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Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes-Part2_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON(1850-1894)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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hand to help myself, no words can render an idea of my

difficulties. A priest, with six or seven others, was examining a



church in process of repair, and he and his acolytes laughed loudly

as they saw my plight.



I remembered having laughed myself when I had seen good men

struggling with adversity in the person of a jackass, and the



recollection filled me with penitence. That was in my old light

days, before this trouble came upon me. God knows at least that I



shall never laugh again, thought I. But oh, what a cruel thing is

a farce to those engaged in it!



A little out of the village, Modestine, filled with the demon, set

her heart upon a by-road, and positively refused to leave it. I



dropped all my bundles, and, I am ashamed to say, struck the poor

sinner twice across the face. It was pitiful to see her lift her



head with shut eyes, as if waiting for another blow. I came very

near crying; but I did a wiser thing than that, and sat squarely



down by the roadside to consider my situation under the cheerful

influence of tobacco and a nip of brandy. Modestine, in the



meanwhile, munched some black bread with a contrite hypocritical

air. It was plain that I must make a sacrifice to the gods of



shipwreck. I threw away the empty bottle destined to carry milk; I

threw away my own white bread, and, disdaining to act by general



average, kept the black bread for Modestine; lastly, I threw away

the cold leg of mutton and the egg-whisk, although this last was



dear to my heart. Thus I found room for everything in the basket,

and even stowed the boating-coat on the top. By means of an end of



cord I slung it under one arm; and although the cord cut my

shoulder, and the jacket hung almost to the ground, it was with a



heart greatly lightened that I set forth again.

I had now an arm free to thrash Modestine, and cruelly I chastised



her. If I were to reach the lakeside before dark, she must bestir

her little shanks to some tune. Already the sun had gone down into



a windy-looking mist; and although there were still a few streaks

of gold far off to the east on the hills and the black fir-woods,



all was cold and grey about our onward path. An infinity of little

country by-roads led hither and thither among the fields. It was



the most pointless labyrinth. I could see my destination overhead,

or rather the peak that dominates it; but choose as I pleased, the



roads always ended by turning away from it, and sneaking back

towards the valley, or northward along the margin of the hills.



The failing light, the waning colour, the naked, unhomely, stony

country through which I was travelling, threw me into some



despondency. I promise you, the stick was not idle; I think every

decent step that Modestine took must have cost me at least two



emphatic blows. There was not another sound in the neighbourhood

but that of my unwearying bastinado.



Suddenly, in the midst of my toils, the load once more bit the

dust, and, as by enchantment, all the cords were simultaneously



loosened, and the road scattered with my dear possessions. The

packing was to begin again from the beginning; and as I had to



invent a new and better system, I do not doubt but I lost half an

hour. It began to be dusk in earnest as I reached a wilderness of



turf and stones. It had the air of being a road which should lead

everywhere at the same time; and I was falling into something not



unlike despair when I saw two figures stalking towards me over the

stones. They walked one behind the other like tramps, but their



pace was remarkable. The son led the way, a tall, ill-made,

sombre, Scottish-looking man; the mother followed, all in her



Sunday's best, with an elegantly embroidered ribbon to her cap, and

a new felt hat atop, and proffering, as she strode along with



kilted petticoats, a string of obscene and blasphemous oaths.




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