I Had Emptied Out My Brandy At Florac,
For I Could Bear The Stuff No Longer, And Replaced It With Some Generous
And Scented Volnay; And Now I Drank To The Moon's Sacred Majesty Upon The
Road.
It was but a couple of mouthfuls; yet I became thenceforth
unconscious of my limbs, and my blood flowed with luxury.
Even Modestine
was inspired by this purified nocturnal sunshine, and bestirred her
little hoofs as to a livelier measure. The road wound and descended
swiftly among masses of chestnuts. Hot dust rose from our feet and
flowed away. Our two shadows - mine deformed with the knapsack, hers
comically bestridden by the pack - now lay before us clearly outlined on
the road, and now, as we turned a corner, went off into the ghostly
distance, and sailed along the mountain like clouds. From time to time a
warm wind rustled down the valley, and set all the chestnuts dangling
their bunches of foliage and fruit; the ear was filled with whispering
music, and the shadows danced in tune. And next moment the breeze had
gone by, and in all the valley nothing moved except our travelling feet.
On the opposite slope, the monstrous ribs and gullies of the mountain
were faintly designed in the moonshine; and high overhead, in some lone
house, there burned one lighted window, one square spark of red in the
huge field of sad nocturnal colouring.
At a certain point, as I went downward, turning many acute angles, the
moon disappeared behind the hill; and I pursued my way in great darkness,
until another turning shot me without preparation into St. Germain de
Calberte. The place was asleep and silent, and buried in opaque night.
Only from a single open door, some lamplight escaped upon the road to
show me that I was come among men's habitations. The two last gossips of
the evening, still talking by a garden wall, directed me to the inn. The
landlady was getting her chicks to bed; the fire was already out, and
had, not without grumbling, to be rekindled; half an hour later, and I
must have gone supperless to roost.
THE LAST DAY
When I awoke (Thursday, 2nd October), and, hearing a great flourishing of
cocks and chuckling of contented hens, betook me to the window of the
clean and comfortable room where I had slept the night, I looked forth on
a sunshiny morning in a deep vale of chestnut gardens. It was still
early, and the cockcrows, and the slanting lights, and the long shadows
encouraged me to be out and look round me.
St. Germain de Calberte is a great parish nine leagues round about. At
the period of the wars, and immediately before the devastation, it was
inhabited by two hundred and seventy-five families, of which only nine
were Catholic; and it took the cure seventeen September days to go from
house to house on horseback for a census. But the place itself, although
capital of a canton, is scarce larger than a hamlet.
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