The lovers took a good quarter of an hour to cover that space.

At last, however slow their gait, they reached the bridge, and there they stopped.
The road to Nice ran up in front of them, along the opposite slope of the valley.

But they could only see a small portion of it, as it takes a sudden turn about half a mile from the bridge, and is lost to view among the wooded hills.

On looking round they caught sight of the other end of the road, that which they had just traversed, and which leads in a direct line from Plassans to the Viorne.

In the beautiful winter moonlight it looked like a long silver ribbon, with dark edgings traced by the rows of elms.