St. Aubert woke early, refreshed after his sleep and eager to continue his journey. He invited the stranger to breakfast, and while they spoke again about the road ahead, Valancourt mentioned that several months earlier he had travelled as far as Beaujeu, a town of some importance on the way to Rousillon.
“I would recommend that you take that route,” Valancourt said. “It is a better road, and I believe you will find it more convenient.”
St. Aubert followed his advice and decided to change his path.
“The road from this little village and the road to Beaujeu separate about a league and a half from here,” Valancourt continued. “If you allow me, I will guide your muleteer until that point. I must wander somewhere, and your company would make this journey far more pleasant than walking alone.”
St. Aubert gladly accepted his offer, and they set out together. Valancourt walked beside the carriage, for he refused St. Aubert’s invitation to ride with them.
The road followed the foot of the mountains through a beautiful green valley. Small forests of oak, beech, and sycamore trees covered the landscape, and beneath their branches herds of cattle rested peacefully.
Mountain ash trees and weeping birches grew along the steep slopes above them. Their thin branches moved gently in every passing breeze, while their roots clung to the rocky soil.
Early in the morning, before the sun had risen over the valley, they often met shepherds leading great flocks of sheep from their shelters toward the hills.
St. Aubert had chosen such an early hour not only because he loved watching the first light of sunrise, but also because the fresh air of morning gave him strength and comfort. For someone whose health was delicate, nothing was more refreshing.
In these mountains, the air was especially pleasant. Wild flowers and fragrant herbs grew everywhere, filling the breeze with their natural perfumes.
The grey mist of dawn softened the landscape. Emily watched as the new day slowly appeared. First, the highest mountain peaks trembled beneath the first rays of light. Then they shone brilliantly, while the valleys and lower slopes remained covered in silver mist.
The dark clouds in the east slowly changed colour. They first became pale, then pink, then fiery red, until golden sunlight spread across the sky. The light touched the mountain tops and poured down in long beams over the valley and the river.
It seemed as though all nature had awakened from death into life.
St. Aubert felt his spirit renewed. His heart was filled with emotion, and tears came to his eyes as his thoughts rose toward the Creator.
Emily longed to run freely across the grass, bright with morning dew. She envied the wild mountain goat that leapt effortlessly along the cliffs, enjoying its complete freedom.
Valancourt often stopped to speak with other travellers they met along the way. With genuine excitement, he pointed out every beautiful sight that captured his attention.
St. Aubert watched him with pleasure.
“This is the true innocence and enthusiasm of youth,” he thought. “This young man has never been to Paris.”
When they reached the place where their roads separated, St. Aubert felt surprisingly reluctant to part from him after knowing him for such a short time.
Valancourt stood beside the carriage for a long while. Several times he seemed ready to leave, yet each time he remained, searching for another subject of conversation to explain his delay.
At last, he finally said goodbye.
As he walked away, St. Aubert noticed that Valancourt looked back at Emily with deep emotion in his eyes.
Emily returned his farewell with a shy and gentle expression as the carriage moved forward.
Soon afterward, St. Aubert looked back from the carriage window. He saw Valancourt standing beside the road, leaning on his walking stick with his arms folded, watching them disappear.
St. Aubert waved his hand.
Valancourt seemed suddenly awakened from his thoughts. He returned the gesture and quickly walked away.
The scenery soon began to change. The travellers entered a region where mountains were covered almost completely with dark pine forests. Only here and there did enormous granite cliffs rise from the valleys, their snowy peaks disappearing into the clouds.
The small stream that had followed them now became a wide river. It flowed silently and deeply, reflecting the darkness of the forests above.
Sometimes a cliff rose boldly above the trees and mist. Sometimes a sheer wall of white marble reached down to the water, while great larch trees stretched their enormous branches over the edge.
They continued along a rough and lonely road. Occasionally they saw a shepherd with his dog walking through the valley. Otherwise, they heard only the sound of hidden waterfalls, the deep whisper of wind moving through the pine trees, or the cries of eagles and vultures circling above the cliffs.
