mysterious feeling of having found a man who would, with strong arm, come between her and danger.
Helène had never been in so wild a country. She had never been alone in the woods, and the peacefulness of her surroundings, the grandeur of it all, impressed her deeply. Her situation seemed so unreal, as though it were almost impossible to believe in its fact. Was she little Snow-White with the Seven Dwarfs across the Seven Hills? Was she like Saint Elizabeth driven into the wild forests by her jealous spouse? It seemed as if some gnomes or fairies were peeking out from under the tumbled chaos of roots and boulders; as if every little heap of dried pine needles were the seat of some good little goblin. No, it really was true; here she was sitting watching the cataracts of an unknown mountain stream tumbling and gamboling down hill, dressed in peasant’s garments, with hobnailed shoes on her feet, provided by a strange man speaking a foreign tongue,