When her father surprised her in the midst of her excitement she rushed to him and embraced him passionately, as if she wished to communicate to him all the joy with which her heart was flooded. The good man's hat fell off during this sudden embrace and started to roll into the ravine. Gilberte darted like a flash to catch it, and Antoine, terrified by her impetuosity, darted to catch his daughter. Both were in great danger when Emile passed them, seized the flying hat on the wing, and, as he replaced it on Antoine's head, took his turn at pressing that fond father in his arms. "_Vive Dieu_!" cried Antoine, ordering them back to a less perilous spot, "you both receive me very warmly, but you frighten me even more! For God's sake did you meet the devil's goat that makes those whom it bewitches with its glance run and jump about like lunatics? Is it the mountain air that makes you so wild, little girl? All the better say I, but don't run such risks as that. What color! What a sparkling eye! I see that I must take you out for a walk often, that you don't have enough exercise at the house. She has made me anxious lately, do you know, Emile? She doesn't eat, she reads too much, and I have been thinking of throwing all your books out of the window if it goes on. Luckily she seems different to-day, and, that being the case, I am tempted to take her as far as Saint-Germain-Beaupré. It's a fine place to look at. We will pass the day there to-morrow, and if you choose to come with us we will have a royal good time. Come, Emile, what do you say? What does it matter if we go to Argenton a day later, eh, Gilberte? And even suppose we spend only one day there?" "Or don't go there at all?" said Gilberte, jumping for joy. "Let's go to Saint-Germain, father; I have never been there. Oh! what a fine idea!" "We are on the road," continued Monsieur de Châteaubrun, "but we must go to pass the night at Fresselines, for staying here is not to be thought of. However, Fresselines and Confolens are well worth seeing. The roads are not good, and we must start before dark. Monsieur Charasson, go and give poor Lanterne some oats. She likes journeys, for they are the only opportunities she ever has for feasting. You will take the donkey back to the people who lent him to you, up at Vitra, and then go to wait for us, with the barrow and Monsieur Emile's horse, on the other side of the stream. We will be there in two hours." "And I," said Emile, "will write a line to my mother, so that she won't worry over my absence, and I will find a child somewhere to carry my note." "Send one of these little savages so far? that won't be easy. Upon my word! we are in luck, for yonder is someone from your place if I am not mistaken." Emile turned and saw Constant Galuchet, his father's secretary, who had just thrown his coat on the grass, and, having enveloped his head in a pocket handkerchief, was engaged in baiting his hook.