, in the bed of a dried-up stream.

Gervais had obtained, from the blacksmith by whom he had been employed, the permission to pass the night in his woodhouse, upon a heap of vine twigs. Awakening from a sleep which, for the first time for two months, had revived hope in his bosom, he arose with a light heart, full of eagerness to commence his journey towards his new destination. The evening before, he had told his father that he was going to leave him, for the purpose of seeking employment; and Matthew, whose paternal affections were greatly strengthened after the second bottle, gave him his benediction, with tears in his eyes, saying, "Go, my son, and gain an honest living; and wherever you go, you may declare that I am an honest man." As for La Mauricaude, she troubled herself very little about him, neither did he wish her to do so. His serious and reserved disposition had prevented anything like friendly feeling between them.

He walked with a light heart towards Lyons, calculating that in order to get there, he would require on his journey some little work and a great deal of frugality; for even by sleeping in sheds, beneath bridges, or under trees, it was impossible that his twenty-one sous, the proceeds of his work the day before, and of his previous economy, should be sufficient for the maintenance of a lad of fifteen, during the ten days that must yet elapse, before the arrival of that happy Monday, which was to bring him the protection of his uncle and of Master Blanchet. But how should he be uneasy about the means of reaching his destination? He was already there in imagination. He was about to live with those who, every day and every hour, would recognize his probity. He was going to have an opportunity of proving his right to be esteemed, a necessity keenly felt by those who, like him, have known humiliation without deserving it, and without allowing themselves to be depressed by its influence. And then, how many delights were in store for him! That pair of shoes which he carried so carefully fastened to the end of his stick, whenever he had far to walk, he might soon be able to wear continually, for he foresaw the time when he should be in a condition to buy others. Nevertheless, he must endeavour to make them last until he had purchased a second shirt, so as to avoid the necessity of going without one occasionally, as was the case, when of an evening, taking advantage of some secluded nook, he took off the only one he had, washed it in the stream and dried it on the grass of the bank. The idea of possessing a pair of stockings to dance in on holidays presented itself to his imagination in the distant future, around which crowded in perspective the inexhaustible joys of life. Then came the thoughts of a more solid happiness, and all the ambitions of an honourable man. He was able to set up for himself; to work on his own account; to withdraw his father from the wretched life his wicked companion forced him to lead, and secure to him a tranquil old age, due to his son who loved him notwithstanding his irregularities. Then, his thoughts rushing over intervening years, Gervais would quicken his steps as if to reach the future, and his imagination warmed, as the sun rose, and shed its brilliant beams over the horizon.

Whilst abandoning himself to these reveries, he felt something cool and moist pressing against his hand. It was the nose of Medor; who, after licking his hand, looked at him and wagged his tail, but with an expression which seemed to ask a question; and having smelt him from head to foot, he went on, his nose in the air, and smelling constantly with the same anxiety. Gervais called him back; Medor stopped, looked at him with an uneasy expression, and continued his journey in the same manner. It was quite evident that he was in search of something; but being ignorant of what had taken place during the night, Gervais was at a loss to conjecture what it could be. It struck him, that, separated perhaps by some accident, Medor and his master might now be in search of each other, and with this idea, he could not suppose that Va-bon-train was still at the inn, whither Medor would undoubtedly have returned; it seemed to him, therefore, the best plan, to allow the animal to obey his instinct, contenting himself with following him so as to prevent his going astray, and preserve him from the danger of being taken or killed as a dog without an owner. He rejoiced in the opportunity thus afforded him of rendering his uncle a service; and, imagining that Medor had had nothing to eat, he gave him a part of the bread he had bought for his day's provision, and which the poor thing devoured with as much appetite as his agitation would permit. They then continued their journey together, Medor being always in advance, except when, from time to time, some new fancy seemed to seize him. Then he would turn as if to retrace his steps, again stop and moan: alternately swayed by the instinct and affection which drew him towards his master, and that which hurried him on to the recovery of what had been confided to his care. Gervais would then call him, and, decided by the voice of his friend, Medor would return and continue his pursuit.

They journeyed thus for about two hours, when all at once, at a part where the road, somewhat hollow, wound in such a manner as to prevent a distant view, Medor, rushing forward, dashed round the corner with such rapidity that Gervais could not doubt that he had found his master. Then redoubling his speed, he also advanced trembling between hope and fear, and was most disagreeably surprised, when, at the turn of the road, he perceived his father, La Mauricaude, the ass, and Thomas, in the greatest embarrassment, contending with Medor, who, without any provocation, and with all the consideration due to old acquaintanceship, had seized upon Thomas in such a manner, that the boy found it impossible to disengage himself from the animal's enormous claws, which, fixed upon the lad's shoulders, served as a support to Medor, who, by smelling about in all directions, at last discovered an old cloth bag lined with leather, which was placed upon the back of the ass, and the cords of which, unhappily for Thomas, had been wound round his arm. Medor's teeth laboured both at the cords and at the bag, which he endeavoured to open, almost upsetting Thomas at every effort; the latter, in despair, and screaming with terror, clung with all his strength to Martin's