They
made as though they had come there for a stroll, and asked him a few
indifferent questions, to which he returned short answers. He
recognized them both. One was the _cure_ and the other the doctor at the
springs; Jonathan had no doubt sent them, or the people in the house
had called them in, or the scent of an approaching death had drawn
them thither. He beheld his own funeral, heard the chanting of the
priests, and counted the tall wax candles; and all that lovely fertile
nature around him, in whose lap he had thought to find life once more,
he saw no longer, save through a veil of crape. Everything that but
lately had spoken of length of days to him, now prophesied a speedy
end. He set out the next day for Paris, not before he had been
inundated with cordial wishes, which the people of the house uttered
in melancholy and wistful tones for his benefit.
He traveled through the night, and awoke as they passed through one of
the pleasant valleys of the Bourbonnais. View after view swam before
his gaze, and passed rapidly away like the vague pictures of a dream.
Cruel nature spread herself out before his eyes with tantalizing
grace. Sometimes the Allier, a liquid shining ribbon, meandered
through the distant fertile landscape; then followed the steeples of
hamlets, hiding modestly in the depths of a ravine with its yellow
cliffs; sometimes, after the monotony of vineyards, the watermills of
a little valley would be suddenly seen; and everywhere there were
pleasant chateaux, hillside villages, roads with their fringes of
queenly poplars; and the Loire itself, at last, with its wide sheets
of water sparkling like diamonds amid its golden sands.
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