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Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes-Part15_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON(1850-1894)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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some thought of my own had come and gone unnoticed, and yet done me

good. For some thoughts, which sure would be the most beautiful,



vanish before we can rightly scan their features; as though a god,

travelling by our green highways, should but ope the door, give one



smiling look into the house, and go again for ever. Was it Apollo,

or Mercury, or Love with folded wings? Who shall say? But we go



the lighter about our business, and feel peace and pleasure in our

hearts.



I dined with a pair of Catholics. They agreed in the condemnation

of a young man, a Catholic, who had married a Protestant girl and



gone over to the religion of his wife. A Protestant born they

could understand and respect; indeed, they seemed to be of the mind



of an old Catholic woman, who told me that same day there was no

difference between the two sects, save that 'wrong was more wrong



for the Catholic,' who had more light and guidance; but this of a

man's desertion filled them with contempt.



'It is a bad idea for a man to change,' said one.

It may have been accidental, but you see how this phrase pursued



me; and for myself, I believe it is the current philosophy in these

parts. I have some difficulty in imagining a better. It's not



only a great flight of confidence for a man to change his creed and

go out of his family for heaven's sake; but the odds are - nay, and



the hope is - that, with all this great transition in the eyes of

man, he has not changed himself a hairbreadth to the eyes of God.



Honour to those who do so, for the wrench is sore. But it argues

something narrow, whether of strength or weakness, whether of the



prophet or the fool, in those who can take a sufficient interest in

such infinitesimal and human operations, or who can quit a



friendship for a doubtful process of the mind. And I think I

should not leave my old creed for another, changing only words for



other words; but by some brave reading, embrace it in spirit and

truth, and find wrong as wrong for me as for the best of other



communions

The phylloxera was in the neighbourhood; and instead of wine we



drank at dinner a more economical juice of the grape - La

Parisienne, they call it. It is made by putting the fruit whole



into a cask with water; one by one the berries ferment and burst;

what is drunk during the day is supplied at night in water: so,



with ever another pitcher from the well, and ever another grape

exploding and giving out its strength, one cask of Parisienne may



last a family till spring. It is, as the reader will anticipate, a

feeble beverage, but very pleasant to the taste.



What with dinner and coffee, it was long past three before I left

St. Germain de Calberte. I went down beside the Gardon of Mialet,



a great glaring watercourse devoid of water, and through St.

Etienne de Vallee Francaise, or Val Francesque, as they used to



call it; and towards evening began to ascend the hill of St.

Pierre. It was a long and steep ascent. Behind me an empty



carriage returning to St. Jean du Gard kept hard upon my tracks,

and near the summitovertook me. The driver, like the rest of the



world, was sure I was a pedlar; but, unlike others, he was sure of

what I had to sell. He had noticed the blue wool which hung out of



my pack at either end; and from this he had decided, beyond my

power to alter his decision, that I dealt in blue-wool collars,



such as decorate the neck of the French draught-horse.

I had hurried to the topmost powers of Modestine, for I dearly



desired to see the view upon the other side before the day had

faded. But it was night when I reached the summit; the moon was



riding high and clear; and only a few grey streaks of twilight

lingered in the west. A yawning valley, gulfed in blackness, lay



like a hole in created nature at my feet; but the outline of the

hills was sharp against the sky. There was Mount Aigoal, the



stronghold of Castanet. And Castanet, not only as an active

undertaking leader, deserves some mention among Camisards; for






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