Children's stories; Europe -- Juvenile fiction; Travel -- Juvenile fiction
Here began their adventures, properly speaking. They were obliged to
drive fourteen miles to Dinan in a ram-shackle carriage drawn by three
fierce little horses, with their tails done up in braided chignons, and
driven by a humpback. This elegant equipage was likewise occupied by a
sleepy old priest, who smoked his pipe without stopping the whole way;
also by a large, loquacious, beery man, who talked incessantly,
informing the company that he was a friend of Victor Hugo, a child of
nature aged sixty, and obliged to drink much ale because it went to his
head and gave him commercial ideas.
If it had given him no others it would have done well; but, after each
draught, and he took many, this child of nature became so friendly that
even the free and easy Americans were abashed. Matilda quailed before
the languishing glances he gave her, and tied her head up like a bundle
in a thick veil. The scandalised Lavinia, informing him that she did
not understand French, assumed the demeanour of a griffin, and glared
stonily into space, when she was not dislocating her neck trying to see
if the top-heavy luggage had not tumbled off behind.
Poor Amanda was thus left a prey to the beery one; for, having at first
courteously responded to his paternal remarks and expressed an interest
in the state of France, she could not drop the conversation all at once,
even when the friend of Victor Hugo became so disagreeable that it is to
be hoped the poet has not many such. He recited poems, he sung songs, he
made tender confidences, and finished by pressing the hand of
Mademoiselle to his lips. On being told that such demonstrations were
not permitted to strangers in America, he beat his breast and cried
out, 'My God, so beautiful and so cold! You do not comprehend that I am
but a child. Pardon, and smile again I conjure you.'
But Mademoiselle would not smile; and, folding her hands in her cloak,
appeared to slumber. Whereat the gray-headed infant groaned
pathetically, cast his eyes heavenward, and drank more ale, muttering to
himself, and shaking his head as if his emotions could not be entirely
suppressed.
These proceedings caused Lavinia to keep her eye on him, being prepared
for any outbreak, from a bullet all round to proposals to both her
charges at once.
With this smouldering bomb-shell inside, and the firm conviction that
one if not all the trunks were lying in the dust some miles behind, it
may be inferred that duenna Livy did not enjoy that break-neck drive,
lurching and bumping up hill and down, with nothing between them and
destruction apparently but the little humpback, who drove recklessly.
In this style they rattled up to the Porte de Brest, feeling that they
had reached Dinan 'only by the grace of God,' as the beery man expressed
it, when he bowed and vanished, still oppressed with the gloomy
discovery that American women did not appreciate him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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