We flashed through Grey-l’Abbaye like lightning. Hens and ducks were under our wheels--blood on my glasses. We were going so fast that the brass-plate of Maître Pallud gave me the impression of a golden streak. On issuing from the village, the Route Nationale hedged us with its plane trees, then the long hill with its slope formed an obstacle to our speed. There, showing signs of weariness, for the first time, the car slackened down, and allowed itself to be managed. * * * * * I had to thrash it often, to make it bring us as far as Nanthel where we got in late, and without any hitch. As we passed over a gutter, however, the copper mouth uttered an exclamation of pain, and I saw that the jolt had just broken a spring of the off hind wheel. When we got into the courtyard of the Hotel, I tried to fasten a new spring into the felloe, but did not succeed. My attempts roused such a noise from the hooter, that I had to give up trying to repair the damage; besides it was not very urgent. I had resolved to finish the journey in a train, and to put my recalcitrant machine in the goods station. The future should decide about its fate. For the moment I put it in the garage amongst the phaëtons, buggies and limousines, but I hastily withdrew, knowing that behind me, the round eyes of its head-lamps were shining with a treacherous look. As I reflected on all the ins and outs of this astonishing phenomenon, and as I moved away, a phrase in a scientific article which I had once read, and which had struck me, came into my mind, and I was not a little surprised at finding in those words a vague explanation of the marvel, and the promise of happenings no less astonishing. “It is possible to imagine that there exists an intermediate link between living creatures and inert matter, just as there exist links between animals and vegetables.” * * * * * The Hotel had all the outward signs of luxurious comfort. A lift took me up, and I was taken to our room. My partner had preceded me. After being a prisoner for so long, she was looking with a sort of eagerness at the street, the people moving about, and the shops, whose glories were being lit up. Emma could not tear herself away from the spectacle of life, and as she dressed, she turned continually to the window, drawing aside the curtains to behold the spectacle again. I thought I perceived that she was less affectionate towards me. My strange conduct in the car had not failed to surprise her. As I had made up my mind not to give any explanation, I had no doubt that she regarded me as a lunatic, hardly cured of his madness.