English
Therewasachangeonthevillagewherethefountainfell,andwherethemenderofroadswentforthdailytohammeroutofthestonesonthehighwaysuchmorselsofbreadasmightserveforpatchestoholdhispoorignorantsoulandhispoorreducedbodytogether.
Theprisononthecragwasnotsodominantasofyore;thereweresoldierstoguardit,butnotmany;therewereofficerstoguardthesoldiers,butnotoneofthemknewwhathismenwoulddo—beyondthis:thatitwouldprobablynotbewhathewasordered.
Farandwidelayaruinedcountry,yieldingnothingbutdesolation.
Everygreenleaf,everybladeofgrassandbladeofgrain,wasasshrivelledandpoorasthemiserablepeople.
Everythingwasboweddown,dejected,oppressed,andbroken.
Habitations,fences,domesticatedanimals,men,women,children,andthesoilthatborethem—allwornout.
Monseigneur(oftenamostworthyindividualgentleman)wasanationalblessing,gaveachivalroustonetothings,wasapoliteexampleofluxuriousandshiningfife,andagreatdealmoretoequalpurpose;nevertheless,Monseigneurasaclasshad,somehoworother,broughtthingstothis.
StrangethatCreation,designedexpresslyforMonseigneur,shouldbesosoonwrungdryandsqueezedout!
Theremustbesomethingshort-sightedintheeternalarrangements,surely!
Thusitwas,however;andthelastdropofbloodhavingbeenextractedfromtheflints,andthelastscrewoftherackhavingbeenturnedsooftenthatitspurchasecrumbled,anditnowturnedandturnedwithnothingtobite,Monseigneurbegantorunawayfromaphenomenonsolowandunaccountable.
But,thiswasnotthechangeonthevillage,andonmanyavillagelikeit.
Forscoresofyearsgoneby,Monseigneurhadsqueezeditandwrungit,andhadseldomgraceditwithhispresenceexceptforthepleasuresofthechase—now,foundinhuntingthepeople;now,foundinhuntingthebeasts,forwhosepreservationMonseigneurmadeedifyingspacesofbarbarousandbarrenwilderness.No.
Thechangeconsistedintheappearanceofstrangefacesoflowcaste,ratherthaninthedisappearanceofthehighcaste,chiselled,andotherwisebeautifiedandbeautifyingfeaturesofMonseigneur.
For,inthesetimes,asthemenderofroadsworked,solitary,inthedust,notoftentroublinghimselftoreflectthatdusthewasandtodusthemustreturn,beingforthemostparttoomuchoccupiedinthinkinghowlittlehehadforsupperandhowmuchmorehewouldeatifhehadit—inthesetimes,asheraisedhiseyesfromhislonelylabour,andviewedtheprospect,hewouldseesomeroughfigureapproachingonfoot,thelikeofwhichwasonceararityinthoseparts,butwasnowafrequentpresence.
Asitadvanced,themenderofroadswoulddiscernwithoutsurprise,thatitwasashaggy-hairedman,ofalmostbarbarianaspect,tall,inwoodenshoesthatwereclumsyeventotheeyesofamenderofroads,grim,rough,swart,steepedinthemudanddustofmanyhighways,dankwiththemarshymoistureofmanylowgrounds,sprinkledwiththethornsandleavesandmossofmanybywaysthroughwoods.
Suchamancameuponhim,likeaghost,atnoonintheJulyweather,ashesatonhisheapofstonesunderabank,takingsuchshelterashecouldgetfromashowerofhail.
Themanlookedathim,lookedatthevillageinthehollow,atthemill,andattheprisononthecrag.
Whenhehadidentifiedtheseobjectsinwhatbenightedmindhehad,hesaid,inadialectthatwasjustintelligible:
“Howgoesit,Jacques?”
“Allwell,Jacques.”
“Touchthen!”
Theyjoinedhands,andthemansatdownontheheapofstones.
“Nodinner?”
“Nothingbutsuppernow,”saidthemenderofroads,withahungryface.
