The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 01Stevenson, Robert Louis
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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 01
Stevenson, Robert Louis
English literature -- 19th century
I was as nearly home-sick as ever I was in my life; they seemed to make
it such an incalculable distance to the place where I first saw the day.
They admired the canoes very much. And I observed one piece of delicacy
in these children, which is worthy of record. They had been deafening us
for the last hundred yards with petitions for a sail; ay, and they
deafened us to the same tune next morning when we came to start; but
then, when the canoes were lying empty, there was no word of any such
petition. Delicacy? or perhaps a bit of fear for the water in so crank a
vessel? I hate cynicism a great deal worse than I do the devil; unless
perhaps the two were the same thing! And yet 'tis a good tonic; the cold
tub and bath-towel of the sentiments; and positively necessary to life
in cases of advanced sensibility.
From the boats they turned to my costume. They could not make enough of
my red sash; and my knife filled them with awe.
"They make them like that in England," said the boy with one arm. I was
glad he did not know how badly we make them in England nowadays. "They
are for people who go away to sea," he added, "and to defend one's life
against great fish."
I felt I was becoming a more and more romantic figure to the little
group at every word. And so I suppose I was. Even my pipe, although it
was an ordinary French clay, pretty well "trousered," as they call it,
would have a rarity in their eyes, as a thing coming from so far away.
And if my feathers were not very fine in themselves, they were all from
over seas. One thing in my outfit, however, tickled them out of all
politeness; and that was the bemired condition of my canvas shoes. I
suppose they were sure the mud at any rate was a home product. The
little girl (who was the genius of the party) displayed her own sabots
in competition; and I wish you could have seen how gracefully and
merrily she did it.
The young woman's milk-can, a great amphora of hammered brass, stood
some way off upon the sward. I was glad of an opportunity to divert
public attention from myself, and return some of the compliments I had
received. So I admired it cordially both for form and colour, telling
them, and very truly, that it was as beautiful as gold. They were not
surprised. The things were plainly the boast of the countryside. And the
children expatiated on the costliness of these amphorae, which sell
sometimes as high as thirty francs apiece; told me how they were carried
on donkeys, one on either side of the saddle, a brave caparison in
themselves; and how they were to be seen all over the district, and at
the larger farms in great number and of great size.
PONT-SUR-SAMBRE
WE ARE PEDLARS
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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