At last a huge raft appeared to move from beneath the willows of the opposite bank, and by the aid of a rope fastened across the stream two men proceeded slowly to ferry the great platform over. Leading our horses cautiously forward, we embarked in this frail craft, and landed safely in Bouvigne.
‘Will you please to tell me, Mr. O’Leary,’ said Laura, in the easy tone of one who asked for information’s sake, ‘what are your plans here; for up to this moment I only perceive that we have been increasing the distance between us and Rochepied.’
‘Quite true,’ said I; ‘but you know we agreed it was impossible to hope to find our way back through the forest. Every _allée_ here has not only its brother, but a large family, so absolutely alike no one could distinguish between them; we might wander for weeks without extricating ourselves.’
‘I know all that,’ said she somewhat pettishly; ‘still my question remains unanswered. What do you mean to do here?’
‘In the first place,’ said I, with the affected precision of one who had long since resolved on his mode of proceeding, ‘we ‘ll dine.’
I stopped here to ascertain her sentiments on this part of my arrangement. She gave a short nod, and I proceeded. ‘Having dined,’ said I, ‘we’ll obtain horses and a calèche, if such can be found, for Rochepied.’
‘I ‘ve told you already there are no such things here. They never see a carriage of any kind from year’s end to year’s end; and there is not a horse in the whole village.’
‘Perhaps, then, there may be a château near, where, on making known our mishap, we might be able----’
‘Oh, that’s very simple, as far as you ‘re concerned,’ said she, with a saucy smile; ‘but I’d just as soon not have this adventure published over the whole country.’
Ha! by Jove, thought I, there’s a consideration completely overlooked by me; and so I became silent and thoughtful, and spoke not another word as we led our horses up the little rocky causeway towards the ‘Toison d’Or.’
If we did not admire the little _auberge_ of the ‘Golden Fleece,’ truly the fault was rather our own than from any want of merit in the little hostelry itself. Situated on a rocky promontory on the river, it was built actually over the stream--the door fronting it, and approachable by a little wooden gallery, along which a range of orange-trees and arbutus was tastefully disposed, scenting the whole air with their fragrance. As we walked along we caught glimpses of several rooms within, neatly and even handsomely furnished--and of one salon in particular, where books and music lay scattered on the tables, with that air of habitation so pleasant to look on.