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Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes-Part9_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON(1850-1894)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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outdoor creatures in our neighbourhood, that we have escaped out of



the Bastille of civilisation, and are become, for the time being, a

mere kindly animal and a sheep of Nature's flock.



When that hour came to me among the pines, I wakened thirsty. My

tin was standing by me half full of water. I emptied it at a



draught; and feeling broad awake after this internal cold

aspersion, sat upright to make a cigarette. The stars were clear,



coloured, and jewel-like, but not frosty. A faint silvery vapour

stood for the Milky Way. All around me the black fir-points stood



upright and stock-still. By the whiteness of the pack-saddle, I

could see Modestine walking round and round at the length of her



tether; I could hear her steadily munching at the sward; but there

was not another sound, save the indescribable quiet talk of the



runnel over the stones. I lay lazily smoking and studying the

colour of the sky, as we call the void of space, from where it



showed a reddish grey behind the pines to where it showed a glossy

blue-black between the stars. As if to be more like a pedlar, I



wear a silver ring. This I could see faintly shining as I raised

or lowered the cigarette; and at each whiff the inside of my hand



was illuminated, and became for a second the highest light in the

landscape.



A faint wind, more like a moving coolness than a stream of air,

passed down the glade from time to time; so that even in my great



chamber the air was being renewed all night long. I thought with

horror of the inn at Chasserades and the congregated nightcaps;



with horror of the nocturnal prowesses of clerks and students, of

hot theatres and pass-keys and close rooms. I have not often



enjoyed a more serene possession of myself, nor felt more

independent of material aids. The outer world, from which we cower



into our houses, seemed after all a gentle habitable place; and

night after night a man's bed, it seemed, was laid and waiting for



him in the fields, where God keeps an open house. I thought I had

rediscovered one of those truths which are revealed to savages and



hid from political economists: at the least, I had discovered a

new pleasure for myself. And yet even while I was exulting in my



solitude I became aware of a strange lack. I wished a companion to

lie near me in the starlight, silent and not moving, but ever



within touch. For there is a fellowship more quiet even than

solitude, and which, rightly understood, is solitude made perfect.



And to live out of doors with the woman a man loves is of all lives

the most complete and free.



As I thus lay, between content and longing, a faint noise stole

towards me through the pines. I thought, at first, it was the



crowing of cocks or the barking of dogs at some very distant farm;

but steadily and gradually it took articulate shape in my ears,



until I became aware that a passenger was going by upon the high-

road in the valley, and singing loudly as he went. There was more



of good-will than grace in his performance; but he trolled with

ample lungs; and the sound of his voice took hold upon the hillside



and set the air shaking in the leafy glens. I have heard people

passing by night in sleeping cities; some of them sang; one, I



remember, played loudly on the bagpipes. I have heard the rattle

of a cart or carriage spring up suddenly after hours of stillness,



and pass, for some minutes, within the range of my hearing as I lay

abed. There is a romance about all who are abroad in the black



hours, and with something of a thrill we try to guess their

business. But here the romance was double: first, this glad



passenger, lit internally with wine, who sent up his voice in music

through the night; and then I, on the other hand, buckled into my



sack, and smoking alone in the pine-woods between four and five

thousand feet towards the stars.



When I awoke again (Sunday, 29th September), many of the stars had

disappeared; only the stronger companions of the night still burned



visibly overhead; and away towards the east I saw a faint haze of

light upon the horizon, such as had been the Milky Way when I was



last awake. Day was at hand. I lit my lantern, and by its glow-

worm light put on my boots and gaiters; then I broke up some bread



for Modestine, filled my can at the water-tap, and lit my spirit-

lamp to boil myself some chocolate. The blue darkness lay long in



the glade where I had so sweetlyslumbered; but soon there was a

broad streak of orange melting into gold along the mountain-tops of






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