sons of the soil-第6部分

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stream　seems　to　sleep　until　it　reaches　in　the　distance　a　series　of

cascades　falling　among　huge　rocks；　where　little　weeping　willows　with

elastic　motion　sway　back　and　forth　to　the　flow　of　waters。



Beyond　these　cascades　is　the　hillside；　rising　sheer；　like　a　Rhine　rock

clothed　with　moss　and　heather；　gullied　like　it；　again；　by　sharp　ridges

of　schist　and　mica　sending　down；　here　and　there；　white　foaming

rivulets　to　which　a　little　meadow；　always　watered　and　always　green；

serves　as　a　cup；　farther　on；　beyond　the　picturesque　chaos　and　in

contrast　to　this　wild；　solitary　nature；　the　gardens　of　Conches　are

seen；　with　the　village　roofs　and　the　clock…tower　and　the　outlying

fields。



There　are　the　two　paragraphs；　but　the　rising　sun；　the　purity　of　the

air；　the　dewy　sheen；　the　melody　of　woods　and　watersimagine　them！



〃Almost　as　charming　as　at　the　Opera；〃　thought　Blondet；　making　his　way

along　the　banks　of　the　unnavigable　portion　of　the　Avonne；　whose

caprices　contrast　with　the　straight　and　deep　and　silent　stream　of　the

lower　river；　flowing　between　the　tall　trees　of　the　forest　of　Les

Aigues。



Blondet　did　not　proceed　far　on　his　morning　walk；　for　he　was　presently

brought　to　a　stand…still　by　the　sight　of　a　peasant；one　of　those　who；

in　this　drama；　are　supernumeraries　so　essential　to　its　action　that　it

may　be　doubted　whether　they　are　not　in　fact　its　leading　actors。



When　the　clever　journalist　reached　a　group　of　rocks　where　the　main

stream　is　imprisoned；　as　it　were；　between　two　portals；　he　saw　a　man

standing　so　motionless　as　to　excite　his　curiosity；　while　the　clothes

and　general　air　of　this　living　statue　greatly　puzzled　him。



The　humble　personage　before　him　was　a　living　presentment　of　the　old

men　dear　to　Charlet's　pencil；　resembling　the　troopers　of　that　Homer　of

soldiery　in　a　strong　frame　able　to　endure　hardship；　and　his　immortal

skirmishers　in　a　fiery；　crimson；　knotted　face；　showing　small　capacity

for　submission。　A　coarse　felt　hat；　the　brim　of　which　was　held　to　the

crown　by　stitches；　protected　a　nearly　bald　head　from　the　weather；

below　it　fell　a　quantity　of　white　hair　which　a　painter　would　gladly

have　paid　four　francs　an　hour　to　copy；a　dazzling　mass　of　snow；　worn

like　that　in　all　the　classical　representations　of　Deity。　It　was　easy

to　guess　from　the　way　in　which　the　cheeks　sank　in；　continuing　the

lines　of　the　mouth；　that　the　toothless　old　fellow　was　more　given　to

the　bottle　than　the　trencher。　His　thin　white　beard　gave　a　threatening

expression　to　his　profile　by　the　stiffness　of　its　short　bristles。　The

eyes；　too　small　for　his　enormous　face；　and　sloping　like　those　of　a

pig；　betrayed　cunning　and　also　laziness；　but　at　this　particular　moment

they　were　gleaming　with　the　intent　look　he　cast　upon　the　river。　The

sole　garments　of　this　curious　figure　were　an　old　blouse；　formerly

blue；　and　trousers　of　the　coarse　burlap　used　in　Paris　to　wrap　bales。

All　city　people　would　have　shuddered　at　the　sight　of　his　broken

