The Argosy — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

A Night in a hlonastery. 53 sacrifice (which ended in smoke) was of some service; but it was impossible completely to extinguish the fumes of garlic even by the fumes of tobacco, until the departure of the man himself. This took place in about three-quarters-of an hour, and the ‘ bon voyage” we dismissed him with was at any rate a hearty one. From the first the morning had not been fine, but it became much worse as the day progressed. Much of the interest of the road and scenery was destroyed by the rain, which began steadily to come down. By degrees the clouds thickened and darkened, and wrapped them- selves round the tops of the mountains, and rolled down into the valleys with most depressing and gloomy persistency. Yet in spite of this the drive could not be otherwise than pleasant and picturesque. The horses trotted at a good round pace, jingling their collar-bells: a perpetual sound that would be insupportable in the streets of London, but seeming almost musical and well-placed amidst the mountains : bringing to mind that scene in Dalilah so famously acted and put upon the stage of the Theatre Francais in Paris. (In the distance you hear this sound of bells: a car is rapidly journeying through the mountains. Two men are visible on the stage. One has deceived a pure-minded girl who loved him, and whom he loved: jilted her for a worthless woman, who in turn leaves him for another. His first love dies of a broken heart, and he repents too late. The car contains her body, which her father is conveying back to their own country. ‘The man who has done this harm sees the car in the distance, does not recognize the inmate, and, mistaking it for some one else, shouts. The bells cease, the car stops, the old, white-haired man climbs up a steep embankment to the foot of a large wayside cross. ‘‘Que voulez-vous, messieurs,” says he in a heartbroken voice, unable to recognize them in the gloom. “Que voulez-vous de moi? Ma fille est morte. Oui, messieurs, elle est morte !”—a whole world of misery in his tones. ‘“‘Je ramene son pauvre corps prés de sa mere.” They recognize the voice: guess the truth. The friend makes some excuse and bids him depart. The old: man passes them and dis- appears behind the mountain. The bells are again heard, faint and fainter, as the car proceeds onwards with its melancholy burden. The lover, who has long been at death’s door, unable to bear this last shock, expires, faithful in death to his first love, his arms extended towards her remains. ‘The whole scene, acted as it could be acted nowhere else, is full of excitement.) On first leaving Grenoble the road was tolerably straight and smooth. The mountains to the right were close upon us; those to the left farther off, and the valley, had the weather been fine, gave promise of much beauty. Here and there upon the heights stood out an unpre- tending modern chateau, or the ruins of an old castle, grey-stained with time. Now a patriarchal couple, looking at least a hundred-and- CoOnmmicloookks (CO)