Three weeks touring in Germany had only
served to arouse in him a passion for travelling and seeing,
for new places and peoples and scenes, that in all his life,
perhaps, would not be satiated; everything was new to him,
everything amused him; and so it happened that, while he was
dressing and studying from his window the view that had been
only obscurely hinted at in the darkness of night before, a
sudden desire came over him to remain where he was for that
day, climb the hills that rose before him, and see what manner
of country lay beyond.
It was still early when, after breakfasting by himself in the
salle-a-manger, he found his way into the garden; no one was
stirring, it seemed deserted; he wandered along the gravel
paths, trod down the tall grass as he crossed the lawn, and
arrived at the confines of the little domain. On two sides it
was bounded by a narrow stream, separating it from the road
beyond; at the angle of the garden the shallow, trickling
water widened into a little fall crossed by a few planks;
there were trees and bushes on each side, and the grassy
garden bank sloped down to the stream.
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