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Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes-Part5_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON(1850-1894)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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And he limped along, for he was very rheumatic, for about half a

mile, and until I was almost within sight of Cheylard, the



destination I had hunted for so long.

CHEYLARD AND LUC



CANDIDLY, it seemed little worthy of all this searching. A few

broken ends of village, with no particular street, but a succession



of open places heaped with logs and fagots; a couple of tilted

crosses, a shrine to Our Lady of all Graces on the summit of a



little hill; and all this, upon a rattling highland river, in the

corner of a naked valley. What went ye out for to see? thought I



to myself. But the place had a life of its own. I found a board,

commemorating the liberalities of Cheylard for the past year, hung



up, like a banner, in the diminutive and tottering church. In

1877, it appeared, the inhabitants subscribed forty-eight francs



ten centimes for the 'Work of the Propagation of the Faith.' Some

of this, I could not help hoping, would be applied to my native



land. Cheylard scrapes together halfpence for the darkened souls

in Edinburgh; while Balquhidder and Dunrossness bemoan the



ignorance of Rome. Thus, to the high entertainment of the angels,

do we pelt each other with evangelists, like schoolboys bickering



in the snow.

The inn was again singularly unpretentious. The whole furniture of



a not ill-to-do family was in the kitchen: the beds, the cradle,

the clothes, the plate-rack, the meal-chest, and the photograph of



the parishpriest. There were five children, one of whom was set

to its morning prayers at the stair-foot soon after my arrival, and



a sixth would ere long be forthcoming. I was kindly received by

these good folk. They were much interested in my misadventure.



The wood in which I had slept belonged to them; the man of

Fouzilhac they thought a monster of iniquity, and counselled me



warmly to summon him at law - 'because I might have died.' The

good wife was horror-stricken to see me drink over a pint of



uncreamed milk.

'You will do yourself an evil,' she said. 'Permit me to boil it



for you.'

After I had begun the morning on this delightfulliquor, she having



an infinity of things to arrange, I was permitted, nay requested,

to make a bowl of chocolate for myself. My boots and gaiters were



hung up to dry, and, seeing me trying to write my journal on my

knee, the eldest daughter let down a hinged table in the chimney-



corner for my convenience. Here I wrote, drank my chocolate, and

finally ate an omelette before I left. The table was thick with



dust; for, as they explained, it was not used except in winter

weather. I had a clear look up the vent, through brown



agglomerations of soot and blue vapour, to the sky; and whenever a

handful of twigs was thrown on to the fire, my legs were scorched



by the blaze.

The husband had begun life as a muleteer, and when I came to charge



Modestine showed himself full of the prudence of his art. 'You

will have to change this package,' said he; 'it ought to be in two



parts, and then you might have double the weight.'

I explained that I wanted no more weight; and for no donkey



hitherto created would I cut my sleeping-bag in two.

'It fatigues her, however,' said the innkeeper; 'it fatigues her



greatly on the march. Look.'

Alas, there were her two forelegs no better than raw beef on the



inside, and blood was running from under her tail. They told me

when I started, and I was ready to believe it, that before a few



days I should come to love Modestine like a dog. Three days had

passed, we had shared some misadventures, and my heart was still as



cold as a potato towards my beast of burden. She was pretty enough

to look at; but then she had given proof of dead stupidity,



redeemed indeed by patience, but aggravated by flashes of sorry and

ill-judged light-heartedness. And I own this new discovery seemed



another point against her. What the devil was the good of a she-

ass if she could not carry a sleeping-bag and a few necessaries? I



saw the end of the fable rapidly approaching, when I should have to

carry Modestine. AEsop was the man to know the world! I assure



you I set out with heavy thoughts upon my short day's march.

It was not only heavy thoughts about Modestine that weighted me



upon the way; it was a leaden business altogether. For first, the

wind blew so rudely that I had to hold on the pack with one hand






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