Ménard's neighbors opened their eyes to their fullest extent, understanding nothing of what he said. But Dubourg's partner was content, and he, seeing that she was inclined to look favorably on him, ventured to steal a kiss; but she instantly retorted by boxing his ears, for the village damsels of the suburbs of Grenoble do not resemble the Gotons of the suburbs of Paris. Frédéric stood near the dancers, but paid no heed to the animated picture before his eyes. He fancied himself still in the lonely path, and saw, in his imagination, the girl sitting beside the stream. Dubourg joined him, having left his partner because he saw that he would have nothing but his capers and prancing for his pains, and because the cuffing the peasant had given him had cooled his ardor for the dance. "Where on earth have you been?" he asked; "you left us at just the wrong time." "I have been taking a walk." "What a tireless walker you are! But it seems to me that it's time for us to walk to Grenoble, which is still four leagues away." They joined Ménard, who complimented Dubourg on his dancing. Frédéric inquired the shortest way to Grenoble, and a young villager offered to guide them part of the way; but Ménard did not seem capable of walking four leagues, and even Dubourg was dismayed by the distance. The villager suggested his farm horse, on condition that they should ride him at a footpace. The suggestion was gratefully accepted by Dubourg and Ménard; the latter rode behind, clinging fast to the baron. Frédéric went on foot with their guide. The weather was superb, and the fields were bathed in moonlight. The forests of fir rose majestically on their left hand, and the smith's hammer alone broke the silence of the night. As they passed a forge, a bright glare would efface for a moment the moon's bluish light, and cast a reddish gleam over the landscape. The voices of the workmen blending with the clang of the hammer inspired Dubourg to say to Ménard: "Do you hear the Cyclops forging Jupiter's thunderbolts?" And Ménard replied: "Not for all the gold of Peru would I venture among those people alone, at night." And he dug his heels into their charger, which did not quicken its pace. Dubourg and the tutor were a little behind the others, because the road was very stony and the horse could make but slow progress. The guide was a boy of twelve, ingenuous and frank like most mountaineers. "What is this village we are leaving?" Frédéric asked him. "Vizille, monsieur; it's the prettiest village round Grenoble." "Do you live here?" "Yes, monsieur; I was born here." "Do you know----" Before completing his question, Frédéric turned to see if his companions could hear him; but they were more than fifty yards behind. Dubourg was talking about Bretagne, and describing to Ménard how the people lived there. Frédéric saw that he could talk with their guide without any fear of being overheard.