It was not until the cold
dark day was closing in, that he had any distincter impressions of the
ride than jingling bells, bitter weather, slipping horses, frowning hill-
sides, bleak woods, and a stoppage at some wayside house of
entertainment, where they had passed through a cow-house to reach the
travellers' room above. He had been conscious of little more, except of
Obenreizer sitting thoughtful at his side all day, and eyeing him much.
But when he shook off his stupor, Obenreizer was not at his side. The
carriage was stopping to bait at another wayside house; and a line of
long narrow carts, laden with casks of wine, and drawn by horses with a
quantity of blue collar and head-gear, were baiting too. These came from
the direction in which the travellers were going, and Obenreizer (not
thoughtful now, but cheerful and alert) was talking with the foremost
driver. As Vendale stretched his limbs, circulated his blood, and
cleared off the lees of his lethargy, with a sharp run to and fro in the
bracing air, the line of carts moved on: the drivers all saluting
Obenreizer as they passed him.
"Who are those?" asked Vendale.
"They are our carriers--Defresnier and Company's," replied Obenreizer.
"Those are our casks of wine." He was singing to himself, and lighting a
cigar.
"I have been drearily dull company to-day," said Vendale. "I don't know
what has been the matter with me."
"You had no sleep last night; and a kind of brain-congestion frequently
comes, at first, of such cold," said Obenreizer.
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