"I know nothing, absolutely nothing. My correspondent tells me nothing
more, and 'tis by the greatest accident that he has even heard of this
good opportunity; because out of a hundred people in this department,
you will scarcely find ten who could tell you anything about the village
of ----."
I know not why, but for some reason this information, vague as it was,
excited my curiosity; I decided to set forth immediately, and
consequently ordered horses to be put to the carriage.
"Oh," said the notary, "I advise you not to think of venturing to travel
in a carriage over those dreadful roads. 'Tis a post-road, to be sure,
but the nearest relay to ---- is still five leagues off, and to get
there they say one has to go through regular sand-pits, where one sinks
so deep that 'tis a thousand chances to one if you ever get out again.
If you take my advice you will go on horseback."
I took his word for it, and had a portemanteau fastened behind my
saddle, and thus, preceded by a postilion, I started for the village of
----, which was eight leagues from the city where I was staying.
I got over the first three leagues in about an hour, changed horses at
the relay, and then struck into the open country.
It was towards the middle of the month of May, a delicious morning,
cooled by a gentle northerly breeze. The roads, deep with a sand as
yellow as ochre, though detestable for carriages, which would sink in to
the hubs of the wheels, were not at all bad for horseback riding. The
farther I advanced towards the interior of the uncultivated and wild
country, the more nature became grand and majestic, though perhaps at
the same time somewhat monotonous. Before me stretched out great plains
of rose-coloured heather towards a horizon of bluish mountains; to the
left were numerous wooded hills, while to the right was a continuous
curtain of verdure, formed by the willows and poplars which bordered a
shallow but very clear stream, always fordable but very swift, which we
were continually crossing; for it wandered with many turnings across the
road, which sometimes descended between high banks, covered with
hawthorn, mulberry, and wild rose bushes, sometimes, emerging from these
hollows, ascended to the plain that could be seen straight before us as
smooth as a tennis-court.
"Have you ever been to ----?" I asked my guide, whose strongly marked
face, extreme neatness, and easy seat denoted a soldier whose term of
service was over. I had heard his companions at the post call him "the
hussar," and everything about the man was such a contrast to the
negligent appearance and noisy familiarity of the rest of these
Southerners! "Have you ever been to ----?"
"Yes, monsieur, twice in my life," he replied, stopping his horse and
placing himself a little behind me; "I went there once two years ago,
and then I went there three months ago, but _dame!_ the two goings were
not much alike!"
"What do you mean?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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