The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 20Stevenson, Robert Louis
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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 20
Stevenson, Robert Louis
French -- England -- Fiction; Prisoners of war -- Fiction
It appeared this was a wretch who had committed many barbarous murders,
and being at last upon the point of discovery fell of his own hand. And
the nightmare at the cross-roads was the regular punishment, according
to the laws of England, for an act which the Romans honoured as a
virtue! Whenever an Englishman begins to prate of civilisation (as,
indeed, it's a defect they are rather prone to), I hear the measured
blows of a mallet, see the bystanders crowd with torches about the
grave, smile a little to myself in conscious superiority--and take a
thimbleful of brandy for the stomach's sake.
I believe it must have been at my next stage, for I remember going to
bed extremely early, that I came to the model of a good old-fashioned
English inn, and was attended on by the picture of a pretty chambermaid.
We had a good many pleasant passages as she waited table or warmed my
bed for me with a devil of a brass warming-pan, fully larger than
herself; and as she was no less pert than she was pretty, she may be
said to have given rather better than she took. I cannot tell why
(unless it were for the sake of her saucy eyes), but I made her my
confidante, told her I was attached to a young lady in Scotland, and
received the encouragement of her sympathy, mingled and connected with a
fair amount of rustic wit. While I slept the down-mail stopped for
supper; it chanced that one of the passengers left behind a copy of the
_Edinburgh Courant_, and the next morning my pretty chambermaid set the
paper before me at breakfast, with the remark that there was some news
from my lady-love. I took it eagerly, hoping to find some further word
of our escape, in which I was disappointed; and I was about to lay it
down, when my eye fell on a paragraph immediately concerning me. Faa was
in hospital, grievously sick, and warrants were out for the arrest of
Sim and Candlish. These two men had shown themselves very loyal to me.
This trouble emerging, the least I could do was to be guided by a
similar loyalty to them. Suppose my visit to my uncle crowned with some
success, and my finances re-established, I determined I should
immediately return to Edinburgh, put their case in the hands of a good
lawyer, and await events. So my mind was very lightly made up to what
proved a mighty serious matter. Candlish and Sim were all very well in
their way, and I do sincerely trust I should have been at some pains to
help them, had there been nothing else. But in truth my heart and my
eyes were set on quite another matter, and I received the news of their
tribulation almost with joy. There is never a bad wind that blows where
we want to go, and you may be sure there was nothing unwelcome in a
circumstance that carried me back to Edinburgh and Flora. From that hour
I began to indulge myself with the making of imaginary scenes and
interviews, in which I confounded the aunt, flattered Ronald, and now in
the witty, now in the sentimental manner, declared my love and received
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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