CHAPTER VII. VILLETTE.

edconsiderthedesertIhadleft,notehowlittleIperilled:minewasthegamewheretheplayercannotloseandmaywin. Ofanartistictemperament,IdenythatIamyetImustpossesssomethingoftheartist’sfacultyofmakingthemostofpresentpleasure:thatistosay,whenitisofthekindtomytaste.Ienjoyedthatday,thoughwetravelledslowly,thoughitwascold,thoughitrained.Somewhatbare,flat,andtreelesswastheroutealongwhichourjourneylayandslimycanalscrept,likehalf-torpidgreensnakes,besidetheroadandformalpollardwillowsedgedlevelfields,tilledlikekitchen-gardenbeds.Thesky,too,wasmonotonouslygraytheatmospherewasstagnantandhumidyetamidstallthesedeadeninginfluences,myfancybuddedfreshandmyheartbaskedinsunshine.Thesefeelings,however,werewellkeptincheckbythesecretbutceaselessconsciousnessofanxietylyinginwaitonenjoyment,likeatigercrouchedinajungle.ThebreathingofthatbeastofpreywasinmyearalwayshisfierceheartpantedcloseagainstmineheneverstirredinhislairbutIfelthim:Iknewhewaitedonlyforsun-downtoboundravenousfromhisambush. IhadhopedwemightreachVilletteerenightsetin,andthatthusImightescapethedeeperembarrassmentwhichobscurityseemstothrowroundafirstarrivalatanunknownbournebut,whatwithourslowprogressandlongstoppages—whatwithathickfogandsmall,denserain—darkness,thatmightalmostbefelt,hadsettledonthecitybythetimewegaineditssuburbs. Iknowwepassedthroughagatewheresoldierswerestationed—somuchIcouldseebylamplightthen,havingleftbehindusthemiryChaussée,werattledoverapavementofstrangelyroughandflintysurface.Atabureau,thediligencestopped,andthepassengersalighted.Myfirstbusinesswastogetmytrunkasmallmatterenough,butimportanttome.Understandingthatitwasbestnottobeimportunateorover-eageraboutluggage,buttowaitandwatchquietlythedeliveryofotherboxestillIsawmyown,andthenpromptlyclaimandsecureit,IstoodapartmyeyefixedonthatpartofthevehicleinwhichIhadseenmylittleportmanteausafelystowed,anduponwhichpilesofadditionalbagsandboxeswerenowheaped.Onebyone,Isawtheseremoved,lowered,andseizedon. Iwassuremineoughttobebythistimevisible:itwasnot.Ihadtiedonthedirection-cardwithapieceofgreenribbon,thatImightknowitataglance:notafringeorfragmentofgreenwasperceptible.Everypackagewasremovedeverytin-caseandbrown-paperparceltheoilclothcoverwasliftedIsawwithdistinctvisionthatnotanumbrella,cloak,cane,hat-boxorband-boxremained. Andmyportmanteau,withmyfewclothesandlittlepocket-bookenclaspingtheremnantofmyfifteenpounds,wherewerethey? Iaskthisquestionnow,butIcouldnotaskitthen.IcouldsaynothingwhatevernotpossessingaphraseofspeakingFrench:anditwasFrench,andFrenchonly,thewholeworldseemednowgabblingaroundme.WhatshouldIdo?Approachingtheconductor,Ijustlaidmyhandonhisarm,pointedtoatrunk,thencetothediligence-roof,andtriedtoexpressaquestionwithmyeyes.Hemisunderstoodme,seizedthetrunkindicated,andwasabouttohoistitonthevehicle. “Letthatalone—willyou?”saidavoiceingoodEnglishthen,incorrection,“Qu’est-cequevousfa?tesdonc?Cettemalleestàmoi.” ButIhadheardtheFatherlandaccentstheyrejoicedmyheartIturned:“Sir,”saidI,appealingtothestranger,without,inmydistress,noticingwhathewaslike,“IcannotspeakFrench.MayIentreatyoutoaskthismanwhathehasdonewithmytrunk?” Withoutdiscriminating,forthemoment,whatsortoffaceitwastowhichmyeyeswereraisedandonwhichtheywerefixed,Ifeltinitsexpressionhalf-surpriseatm