The Argosy — page 61: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

48 A Night in a blonastery. interval between waiting and drawing far worse than the mauvais quart d’heure of proverbial quotation. A perpetual and vast crowd was col- lected outside ; and as each young fellow came forth from the fiery trial, he was, if happy enough to have drawn a high number, seized upon by kinsmen and acquaintances, and kissed and hugged in an absurdly excited manner. Ifthe contrary, and the unlucky youth came back with a low number, a party of equally luckless young men would seize upon him ; and linking arms, five or six in a row, their numbers stuck conspicuously in their caps, they would patrol the streets in a desperate mood, singing and assuming jollity : or, hiring a fiacre, would drive about in a reckless way not pleasant to see: bribing the coach- man with an extra pour-boire to rattle them over the stones as if the very demon of destruction was in pursuit. Whether Empire or Republic sways the rod of power, still they must have the conscription ; and laws, and judgments, and condemnations, and taxes: and no more freedom in the latter state than in the former, notwithstanding their oft-repeated motto. There isno real liberty; the equality is that every man is trying to do the best for himself; the fraternity measures itself by the same standard ; and when they get to realize this, they grow tired and dissatisfied with a Republic, and again it yields toa KingorEmperor. It has always been so; with a people so constituted it always will be. I had friends living down towards the south, in Grenoble, and sud- denly the idea crossed me to go and see them. I would walk in upon them unexpectedly and take them by storm. To accomplish this I started one night at eight o’clock, by the Marseilles express, from the Gare de Lyon. The night journey was dark, but I was familiar with the surrounding country, which even in daylight possesses but little beauty to attract the traveller. The first part hes through the valleys of the Seine, Yonne, Armoncon, Brenne, and Oze. The word valley is apt, in spite of many contrary experiences, to conjure up to the mind a picture of beauty: slopes, and green pastures ; rivulets whose rip- pling sounds form the most fitting accompaniment to the songs of the birds ; the abode of all that is soft and lovely and lovable in nature. Here you get little of this. The outlook is monotonous for mile after mile. And knowing this I preferred taking the night express, the fastest train on the line. The night looked gloomy enough as we went forth into the dark. About half-past one we reached Dijon, and here I got down with the rest of the travellers who were not sunk in sloth or slumber, and looked about me a moment before entering the buffet. I wanted this moment to reconnoitre and think. I had last been at the station three yearsago at the commencementof the unhappy war, and what a different scene it had then presented. Now, calm, and dark, and closed. Then, every room, every hole and corner open, Eomichbooks.co