Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 336 of 399
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e —_ _ — ——————————— ee — ee ee . i Fair Normandy. 315 and the philosopher is a great gainer. He has done more, we are told, than conquer a city. We determined to make the attempt, risk the train and the price- less objects of bigotry and virtue, as Mrs. Malaprop would have it, and plunged boldly from the town into the outskirts. It was a very dark, very winding road, curiously countrified ; not lonely, or desolate or deserted, for there were houses on either side, with interregnums of empty spaces which seemed in possession of the air, the trees and smaller vegetation ; and, on the right, the pre- cipitous hill-side. The houses were varied and curious, given up to all sorts of trades and occupations. Houses of many forms and sizes; narrow and upright, low and straggling, following upon each other. One was an inn; an old-fashioned French auberge ; and as we approached it, a light square cart came tearing down the hill, apparently from the outside country, and drew up with an abruptness which sent the horse on its haunches, and the ladies all but flying out of the vehicle. They looked like buxom farmer’s wife and daughter, born into the world without superfluous nerves, for they merely gave a scream, which was followed by laughter as they skipped lightly to the ground. The author of this little tour de force was evidently the worthy farmer himself: a stalwart son of Anak, who, proud of his feat, threw the reins to a man—half ostler, half waiter—who had come out in time to witness the performance and emphasise it by his applause. “Eh bien, papa! allons boire un coup,” cried mademoiselle, as she seized her father’s arm and entered the inn, dutifully followed by madame la mére. We apologise to the reader for the want of refinement in the young _ lady’s exclamation, but as a faithful historian we can only record the words as we heard them. Moreover, they were an indication of her _ character, which would be misrepresented by being softened.. The _ reader will be able exactly to match the young lady with the phrase. aa a = The inn swallowed them up, and we saw them no more. Immediately after this, we ourselves fell into grief. The road, we have said, was dark as Erebus. Since the mature age of ten, we have suffered from what is called night blindness: that is, an inability to see anything in the dark. We are aware that this sounds either a very Irish sentence, or a very simple assertion ; and that most people would declare that to be blind in the dark is a very general ex- perience. It is by no means so. ‘There are many people who, like the writer, may possess very strong sight by day, yet are almost blind at night. Oculists may explain the mystery; we cannot. Constantly we have fallen into trouble through this peculiarity of _ vision—or want of vision; once were saved from drowning by a _ brother’s presence. H. C., who has cat’s eyes in the dark, promised to pilot me—as » he has many a time piloted me before; and began his performance CoOnmmiclooolkKks (S©) am