As the carriage travelled slowly over the difficult ground, St. Aubert often stepped down to examine the unusual plants growing along the roadside.
Emily, filled with wonder, wandered beneath the trees, silently listening to the lonely voices of the forest.
For many leagues they saw no village or small settlement. The only signs of human life were the rough cabins of hunters or goat herders built high among the cliffs.
Once again, they ate their midday meal outdoors, resting beneath the wide branches of cedar trees in a peaceful valley. Afterward, they continued toward Beaujeu.
The road gradually descended, leaving the pine forests behind and winding among rocky cliffs.
Evening came once more. The travellers could no longer judge how far they were from Beaujeu.
St. Aubert believed they could not be far away and comforted himself with the thought that, after reaching the town, they would travel on a safer and more travelled road.
The last light faded. Mountains, forests, and rocky hills disappeared into darkness.
Michael drove carefully because he could barely see the road. The mules, however, seemed wiser than humans and continued steadily forward.
As they turned around the side of a mountain, they saw a bright light in the distance. It illuminated the rocks and spread across the horizon.
It was clearly a large fire.
St. Aubert wondered whether it was accidental or deliberately made. He feared it might belong to one of the groups of bandits who often troubled travellers in the Pyrenees.
He became alert and watched carefully to see whether their road would pass close to the fire.
He carried weapons, which might offer some protection, though he knew they would be little help against a large group of desperate robbers.
While these thoughts troubled him, a voice suddenly shouted from behind.
“Stop the carriage!”
St. Aubert ordered Michael to go faster.
But either Michael or the mules ignored the command, and they continued at the same slow pace.
Soon they heard the sound of a horse approaching.
A man rode up beside the carriage, still demanding that they stop.
St. Aubert no longer doubted that danger was near. With difficulty, he prepared a pistol as the rider reached toward the carriage door.
The man suddenly fell against his horse.
A gunshot rang out.
Then came a groan.
St. Aubert was horrified when he thought he heard a faint voice calling from the darkness.
It was Valancourt.
He immediately stopped the carriage.
“Valancourt!”
The answer came from the wounded man himself.
St. Aubert quickly climbed down and found him still sitting on his horse. Blood flowed heavily from his arm, and his face showed great pain.
Yet Valancourt tried to calm him.
“I am not seriously injured,” he said. “The wound is only in my arm.”
St. Aubert and Michael helped him dismount and sit beside the road.
St. Aubert tried to bandage the wound, but his hands trembled so much that he could not manage it.
Michael had gone after the horse, which had run away after throwing off its rider.
St. Aubert called for Emily.
There was no answer.
He hurried to the carriage and found her unconscious.
For a moment, he did not know what to do. Valancourt was bleeding, and his daughter had fainted from fear.
He tried to lift Emily and called for Michael to bring water from the nearby stream.
But Michael was too far away to hear.
Valancourt heard St. Aubert repeatedly calling Emily’s name.
Forgetting his own injury, he rushed toward the carriage.
Emily was already beginning to recover when he reached her.
When he understood that she had fainted because she feared for him, his voice trembled as he assured her:
“My wound is nothing. Please do not worry.”
But St. Aubert turned and saw that Valancourt was still bleeding.
His concern immediately returned.
He quickly made a bandage from several handkerchiefs and wrapped the injured arm.
The bleeding stopped, but St. Aubert remained anxious.
“How far are we from Beaujeu?” he asked again and again.
When he learned that the town was still two leagues away, his worry increased. He did not know whether Valancourt could endure the movement of the carriage in his weakened state.
Valancourt smiled and tried to reassure him.
“Please do not trouble yourself because of me. I am certain I can manage.”
He spoke of the accident as though it were only a small inconvenience.
When Michael returned with the horse, Valancourt was helped into the carriage. Emily had recovered, and they slowly continued toward Beaujeu.
After his fear had passed, St. Aubert asked Valancourt why he had appeared so unexpectedly.
Valancourt answered:
“When you left the village, I suddenly found the place unbearably lonely. You had reminded me how pleasant human company could be. Since I had no particular destination, I decided to change my route.”
He hesitated before continuing.
