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An Inland Voyage-Part7_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON(1850-1894)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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'The fire should have been here, at this side.' explained the

husband. 'Then one might have a writing-table in the middle -



books - and' (comprehensively) 'all. It would be quite coquettish

- CA SERAIT TOUT-A-FAIT COQUET.' And he looked about him as though



the improvements were already made. It was plainly not the first

time that he had thus beautified his cabin in imagination; and when



next he makes a bit, I should expect to see the writing-table in

the middle.



Madame had three birds in a cage. They were no great thing, she

explained. Fine birds were so dear. They had sought to get a



HOLLANDAIS last winter in Rouen (Rouen? thought I; and is this

whole mansion, with its dogs and birds and smoking chimneys, so far



a traveller as that? and as homely an object among the cliffs and

orchards of the Seine as on the green plains of Sambre?) - they had



sought to get a HOLLANDAIS last winter in Rouen; but these cost

fifteen francs apiece - picture it - fifteen francs!



'POUR UN TOUT PETIT OISEAU - For quite a little bird,' added the

husband.



As I continued to admire, the apologetics died away, and the good

people began to brag of their barge, and their happy condition in



life, as if they had been Emperor and Empress of the Indies. It

was, in the Scots phrase, a good hearing, and put me in good humour



with the world. If people knew what an inspiriting thing it is to

hear a man boasting, so long as he boasts of what he really has, I



believe they would do it more freely and with a better grace.

They began to ask about our voyage. You should have seen how they



sympathised. They seemed half ready to give up their barge and

follow us. But these CANALETTI are only gypsies semi-domesticated.



The semi-domestication came out in rather a pretty form. Suddenly

Madam's brow darkened. 'CEPENDANT,' she began, and then stopped;



and then began again by asking me if I were single?

'Yes,' said I.



'And your friend who went by just now?'

He also was unmarried.



O then - all was well. She could not have wives left alone at

home; but since there were no wives in the question, we were doing



the best we could.

'To see about one in the world,' said the husband, 'IL N'Y A QUE CA



- there is nothing else worth while. A man, look you, who sticks

in his own village like a bear,' he went on, ' - very well, he sees



nothing. And then death is the end of all. And he has seen

nothing.'



Madame reminded her husband of an Englishman who had come up this

canal in a steamer.



'Perhaps Mr. Moens in the YTENE,' I suggested.

'That's it,' assented the husband. 'He had his wife and family



with him, and servants. He came ashore at all the locks and asked

the name of the villages, whether from boatmen or lock-keepers; and



then he wrote, wrote them down. Oh, he wrote enormously! I

suppose it was a wager.'



A wager was a common enough explanation for our own exploits, but

it seemed an original reason for taking notes.



THE OISE IN FLOOD

BEFORE nine next morning the two canoes were installed on a light



country cart at Etreux: and we were soon following them along the

side of a pleasant valley full of hop-gardens and poplars.



Agreeable villages lay here and there on the slope of the hill;

notably, Tupigny, with the hop-poles hanging their garlands in the



very street, and the houses clustered with grapes. There was a

faint enthusiasm on our passage; weavers put their heads to the



windows; children cried out in ecstasy at sight of the two

'boaties' - BARGUETTES: and bloused pedestrians, who were



acquainted with our charioteer, jested with him on the nature of

his freight.



We had a shower or two, but light and flying. The air was clean

and sweet among all these green fields and green things growing.



There was not a touch of autumn in the weather. And when, at

Vadencourt, we launched from a little lawn opposite a mill, the sun



broke forth and set all the leaves shining in the valley of the

Oise.



The river was swollen with the long rains. From Vadencourt all the

way to Origny, it ran with ever-quickening speed, taking fresh



heart at each mile, and racing as though it already smelt the sea.

The water was yellow and turbulent, swung with an angry eddy among






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