dry? ’Get into a train, my little young
man,’ said he, I and go you away home to your
parents.’ I was so astounded at the man’s
malice, that I could only stare at him in silence.
A tree would never have spoken to me like this.
At last I got out with some words. We had come
from Antwerp already, I told him, which was a good
long way; and we should do the rest in spite of him.
Yes, I said, if there were no other reason, I would
do it now, just because he had dared to say we could
not. The pleasant old gentleman looked at me
sneeringly, made an allusion to my canoe, and marched
of, waggling his head.
I was still inwardly fuming, when up came a pair of
young fellows, who imagined I was the Cigarette’s
servant, on a comparison, I suppose, of my bare jersey
with the other’s mackintosh, and asked me many
questions about my place and my master’s character.
I said he was a good enough fellow, but had this
absurd voyage on the head. ‘O no, no,’
said one, ’you must not say that; it is not
absurd; it is very courageous of him.’
I believe these were a couple of angels sent to give
me heart again. It was truly fortifying to reproduce
all the old man’s insinuations, as if they were
original to me in my character of a malcontent footman,
and have them brushed away like so many flies by these
admirable young men.
When I recounted this affair to the Cigarette, ’They
must have a curious idea of how English servants behave,’
says he dryly, ’for you treated me like a brute
beast at the lock.’
I was a good deal mortified; but my temper had suffered,
it is a fact.
At Landrecies the rain still fell and the wind still
blew; but we found a double-bedded room with plenty
of furniture, real water-jugs with real water in
them, and dinner: a real dinner, not innocent
of real wine. After having been a pedlar for
one night, and a butt for the elements during the
whole of the next day, these comfortable circumstances
fell on my heart like sunshine. There was an
English fruiterer at dinner, travelling with a Belgian
fruiterer; in the evening at the cafe, we watched our
compatriot drop a good deal of money at corks; and
I don’t know why, but this pleased us.
It turned out we were to see more of Landrecies than
we expected; for the weather next day was simply bedlamite.
It is not the place one would have chosen for a day’s
rest; for it consists almost entirely of fortifications.
Within the ramparts, a few blocks of houses, a long
row of barracks, and a church, figure, with what countenance
they may, as the town. There seems to be no trade;
and a shopkeeper from whom I bought a sixpenny flint-and-steel,
was so much affected that he filled my pockets with
spare flints into the bargain. The only public
buildings that had any interest for us were the hotel
and the cafe. But we visited the church.
There lies Marshal Clarke. But as neither of
us had ever heard of that military hero, we bore the
associations of the spot with fortitude.