“And I will admit it—I hoped I might catch up with you.”
St. Aubert smiled sadly.
“And I have given you a very unfortunate reward for that kindness,” he replied.
He regretted again the accident that had caused such distress.
But Valancourt seemed concerned only with removing their anxiety. He forced himself to appear cheerful and continued speaking despite his pain.
Emily remained mostly silent. Only when Valancourt spoke directly to her did she answer.
At those moments, his voice carried a tenderness that revealed more than his words.
Soon they approached the great fire they had seen earlier. Its flames lit the road, and they could distinguish figures moving around it.
As they drew closer, they saw a group of gypsies camping in the valley.
At that time, many such groups lived in the wild regions of the Pyrenees, and some survived by robbing travellers.
Emily looked with fear at their harsh faces illuminated by the fire.
The flames created a strange and dramatic scene, casting red light upon the rocks and trees while leaving deep shadows everywhere else.
The travellers understood their danger.
Valancourt silently placed his hand on one of St. Aubert’s pistols.
St. Aubert took out another.
Michael was ordered to move forward as quickly as possible.
Fortunately, they passed without attack. The gypsies were probably too occupied with preparing their meal to notice the opportunity before them.
After travelling another league and a half through darkness, they finally reached Beaujeu.
They arrived at the only inn in the town. Although it was better than any place they had found since entering the mountains, it was still far from comfortable.
A local doctor was immediately called.
He was a strange kind of doctor, treating horses as well as humans and shaving faces almost as often as he treated injuries.
After examining Valancourt’s arm, he discovered that the bullet had passed through the flesh without touching the bone.
He dressed the wound and ordered complete rest.
Valancourt, however, had little desire to obey.
The comfort of relief after pain seemed almost like happiness. His spirits returned, and he wished to join St. Aubert and Emily in conversation.
They too were much happier now that their fears had disappeared.
The evening passed pleasantly.
But St. Aubert was exhausted, and when Valancourt again felt pain from his wound, they soon retired.
The next morning, St. Aubert discovered that Valancourt had slept badly. He had a fever, and his wound caused him great discomfort.
The doctor advised him to remain quietly in Beaujeu.
The advice was sensible, and Valancourt could not refuse.
Although St. Aubert did not think highly of the doctor’s abilities, he realized there was no better medical help available nearby.
Therefore, he changed his plans and decided to wait until Valancourt recovered.
Valancourt politely objected, but St. Aubert could see that his objections were not entirely sincere.
For several days they remained in Beaujeu.
During this time, St. Aubert studied Valancourt’s character carefully.
He discovered a generous and honest nature, full of passion and deeply moved by everything beautiful and noble.
But he was also impulsive, inexperienced, and somewhat romantic.
Valancourt knew little of the world.
His judgment was clear, and his feelings were sincere.
He reacted strongly against anything dishonourable and admired every generous action with equal intensity.
Sometimes St. Aubert smiled at his enthusiasm.
Yet he rarely tried to restrain him.
Instead, he often repeated to himself:
“This young man has never been to Paris.”
And sometimes a quiet sigh followed those words.
When Valancourt was finally strong enough to travel again, though still unable to ride his horse, St. Aubert invited him to continue with them in the carriage for a few days.
He was even more willing to offer this because he had discovered that Valancourt belonged to a respected Gascon family of the same name, a family St. Aubert already knew well.
Valancourt accepted the invitation with great pleasure.
Together they continued through the beautiful wilderness near Rousillon.
They travelled slowly, stopping whenever they discovered a magnificent view.
They often climbed hills where the carriage could not go, wandering among fields of lavender, wild thyme, juniper, and tamarisk.
Emily had never imagined landscapes so grand.
While St. Aubert studied plants, Valancourt and Emily walked together.
He showed her the scenes that fascinated him and recited beautiful passages from Latin and Italian poets she admired.
Whenever he thought she was not watching, he often looked at her quietly, deeply moved by the intelligence and passion shining in her face.
When he spoke again, his voice carried a tenderness he could not hide.
Gradually these silent moments became longer.
Emily, who had always been reserved, began speaking more often to prevent those quiet pauses.
