English
Abeautifullandscape,withthecornbrightinit,butnotabundant.
Patchesofpoorryewherecomshouldhavebeen,patchesofpoorpeasandbeans,patchesofmostcoarsevegetablesubstitutesforwheat.
Oninanimatenature,asonthemenandwomenwhocultivatedit,aprevalenttendencytowardsanappearanceofvegetatingunwillingly—adejecteddispositiontogiveup,andwitheraway.
MonsieurtheMarquisinhistravellingcarriage(whichmighthavebeenlighter),conductedbyfourpost-horsesandtwopostilions,faggedupasteephill.
AblushonthecountenanceofMonsieurtheMarquiswasnoimpeachmentofhishighbreeding;itwasnotfromwithin;itwasoccasionedbyanexternalcircumstancebeyondhiscontrol—thesettingsun.
Thesunsetstrucksobrilliantlyintothetravellingcarriagewhenitgainedthehill-top,thatitsoccupantwassteepedincrimson.
“Itwilldieout,”saidMonsieurtheMarquis,glancingathishands,“directly.”
Ineffect,thesunwassolowthatitdippedatthemoment.
Whentheheavydraghadbeenadjustedtothewheel,andthecarriagesliddownhill,withacinderoussmell,inacloudofdust,theredglowdepartedquickly;thesunandtheMarquisgoingdowntogether,therewasnoglowleftwhenthedragwastakenoff.
But,thereremainedabrokencountry,boldandopen,alittlevillageatthebottomofthehill,abroadsweepandrisebeyondit,achurch-tower,awindmill,aforestforthechase,andacragwithafortressonitusedasaprison.
Rounduponallthesedarkeningobjectsasthenightdrewon,theMarquislooked,withtheairofonewhowascomingnearhome.
Thevillagehaditsonepoorstreet,withitspoorbrewery,poortannery,poortavern,poorstable-yardforrelaysofpost-horses,poorfountain,allusualpoorappointments.Ithaditspoorpeopletoo.
Allitspeoplewerepoor,andmanyofthemweresittingattheirdoors,shreddingspareonionsandthelikeforsupper,whilemanywereatthefountain,washingleaves,andgrasses,andanysuchsmallyieldingsoftheearththatcouldbeeaten.
Expressivesipsofwhatmadethempoor,werenotwanting;thetaxforthestate,thetaxforthechurch,thetaxforthelord,taxlocalandtaxgeneral,weretobepaidhereandtobepaidthere,accordingtosolemninscriptioninthelittlevillage,untilthewonderwas,thattherewasanyvillageleftunswallowed.
Fewchildrenweretobeseen,andnodogs.
Astothemenandwomen,theirchoiceonearthwasstatedintheprospect—Lifeonthelowesttermsthatcouldsustainit,downinthelittlevillageunderthemill;orcaptivityandDeathinthedominantprisononthecrag.
Heraldedbyacourierinadvance,andbythecrackingofhispostilions’whips,whichtwinedsnake-likeabouttheirheadsintheeveningair,asifhecameattendedbytheFuries,MonsieurtheMarquisdrewupinhistravellingcarriageattheposting-housegate.
Itwashardbythefountain,andthepeasantssuspendedtheiroperationstolookathim.
Helookedatthem,andsawinthem,withoutknowingit,theslowsurefilingdownofmisery-wornfaceandfigure,thatwastomakethemeagrenessofFrenchmenanEnglishsuperstitionwhichshouldsurvivethetruththroughthebestpartofahundredyears.
MonsieurtheMarquiscasthiseyesoverthesubmissivefacesthatdroopedbeforehim,asthelikeofhimselfhaddroopedbeforeMonseigneuroftheCourt—onlythedifferencewas,thatthesefacesdroopedmerelytosufferandnottopropitiate—whenagrizzledmenderoftheroadsjoinedthegroup.
“Bringmehitherthatfellow!”saidtheMarquistothecourier.
Thefellowwasbrought,capinhand,andtheotherfellowsclosedroundtolookandlisten,inthemannerofthepeopleattheParisfountain.
“Ipassedyouontheroad?”
“Monseigneur,itistrue.Ihadthehonourofbeingpassedontheroad.”
“Comingupthehill,andatthetopofthehill,both?”
“Monseigneur,itistrue.”
“Whatdidyoulookat,sofixedly?”
“Monseigneur,Ilookedattheman.”
Hestoopedalittle,andwithhistatteredbluecappointedunderthecarriage.Allhisfellowsstoopedtolookunderthecarriage.
“Whatman,pig?Andwhylookthere?”
“Pardon,Monseigneur;heswungbythechainoftheshoe—thedrag.”
“Who?”demandedthetraveller.
“Monseigneur,theman.”
“MaytheDevilcarryawaytheseidiots!Howdoyoucantheman?Youknowallthemenofthispartofthecountry.Whowashe?”
“Yourclemency,Monseigneur!Hewasnotofthispartofthecountry.Ofallthedaysofmylife,Ineversawhim.”
“Swingingbythechain?Tobesuffocated?”
“Withyourgraciouspermission,thatwasthewonderofit,Monseigneur.Hisheadhangingover—likethis!”
Heturnedhimselfsidewaystothecarriage,andleanedback,withhisfacethrownuptothesky,andhisheadhangingdown;thenrecoveredhimself,fumbledwithhiscap,andmadeabow.
“Whatwashelike?”
“Monseigneur,hewaswhiterthanthemiller.Allcoveredwithdust,whiteasaspectre,tallasaspectre!”
Thepictureproducedanimmensesensationinthelittlecrowd;butalleyes,withoutcomparingnoteswithothereyes,lookedatMonsieurtheMarquis.
Perhaps,toobservewhetherhehadanyspectreonhisconscience.
