Life stretched before him alluring and various as the open road; and his
pulses danced to the tune of the postillion's whip as the carriage
rattled out of the gates.
It was a bright morning and the plain lay beneath them like a planted
garden, in all the flourish and verdure of June; but the roads being
deep in mire, and unrepaired after the ravages of the winter, it was
past noon before they reached the foot of the hills. Here matters were
little better, for the highway was ploughed deep by the wheels of the
numberless vans and coaches journeying from one town to another during
the Whitsun holidays, so that even a young gentleman travelling post
must resign himself to a plebeian rate of progression. Odo at first was
too much pleased with the novelty of the scene to quarrel with any
incidental annoyances; but as the afternoon wore on the way began to
seem long, and he was just giving utterance to his impatience when
Cantapresto, putting his head out of the window, announced in a tone of
pious satisfaction that just ahead of them were a party of travellers in
far worse case than themselves. Odo, leaning out, saw that, a dozen
yards ahead, a modest chaise of antique pattern had in fact come to
grief by the roadside. He called to his postillion to hurry forward, and
they were soon abreast of the wreck, about which several people were
grouped in anxious colloquy. Odo sprang out to offer his services; but
as he alit he felt Cantapresto's hand on his sleeve.
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