Augustin Meaulnes continued his solitary journey across the desolate landscape of Sologne under a clear and freezing December sun. His knee was badly swollen and painful, forcing him to stop frequently as he pushed through a barren expanse devoid of people or houses. By mid-afternoon, he finally caught sight of the grey turret of an old manor rising above a pine wood. Stepping into an avenue marked by two white posts, he was suddenly overcome by an inexplicable emotion, feeling an extraordinary contentment and the absolute certainty that his goal was reached, reminiscent of his childhood excitement on the eve of summer festivals.
As he pondered this strange joy, he noticed the ground of the avenue had been carefully swept in regular circles, resembling a festive village street. Hearing approaching voices, he hid among the young pine trees and watched a group of children pass by, talking and laughing about organizing a party and looking forward to their plans. Another group followed shortly after, including three young girls wearing straight dresses and hats with white feathers. Realizing that his torn peasant blouse and schoolboy belt would frighten them, Meaulnes decided to avoid notice and pushed deeper through the pines toward the old building.
He soon reached a low mossy wall overlooking a long, narrow courtyard filled with a chaotic multitude of vehicles, ranging from small four-seater carriages and char-a-bancs to old-fashioned berlines. Seeking a place to rest and sleep away from the children, he spotted a partially open window in the domain's annexes, loosened by time and framed by rusted iron bars. Climbing painfully over the wall and stepping carefully across the roofs and seats of the parked carriages, he managed to reach the window and slipped silently inside into a low-ceilinged room.
The dim room was filled with tables, chairs, and a fireplace laden with valuable objects, ancient weapons, and large vases. Moving toward the back, he lifted a curtain to find a large low bed piled high with old gilt books, broken luths, and candelabras. He pushed the items aside into the alcove and lay down to rest, reflecting on his bizarre adventure. Surrounded by profound silence broken only by the cold December wind, and imagining he heard faint, distant piano music resembling a cherished memory of his mother playing long ago, an exhausted Meaulnes quickly fell asleep.