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Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes-Part8_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON(1850-1894)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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contention, but in a milder and more persuasive vein, as befitted



one of these pleasant brethren. Look at HIM, he said. The rule

was very hard; he would have dearly liked to stay in his own



country, Italy - it was well known how beautiful it was, the

beautiful Italy; but then there were no Trappists in Italy; and he



had a soul to save; and here he was.

I am afraid I must be at bottom, what a cheerful Indian critic has



dubbed me, 'a faddling hedonist,' for this description of the

brother's motives gave me somewhat of a shock. I should have



preferred to think he had chosen the life for its own sake, and not

for ulterior purposes; and this shows how profoundly I was out of



sympathy with these good Trappists, even when I was doing my best

to sympathise. But to the CURE the argument seemed decisive.



'Hear that!' he cried. 'And I have seen a marquis here, a marquis,

a marquis' - he repeated the holy word three times over - 'and



other persons high in society; and generals. And here, at your

side, is this gentleman, who has been so many years in armies -



decorated, an old warrior. And here he is, ready to dedicate

himself to God.'



I was by this time so thoroughly embarrassed that I pled cold feet,

and made my escape from the apartment. It was a furious windy



morning, with a sky much cleared, and long and potent intervals of

sunshine; and I wandered until dinner in the wild country towards



the east, sorely staggered and beaten upon by the gale, but

rewarded with some striking views.



At dinner the Work of the Propagation of the Faith was recommenced,

and on this occasion still more distastefully to me. The priest



asked me many questions as to the contemptible faith of my fathers,

and received my replies with a kind of ecclesiastical titter.



'Your sect,' he said once; 'for I think you will admit it would be

doing it too much honour to call it a religion.'



'As you please, monsieur,' said I. 'LA PAROLE EST A VOUS.'

At length I grew annoyed beyond endurance; and although he was on



his own ground and, what is more to the purpose, an old man, and so

holding a claim upon my toleration, I could not avoid a protest



against this uncivil usage. He was sadly discountenanced.

'I assure you.' he said, 'I have no inclination to laugh in my



heart. I have no other feeling but interest in your soul.'

And there ended my conversion. Honest man! he was no dangerous



deceiver; but a country parson, full of zeal and faith. Long may

he tread Gevaudan with his kilted skirts - a man strong to walk and



strong to comfort his parishioners in death! I daresay he would

beat bravely through a snowstorm where his duty called him; and it



is not always the most faithfulbeliever who makes the cunningest

apostle.



UPPER GEVAUDAN

(continued)



The bed was made, the room was fit,

By punctual eve the stars were lit;



The air was still, the water ran;

No need there was for maid or man,



When we put up, my ass and I,

At God's green caravanserai.



OLD PLAY.

ACROSS THE GOULET



THE wind fell during dinner, and the sky remained clear; so it was

under better auspices that I loaded Modestine before the monastery



gate. My Irish friend accompanied me so far on the way. As we

came through the wood, there was Pere Apollinaire hauling his



barrow; and he too quitted his labours to go with me for perhaps a

hundred yards, holding my hand between both of his in front of him.



I parted first from one and then from the other with unfeigned




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