“Itisthefashion,”growledtheman.“Imeetnodinneranywhere.”
Hetookoutablackenedpipe,filledit,lighteditwithflintandsteel,pulledatituntilitwasinabrightglow:then,suddenlyhelditfromhimanddroppedsomethingintoitfrombetweenhisfingerandthumb,thatblazedandwentoutinapuffofsmoke.
“Touchthen.”Itwastheturnofthemenderofroadstosayitthistime,afterobservingtheseoperations.Theyagainjoinedhands.
“To-night?”saidthemenderofroads.
“To-night,”saidtheman,puttingthepipeinhismouth.
“Where?”
“Here.”
Heandthemenderofroadssatontheheapofstoneslookingsilentlyatoneanother,withthehaildrivinginbetweenthemlikeapigmychargeofbayonets,untiltheskybegantoclearoverthevillage.
“Showme!”saidthetravellerthen,movingtothebrowofthehill.
“See!”returnedthemenderofroads,withextendedfinger.“Yougodownhere,andstraightthroughthestreet,andpastthefountain—”
“TotheDevilwithallthat!”interruptedtheother,rollinghiseyeoverthelandscape.“Igothroughnostreetsandpastnofountains.Well?”
“Well!Abouttwoleaguesbeyondthesummitofthathillabovethevillage.”
“Good.Whendoyouceasetowork?”
“Atsunset.”
“Willyouwakeme,beforedeparting?Ihavewalkedtwonightswithoutresting.Letmefinishmypipe,andIshallsleeplikeachild.Willyouwakeme?”
“Surely.”
Thewayfarersmokedhispipeout,putitinhisbreast,slippedoffhisgreatwoodenshoes,andlaydownonhisbackontheheapofstones.Hewasfastasleepdirectly.
Astheroad-menderpliedhisdustylabour,andthehail-clouds,rollingaway,revealedbrightbarsandstreaksofskywhichwererespondedtobysilvergleamsuponthelandscape,thelittleman(whoworearedcapnow,inplaceofhisblueone)seemedfascinatedbythefigureontheheapofstones.
Hiseyesweresooftenturnedtowardsit,thatheusedhistoolsmechanically,and,onewouldhavesaid,toverypooraccount.
Thebronzeface,theshaggyblackhairandbeard,thecoarsewoollenredcap,theroughmedleydressofhome-spunstuffandhairyskinsofbeasts,thepowerfulframeattenuatedbyspareliving,andthesullenanddesperatecompressionofthelipsinsleep,inspiredthemenderofroadswithawe.
Thetravellerhadtravelledfar,andhisfeetwerefootsore,andhisankleschafedandbleeding;hisgreatshoes,stuffedwithleavesandgrass,hadbeenheavytodragoverthemanylongleagues,andhisclotheswerechafedintoholes,ashehimselfwasintosores.
Stoopingdownbesidehim,theroad-mendertriedtogetapeepatsecretweaponsinhisbreastorwherenot;but,invain,forhesleptwithhisarmscrosseduponhim,andsetasresolutelyashislips.
Fortifiedtownswiththeirstockades,guard-houses,gates,trenches,anddrawbridges,seemedtothemenderofroads,tobesomuchairasagainstthisfigure.
Andwhenheliftedhiseyesfromittothehorizonandlookedaround,hesawinhissmallfancysimilarfigures,stoppedbynoobstacle,tendingtocentresalloverFrance.
Themanslepton,indifferenttoshowersofhailandintervalsofbrightness,tosunshineonhisfaceandshadow,tothepalteringlumpsofdulliceonhisbodyandthediamondsintowhichthesunchangedthem,untilthesunwaslowinthewest,andtheskywasglowing.
Then,themenderofroadshavinggothistoolstogetherandallthingsreadytogodownintothevillage,rousedhim.
“Good!”saidthesleeper,risingonhiselbow.“Twoleaguesbeyondthesummitofthehill?”
“About.”
“About.Good!”
