One day, among others, having purposely turned aside to get a closer
view of a spot that appeared worthy of all admiration, I grew so
delighted with it, and wandered round it so often, that I at length
lost myself completely. After several hours of useless walking, weary
and faint with hunger and thirst, I entered a peasant's hut which did
not present a very promising appearance, but it was the only one I saw
around. I conceived it to be here as at Geneva and throughout
Switzerland, where all the inhabitants in easy circumstances are in
the situation to exercise hospitality. I entreated the man to get me
some dinner, offering to pay for it. He presented me with some skimmed
milk and coarse barley bread, observing that that was all he had. I
drank the milk with delight, and ate the bread, chaff and all; but
this was not very restorative to a man exhausted with fatigue. The
peasant, who was watching me narrowly, judged of the truth of my story
by the sincerity of my appetite. All of a sudden, after having said
that he saw perfectly well that I was a good and true young fellow
that did not come to betray him, he opened a little trap-door by the
side of his kitchen, went down and returned a moment afterward with a
good brown loaf of pure wheat, the remains of a toothsome ham, and a
bottle of wine, the sight of which rejoiced my heart more than all the
rest. To these he added a good thick omelette, and I made such a
dinner as none but a walker ever enjoyed. When it came to pay, lo! his
disquietude and fears again seized him; he would none of my money, and
rejected it with extraordinary manifestations of disquiet. The
funniest part of the matter was, that I could not conceive what he was
afraid of. At length, with fear and trembling, he pronounced those
terrible words, _Commissioners_ and _Cellar-rats_. He gave me to
understand that he concealed his wine because of the excise, and his
bread on account of the tax, and that he was a lost man if they got
the slightest inkling that he was not dying of hunger. Everything he
said to me touching this matter, whereof, indeed, I had not the
slightest idea, produced an impression on me that can never be
effaced. It became the germ of that inextinguishable hatred that
afterward sprang up in my heart against the vexations to which these
poor people are subject, and against their oppressors. This man,
though in easy circumstances, dared not eat the bread he had gained by
the sweat of his brow, and could escape ruin only by presenting the
appearance of the same misery that reigned around him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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