sabots；　without　even　a　wisp　of　straw　to　stop　the　cracks；　and　it　is

very　certain　that　the　blouse　and　the　trousers　had　no　money　value　at

all　except　to　a　paper…maker。



As　Blondet　examined　this　rural　Diogenes；　he　admitted　the　possibility

of　a　type　of　peasantry　he　had　seen　in　old　tapestries；　old　pictures；

old　sculptures；　and　which；　up　to　this　time；　had　seemed　to　him

imaginary。　He　resolved　for　the　future　not　to　utterly　condemn　the

school　of　ugliness；　perceiving　a　possibility　that　in　man　beauty　may　be

but　the　flattering　exception；　a　chimera　in　which　the　race　struggles　to

believe。



〃What　can　be　the　ideas；　the　morals；　the　habits；　of　such　a　being？　What

is　he　thinking　of？〃　thought　Blondet；　seized　with　curiosity。　〃Is　he　my

fellow…creature？　We　have　nothing　in　common　but　shape；　and　even

that！〃



He　noticed　in　the　old　man's　limbs　the　peculiar　rigidity　of　the　tissues

of　persons　who　live　in　the　open　air；　accustomed　to　the　inclemencies　of

the　weather　and　to　the　endurance　of　heat　and　cold；hardened　to

everything；　in　short；which　makes　their　leathern　skin　almost　a　hide；

and　their　nerves　an　apparatus　against　physical　pain　almost　as　powerful

as　that　of　the　Russians　or　the　Arabs。



〃Here's　one　of　Cooper's　Red…skins；〃　thought　Blondet；　〃one　needn't　go

to　America　to　study　savages。〃



Though　the　Parisian　was　less　than　ten　paces　off；　the　old　man　did　not

turn　his　head；　but　kept　looking　at　the　opposite　bank　with　a　fixity

which　the　fakirs　of　India　give　to　their　vitrified　eyes　and　their

stiffened　joints。　Compelled　by　the　power　of　a　species　of　magnetism；

more　contagious　than　people　have　any　idea　of；　Blondet　ended　by　gazing

at　the　water　himself。



〃Well；　my　good　man；　what　do　you　see　there？〃　he　asked；　after　the　lapse

of　a　quarter　of　an　hour；　during　which　time　he　saw　nothing　to　justify

this　intent　contemplation。



〃Hush！〃　whispered　the　old　man；　with　a　sign　to　Blondet　not　to　ruffle

the　air　with　his　voice；　〃You　will　frighten　it〃



〃What？〃



〃An　otter；　my　good　gentleman。　If　it　hears　us　it'll　go　quick　under

water。　I'm　certain　it　jumped　there；　see！　see！　there；　where　the　water

bubbles！　Ha！　it　sees　a　fish；　it　is　after　that！　But　my　boy　will　grab　it

as　it　comes　back。　The　otter；　don't　you　know；　is　very　rare；　it　is

scientific　game；　and　good　eating；　too。　I　get　ten　francs　for　every　one

I　carry　to　Les　Aigues；　for　the　lady　fasts　Fridays；　and　to…morrow　is

Friday。　Years　agone　the　deceased　madame　used　to　pay　me　twenty　francs；

and　gave　me　the　skin　to　boot！　Mouche；〃　he　called；　in　a　low　voice；

〃watch　it！〃



Blondet　now　perceived　on　the　other　side　of　the　river　two　bright　eyes；

like　those　of　a　cat；　beneath　a　tuft　of　alders；　then　he　saw　the　tanned

forehead　and　tangled　hair　of　a　boy　about　ten　years　of　age；　who　was

lying　on　his　stomach　and　making　signs　towards　the　otter　to　let　his

master　know　he　kept　it　well　in　sight。　Blondet；　completely　mastered　by

the　eagerness　of　the　old　man　and　boy；　allowed　the　demon　of　the　chase

to　get　the　better　of　him；that　demon　with　the　double　claws　of　hope

and　curiosity；　who　carries　you　whithersoever　he　will。



