The great variety of the ground--the hills, the dales, the fountains, the cliffs, that the district presented--the rivers that intersected it, the deep glades and wild savannahs of the forest itself--the villages, the towns, the chapels, the monasteries, which nestled themselves, as it were, into its bosom--the profound solitude of some parts, the busy cultivation of others, the desert-like desolation of certain spots, and the soft, calm monotony of seemingly interminable trees which was to be found in different tracts--rendered the forest of Hallate one of the most interesting and changeful scenes through which the wandering foot of man could rove. Whether he sought the city or the hermitage, whether the grave or the gay, whether the sun or the shade, here he might suit his taste; and the mutations of the sky, in winter, in summer, in morning, in evening, in sunshine, or in clouds, added new changes to each individual spot, and varied still farther a scene which in itself seemed endless in its variety. About three o'clock on the afternoon of a day in early May, with a cool wind stirring the air, and some light vapours floating across the heaven, a gentleman, completely armed except the head, with a lance on his shoulder, and a page carrying his casque behind him, rode slowly into one of the wide savannahs, following a peasant with a staff in his hand, who seemed to be showing him the way. His horse bore evident signs of having been ridden far that day, without much time for grooms to do their office in smoothing down his dark brown coat; but nevertheless, though somewhat rough and dusty, the stout beast seemed no way tired; and, to judge by his quick and glancing eye, his bending crest, and the eager rounding of his knee, as if eager to put forth his speed, one would have supposed that he had rested since his journey, and tasted his share of corn. "Ay, there is a piqueur of the hunt," said the gentleman, marking with a glance a man, clothed in green and brown, who stood holding a brace of tall dogs at the angle of one of the roads leading into the heart of the forest. "You have led us right, good fellow. There is your guerdon." The peasant took the money; and, as it was somewhat more than had been promised, made a low rude bow and stumped away; and the gentleman, turning to his page, beckoned him up. "Think you, Will, that you have French enough," he asked, in English, when the boy was close to him, "to tell them where we are, and what to do?" "Oh, I will make them understand," replied the page, with all the confidence of youth. "I picked up a few words in Ghent, and a few more as we came along; and what tongue wont do, hand and head must."