of its master. 
Round about him were numberless herds of kine, that were grazing
Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the vapory freshness
That uprose from the river, and spread itself over the landscape. 
Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and expanding
Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, that resounded
Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp air of the evening. 
Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns of the cattle
Rose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents of ocean. 
Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rushed o’er the prairie,
And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the distance. 
Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, through the gate of the garden
Saw he the forms of the priest and the maiden advancing to meet him. 
Suddenly down from his horse he sprang in amazement, and forward
Rushed with extended arms and exclamations of wonder;
When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil the blacksmith. 
Hearty his welcome was, as he led his guests to the garden. 
There in an arbor of roses with endless question and answer
Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their friendly embraces,
Laughing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent and thoughtful. 
Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not; and now dark doubts and misgivings
Stole o’er the maiden’s heart; and Basil, somewhat embarrassed,
Broke the silence and said, “If you came by the Atchafalaya,
How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel’s boat on the bayous?”
Over Evangeline’s face at the words of Basil a shade passed. 
Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a tremulous accent,
“Gone? is Gabriel gone?” and, concealing her face on his shoulder,
All her o’erburdened heart gave way, and she wept and lamented. 
Then the good Basil said,—­and his voice grew blithe as he said it,—­
“Be of good cheer, my child; it is only to-day he departed. 
Foolish boy! he has left me alone with my herds and my horses. 
Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, his spirit
Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet existence. 
Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful ever,
Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his troubles,
He at length had become so tedious to men and to maidens,
Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me, and sent him
Unto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with the Spaniards. 
Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark Mountains,
Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping the beaver. 
Therefore be of good cheer; we will follow the fugitive lover;
He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the streams are against him. 
Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew of the morning
We will follow him fast, and bring him back to his prison.”