Chapter VII: A Walk Through the Mountains

On leaving Clermont, the three travellers followed at first the road that had been pointed out to them as leading to the little town of Saint-Amand. But they had walked barely half a league into the mountains, when the desire to obtain a fine view, to climb a rock, or to take a more picturesque path, led them insensibly away from the road they should have followed. In vain did Robineau, who did not share the enthusiasm of his companions for the varied beauties of the landscape, sometimes wild and sometimes cultivated, stop again and again, and exclaim angrily:

"That isn’t the way, messieurs! You’re going astray; we shall lose our road and walk a hundred times farther than we need."

But Alfred and Edouard did not listen to him; they continued to go their own way, and, pausing a moment on the summit of some hill, they would cry:

"What a picturesque country! What a variety of scenery! On one side steep rocks, barren mountains, and a calcareous soil, of volcanic origin; at our feet green pastures, vineyards, fields, trees laden with fruit!"

"Let us go higher," Edouard said, "to the top of yonder hill; it seems to me that I see a field of grain."

"Oh! that would be curious, we must see that," Alfred replied, following Edouard; and they scaled the rocks, running and jumping, and laughing all the time; while Robineau, who had remained behind, made a horrible grimace, saying:

"It seems to me, messieurs, that my château isn’t perched up there. You will have time enough to make excursions in the neighborhood when we are settled in my château. It’s ridiculous to tire yourselves out climbing so high!"

The two friends continued their ascent; they reached the top, which seemed to be more than a league in circumference, and there in fact they found a large field of grain. Engrossed by the pleasure which that magnificent prospect afforded them, Alfred and Edouard stopped. They smiled at each other; they were happy! And when one is conscious of a sentiment of pleasure, one tries to make it last a long while, to detain it in one’s soul. It is rare that one is happy in the present! We almost always rejoice in dreams of the future.

Robineau seated himself with a distressed air on a block of stone, and watched his companions, who were more than a hundred feet above him. Alfred beckoned to him to join them.

"Come up here!" he shouted; "it’s superb! You can see the whole country!"

"Can you see my château?" shouted Robineau.

"Oh! we can see a dozen!"

These words induced the new landed proprietor to climb the hill. He reached the top drenched with perspiration, and mopped his brow as he looked about.

"Well! are you sorry that you came up?" said Alfred.

"Isn’t it worth while to tire oneself a bit for this, eh, Monsieur Jules?"

"It is very pretty, messieurs, I agree; you can see a long distance. But I have seen just as much in Messieurs Daguerre and Bouton’s Diorama."

"The Diorama is certainly a beautiful thing, my friend; it is impossible to carry illusion and perfection of detail any farther; but art should not interfere with our admiration of nature."

"You may say what you please, messieurs, but I prefer the Diorama; there at least I have an explanation of what I see; but here I have no idea what I am looking at.--There’s a village yonder, and I don’t know what village it is."

"Wait a moment! here comes a worthy peasant who will be our cicerone."

A villager approached, with a spade and pickaxe over his shoulder. He was about to descend the hill. Alfred called him and he came toward them touching his hat. The peasants are much more polite in Auvergne than in the suburbs of Paris.

"Will you be kind enough to tell us, my good man, the name of the little town we see yonder, between two streams?"

"That is Saint-Amand, messieurs. It’s a pretty little town. The little stream you see over here is the Veyre, which rises at Pagnia, a village over in this direction; it runs into the Mone, and they both run into the Allier. The Mone comes from Saint-Saturnin, half a league from Saint-Amand. See, where I’m pointing."

"What sort of a place is Saint-Saturnin?"

"Oh! it’s a big village; it used to be a town, and a fortified town too."

"Is there a château thereabout?" inquired Robineau.

"Oh, yes, monsieur; there’s a castle."

"Called La Roche-Noire?"

"No, monsieur, no; that one’s the Château of Saint-Saturnin."

"And La Roche-Noire, where is that?"

