'Et vous marchez comme ca!' cried he; and, throwing back his head, he
laughed long and heartily. I watched him, half prepared to feel
offended, until he had satisfied his mirth; and then, 'You must have no
pity on these animals,' said he; and, plucking a switch out of a thicket,
he began to lace Modestine about the stern-works, uttering a cry. The
rogue pricked up her ears and broke into a good round pace, which she
kept up without flagging, and without exhibiting the least symptom of
distress, as long as the peasant kept beside us. Her former panting and
shaking had been, I regret to say, a piece of comedy.
My deus ex machina, before he left me, supplied some excellent, if
inhumane, advice; presented me with the switch, which he declared she
would feel more tenderly than my cane; and finally taught me the true cry
or masonic word of donkey-drivers, 'Proot!' All the time, he regarded me
with a comical, incredulous air, which was embarrassing to confront; and
smiled over my donkey-driving, as I might have smiled over his
orthography, or his green tail-coat. But it was not my turn for the
moment.
I was proud of my new lore, and thought I had learned the art to
perfection. And certainly Modestine did wonders for the rest of the fore-
noon, and I had a breathing space to look about me. It was Sabbath; the
mountain-fields were all vacant in the sunshine; and as we came down
through St. Martin de Frugeres, the church was crowded to the door, there
were people kneeling without upon the steps, and the sound of the
priest's chanting came forth out of the dim interior. It gave me a home
feeling on the spot; for I am a countryman of the Sabbath, so to speak,
and all Sabbath observances, like a Scottish accent, strike in me mixed
feelings, grateful and the reverse. It is only a traveller, hurrying by
like a person from another planet, who can rightly enjoy the peace and
beauty of the great ascetic feast. The sight of the resting country does
his spirit good. There is something better than music in the wide
unusual silence; and it disposes him to amiable thoughts, like the sound
of a little river or the warmth of sunlight.
In this pleasant humour I came down the hill to where Goudet stands in a
green end of a valley, with Chateau Beaufort opposite upon a rocky steep,
and the stream, as clear as crystal, lying in a deep pool between them.
Above and below, you may hear it wimpling over the stones, an amiable
stripling of a river, which it seems absurd to call the Loire. On all
sides, Goudet is shut in by mountains; rocky footpaths, practicable at
best for donkeys, join it to the outer world of France; and the men and
women drink and swear, in their green corner, or look up at the snow-clad
peaks in winter from the threshold of their homes, in an isolation, you
would think, like that of Homer's Cyclops. But it is not so; the postman
reaches Goudet with the letter-bag; the aspiring youth of Goudet are
within a day's walk of the railway at Le Puy; and here in the inn you may
find an engraved portrait of the host's nephew, Regis Senac, 'Professor
of Fencing and Champion of the two Americas,' a distinction gained by
him, along with the sum of five hundred dollars, at Tammany Hall, New
York, on the 10th April 1876.
I hurried over my midday meal, and was early forth again. But, alas, as
we climbed the interminable hill upon the other side, 'Proot!' seemed to
have lost its virtue. I prooted like a lion, I prooted mellifluously
like a sucking-dove; but Modestine would be neither softened nor
intimidated. She held doggedly to her pace; nothing but a blow would
move her, and that only for a second. I must follow at her heels,
incessantly belabouring. A moment's pause in this ignoble toil, and she
relapsed into her own private gait. I think I never heard of any one in
as mean a situation. I must reach the lake of Bouchet, where I meant to
camp, before sundown, and, to have even a hope of this, I must instantly
maltreat this uncomplaining animal. The sound of my own blows sickened
me. Once, when I looked at her, she had a faint resemblance to a lady of
my acquaintance who formerly loaded me with kindness; and this increased
my horror of my cruelty.
To make matters worse, we encountered another donkey, ranging at will
upon the roadside; and this other donkey chanced to be a gentleman. He
and Modestine met nickering for joy, and I had to separate the pair and
beat down their young romance with a renewed and feverish bastinado. If
the other donkey had had the heart of a male under his hide, he would
have fallen upon me tooth and hoof; and this was a kind of consolation--he
was plainly unworthy of Modestine's affection. But the incident saddened
me, as did everything that spoke of my donkey's sex.
It was blazing hot up the valley, windless, with vehement sun upon my
shoulders; and I had to labour so consistently with my stick that the
sweat ran into my eyes. Every five minutes, too, the pack, the basket,
and the pilot-coat would take an ugly slew to one side or the other; and
I had to stop Modestine, just when I had got her to a tolerable pace of
about two miles an hour, to tug, push, shoulder, and readjust the load.
And at last, in the village of Ussel, saddle and all, the whole hypothec
turned round and grovelled in the dust below the donkey's belly. She,
none better pleased, incontinently drew up and seemed to smile; and a
party of one man, two women, and two children came up, and, standing
round me in a half-circle, encouraged her by their example.
I had the devil's own trouble to get the thing righted; and the instant I
had done so, without hesitation, it toppled and fell down upon the other
side. Judge if I was hot! And yet not a hand was offered to assist me.
The man, indeed, told me I ought to have a package of a different shape.
I suggested, if he knew nothing better to the point in my predicament, he
might hold his tongue. And the good-natured dog agreed with me
smilingly. It was the most despicable fix. I must plainly content
myself with the pack for Modestine, and take the following items for my
own share of the portage: a cane, a quart-flask, a pilot-jacket heavily
weighted in the pockets, two pounds of black bread, and an open basket
full of meats and bottles. I believe I may say I am not devoid of
greatness of soul; for I did not recoil from this infamous burden. I
disposed it, Heaven knows how, so as to be mildly portable, and then
proceeded to steer Modestine through the village. She tried, as was
indeed her invariable habit, to enter every house and every courtyard in
the whole length; and, encumbered as I was, without a hand to help
myself, no words can render an idea of my difficulties. A priest, with
six or seven others, was examining a church in process of repair, and he
and his acolytes laughed loudly as they saw my plight.
