The Sin of Monsieur Antoine, Volume 1 (of 2)Sand, George
General
The Sin of Monsieur Antoine, Volume 1 (of 2)
Sand, George
French fiction -- 19th century
"That has nothing to do with it," said Monsieur Antoine, tapping the
floor with his foot; "hold your tongue, boy. You may speak when you're
spoken to; just open your ears in order to improve your mind and your
heart, if there's room for improvement. I was saying, then, that I was
returning from a country fair one beautiful day, and walking quietly
along on foot, when I met a tall man, very handsome although he was
little if any younger than I, and his black eyes and pale, almost yellow
complexion gave him a somewhat harsh and forbidding look. He was in a
cabriolet, driving down a steep hill, strewn with loose stones as our
fathers used to build roads, and was urging his horse forward,
apparently unconscious of the danger. I could not help warning him.
'Monsieur,' said I, 'no four-wheeled, three-wheeled or two-wheeled
carriage has ever gone down this hill, in the memory of man. In my
opinion it is likely to result in breaking your neck, even if it is not
impossible, and if you prefer a road that is a little longer but much
safer, I'll show you the way.'
"'Much obliged,' he replied with just a suspicion of surliness, 'this
road seems to me practicable enough and I promise you that my horse will
come out all right.'
"'That's your business,' said I, 'and what I said was said from purely
human motives.'
"'I thank you, monsieur, and as you are so courteous, I shall be glad to
reciprocate. You are on foot, going in the same direction that I am; if
you will get in with me, you will reach the valley sooner and I shall
have the pleasure of your company.'"
"All that is true," said Janille; "you told it just like that the same
evening except that you said that the gentleman had on a long blue
overcoat."
"Excuse me, Ma'mselle Janille," said the child, "monsieur said black."
"Blue, I tell you, master upstart!"
"No, Mère Janille, black."
"Blue, I am sure of it!"
"I could swear it was black."
"Come, come, stop your quarrelling, it was green!" cried Monsieur
Antoine. "Don't interrupt again, Mère Janille; and you, you naughty
varlet, go to the kitchen and see if I am there, or put your tongue in
your pocket; take your choice."
"I would rather listen, monsieur; I won't speak again."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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