"You mean La Roche-Blanche, I suppose, don’t you?--That’s that little village over there."

"I am not talking about your Roche-Blanche!--What astonishing creatures these Auvergnats are! they absolutely insist that black and white (_noir_ and _blanc_) are the same thing!"

"_Dame!_ then I don’t know, monsieur."

"And in this direction, my good man?"

"That’s the village of Chanonat, monsieur."

"Chanonat!" cried Edouard; "where Delille was born?"

"Delille?" replied the peasant; "as to that, I can’t say, monsieur. What did this Delille do? Wasn’t he a vine-dresser? Didn’t he make wine?"

"No, my good man; he made something better than wine; he was a poet! But he loved the fields; and, like another Virgil, he sang the praises of agriculture in his noble verses!"

"I never knew him, monsieur."

Robineau turned away with a shrug, muttering:

"What fools these bright men are! The idea of talking about a poet to this countryman who doesn’t know about anything except his ducks and his wife and children! I shall never do anything so stupid as that!"

Then, turning to the peasant once more, he said:

"My dear friend, these gentlemen have asked you to name all these places--that’s all right, but they forget the most essential thing, which is to ask the shortest way to Saint-Amand, and consequently to my château, which is close by."

"Oh! messieurs, you want to go down the hill first, then bear to your left; you’ll see Le Crest, and it ain’t far from there to Saint-Amand.--Good-day, messieurs."

"Thanks, my good man."

The peasant went his way, and Robineau, after looking at his watch, cried:

"Come, come, messieurs, forward! Do you know what time it is? Half-past five--think of that!"

"Well! it’s light until almost nine now."

"Light! Oh! that depends on what sort of road you are on. At all events, we haven’t arrived yet."

"Adieu then, delightful spot!" said Edouard with a sigh; "how I should have liked to see the sunset from here!"

"That’s it! and we should sleep in the open air!"

"Upon my word, this place inspires me! I feel in the mood for writing; I could compose some verses on this view."

"You can write a poem some other time, my dear Edouard; you can come here again and gaze at the sun and moon and whatever you please; but for the moment, I entreat you, let us go in search of my château, which I am beginning to be very much worried about."

As he spoke, Robineau seized Edouard’s arm and led him away, calling Alfred, and trying to take his arm as well.

"Why in the devil do you cling to us like this?" demanded Alfred, pulling away from Robineau’s grasp.

"Because, my dear fellow, if we three hold on to one another, we are firmer on our feet and less in danger of slipping."

"Do you imagine that we are walking on ice?--Say rather that you’re afraid we shall escape from you again."

"Suppose that I were, messieurs? Isn’t it quite natural that I should be impatient to see my property?"

"What do a few hours sooner or later matter?"

"My dear Alfred, you talk like a man with a hundred thousand francs a year, who is accustomed to wealth, who is even surfeited with the pleasures it affords; but I am still a perfect novice as to that; I am in haste to be happy, and to me the loveliest situations, the most wonderful views will never possess the charm that I shall feel at the first sight of the domain I have purchased."

"I can understand that," said Edouard; "forward, messieurs."

For some time they went on without stopping; but soon a winding path appeared, between perpendicular rocks whereon they saw goats quickly leaping wide spaces, then standing motionless for several minutes on the very brink of a precipice. Edouard could not refrain from stopping once more to contemplate that picture.

"Oh! messieurs, you must agree that this is superb," he cried; "that there is something most majestic in this wild spot. One would think that we were a long, long distance from the world!"

"And so we are, for I don’t see a person or a house," said Robineau, looking gloomily about.

"There is something indescribably grand, something antique about this narrow path between these crags; it carries me back to other ages; it seems to me that I shall see Œdipus and Laius meet in this fatal road!"

"Ah! if we fall foul of the Greeks we shall never have done with them," said Robineau, stamping the ground impatiently.