I remembered having laughed myself when I had seen good men struggling
with adversity in the person of a jackass, and the recollection filled me
with penitence. That was in my old light days, before this trouble came
upon me. God knows at least that I shall never laugh again, thought I.
But oh, what a cruel thing is a farce to those engaged in it!
A little out of the village, Modestine, filled with the demon, set her
heart upon a by-road, and positively refused to leave it. I dropped all
my bundles, and, I am ashamed to say, struck the poor sinner twice across
the face. It was pitiful to see her lift her head with shut eyes, as if
waiting for another blow. I came very near crying; but I did a wiser
thing than that, and sat squarely down by the roadside to consider my
situation under the cheerful influence of tobacco and a nip of brandy.
Modestine, in the meanwhile, munched some black bread with a contrite
hypocritical air. It was plain that I must make a sacrifice to the gods
of shipwreck. I threw away the empty bottle destined to carry milk; I
threw away my own white bread, and, disdaining to act by general average,
kept the black bread for Modestine; lastly, I threw away the cold leg of
mutton and the egg-whisk, although this last was dear to my heart. Thus
I found room for everything in the basket, and even stowed the boating-
coat on the top. By means of an end of cord I slung it under one arm;
and although the cord cut my shoulder, and the jacket hung almost to the
ground, it was with a heart greatly lightened that I set forth again.
I had now an arm free to thrash Modestine, and cruelly I chastised her.
If I were to reach the lakeside before dark, she must bestir her little
shanks to some tune. Already the sun had gone down into a windy-looking
mist; and although there were still a few streaks of gold far off to the
east on the hills and the black fir-woods, all was cold and grey about
our onward path. An infinity of little country by-roads led hither and
thither among the fields. It was the most pointless labyrinth. I could
see my destination overhead, or rather the peak that dominates it; but
choose as I pleased, the roads always ended by turning away from it, and
sneaking back towards the valley, or northward along the margin of the
hills. The failing light, the waning colour, the naked, unhomely, stony
country through which I was travelling, threw me into some despondency. I
promise you, the stick was not idle; I think every decent step that
Modestine took must have cost me at least two emphatic blows. There was
not another sound in the neighbourhood but that of my unwearying
bastinado.
Suddenly, in the midst of my toils, the load once more bit the dust, and,
as by enchantment, all the cords were simultaneously loosened, and the
road scattered with my dear possessions. The packing was to begin again
from the beginning; and as I had to invent a new and better system, I do
not doubt but I lost half an hour. It began to be dusk in earnest as I
reached a wilderness of turf and stones. It had the air of being a road
which should lead everywhere at the same time; and I was falling into
something not unlike despair when I saw two figures stalking towards me
over the stones. They walked one behind the other like tramps, but their
pace was remarkable. The son led the way, a tall, ill-made, sombre,
Scottish-looking man; the mother followed, all in her Sunday's best, with
an elegantly embroidered ribbon to her cap, and a new felt hat atop, and
proffering, as she strode along with kilted petticoats, a string of
obscene and blasphemous oaths.
I hailed the son, and asked him my direction. He pointed loosely west
and north-west, muttered an inaudible comment, and, without slackening
his pace for an instant, stalked on, as he was going, right athwart my
path. The mother followed without so much as raising her head. I
shouted and shouted after them, but they continued to scale the hillside,
and turned a deaf ear to my outcries. At last, leaving Modestine by
herself, I was constrained to run after them, hailing the while. They
stopped as I drew near, the mother still cursing; and I could see she was
a handsome, motherly, respectable-looking woman. The son once more
answered me roughly and inaudibly, and was for setting out again. But
this time I simply collared the mother, who was nearest me, and,
apologising for my violence, declared that I could not let them go until
they had put me on my road. They were neither of them offended--rather
mollified than otherwise; told me I had only to follow them; and then the
mother asked me what I wanted by the lake at such an hour. I replied, in
the Scottish manner, by inquiring if she had far to go herself. She told
me, with another oath, that she had an hour and a half's road before her.
And then, without salutation, the pair strode forward again up the
hillside in the gathering dusk.
I returned for Modestine, pushed her briskly forward, and, after a sharp
ascent of twenty minutes, reached the edge of a plateau. The view,
looking back on my day's journey, was both wild and sad. Mount Mezenc
and the peaks beyond St. Julien stood out in trenchant gloom against a
cold glitter in the east; and the intervening field of hills had fallen
together into one broad wash of shadow, except here and there the outline
of a wooded sugar-loaf in black, here and there a white irregular patch
to represent a cultivated farm, and here and there a blot where the
Loire, the Gazeille, or the Laussonne wandered in a gorge.
Soon we were on a high-road, and surprise seized on my mind as I beheld a
village of some magnitude close at hand; for I had been told that the
neighbourhood of the lake was uninhabited except by trout. The road
smoked in the twilight with children driving home cattle from the fields;
and a pair of mounted stride-legged women, hat and cap and all, dashed
past me at a hammering trot from the canton where they had been to church
and market. I asked one of the children where I was. At Bouchet St.
Nicolas, he told me. Thither, about a mile south of my destination, and
on the other side of a respectable summit, had these confused roads and
treacherous peasantry conducted me. My shoulder was cut, so that it hurt
sharply; my arm ached like toothache from perpetual beating; I gave up
the lake and my design to camp, and asked for the auberge.