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The Merry Men-Part30_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON(1850-1894)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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THE Doctor's carriage was a two-wheeled gig with a hood; a kind of

vehicle in much favour among country doctors. On how many roads



has one not seen it, a great way off between the poplars! - in how

many village streets, tied to a gate-post! This sort of chariot is



affected - particularly at the trot - by a kind of pitching

movement to and fro across the axle, which well entitles it to the



style of a Noddy. The hood describes a considerable arc against

the landscape, with a solemnlyabsurd effect on the contemplative



pedestrian. To ride in such a carriage cannot be numbered among

the things that appertain to glory; but I have no doubt it may be



useful in liver complaint. Thence, perhaps, its wide popularity

among physicians.



One morning early, Jean-Marie led forth the Doctor's noddy, opened

the gate, and mounted to the driving-seat. The Doctor followed,



arrayed from top to toe in spotless linen, armed with an immense

flesh-coloured umbrella, and girt with a botanical case on a



baldric; and the equipage drove off smartly in a breeze of its own

provocation. They were bound for Franchard, to collect plants,



with an eye to the 'Comparative Pharmacopoeia.'

A little rattling on the open roads, and they came to the borders



of the forest and struck into an unfrequented track; the noddy

yawed softly over the sand, with an accompaniment of snapping



twigs. There was a great, green, softly murmuring cloud of

congregated foliageoverhead. In the arcades of the forest the air



retained the freshness of the night. The athleticbearing of the

trees, each carrying its leafy mountain, pleased the mind like so



many statues; and the lines of the trunk led the eye admiringly

upward to where the extreme leaves sparkled in a patch of azure.



Squirrels leaped in mid air. It was a proper spot for a devotee of

the goddess Hygieia.



'Have you been to Franchard, Jean-Marie?' inquired the Doctor. 'I

fancy not.'



'Never,' replied the boy.

'It is ruin in a gorge,' continued Desprez, adopting his expository



voice; 'the ruin of a hermitage and chapel. History tells us much

of Franchard; how the recluse was often slain by robbers; how he



lived on a most insufficient diet; how he was expected to pass his

days in prayer. A letter is preserved, addressed to one of these



solitaries by the superior of his order, full of admirable hygienic

advice; bidding him go from his book to praying, and so back again,



for variety's sake, and when he was weary of both to stroll about

his garden and observe the honey bees. It is to this day my own



system. You must often have remarked me leaving the

"Pharmacopoeia" - often even in the middle of a phrase - to come



forth into the sun and air. I admire the writer of that letter

from my heart; he was a man of thought on the most important



subjects. But, indeed, had I lived in the Middle Ages (I am

heartily glad that I did not) I should have been an eremite myself



- if I had not been a professed buffoon, that is. These were the

only philosophical lives yet open: laughter or prayer; sneers, we



might say, and tears. Until the sun of the Positive arose, the

wise man had to make his choice between these two.'



'I have been a buffoon, of course,' observed Jean-Marie.

'I cannot imagine you to have excelled in your profession,' said



the Doctor, admiring the boy's gravity. 'Do you ever laugh?'

'Oh, yes,' replied the other. 'I laugh often. I am very fond of



jokes.'

'Singular being!' said Desprez. 'But I divagate (I perceive in a



thousand ways that I grow old). Franchard was at length destroyed

in the English wars, the same that levelled Gretz. But - here is



the point - the hermits (for there were already more than one) had

foreseen the danger and carefully concealed the sacrificial



vessels. These vessels were of monstrous value, Jean-Marie -

monstrous value - priceless, we may say; exquisitely worked, of



exquisite material. And now, mark me, they have never been found.

In the reign of Louis Quatorze some fellows were digging hard by



the ruins. Suddenly - tock! - the spade hit upon an obstacle.




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