"Can you be the man?..."
He took another look at the stranger, placed the lamp on the table, and
took down his gun. On hearing the peasant say "Can you be the man?"
his wife had risen, taken her two children in her arms, and hurriedly
sought refuge behind her husband, and looked in horror at the stranger
as she muttered, "The villain!" All this took place in less time than
is needed to imagine it. After examining the man for some minutes as
if he had been a viper, the peasant returned to the door and said: "Be
off!"
"For mercy's sake," the man continued,--"a glass of water."
"A charge of shot!" the peasant said.
Then he violently closed the door, and the stranger heard two bolts
fastened. A moment after the window shutters were closed, and the
sound of the iron bar being put in reached his ear. Night was coming
on apace: the cold wind of the Alps was blowing. By the light of the
expiring day the stranger noticed in one of the gardens a sort of hut
which seemed to him to be made of sods of turf. He boldly clambered
over a railing and found himself in the garden; he approached the hut,
which had as entrance a narrow, extremely low door, and resembled the
tenements which road-menders construct by the side of the highway. He
doubtless thought it was such: he was suffering from cold and hunger,
and though he had made up his mind to starve, it was at any rate a
shelter against the cold. As this sort of residence is not usually
occupied at night, he lay down on his stomach and crawled into the hut:
it was warm, and he found a rather good straw litter in it. He lay for
a moment motionless on this bed as his fatigue was so great: but as his
knapsack hurt his back and was a ready-made pillow, he began unbuckling
one of the thongs. At this moment a hoarse growl was audible: he raised
his eyes, and the head of an enormous mastiff stood out in the shadow
at the opening of the hut, which was its kennel. The dog itself was
strong and formidable, hence he raised his stick, employed his knapsack
as a shield, and left the kennel as he best could, though not without
enlarging the rents in his rags.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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