"For my part, messieurs," said Alfred, "I think that it would be very pleasant to walk here with a pretty woman. We have not met a soul for quarter of an hour! It is delightful! When you come to an attractive spot, you could stop and exchange kisses and dilate on the beauties of nature, and you need not fear to be surprised, as you are likely to be in all the country districts about Paris, where those infernal peasants spring up from a potato field just when you least expect it.--Don’t you agree with me, Robineau? I say--suppose you had Fifine here?"

"If I had Fifine, I would make her walk at all events! and she wouldn’t stop every minute to look at a little pile of moss, or a stone that has broken off the cliff and threatens to fall on our heads!"

"So Fifine is not romantic, eh?--Still, my friend, ladies in general are very fond of making love in the open fields. The turf, the green leaves, a nice soft, dark spot--all these things inspire one and arouse one’s emotions; it’s astonishing how amorous the country makes me!"

"Oh! messieurs, how young you are, what children!"

"May we long be children! The sweetest sensations are always those that remind us of our youth!"

"Let us go on, messieurs, let us go on, I beg. I see nothing very pretty in this rocky road.--Well! Monsieur Edouard, what are you looking at in the air?"

"Why, don’t you see that goat standing on the very edge of the precipice? It seems to me that its feet hardly touch the ground; and it puts out its head and gazes undismayed into the vast space over which it is almost suspended!"

"Oh! this is too much, messieurs! As if you had never seen goats before! The idea of wasting your time watching them! Parbleu! they’re not made any differently here from those at the Jardin des Plantes; indeed, they’re not so handsome. If you should see a bear now, or a lion, why, you might very well stop to gaze at him!"

"Oh! I am very sure that you wouldn’t stop even for that!"

"This infernal road will never come to an end! That peasant must have directed us wrong. We shall end by going astray, by losing ourselves in these mountains.--Ah! how sorry I am now that we didn’t take a guide!"

"It’s your own fault; why did you refuse to accept the services of that man who offered?"

"Whom do you mean? that beggar, that miserable fellow who didn’t even take off his hat when he spoke to us?"

"Is it necessary for a guide to study good manners?"

"At least it is necessary that he shouldn’t have the manners of a brigand; and that’s the impression that man produced on me. Didn’t you notice those underhand glances that he gave us? and that big stick that he carried in his hand?"

"What! you were afraid of that man, when there were three of us?"

"No, it isn’t a question of being afraid! But how do you know that he hasn’t friends, confederates in the mountains? He could have taken us wherever he chose, and all of a sudden a dozen gentlemen of his stamp would have fallen upon us."

"Oh! my poor Robineau! I see that you will never take a walking trip around the world!"

"Faith! I confess that I prefer riding in a carriage to walking; you go forward, at all events--you make some progress. But with you, I have to stop every second; and with all this I see no more of a château than there is in my hand!--Here it is almost seven o’clock, and I am beginning to be very tired."

"And I to be very hungry," said Alfred; "evidently the air in these mountains is good for the digestion."

The two friends could not help laughing at Robineau’s face, as he stared about, sighing dolefully. However, they went on, left the path behind, and seeing a village on the shore of a lake, bent their steps in that direction.

"We will ask about my château in this village," said Robineau.

"We will have something to eat there, too," said Alfred, "for the walk we have taken has given me an appetite."

"Yes, this walk has been very pleasant! I am sure that we have gone more than six leagues out of our way!"

They drew near the shore of the lake on which the village was built. The peasants sat in front of their cottages; there were old women spinning, young women sewing, and children playing and rolling about on the ground.

"They are a little dark," said Alfred as he scrutinized the young women; "however they are not bad-looking--bright eyes and white teeth; their method of arranging their hair is original; and with the little straw hats, set back and tied under the chin, one would almost take them for Englishwomen.--Come, messieurs, let us go on; I fancy that there are no inns in this place, so that we must ask hospitality at the hands of these good people, like the chevaliers of old; with this difference, that we will pay for what we consume--which is less chivalrous, perhaps, but which seems to me more natural."

