For miles he had
limped along the painfully rough track without seeing the slightest sign
of any break in the woods, or any human being. At last the desire for
sleep had overtaken him. He was a hardy young Englishman, and a night
out of doors in the middle of June under these odorous pines presented
itself merely as a not disagreeable adventure. Five minutes after the
idea had occurred to him he was asleep.
And now in the gray morning he looked out upon a different scene.
Scarcely a dozen yards from him stood a single travelling-coach of dark
green, drawn by a heavy engine. At intervals of scarcely twenty paces up
and down the line, as far as he could see, soldiers were stationed like
sentries. They were looking sharply about in all directions, and he
could even hear the footsteps of others crashing through the wood. From
the train three or four men in long cloaks had already descended. They
were standing in the track talking together.
The young man behind the bracken felt himself in somewhat of a dilemma.
There was a delightful smell of fresh coffee from the waiting coach, and
there seemed to be not the slightest reason why he should not emerge
from his hiding-place and claim the hospitality of these people.
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