Themenderofroadswenthome,withthedustgoingonbeforehimaccordingtothesetofthewind,andwassoonatthefountain,squeezinghimselfinamongtheleankinebroughttheretodrink,andappearingeventowhispertotheminhiswhisperingtoallthevillage.
Whenthevillagehadtakenitspoorsupper,itdidnotcreeptobed,asitusuallydid,butcameoutofdoorsagain,andremainedthere.
Acuriouscontagionofwhisperingwasuponit,andalso,whenitgatheredtogetheratthefountaininthedark,anothercuriouscontagionoflookingexpectantlyattheskyinonedirectiononly.
MonsieurGabelle,chieffunctionaryoftheplace,becameuneasy;wentoutonhishouse-topalone,andlookedinthatdirectiontoo;glanceddownfrombehindhischimneysatthedarkeningfacesbythefountainbelow,andsentwordtothesacristanwhokeptthekeysofthechurch,thattheremightbeneedtoringthetocsinby-and-bye.
Thenightdeepened.Thetreesenvironingtheoldchateau,keepingitssolitarystateapart,movedinarisingwind,asthoughtheythreatenedthepileofbuildingmassiveanddarkinthegloom.
Upthetwoterraceflightsofstepstherainranwildly,andbeatatthegreatdoor,likeaswiftmessengerrousingthosewithin;uneasyrushesofwindwentthroughthehall,amongtheoldspearsandknives,andpassedlamentingupthestairs,andshookthecurtainsofthebedwherethelastMarquishadslept.
East,West,North,andSouth,throughthewoods,fourheavy-treading,unkemptfigurescrushedthehighgrassandcrackedthebranches,stridingoncautiouslytocometogetherinthecourtyard.
Fourlightsbrokeoutthere,andmovedawayindifferentdirections,andallwasblackagain.
But,notforlong.Presently,thechateaubegantomakeitselfstrangelyvisiblebysomelightofitsown,asthoughitweregrowingluminous.
Then,aflickeringstreakplayedbehindthearchitectureofthefront,pickingouttransparentplaces,andshowingwherebalustrades,arches,andwindowswere.
Thenitsoaredhigher,andgrewbroaderandbrighter.
Soon,fromascoreofthegreatwindows,flamesburstforth,andthestonefacesawakened,staredoutoffire.
Afaintmurmuraroseaboutthehousefromthefewpeoplewhowereleftthere,andtherewasasaddlingofahorseandridingaway.
Therewasspurringandsplashingthroughthedarkness,andbridlewasdrawninthespacebythevillagefountain,andthehorseinafoamstoodatMonsieurGabelle’sdoor.“Help,Gabelle!Help,everyone!”
Thetocsinrangimpatiently,butotherhelp(ifthatwereany)therewasnone.
Themenderofroads,andtwohundredandfiftyparticularfriends,stoodwithfoldedarmsatthefountain,lookingatthepillaroffireinthesky.
“Itmustbefortyfeethigh,”saidthey,grimly;andnevermoved.
Theriderfromthechateau,andthehorseinafoam,clatteredawaythroughthevillage,andgallopedupthestonysteep,totheprisononthecrag.
Atthegate,agroupofofficerswerelookingatthefire;removedfromthem,agroupofsoldiers.“Help,gentlemen—officers!
Thechateauisonfire;valuableobjectsmaybesavedfromtheflamesbytimelyaid!Help,help!”
Theofficerslookedtowardsthesoldierswholookedatthefire;gavenoorders;andanswered,withshrugsandbitingoflips,“Itmustburn.”
Astheriderrattleddownthehillagainandthroughthestreet,thevillagewasilluminating.
Themenderofroads,andthetwohundredandfiftyparticularfriends,inspiredasonemanandwomanbytheideaoflightingup,haddartedintotheirhouses,andwereputtingcandlesineverydulllittlepaneofglass.
