This thought kept Frédéric busy all night. At daybreak, he rose, and, leaving his companions to enjoy the repose which he could not obtain, left the inn, ordered a horse, and galloped away toward Vizille. XI A DAY IN THE WOODS Love is the god who most agreeably employs our leisure; he scoffs at distances and disarranges time. A lover is never bored, even when he is not favored. Memories, schemes, hopes, afford constant occupation to a loving heart. Love is the god of all countries and of all classes; he finds his way into the humble cottage as well as into the palace. Love is as sweet on the heather as on the softest cushions; indeed, some persons go so far as to maintain that love is truer in the country than in the city; it ought, at all events, to be more natural there. The mountaineer, the woodchopper, the ploughman, may not devote his time to the fine arts, to financial schemes, to political intrigues; but everybody is at liberty to love, luckily for the human race. Some author, I know not who, has said with much truth: "The happiest time of a man's life is that which he spends paying court to his mistress." What a pity it is that this time is so short! It is probably to renew their happiness that men change mistresses so often. Women do not treat love so lightly. It is their life's history, while with us it is only a romance. Frédéric soon arrived at the valley where there was dancing the night before, and which was now as peaceful and quiet as the whole neighborhood. A few laboring men passed, on their way to work; here and there, a peasant could be seen in the fields. In the country, the evening's enjoyment does not impair the morrow's toil; the good people find their diversion in talking over the pleasures of the holiday, which will not return for a year; but the time will pass quickly to them: they know so well how to employ it. Frédéric rode toward the little, willow-lined path; there he dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and plunged into the woods. He looked for the maid on the bank of the stream, but she was not at the place where he had seen her the night before. So he went farther into the woods, recalled what his guide had told him, and took the path to the left. Everything was peaceful and calm; the dark foliage of the firs almost excluded the daylight. At last he came to a clearing, descended a hill, and saw a wretched cabin before him. The wood of which it was built had rotted in several places, and the thatched roof threatened to fall in. There was a small garden at the right, surrounded by a picket fence, a part of which had fallen. Frédéric's heart ached at the aspect of the place, which was eloquent of utter poverty and of a lack of the prime necessities of life.