The sun's rays scarcely penetrated the sea of verdure overhead.
The ground was thickly strewn with leaves, the memorials of past
summers; and the dark green pines breathed out a resinous odor,
fresh and invigorating to the passing rider.
Colonel Philibert, while his thoughts were for the most part fixed
on the public dangers which led to this hasty visit of his to the
Chateau of Beaumanoir, had still an eye for the beauty of the
forest, and not a squirrel leaping, nor a bird fluttering among the
branches, escaped his notice as he passed by. Still he rode on
rapidly, and having got fairly into the road, soon outstripped his
guide.
"A crooked road this to Beaumanoir," remarked he at length, drawing
bridle to allow Master Pothier to rejoin him. "It is as mazy as the
law. I am fortunate, I am sure, in having a sharp notary like you
to conduct me through it."
"Conduct you! Your Honor is leading me! But the road to Beaumanoir
is as intricate as the best case ever drawn up by an itinerant
notary."
"You seldom ride, Master Pothier?" said Philibert, observing his
guide jolting with an audible grunt at every step of his awkward
nag.
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