He knew that two hours and a half would take them down the mountain into Granpere, and that when there, it would be at once necessary that he should begin a task the idea of which was by no means pleasant to him.

He was quite sure now that he wished he had remained at Basle, and that he had accepted Marie's letter as final.
He told himself again and again that he could not make her marry him if she chose to change her mind.

What was he to say, and what was he to do when he got to Granpere, a place which he almost wished that he had never seen in spite of those profitable linen-buyings?
And now when Michel Voss began to talk to him about the scenery, and what this man up in the mountain did in the winter,--at this moment when his terrible trouble was so very near him,--he felt it to be an insult, or at least a cruelty.

'What can he do from December till April except smoke and drink ?' asked Michel Voss.
'I don't care what he does,' said Urmand, turning away.

'I only know I wish I'd never come here.' 'Take a glass of wine, my friend,' said Michel.