书城旅游心灵的驿站
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第45章 内陆旅行记 (4)

There iS no doubt that the poorer classes in our country are much more charitably disposed than their superiors in wealth.And I fancy it must arise a great deal from the comparative indistinction of the easy and the not SO easy in these ranks.A workman or a peddler cannot shutter himself 0ff from his less comfogable neighbors.If he treats himself tO a luxury,he must do it in the face of a dozen who cannot.And what should more directly lead to charitable thoughts?Thus the poor man,camping out in life,sees it as it is,and knows that every mouthful he puts in his belly has been wrenched out of the fingers of the hungry. But at a certain stage of prosperity,as in a balloon ascent,thefortunate person passes through a zone of clouds,and sublunary mattersare thenceforward hidden from his view.He sees nothing but theheavenly bodies,all in admirable order and positively as good as new.Hefinds himself surrounded in the most touching manner by the attentionsof Providence,and compares himself involuntarily with the lilies andthe skylarks.He does not precisely sing,of course;but then he looks SOunassuming in his open Landau!If all the world dined at one table thisphilosophy would meet with some rude knocks.

PoNT—SUR—SAMBRE THE TRAVEUNG MERCHANT

Like the lackeys in Molire’s farce,when the true noblemanbroke in on their high life below stairs,we were destined to be confronted with a real peddler.To make the lesson still more poignant for fallen gentlemen like US,he was a peddler of infinitely more consideration thanthe sort of scurvy fellows we were taken for;like a lion among mice,or a ship of war bearing down upon two cockboats.Indeed,he did not deservethe name of peddler at all;he was a traveling merchant. I suppose it was about half-past eight when this worthy,Monsieur Hector Gilliard,of Maubeuge,turned up at the alehouse door in a tilt cart drawn by a donkey,and cried cheerily on the inhabitants.He was a lean,nervous flibbertigibbet of a man,with something the look of an actor and something the look of a horse jockey.He had evidently prospered without any of the favors of education,for he adhered with stern simplicity to the masculine gender,and in the course of the evening passed off some fancyfutures in a very florid style of architecture.With him came his wife,a comely young woman,with her hair tied in a yellow kerchief,and their son,a little fellow of four,in a blouse and military kpi.It was notable that the child was many degrees better dressed than either of the parents.We were informed he was already at a boarding school;but the holidays having just commenced,he was off to spend them with his parents on a cruise.An enchanting holiday occupation,was it no?To travel all day with father and mother in the tilt cart full of countless treasures;the green country rattling by on either side,and the children in all the villages contemplating him with envy and wonder.It is better fun,during the holidays,to be the son of a traveling merchant,than son and heir to the greatest cotton spinner in creation.And as for being a reigning prince,indeed.I never saw one if it was not Master Gilliard!

While M.Hector and the son of the house were putting up the donkey and getting all the valuables under lock and key,the landlady warmed up the remains of our beefsteak and flied the cold potatoes in slices,and Madame Gilliard set herself to waken the boy,who had come far that day,and was peevish and dazzled by the light.He was no sooner awake than he began to prepare himself for supper by eating galette,unripe pears,and cold potatoes,with,SO far as I could judge,positive benefit to his appetite.

The landlady,fired with motherly emulation,awoke her own little girl,and the two children were confronted.Master Gilliard looked at her for a moment,very much as a dog looks at his own reflection in a mirror before he turns away.He was at that time absorbed in the galette.His mother seemed crestfallen that he should display SO little inclination towards the other ***,and expressed her disappointment with some candor and a very proper reference tO the influence of years.

Sure enough a time will come when he will pay more attention to the girls,and think a great deal less of his mother;let US hope she will like it as well as she seemed to fancy.But it is odd enough;the very women who profeSS most contempt for mankind as a *** seem tO find even itsugliest particulars rather lively and high—minded in their own sons.