Fortunately in my sorrow, which was very deep, I had one consolation; Vitalis was much kinder, kinder than he had ever been before. His manner with me had quite changed. I felt that he was more to me than a master now. Often, if I dared, I would have embraced him, I so needed love. But I had not the courage, for Vitalis was not a man with whom one dared be familiar. At first it had been fear that kept me at a distance, but now it was something vague, which resembled a sentiment of respect. When I left the village I had looked upon Vitalis the same as the other men of the poorer class. I was not able to make distinctions, but the two months that I had lived with Mrs. Milligan had opened my eyes and developed my intelligence. Looking at my master with more attention, it seemed to me that in manner and bearing he appeared to be very superior. His ways were like Mrs. Milligan's ways.... Weeks passed. On our tramps, now, my eyes were always turned in the direction of the water, not to the hills. I was always hoping that one day I should see the _Swan_. If I saw a boat in the distance I always thought that it might be the _Swan_. But it was not. We passed several days at Lyons, and all my spare time I spent on the docks, looking up and down the river. I described the beautiful barge to the fishermen and asked them if they had seen it, but no one had seen it. We had to leave Lyons at last and went on to Dijon; then I began to give up hope of ever seeing Mrs. Milligan again, for at Lyons I had studied all the maps of France, and I knew that the _Swan_ could not go farther up the river to reach the Loire. It would branch off at Chalon. We arrived at Chalon, and we went on again without seeing it. It was the end of my dream. To make things worse, the winter was now upon us, and we had to tramp along wearily in the blinding rain and slush. At night, when we arrived at a wretched inn, or in a barn, tired out, wet to the skin, I could not drop off to sleep with laughter on my lips. Sometimes we were frozen to the bone, and Pretty-Heart was as sad and mournful as myself. My master's object was to get to Paris as quickly as possible, for it was only in Paris that we had a chance to give performances during the winter. We were making very little money now, so we could not afford to take the train. After the cold sleet, the wind turned to the north. It had been very damp for several days. At first we did not mind the biting north wind in our faces, but soon the sky filled with great black clouds and the wintry sun disappeared altogether. We knew that a snowstorm was coming. Vitalis was anxious to get to the next big town, where we could stay and give several performances, if very bad weather overtook us. "Go to bed quickly," he said, when we got to an inn that night; "we are going to start at a very early hour to-morrow, because I don't want to be caught in a snowstorm."