In one week lost two of the
eldest of them by the small-pox, and the youngest falling ill of
the same distemper, he was afraid of being bereft of them all; and
made a vow, if heaven would not take him from him also, he would go
in gratitude to St. Iago in Spain.
When the mourner got thus far on his story, he stopp'd to pay
Nature her tribute, - and wept bitterly.
He said, heaven had accepted the conditions; and that he had set
out from his cottage with this poor creature, who had been a
patient partner of his journey; - that it had eaten the same bread
with him all the way, and was unto him as a friend.
Every body who stood about, heard the poor fellow with concern. - La
Fleur offered him money. - The mourner said he did not want it; - it
was not the value of the ass - but the loss of him. - The ass, he
said, he was assured, loved him; - and upon this told them a long
story of a mischance upon their passage over the Pyrenean
mountains, which had separated them from each other three days;
during which time the ass had sought him as much as he had sought
the ass, and that they had scarce either eaten or drank till they
met.
Thou hast one comfort, friend, said I, at least, in the loss of thy
poor beast; I'm sure thou hast been a merciful master to him. -
Alas! said the mourner, I thought so when he was alive; - but now
that he is dead, I think otherwise. - I fear the weight of myself
and my afflictions together have been too much for him, - they have
shortened the poor creature's days, and I fear I have them to
answer for. - Shame on the world! said I to myself. - Did we but love
each other as this poor soul loved his ass - 'twould be something. -
NAMPONT. THE POSTILION.
The concern which the poor fellow's story threw me into required
some attention; the postilion paid not the least to it, but set off
upon the pave in a full gallop.
The thirstiest soul in the most sandy desert of Arabia could not
have wished more for a cup of cold water, than mine did for grave
and quiet movements; and I should have had an high opinion of the
postilion had he but stolen off with me in something like a pensive
pace. - On the contrary, as the mourner finished his lamentation,
the fellow gave an unfeeling lash to each of his beasts, and set
off clattering like a thousand devils.
I called to him as loud as I could, for heaven's sake to go slower:
- and the louder I called, the more unmercifully he galloped. - The
deuce take him and his galloping too - said I, - he'll go on tearing
my nerves to pieces till he has worked me into a foolish passion,
and then he'll go slow that I may enjoy the sweets of it.
The postilion managed the point to a miracle: by the time he had
got to the foot of a steep hill, about half a league from Nampont,-
-he had put me out of temper with him, - and then with myself, for
being so.
My case then required a different treatment; and a good rattling
gallop would have been of real service to me. -
- Then, prithee, get on - get on, my good lad, said I.
The postilion pointed to the hill. - I then tried to return back to
the story of the poor German and his ass - but I had broke the
clue, - and could no more get into it again, than the postilion
could into a trot.
- The deuce go, said I, with it all! Here am I sitting as candidly
disposed to make the best of the worst, as ever wight was, and all
runs counter.
There is one sweet lenitive at least for evils, which Nature holds
out to us: so I took it kindly at her hands, and fell asleep; and
the first word which roused me was Amiens.
- Bless me! said I, rubbing my eyes, - this is the very town where
my poor lady is to come.
AMIENS.
The words were scarce out of my mouth when the Count de L-'s post-
chaise, with his sister in it, drove hastily by: she had just time
to make me a bow of recognition, - and of that particular kind of
it, which told me she had not yet done with me. She was as good as
her look; for, before I had quite finished my supper, her brother's
servant came into the room with a billet, in which she said she had
taken the liberty to charge me with a letter, which I was to
present myself to Madame R- the first morning I had nothing to do
at Paris. There was only added, she was sorry, but from what
penchant she had not considered, that she had been prevented
telling me her story, - that she still owed it to me; and if my
route should ever lay through Brussels, and I had not by then
forgot the name of Madame de L-, - that Madame de L- would be glad
to discharge her obligation.
Then I will meet thee, said I, fair spirit! at Brussels; - 'tis only
returning from Italy through Germany to Holland, by the route of
Flanders, home; - 'twill scarce be ten posts out of my way; but,
were it ten thousand! with what a moral delight will it crown my
journey, in sharing in the sickening incidents of a tale of misery
told to me by such a sufferer? To see her weep! and, though I
cannot dry up the fountain of her tears, what an exquisite
sensation is there still left, in wiping them away from off the
cheeks of the first and fairest of women, as I'm sitting with my
handkerchief in my hand in silence the whole night beside her?