Thegeneralscarcityofeverything,occasionedcandlestobeborrowedinaratherperemptorymannerofMonsieurGabelle;andinamomentofreluctanceandhesitationonthatfunctionary’spart,themenderofroads,oncesosubmissivetoauthority,hadremarkedthatcarriagesweregoodtomakebonfireswith,andthatpost-horseswouldroast.
Thechateauwaslefttoitselftoflameandburn.
Intheroaringandragingoftheconflagration,ared-hotwind,drivingstraightfromtheinfernalregions,seemedtobeblowingtheedificeaway.
Withtherisingandfallingoftheblaze,thestonefacesshowedasiftheywereintorment.
Whengreatmassesofstoneandtimberfell,thefacewiththetwodintsinthenosebecameobscured:anonstruggledoutofthesmokeagain,asifitwerethefaceofthecruelMarquis,burningatthestakeandcontendingwiththefire.
Thechateauburned;thenearesttrees,laidholdofbythefire,scorchedandshrivelled;treesatadistance,firedbythefourfiercefigures,begirttheblazingedificewithanewforestofsmoke.
Moltenleadandironboiledinthemarblebasinofthefountain;thewaterrandry;theextinguishertopsofthetowersvanishedlikeicebeforetheheat,andtrickleddownintofourruggedwellsofflame.
Greatrentsandsplitsbranchedoutinthesolidwalls,likecrystallisation;stupefiedbirdswheeledaboutanddroppedintothefurnace;fourfiercefigurestrudgedaway,East,West,North,andSouth,alongthenight-enshroudedroads,guidedbythebeacontheyhadlighted,towardstheirnextdestination.
Theilluminatedvillagehadseizedholdofthetocsin,and,abolishingthelawfulringer,rangforjoy.
Notonlythat;butthevillage,light-headedwithfamine,fire,andbell-ringing,andbethinkingitselfthatMonsieurGabellehadtodowiththecollectionofrentandtaxes—thoughitwasbutasmallinstalmentoftaxes,andnorentatall,thatGabellehadgotinthoselatterdays—becameimpatientforaninterviewwithhim,and,surroundinghishouse,summonedhimtocomeforthforpersonalconference.
Whereupon,MonsieurGabelledidheavilybarhisdoor,andretiretoholdcounselwithhimself.
Theresultofthatconferencewas,thatGabelleagainwithdrewhimselftohishousetopbehindhisstackofchimneys;thistimeresolved,ifhisdoorwerebrokenin(hewasasmallSouthernmanofretaliativetemperament),topitchhimselfheadforemostovertheparapet,andcrushamanortwobelow.
Probably,MonsieurGabellepassedalongnightupthere,withthedistantchateauforfireandcandle,andthebeatingathisdoor,combinedwiththejoy-ringing,formusic;nottomentionhishavinganill-omenedlampslungacrosstheroadbeforehisposting-housegate,whichthevillageshowedalivelyinclinationtodisplaceinhisfavour.
Atryingsuspense,tobepassingawholesummernightonthebrinkoftheblackocean,readytotakethatplungeintoituponwhichMonsieurGabellehadresolved!
But,thefriendlydawnappearingatlast,andtherush-candlesofthevillagegutteringout,thepeoplehappilydispersed,andMonsieurGabellecamedownbringinghislifewithhimforthatwhile.
Withinahundredmiles,andinthelightofotherfires,therewereotherfunctionarieslessfortunate,thatnightandothernights,whomtherisingsunfoundhangingacrossonce-peacefulstreets,wheretheyhadbeenbornandbred;also,therewereothervillagersandtownspeoplelessfortunatethanthemenderofroadsandhisfellows,uponwhomthefunctionariesandsoldieryturnedwithsuccess,andwhomtheystrungupintheirturn.
But,thefiercefiguresweresteadilywendingEast,West,North,andSouth,bethatasitwould;andwhosoeverhung,fireburned.
Thealtitudeofthegallowsthatwouldturntowaterandquenchit,nofunctionary,byanystretchofmathematics,wasabletocalculatesuccessfully.
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