They entered one of the most pretentious cottages; the inmates gazed at the three young men with an expression of curiosity blended with kindliness and good humor.

"Can you give us something to eat?" inquired Alfred; "to be well paid for, of course."

"Oh, yes! messieurs, right away; and even if you shouldn’t pay, it would be all the same."

"You see, messieurs," said Edouard, "that hospitality is not a lost art; these good people do not know us, yet they would entertain us gratis!"

"Oh! that’s because they see that we will pay," said Robineau.

"Don’t you believe in the virtues of the ancient patriarchs, pray, Monsieur Jules?"

"I will believe in whatever you please when I have seen my château, messieurs!" said Robineau.--"Where are we, my good people, if you please?"

"At Ayda, monsieur."

"Is it far to Saint-Amand?"

"Two good leagues, monsieur."

"Which proves that, although we walk, we make little progress!--To table, messieurs!"

A table was laden with eggs, fresh cheese, old cheese, milk and fruit; the three young men seated themselves on stools, and the villagers remained standing around them. In vain did Alfred urge them to sit--the honest Auvergnats would do nothing of the sort, and Robineau said to himself:

"That is very well done--these peasants are respectful; I am very glad that I have bought an estate in Auvergne."

Two girls of fifteen or sixteen waited upon the travellers, filled their glasses, and served them zealously with fruit, bread and milk, smiling all the while, and making a slight courtesy each time.

"They are very pretty," said Alfred, "and I consider that it’s much more agreeable to see such amiable children behind one’s chair, with a smile always on their faces, than to have a dozen prying, talkative footmen hanging over one’s shoulder. Look you, Robineau, I advise you to set up your establishment with girls like these; you will be served like a sultan!"

"Oh! messieurs, you see only the trivial side! But I cannot have a woman for coachman, for groom, for valet de chambre. A coachman in petticoats--that would be very pretty!"

"You could dress them as men."

"Oh, no!" said Edouard, "they are so charming as they are!"

"‘Nothing so lovely as the true,
The true alone is lovable.’"

"The pleasantest thing," said Robineau, seizing a bowl of milk; "would be to have arrived at our destination.--I say, Monsieur l’Auvergnat, do you know the estate of La Roche-Noire in this neighborhood?"

The peasant whom Robineau addressed reflected a moment, then replied:

"Oh, yes! monsieur--La Roche-Noire--I know it well----"

"He knows it!" cried Robineau; and in an ecstasy of delight he threw his arms in the air and dashed into Alfred’s face almost all the milk contained in the cup he held in his hand.

"The devil take you and your château!" cried Alfred, rising from the table to take off his cravat, which was drenched with milk, while Edouard roared with laughter.

"Oh! I beg your pardon, my dear fellow!" said Robineau; "but really I was beginning to be anxious about my château! This excellent man has restored me to life."

"Were you afraid that your house had flown away?"

"I’ll give you another cravat, Alfred.--Tell me, worthy villager, who knows La Roche-Noire, is it a fine estate?"

"Oh, yes! it’s very large, monsieur! It’s a sort of château, as they say, and it’s got some big towers. They say that in old times they used to fight there, and it was besieged."

"Besieged!" cried Robineau, springing to his feet and overturning his stool, in his haste to run to the peasant’s side. "My friend, here’s a five-franc piece; now tell me, I beg you, all you know about La Roche-Noire."

"You are very generous, monsieur, that’s sure!"

"I am more than that: I am the owner, the new châtelain of the château which you tell me was once besieged.--I promise you that there’ll be some more wonderful doings there! I will give tournaments, jousts, and--and--But let us return to my domain. Can it be seen from a distance?"

"Yes, monsieur, it’s on a hill."

"It’s on a hill! Delightful!--And the park and gardens?"

"The park is still very large, so they say; I don’t know it, but I was in the gardens once.--Oh! they’re fine! There’s marble fountains--they’re a little damaged, but that’s no matter. And splendid _estatues_! with men and women all naked--why, it gives you a fright!"

