Along France's river of romance: . ttle for the night. Ah, non, Msieu, she said, cest Salettes. Fautprendre le chmin qui monte. . , Accursed woman,accursed Salettes, accursed road that mounted ! Thesun was now just setting, and having completed overtwenty-five miles of rough going, I felt that I hadwalked enough, but the necessity to reach Goudetbecame even more pressing. I got on to yet anothervieux chemin, and staggered on under the shadow of alow rocky hill, with a pine forest, dark and mysterious,on my right. It was very lonely, there was not ananimal stirring on the hillside, and in the g
Along France's river of romance: . ttle for the night. Ah, non, Msieu, she said, cest Salettes. Fautprendre le chmin qui monte. . , Accursed woman,accursed Salettes, accursed road that mounted ! Thesun was now just setting, and having completed overtwenty-five miles of rough going, I felt that I hadwalked enough, but the necessity to reach Goudetbecame even more pressing. I got on to yet anothervieux chemin, and staggered on under the shadow of alow rocky hill, with a pine forest, dark and mysterious,on my right. It was very lonely, there was not ananimal stirring on the hillside, and in the gloaming thecontours of every object in the landscape were outlinedwith an exaggerated distinctness. It was a perfectevening, but that did not prevent each kilometreseeming to me like five miles. I became aware that ifGoudet did not present itself within half an hour, Ishould fall in a heap by the wayside like a sack of oldbones. And it just did present itself. The path emergedon to an open plateau, giving a view of a vast amphi-. GOUDET. GOUDET 33 theatre of hills surrounding a valley a thousand feetbelow. Then it dropped to a pine wood, plungedprecipitously through it, and emerged at the foot just out-side a little sheltered village nestling by the Loire, whichhere made quiet brooding pools reflecting all the fadinggleams in the sky. In the pine wood I had passedtwo lovers, climbing up hand in hand, but down herein the long white street not a soul stirred. It was likea charmed village in a dream-world; and to me, dearerthan any El Dorado. In the western sky a greenradiance flushed with rose, lingered still, and the firstfaint stars were alight and glowing : the evening seemedto be catching its breath, hushed and expectant, and myfootsteps echoed in the silence till, after passing up thelong, straggling street, I reached the end of the villageand the little square. In the Place, beneath the green spreading tree in themiddle, there stood one individual, the first I had so farenc
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidalongfrances, bookyear1913
