The sun had just risen, and a ray of red light lay upon the waves of this fluctuating vapour. To the west, opposite the sun, it seemed driven by the light against the rocks in immense masses of foaming cloud, until it became lost in the distance, mixing its tints with the fleecy sky.
Our voiturier insisted on remaining two hours at the village of Noè, although we were unable to procure any dinner, and wished to go on to the next stage. I have already said, that the hills scared his senses, and he had become disobliging, sullen, and stupid. While he waited we walked to the neighbouring wood: it was a fine forest, carpeted beautifully with moss, and in various places overhung by rocks, in whose crevices young pines had taken root, and spread their branches for shade to those below; the noon heat was intense, and we were glad to shelter ourselves from it in the shady retreats of this lovely forest.
On our return to the village we found, to our extreme surprise, that the voiturier had departed nearly an hour before, leaving word that he expected to meet us on the road. S***'s sprain rendered him incapable of much exertion; but there was no remedy, and we proceeded on foot to Maison Neuve, an auberge, four miles and a half distant.
At Maison Neuve the man had left word that he should proceed to Pontarlier,[1] the frontier town of France, six leagues distant, and that if we did not arrive that night, he should the next morning leave the voiture at an inn, and return with the mule to Troyes. We were asto-
- ↑ In Shelley's edition uniformly spelt Pontalier; but Mrs. Shelley corrected the name to Pontarlier in the Essays &c. in 1840.
