The holidays arrived, and Marc and I went off to Bois-Clair. Rare and wonderful thing! that happy time, looked forward to, talked of, and thought of, for so long, fully realised our expectations. We were as happy and enjoyed ourselves in all respects as much, as we had ever dreamed we should. What spirits we were in! We were intoxicated with the splendid air, the freedom, and the constant exercise out-of-doors. We were seldom in the house, for we were so occupied with our important out-door affairs—fishing, gathering wild fruits and flowers, and getting ourselves nearly lost in the grand forest. Fran?ois was always with us, and always in a good temper, when we went on any long expedition.

I became quite enterprising, almost daring, and, except now and then when certain fears assailed me, which however I did my best to conceal, I began to think I was becoming a changed character. One of the drawbacks, though, to my perfect happiness, while staying with Marc, was the constant chance of meeting with cattle. I could not bear to see a cow coming up to me. That was one of my fears. Another cause of trouble was the chance of falling in with sheep-dogs; how I dreaded seeing a flock of sheep grazing in a field, I knew the dogs would be with them, and that if we walked near, they would be sure to come up to us.

And this they always did without fail, and what a moment of anxiety I used to pass when these great, shaggy, dirty animals came running towards us, barking as loudly as they could, staring at us with their great bright eyes. Marc used to speak to them, and somehow he always knew how to quiet them; for at the sound of his voice they would stop barking, and walk off wagging their stumps of tails.

Still, when we had passed them I did not dare to look back for fear they should be coming after us. It always seemed to me that one of them would creep stealthily up behind and grip me. I seemed to feel, sometimes, as if one of the dogs was only a foot behind me, and............