At Last The Path Crossed The Chassezac Upon A Bridge, And, Forsaking This
Deep Hollow, Set Itself To Cross The Mountain Of La Goulet.
It wound up
through Lestampes by upland fields and woods of beech and birch, and with
every corner brought me into an acquaintance with some new interest.
Even
in the gully of the Chassezac my ear had been struck by a noise like that
of a great bass bell ringing at the distance of many miles; but this, as
I continued to mount and draw nearer to it, seemed to change in
character, and I found at length that it came from some one leading
flocks afield to the note of a rural horn. The narrow street of
Lestampes stood full of sheep, from wall to wall - black sheep and white,
bleating with one accord like the birds in spring, and each one
accompanying himself upon the sheep-bell round his neck. It made a
pathetic concert, all in treble. A little higher, and I passed a pair of
men in a tree with pruning-hooks, and one of them was singing the music
of a bourree. Still further, and when I was already threading the
birches, the crowing of cocks came cheerfully up to my ears, and along
with that the voice of a flute discoursing a deliberate and plaintive air
from one of the upland villages. I pictured to myself some grizzled,
apple-cheeked, country schoolmaster fluting in his bit of a garden in the
clear autumn sunshine. All these beautiful and interesting sounds filled
my heart with an unwonted expectation; and it appeared to me that, once
past this range which I was mounting, I should descend into the garden of
the world. Nor was I deceived, for I was now done with rains and winds
and a bleak country. The first part of my journey ended here; and this
was like an induction of sweet sounds into the other and more beautiful.
There are other degrees of feyness, as of punishment, besides the
capital; and I was now led by my good spirits into an adventure which I
relate in the interest of future donkey-drivers. The road zigzagged so
widely on the hillside, that I chose a short cut by map and compass, and
struck through the dwarf woods to catch the road again upon a higher
level. It was my one serious conflict with Modestine. She would none of
my short cut; she turned in my face; she backed, she reared; she, whom I
had hitherto imagined to be dumb, actually brayed with a loud hoarse
flourish, like a cock crowing for the dawn. I plied the goad with one
hand; with the other, so steep was the ascent, I had to hold on the pack-
saddle. Half-a-dozen times she was nearly over backwards on the top of
me; half-a-dozen times, from sheer weariness of spirit, I was nearly
giving it up, and leading her down again to follow the road. But I took
the thing as a wager, and fought it through. I was surprised, as I went
on my way again, by what appeared to be chill rain-drops falling on my
hand, and more than once looked up in wonder at the cloudless sky. But
it was only sweat which came dropping from my brow.
Over the summit of the Goulet there was no marked road - only upright
stones posted from space to space to guide the drovers. The turf
underfoot was springy and well scented. I had no company but a lark or
two, and met but one bullock-cart between Lestampes and Bleymard. In
front of me I saw a shallow valley, and beyond that the range of the
Lozere, sparsely wooded and well enough modelled in the flanks, but
straight and dull in outline. There was scarce a sign of culture; only
about Bleymard, the white high-road from Villefort to Mende traversed a
range of meadows, set with spiry poplars, and sounding from side to side
with the bells of flocks and herds.
A NIGHT AMONG THE PINES
From Bleymard after dinner, although it was already late, I set out to
scale a portion of the Lozere. An ill-marked stony drove-road guided me
forward; and I met nearly half-a-dozen bullock-carts descending from the
woods, each laden with a whole pine-tree for the winter's firing. At the
top of the woods, which do not climb very high upon this cold ridge, I
struck leftward by a path among the pines, until I hit on a dell of green
turf, where a streamlet made a little spout over some stones to serve me
for a water-tap. 'In a more sacred or sequestered bower . . . nor nymph
nor faunus haunted.' The trees were not old, but they grew thickly round
the glade: there was no outlook, except north-eastward upon distant hill-
tops, or straight upward to the sky; and the encampment felt secure and
private like a room. By the time I had made my arrangements and fed
Modestine, the day was already beginning to decline. I buckled myself to
the knees into my sack and made a hearty meal; and as soon as the sun
went down, I pulled my cap over my eyes and fell asleep.
Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof; but in the open world it
passes lightly, with its stars and dews and perfumes, and the hours are
marked by changes in the face of Nature. What seems a kind of temporal
death to people choked between walls and curtains, is only a light and
living slumber to the man who sleeps afield. All night long he can hear
Nature breathing deeply and freely; even as she takes her rest, she turns
and smiles; and there is one stirring hour unknown to those who dwell in
houses, when a wakeful influence goes abroad over the sleeping
hemisphere, and all the outdoor world are on their feet.
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