"Statues!"--And Robineau took the peasant in his arms; he would have kissed him but for his fear of compromising his newly acquired dignity. He tried to calm himself and continued: "Now, my good man, let us come to the essential point: in which direction is my château?"

"La Roche-Noire? Bless me! monsieur, it’s about a league from Saint-Amand."

"In that case, as Saint-Amand is only two leagues from here, we are within a league of my estate."

"Oh! excuse me, monsieur! you’re much more than that, because La Roche-Noire ain’t in this direction at all. If you came from Clermont, you didn’t take the best way to get there."

"There! I knew it! We have gone astray! Do you hear, messieurs?"

Robineau turned and looked about for his friends; but they had left the cottage while he was talking with the peasant.

"Well done! I’ll bet they have gone off to walk now! They have sworn to kill me with vexation!--But at all events my mind is more at rest about my estate.--Tell me, my good man, how far are we from La Roche-Noire?"

"Why, three short leagues, monsieur, at most."

"Three leagues more! What road must we take?"

"Why! you must go by crossroads now. First to Chadrat; then you will see Saint-Amand, and you can inquire there."

"If we get there before dark, we shall be very lucky!--Well! I’ll run after those gentlemen and then we’ll be off."

Robineau left the cottage and asked some peasants in which direction his companions had gone; they pointed to the lake and he hastened thither and soon discovered Edouard sitting on the shore, writing on his tablets, while Alfred, a little farther on, was dancing with a girl to the strains of a fife played by a small boy.

"Let’s be off, messieurs, it will soon be dark!" cried Robineau.

But Alfred continued to dance and Edouard to write.

"They have the very devil in them!" muttered Robineau; and he walked up to Edouard and tapped him on the shoulder as he was reading over the lines he had written.

"We must start, Monsieur Edouard!"

Edouard looked up at Robineau, and declaimed:

"Que j’aime ce séjour! près de cette onde pure,
Qu’il est doux, sur le soir, d’admirer la nature!"

"I tell you that it will soon be dark."

"Né sous cet humble toit, l’habitant de ces lieux,
D’un œil indifférent, voit ces monts sourcilleux!"

"We have three good leagues to travel through these frowning mountains, monsieur."

"Mais, pour un cœur sensible à la mélancolie,
Ce site romantique est plein de poésie!
Ces rochers escarpés, ces limpides ruisseaux,
Ces sentiers tortueux, ces flexibles roseaux."

"It is almost eight o’clock, and we shall break our necks on these winding paths."

"Tout m’agite, m’émeut, et cet endroit sauvage
À mes sens étonnés parle un nouveau langage."[3]

"Oh! if the streams speak to you, they must make some poor joke, Monsieur Edouard!"

"Well, my dear Jules, what say you to those lines?" said Edouard, as he rose and put his tablets in his pocket.

"I say that they are charming, admirable; but I say also that, with your poetry, you will make us pass the night in these mountains, which will not amuse me in the least."

"Would you like me to repeat them to you?"

"No, I want to push on.--And there is Alfred dancing like one possessed!--A young man of his rank, a baron, dancing _flicflacs_ with a buxom Auvergnate!--Alfred! Alfred!"

"One minute! she’s teaching me a _bourrée_," said Alfred, continuing his dance, and whirling his partner about in his arms.

The dance came to an end at last; Alfred kissed the peasant girl and joined his companions, saying:

"Messieurs, the Auvergnat dance is not light and ethereal, but I assure you that it has its merits. So, my dear Robineau, I promise to dance with all your female vassals."

"Have you finished, messieurs?"

"Yes, we are ready to go with you."

"I am not sorry for that! Let us walk faster, I beg you. This road should take us to Chadrat, and thence, if God please, we will go to La Roche-Noire."

The three travellers waved their hands to the people of the village and resumed their journey, Alfred practising the step of the _bourrée_, Edouard reading over his verses, and Robineau looking at his watch every instant.