At the top of the hill four roads
meet; and there, plain to be seen against the sky, is a finger-
post indicating which way leads to Bordeaux, and which to old
tiled Montauban, and which to Perigueux.
This hill had impressed me greatly on my journey south; perhaps
because I had enjoyed from it my first extended view of the
Garonne Valley, and had there felt myself on the verge of the
south country where my mission lay. It had taken root in my
memory, so that I had come to look upon its bare rounded head,
with the guide-post and the four roads, as the first outpost of
Paris, as the first sign of return to the old life.
Now for two days I had been looking forward to seeing it again,
That long stretch of road would do admirably for something I had
in my mind. That sign-post, with the roads pointing north,
south, east, and west--could there be a better place for meetings
and partings?
We came to the bottom of the ascent about an hour before noon, M.
de Cocheforet, Mademoiselle, and I. We had reversed the order of
yesterday, and I rode ahead; they came after at their leisure.
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