She talked about forests, valleys, and mountains simply to avoid the feelings that silence seemed to awaken.
From Beaujeu, the road continued upward into higher mountain regions.
There they saw enormous glaciers, endless snow, and peaks covered in ice.
They often stopped to admire these overwhelming scenes.
Sitting on lonely cliffs where only hardy trees could grow, they looked across dark forests, deep valleys, and mountains untouched by human footsteps.
The silence of these heights was broken only by the cries of eagles, the screams of vultures, or the distant thunder of falling rocks.
Above them stretched a deep blue sky.
Below, clouds moved like waves across the mountains, sometimes hiding the valleys completely, sometimes revealing them again in changing patterns.
Emily loved watching these clouds transform the world below into endless new shapes.
After many leagues through these regions, they finally began descending toward Rousillon.
Beauty replaced the terrible grandeur of the highest mountains.
Although they enjoyed the green forests, peaceful cottages, and flowers growing among the hills, they looked back with regret at the magnificent scenes they had left behind.
As evening approached, they searched for the small town where they intended to spend the night.
But no houses appeared.
The sun was setting, and St. Aubert ordered the muleteer to hurry.
He felt his old weakness returning after such a tiring day.
Then he saw a long line of men, horses, and loaded mules moving down the opposite mountain.
At first he feared danger.
But when he noticed soldiers among them, he realized they were likely smugglers who had been captured by troops.
The travellers had spent so much time admiring the mountains that they were far behind their planned schedule.
As darkness approached, they saw children playing on a rough mountain bridge above a rushing stream.
St. Aubert called out to ask whether they were near Montigny.
But the sound of the waterfall prevented them from hearing.
So they continued onward.
Soon the road became so difficult that they all left the carriage and walked.
The moon rose, but its light was still too weak to guide them.
Then they heard the evening bell of a convent.
Valancourt offered to search for it.
“If they cannot give us shelter,” he said, “they can at least tell us how far we are from Montigny.”
But St. Aubert stopped him.
“I am too tired to continue searching,” he said. “We will all go there together.”
He placed Emily’s arm within his own and, leaving Michael with the carriage, they followed the sound of the bell into the woods.
Valancourt supported St. Aubert as they climbed.
Soon the moonlight revealed the towers of the convent above the trees.
The darkness, silence, and wild beauty of the forest frightened Emily slightly, but Valancourt’s voice comforted her.
At last they reached the convent gate.
A monk opened it and led them inside.
After speaking with the superior, they were given permission to stay the night.
Valancourt went with another monk to find Michael and the mules.
Later he returned, having arranged shelter for them, and joined St. Aubert and Emily for a simple meal prepared by the monks.
St. Aubert was too unwell to eat much.
Emily worried only about her father.
Valancourt remained quiet but constantly watched over them.
St. Aubert noticed the tender expression with which Valancourt looked at Emily and understood its meaning.
They retired early.
Emily was shown to her room by a nun, but she was relieved when the woman left.
Her heart was heavy.
She feared her father’s health was failing, and she thought his exhaustion came more from weakness than from the journey itself.
These thoughts troubled her until she finally fell asleep.
About two hours later, she awoke to the sound of bells and footsteps moving through the corridor.
At first she feared something had happened to her father.
But soon she realized the monks were simply being called to prayer.
Unable to sleep again, she opened the window and looked outside.
The night was calm and beautiful.
The sky was clear, and not even a leaf moved in the silent forest.
Then she heard the monks singing a midnight hymn from a chapel below.
The peaceful music seemed to rise through the darkness toward heaven.
Her thoughts followed it.
Looking upon the beauty of creation, Emily felt her mind rise toward the greatness and goodness of God.
She saw divine power in the sleeping earth, in the endless stars, and in the vast universe beyond human understanding.
Tears filled her eyes.
She felt a devotion that lifted her above ordinary earthly concerns and filled her with awe and gratitude.
The monks’ voices eventually faded into silence.
Yet Emily remained at the window, watching the moon sink lower and the valley disappear into shadow.
At last, she returned to her bed and fell into peaceful sleep.