"Et vous marchez comme ca!" [Footnote: Et vous marchez comme ca! "and
you are moving like that!"] 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_, [Footnote: Deus ex machina: "the god out of
the machine"; some supernatural intervention.] 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, as
I might have smiled over his orthography or his green tail-coat. But it
was not my turn for the moment.
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 melliflously
[Footnote: Melliflously: sweetly. Find this allusion in "Midsummer
Night's Dream," Act I, Scene 2.] 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 belaboring. 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 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.
It was blazing hot up the valley, windless, with vehement sun upon my
shoulders; and I had to labor 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 [Footnote: Slew: twist.] 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 re-adjust the load. And at last, in the village of Ussel,
[Footnote: Ussel: a town about one hundred miles northwest of Alais.]
saddle and all, the whole hypothec [Footnote: Hypothec: literally, the
property of a tenant held by a landlord as security for rent. Here, of
course, the property insufficiently secured on the donkey.] 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 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
his acolytes [Footnote: Acolytes: assistants of the priest during mass.]
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 O, 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 up 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. 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 bottles
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.
--ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON (adapted).
[Footnote: Would you judge that this was the writer's first experience
in camping? Why? What is added to the story by attributing human
qualities to Modestine? How did she seem to be always putting him in the
wrong? Do people ever work such tricks? What characteristics of the
author are shown in this sketch? Is the humor of the story one of
situation merely? What other selections are similar to this in the style
of writing? in the humor?]