The young man walked down the mountain path that ran alongside the torrent stopping occasionally to look at a point in the distance, down in the valley, which was still immersed in the morning fog. He was descending the mountain with the naturalness of someone who was familiar with the area and who was aware that the early hours of the morning possessed fragrances and colours that would no longer be the same once the sun started to warm the ground. The rustling of the torrent was louder than all the other sounds in the woods and its pounding against the rocks filled him with the kind of strength and security that gave his steps a hurried pace. His ideas were in harmony with the environment, which surrounded and enveloped him, and his thoughts rolled from one stone to the other, leaving a small trace of their passage on each stone. The flow of his thoughts followed its own turbulent, and almost unrelenting course, to which the sound of steps on the beaten path were like the tune keeping of this orchestra. The young man had a handsome face and an intense look. Each time his gaze fell on something, he let it linger for a few seconds and then looked away with difficulty, and one could almost detect a slight pang. The path opened out to the right moving away from the torrent, and then curved brusquely to the left and crossed the torrent with a sharp angle. In order to cross the torrent, it was necessary to jump with precise leaps over three masses, which were ideally placed, and then to take a last leap to reach the small shore on the opposite side. He repeated these movements many times each summer, and he was always surprised that those masses stayed in place year after year as if they were aware of the importance of the role they played. The other side was more exposed; the wood withdrew towards the inside as if afraid to push itself forward too far, so close to the water. The young man now advanced with less determination. His look darted from one side to the other of the path becoming more watchful as if in search of a particular place. He suddenly stopped and, smiling, he went with a determined step towards the inside of the wood walking under a large fir tree whose lower branches hid a small clearing covered with pine needles. The place had something magic about it because the crown formed by the branches did not touch the ground, thus giving this small oasis a wide area and keeping the other fir trees at a certain distance.