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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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100 his head hanging down; then recovered himself, fumbled with his cap, and made a bow. “What was he like?” “Monseigneur, he was whiter than the miller. All covered with dust, white as a spectre, tall as a spectre!” The picture produced an immense sensation in the little crowd; but all eyes, without comparing notes with other eyes, looked at Monsieur the Marquis. Perhaps, to observe whether he had any spectre on his conscience. “Truly, you did well,” said the Marquis, felicitously sensible that such vermin were not to ruffle him, “to see a thief accompanying my carriage, and not open that great mouth of yours. Bah! Put him aside, Monsieur Gabelle!” Monsieur Gabelle was the Postmaster, and some other taxing functionary united; he had come out with great obsequiousness to assist at this examination, and had held the examined by the drapery of his arm in an official manner. “Bah! Go aside!” said Monsieur Gabelle. “Lay hands on this stranger if he seeks to lodge in your village to- night, and be sure that his business is honest, Gabelle.” “Monseigneur, I am flattered to devote myself to your orders.” “Did he run away, fellow?- where is that Accursed?” The accursed was already under the carriage with some half-dozen particular friends, pointing out the chain with his blue cap. Some half-dozen other particular friends promptly hauled him out, and presented him breathless to Monsieur the Marquis. “Did the man run away, Dolt, when we stopped for the drag?” “Monseigneur, he precipitated himself over the hill-side, head first, as a person plunges into the river.” “See to it, Gabelle. Go on!” The half-dozen who were peering at the chain were still among the wheels, like sheep; the wheels turned so suddenly that they were lucky to save their skins and bones; they had very little else to save, or they might not have been so fortunate. The burst with which the carriage started out of the village and up the rise beyond, was soon checked by the steepness of the hill. Gradually, it subsided to a foot pace, swinging and lumbering upward among the many sweet scents of a summer night. The postilions, with a thousand gossamer gnats circling about them in lieu of the Furies, quietly mended the points to the lashes of their whips; the valet walked by the horses; the courier was audible, trotting on ahead into the dim distance. At the steepest point of the hill there was a little burial-ground, with a Cross and a new large figure of Our Saviour on it; it was a poor figure in wood, done by some inexperienced rustic carver, but he had studied the figure from the life-his own life, maybe-for it was dreadfully spare and thin. |
