I meekly followed him. We two started, he in front, I behind. In this manner we went through the entire village. The children who were playing in the street recognized my guide. "Hello, Blacky! good-morning, Blacky!" They wanted to play with the dog, but he turned his head with a disdainful air--the air of a dog who hasn't the time to answer himself, and who is doing his duty and earning thirty sous. One of the children exclaimed: "Leave him alone; don't you see he is taking the gentleman to the Caldron? Good-day, sir!" And all repeated, laughing, "Good-day, sir!" I smiled rather awkwardly; I am sure I felt embarrassed, even a little humiliated. I was, in fact, under the lead of that animal. He, for the present, was my master. He knew where he was going; I did not. I was in a hurry to get out of the village and find myself alone with Blacky and face to face with the beauties of nature that he had been commissioned to show me. These beauties of nature were, at the beginning, a fearfully hot and dusty road, on which the sun fell with full force. The dog walked with a brisk step, and I was getting tired following him. I tried to slacken his gait. "Come, I say, Blacky, my friend, not so quickly." But Blacky turned a deaf ear, and continued, without listening to me, his little trot. He was taken suddenly with a real fit of anger when I wished to sit down in the corner of a field, under a tree that gave a meagre shade. He barked furiously, and cast on me outraged looks; evidently what I was doing was against the rule. He was not in the habit of stopping there, and his barks were so piercing and annoying that I rose to continue on my way. Blacky became calm at once, and walked placidly in front of me--I had understood him, and he was satisfied. Shortly afterwards we entered a delightful path, in full blossom, shady, sweet-smelling, and filled with freshness and the murmur of springs. Blacky immediately entered the wood, took to his heels, and disappeared in the little footway. I followed, slightly out of breath, and had not gone a hundred steps when I found Blacky waiting for me, with head erect and bright eyes, in a clearing enlivened by the tinkle of a tiny cascade. There was there an old rustic bench, and Blacky looked impatiently from me to the seat and from the seat to me. I was beginning to understand Blacky's language. "There now," he said to me, "here is indeed a place to rest in. It's nice and cool here; but you were so stupid, you wanted to stop in the sun. Come on, now; sit down; you really can sit down. I will allow you." I stopped, sat down, and lit a cigar, and came near offering one to Blacky; perhaps he smoked. But I thought he would prefer a piece of sugar. He caught it on the fly very cleverly, and crunched it with enjoyment. Then he lay down and took a nap at my feet. He was evidently accustomed to a little siesta at this place.