He was riding through the gateway when Janille came running up to detain him. She insisted on waking Monsieur Antoine; mademoiselle was dressing; breakfast would be ready in a moment; the roads were too wet; it was going to rain again. The young man, with many thanks, succeeded in escaping from her hospitable attentions, and made her also a present, which she seemed very glad to accept. But he had not reached the foot of the hill when he heard a horse trotting behind him, his great, heavy feet just razing the ground. It was Sylvain Charasson, mounted on Monsieur Antoine's mare, with no other bridle than a rope halter passed between the animal's teeth, riding hastily after him. "I am going to guide you, monsieur," he cried, as he passed him; "Mademoiselle Janille says you'll kill yourself, as you don't know the roads, and that's the truth too." "All right, but take the shortest road," replied the young man. "Never fear," rejoined the rustic page, and, plying his clogs, he urged the hollow-backed mare into a fast trot, her huge stomach, stuffed with hay unmixed with oats, presenting a striking contrast to her thin flanks and bony chest. V THE DRIBE The slopes crowned by Châteaubrun were so steep that the young man and his new guide were delayed by no torrent of any size and soon reached the valley. But as they rode rapidly by a small pond full to the brim, the boy exclaimed, with a glance of amazement: "The _Font-Margot_ full! That means a lot of damage in the low lands. We shall have trouble crossing the river. Let's hurry, monsieur!"--He urged the mare to a gallop; and despite her ungainly build and her broad, flat feet embellished with a fringe of long hair that trailed on the ground, she picked her way over the uneven ground with remarkable skill and sureness of foot. The extensive plains of this region form great plateaus broken by ravines, which, with their abrupt and deep declivities, make veritable mountains to ascend and descend. After riding about an hour, our travellers found themselves opposite the valley of Gargilesse, and a fascinating landscape was spread out before them. The village of Gargilesse, built like a sugar-loaf on a steep knoll, and overlooked by its pretty church and its ancient monastery, seemed to rise from the depths of the precipices; and the boy pointed out to Emile a number of enormous buildings, entirely new and of fine appearance, at the bottom of the steepest of those precipices, saying: "Look, monsieur, there are Monsieur Cardonnet's buildings." It was the first time that Emile, who was a law-student at Poitiers and passed his vacations at Paris, had visited the region where his father had been engaged for a year past in an important undertaking. The natural aspect of the spot seemed to him beautiful, and he was grateful to his parents for having happened upon a location where industry could flourish without banishing the influences of poesy.