“Truly,youdidwell,”saidtheMarquis,felicitouslysensiblethatsuchverminwerenottorufflehim,“toseeathiefaccompanyingmycarriage,andnotopenthatgreatmouthofyours.Bah!Puthimaside,MonsieurGabelle!”
MonsieurGabellewasthePostmaster,andsomeothertaxingfunctionaryunited;hehadcomeoutwithgreatobsequiousnesstoassistatthisexamination,andhadheldtheexaminedbythedraperyofhisarminanofficialmanner.
“Bah!Goaside!”saidMonsieurGabelle.
“Layhandsonthisstrangerifheseekstolodgeinyourvillageto-night,andbesurethathisbusinessishonest,Gabelle.”
“Monseigneur,Iamflatteredtodevotemyselftoyourorders.”
“Didherunaway,fellow?—whereisthatAccursed?”
Theaccursedwasalreadyunderthecarriagewithsomehalf-dozenparticularfriends,pointingoutthechainwithhisbluecap.
Somehalf-dozenotherparticularfriendspromptlyhauledhimout,andpresentedhimbreathlesstoMonsieurtheMarquis.
“Didthemanrunaway,Dolt,whenwestoppedforthedrag?”
“Monseigneur,heprecipitatedhimselfoverthehill-side,headfirst,asapersonplungesintotheriver.”
“Seetoit,Gabelle.Goon!”
Thehalf-dozenwhowerepeeringatthechainwerestillamongthewheels,likesheep;thewheelsturnedsosuddenlythattheywereluckytosavetheirskinsandbones;theyhadverylittleelsetosave,ortheymightnothavebeensofortunate.
Theburstwithwhichthecarriagestartedoutofthevillageanduptherisebeyond,wassooncheckedbythesteepnessofthehill.
Gradually,itsubsidedtoafootpace,swingingandlumberingupwardamongthemanysweetscentsofasummernight.
Thepostilions,withathousandgossamergnatscirclingabouttheminlieuoftheFuries,quietlymendedthepointstothelashesoftheirwhips;thevaletwalkedbythehorses;thecourierwasaudible,trottingonaheadintothedundistance.
Atthesteepestpointofthehilltherewasalittleburial-ground,withaCrossandanewlargefigureofOurSaviouronit;itwasapoorfigureinwood,donebysomeinexperiencedrusticcarver,buthehadstudiedthefigurefromthelife—hisownlife,maybe—foritwasdreadfullyspareandthin.
Tothisdistressfulemblemofagreatdistressthathadlongbeengrowingworse,andwasnotatitsworst,awomanwaskneeling.
Sheturnedherheadasthecarriagecameuptoher,rosequickly,andpresentedherselfatthecarriage-door.
“Itisyou,Monseigneur!Monseigneur,apetition.”
Withanexclamationofimpatience,butwithhisunchangeableface,Monseigneurlookedout.
“How,then!Whatisit?Alwayspetitions!”
“Monseigneur.FortheloveofthegreatGod!Myhusband,theforester.”
“Whatofyourhusband,theforester?Alwaysthesamewithyoupeople.Hecannotpaysomething?”
“Hehaspaidall,Monseigneur.Heisdead.”
“Well!Heisquiet.CanIrestorehimtoyou?”
“Alas,no,Monseigneur!Butheliesyonder,underalittleheapofpoorgrass.”
“Well?”
“Monseigneur,therearesomanylittleheapsofpoorgrass?”
“Again,well?”
Shelookedanoldwoman,butwasyoung.Hermannerwasoneofpassionategrief;byturnssheclaspedherveinousandknottedhandstogetherwithwildenergy,andlaidoneofthemonthecarriage-door—tenderly,caressingly,asifithadbeenahumanbreast,andcouldbeexpectedtofeeltheappealingtouch.
“Monseigneur,hearme!Monseigneur,hearmypetition!Myhusbanddiedofwant;somanydieofwant;somanymorewilldieofwant.”
“Again,well?CanIfeedthem?”
“Monseigneur,thegoodGodknows;butIdon’taskit.
Mypetitionis,thatamorselofstoneorwood,withmyhusband’sname,maybeplacedoverhimtoshowwherehelies.
Otherwise,theplacewillbequicklyforgotten,itwillneverbefoundwhenIamdeadofthesamemalady,Ishallbelaidundersomeotherheapofpoorgrass.
Monseigneur,theyaresomany,theyincreasesofast,thereissomuchwant.Monseigneur!Monseigneur!”
Thevalethadputherawayfromthedoor,thecarriagehadbrokenintoabrisktrot,thepostilionshadquickenedthepace,shewasleftfarbehind,andMonseigneur,againescortedbytheFuries,wasrapidlydiminishingtheleagueortwoofdistancethatremainedbetweenhimandhischateau.
Thesweetscentsofthesummernightroseallaroundhim,androse,astherainfalls,impartially,onthedusty,ragged,andtoil-worngroupatthefountainnotfaraway;towhomthemenderofroads,withtheaidofthebluecapwithoutwhichhewasnothing,stillenlargeduponhismanlikeaspectre,aslongastheycouldbearit.
Bydegrees,astheycouldbearnomore,theydroppedoffonebyone,andlightstwinkledinlittlecasements;whichlights,asthecasementsdarkened,andmorestarscameout,seemedtohaveshotupintotheskyinsteadofhavingbeenextinguished.
Theshadowofalargehigh-roofedhouse,andofmanyover-hangingtrees,wasuponMonsieurtheMarquisbythattime;andtheshadowwasexchangedforthelightofaflambeau,ashiscarriagestopped,andthegreatdoorofhischateauwasopenedtohim.
“MonsieurCharles,whomIexpect;ishearrivedfromEngland?”
“Monseigneur,notyet.”
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