Led Astray and The Sphinx: Two Novellas In One VolumeFeuillet, Octave
General
Led Astray and The Sphinx: Two Novellas In One Volume
Feuillet, Octave
Fiction
I was but little disposed to work this morning; I went on sketching,
however, until noon, but had to give it up then; my head was heavy, I felt
dull and disagreeable, I had a vague presentiment of something fatal in
the air. I returned for a moment to the mill to get rid of my traps; I
quarreled, to her surprise and grief, with the miller's wife, on the
subject of I know not what cruelly indigenous mess she had served me for
breakfast; I scolded the good woman's two children because they were
touching my pencils; finally, I administered a vigorous kick to the
house-dog, accompanied with the celebrated formula: "Judge whether you had
done anything to me!"
Rather dissatisfied with myself, as you may imagine, after these three
mean little tricks, I directed my steps toward the forest, in order to
hide as much as possible from the light of the day. I walked about for
nearly an hour without being able to shake off the prophetic melancholy
that oppressed me. Perceiving at last, on the edge of one of the avenues
that traverse the forest, and under the dense shade of some beech-trees, a
thick bed of moss, I stretched myself upon it, together with my remorse,
and it was not long before I fell into a sound sleep. Mon Dieu! why was it
not the sleep of death?
I have no idea how long I had been asleep, when I was suddenly awakened by
a certain concussion of the soil in my immediate vicinity; I jumped
abruptly to my feet, and I saw, within five steps of me, on the road, a
young lady on horseback. My unexpected apparition had somewhat frightened
the horse, who had shied with some violence. The fair equestrian, who had
not yet noticed me, was talking to him and trying to quiet him. She
appeared to be pretty, slender, elegant. I caught a rapid glimpse of blond
hair, eyebrows of a darker shade, keen eyes, a bold expression of
countenance, and a felt hat with blue feathers, set over one ear in rather
too rakish a style. For the better understanding of what is about to
follow, you should know that I was attired in a tourist's blouse stained
with red ochre; besides, I must have had that haggard look and startled
expression which impart to one rudely snatched from sleep a countenance at
once comical and alarming. Add to all this, my hair in utter disorder, my
beard strewn with dead leaves, and you will have no difficulty in
understanding the terror that suddenly overpowered the young huntress at
the first glance she cast upon me; she uttered a feeble cry, and wheeling
her horse around, she fled at full gallop.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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