So there in England was Madame being _entièrement tranquille_ about her
little house, and glad indeed that she could be; for whatever had
happened to it or to the Antoines she wouldn't have been able to do
anything. Tethered on the other side of the impassable barrier of war,
if the house had caught fire she could only, over there in England, have
wrung her hands; and if Mrs. Antoine's _estomac_ had given out so
completely that she and Antoine had had to abandon their post and take
to the plains and doctors, she could only have sat still and cried. The
soothing letters were her comfort for five years,--_madame peût-être
entièrement tranquille_; how sweetly the words fell, month by month, on
ears otherwise harassed and tormented!
It wasn't till I had been here nearly a fortnight that I began to be
aware of my breakfast. Surely it was very nice? Such a lot of milk; and
every day a little jug of cream. And surprising butter,--surprising not
only because it was so very fresh but because it was there at all. I had
been told in England that there was no butter to be got here, not an
ounce to be bought from one end of Switzerland to the other. Well, there
it was; fresh every day, and in a singular abundance.
Through the somnolence of my mind, of all the outward objects
surrounding me I think it was the butter that got in first; and my
awakening intelligence, after a period of slow feeling about and some
relapses, did at last one morning hit on the conviction that at the
other end of that butter was a cow.
This, so far, was to be expected as the result of reasoning. But where I
began to be pleased with myself, and feel as if Paley's Evidences had
married Sherlock Holmes and I was the bright pledge of their loves, was
when I proceeded from this, without moving from my chair, to discover
by sheer thinking that the cow was very near the butter, because else
the butter couldn't possibly be made fresh every day,--so near that it
must be at that moment grazing on the bit of pasture belonging to me;
and, if that were so, the conclusion was irresistible that it must be my
cow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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