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Julien
took
two
days
to
reach
Strasbourg
.
He
thought
he
would
have
nothing
to
do
there
.
He
made
a
great
detour
"
If
that
devil
of
an
abbé
Castanède
has
recognised
me
he
is
not
the
kind
of
man
to
loose
track
of
me
easily
.
.
.
.
And
how
he
would
revel
in
making
a
fool
of
me
,
and
causing
my
mission
to
fail
.
"
Fortunately
the
abbé
Castanède
,
who
was
chief
of
the
congregational
police
on
all
the
northern
frontier
had
not
recognised
him
.
And
the
Strasbourg
Jesuits
,
although
very
zealous
,
never
gave
a
thought
to
observing
Julien
,
who
with
his
cross
and
his
blue
tail
-
coat
looked
like
a
young
military
man
,
very
much
engrossed
in
his
own
personal
appearance
.
Fascination
!
Love
gives
thee
all
his
love
,
energy
and
all
his
power
of
suffering
unhappiness
.
It
is
only
his
enchanting
pleasures
,
his
sweet
delights
,
which
are
outside
thy
sphere
.
When
I
saw
her
sleep
I
was
made
to
say
"
With
all
her
angelic
beauty
and
her
sweet
weaknesses
she
is
absolutely
mine
!
There
she
is
,
quite
in
my
power
,
such
as
Heaven
made
her
in
its
pity
in
order
to
ravish
a
man
’
s
heart
.
"
—
Ode
of
Schiller
.
Julien
was
compelled
to
spend
eight
days
in
Strasbourg
and
tried
to
distract
himself
by
thoughts
of
military
glory
and
patriotic
devotion
.
Was
he
in
love
then
?
he
could
not
tell
,
he
only
felt
in
his
tortured
soul
that
Mathilde
was
the
absolute
mistress
both
of
his
happiness
and
of
his
imagination
.
He
needed
all
the
energy
of
his
character
to
keep
himself
from
sinking
into
despair
.
It
was
out
of
his
power
to
think
of
anything
unconnected
with
mademoiselle
de
la
Mole
.
His
ambition
and
his
simple
personal
successes
had
formerly
distracted
him
from
the
sentiments
which
madame
de
Rênal
had
inspired
.
Mathilde
was
all
-
absorbing
;
she
loomed
large
over
his
whole
future
.
Julien
saw
failure
in
every
phase
of
that
future
.
This
same
individual
whom
we
remember
to
have
been
so
presumptuous
and
haughty
at
Verrières
,
had
fallen
into
an
excess
of
grotesque
modesty
.
Three
days
ago
he
would
only
have
been
too
pleased
to
have
killed
the
abbé
Castanède
,
and
now
,
at
Strasbourg
,
if
a
child
had
picked
a
quarrel
with
him
he
would
have
thought
the
child
was
in
the
right
.
In
thinking
again
about
the
adversaries
and
enemies
whom
he
had
met
in
his
life
he
always
thought
that
he
,
Julien
,
had
been
in
the
wrong
.
The
fact
was
that
the
same
powerful
imagination
which
had
formerly
been
continuously
employed
in
painting
a
successful
future
in
the
most
brilliant
colours
had
now
been
transformed
into
his
implacable
enemy
.
The
absolute
solicitude
of
a
traveller
’
s
life
increased
the
ascendancy
of
this
sinister
imagination
.
What
a
boon
a
friend
would
have
been
!
But
Julien
said
to
himself
,
"
Is
there
a
single
heart
which
beats
with
affection
for
me
?
And
even
if
I
did
have
a
friend
,
would
not
honour
enjoin
me
to
eternal
silence
?
"
He
was
riding
gloomily
in
the
outskirts
of
Kehl
;
it
is
a
market
town
on
the
banks
of
the
Rhine
and
immortalised
by
Desaix
and
Gouvion
Saint
-
Cyr
.
A
German
peasant
showed
him
the
little
brooks
,
roads
and
islands
of
the
Rhine
,
which
have
acquired
a
name
through
the
courage
of
these
great
generals
.
Julien
was
guiding
his
horse
with
his
left
hand
,
while
he
held
unfolded
in
his
right
the
superb
map
which
adorns
the
Memoirs
of
the
Marshal
Saint
Cyr
.
A
merry
exclamation
made
him
lift
his
head
.
