Short stories of the tragedy and comedy of life with a critical preface . NE of my friends had said to me: If you happen to be near Bordj-Ebbaba while you are in Algeria, be sure and go to see my ^ old friend Auballe, who has settled there. I had forgotten the name of Auballeand of Ebbaba, and I was not thinkingof the man, when I arrived at his houseby pure accident. For a month, I had beenwandering on foot through that magnificent[I>^ district which extends from Algiers to Cherchel,J^ Orleansville, and Tiaret. It is at the same time> wooded and bare, grand and charming. Betweentwo hills
Short stories of the tragedy and comedy of life with a critical preface . NE of my friends had said to me: If you happen to be near Bordj-Ebbaba while you are in Algeria, be sure and go to see my ^ old friend Auballe, who has settled there. I had forgotten the name of Auballeand of Ebbaba, and I was not thinkingof the man, when I arrived at his houseby pure accident. For a month, I had beenwandering on foot through that magnificent[I>^ district which extends from Algiers to Cherchel,J^ Orleansville, and Tiaret. It is at the same time> wooded and bare, grand and charming. Betweentwo hills, you come across large pine forests, innarrow valleys through which torrents rush in thewinter. Enormous trees, which have fallen across theravine, serve as bridges for the Arabs, and also forthe tropical creepers, which twine round the deadstems, and adorn them with new life. There arehollows, in little known recesses of the mountains, (123). 124 WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT terrible, yet beautiful in character, and the banks ofthe brooks, which are covered with oleanders, areindescribably lovely. But the most pleasant recollections of that excur-sion are the long after-dinner walks, along the slightlywooded roads on those undulating hills from whichone can see an immense tract of country stretchingfrom the blue sea as far as the chain of the Ouarsenis,on whose summit is the cedar forest of Teniet-el-Haad. On that day I lost my way. I had just climbedto the top of a hill, whence, beyond a long extent ofrising ground, I could see the extensive plain ofMetidja, and then, on the summit of another chain,almost invisible in the distance, that strange monu-ment called The Tomb of the Christian Woman,which is said to be the burial-place of the kings ofMauritania. I descended again, heading southward,with a yellow landscape before me, extending as faras the fringe of the desert, as yellow as if all thehills were covered with lions s
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