〃The　hat…makers　buy　the　skin；〃　continued　the　old　man；　〃it's　so　soft；

so　handsome！　They　cover　caps　with　it。〃



〃Do　you　really　think　so；　my　old　man？〃　said　Blondet；　smiling。



〃Well　truly；　my　good　gentleman；　you　ought　to　know　more　than　I；　though

I　am　seventy　years　old；〃　replied　the　old　fellow；　very　humbly　and

respectfully；　falling　into　the　attitude　of　a　giver　of　holy　water；

〃perhaps　you　can　tell　me　why　conductors　and　wine…merchants　are　so　fond

of　it？〃



Blondet；　a　master　of　irony；　already　on　his　guard　from　the　word

〃scientific；〃　recollected　the　Marechal　de　Richelieu　and　began　to

suspect　some　jest　on　the　part　of　the　old　man；　but　he　was　reassured　by

his　artless　attitude　and　the　perfectly　stupid　expression　of　his　face。



〃In　my　young　days　we　had　lots　of　otters；〃　whispered　the　old　fellow；

〃but　they've　hunted　'em　so　that　if　we　see　the　tail　of　one　in　seven

years　it　is　as　much　as　ever　we　do。　And　the　sub…prefect　at　Ville…aux…

Fayes；doesn't　monsieur　know　him？　though　he　be　a　Parisian；　he's　a

fine　young　man　like　you；　and　he　loves　curiosities；so；　as　I　was

saying；　hearing　of　my　talent　for　catching　otters；　for　I　know　'em　as

you　know　your　alphabet；　he　says　to　me　like　this：　'Pere　Fourchon；'　says

he；　〃when　you　find　an　otter　bring　it　to　me；　and　I'll　pay　you　well；　and

if　it's　spotted　white　on　the　back；'　says　he；　'I'll　give　you　thirty

francs。'　That's　just　what　he　did　say　to　me　as　true　as　I　believe　in　God

the　Father；　Son；　and　Holy　Ghost。　And　there's　a　learned　man　at

Soulanges；　Monsieur　Gourdon；　our　doctor；　who　is　making；　so　they　tell

me；　a　collection　of　natural　history　which　hasn't　its　mate　at　Dijon

even；　indeed　he　is　first　among　the　learned　men　in　these　parts；　and

he'll　pay　me　a　fine　price；　too；　he　stuffs　men　and　beasts。　Now　my　boy

there　stands　me　out　that　that　otter　has　got　the　white　spots。　'If

that's　so；'　says　I　to　him；　'then　the　good　God　wishes　well　to　us　this

morning！'　Ha！　didn't　you　see　the　water　bubble？　yes；　there　it　is！　there

it　is！　Though　it　lives　in　a　kind　of　a　burrow；　it　sometimes　stays　whole

days　under　water。　Ha；　there！　it　heard　you；　my　good　gentleman；　it's　on

its　guard　now；　for　there's　not　a　more　suspicious　animal　on　earth；　it's

worse　than　a　woman。〃



〃So　you　call　women　suspicious；　do　you？〃　said　Blondet。



〃Faith；　monsieur；　if　you　come　from　Paris　you　ought　to　know　about　that

better　than　I。　But　you'd　have　done　better　for　me　if　you　had　stayed　in

your　bed　and　slept　all　the　morning；　don't　you　see　that　wake　there？

that's　where　she's　gone　under。　Get　up；　Mouche！　the　otter　heard

monsieur　talking；　and　now　she's　scary　enough　to　keep　us　at　her　heels

till　midnight。　Come；　let's　be　off！　and　good…bye　to　our　thirty　francs！〃



Mouche　got　up　reluctantly；　he　looked　at　the　spot　where　the　water

bubbled；　pointed　to　it　with　his　finger　and　seemed　unable　to　give　up

all　hope。　The　child；　with　curly　hair　and　a　brown　face；　like　the　angels

in　a　fifteenth…century　picture；　seemed　to　be　in　breeches；　for　his

trousers　ended　at　the　knee　in　a　ragged　fringe　of　brambles　and　dead

leaves。　This　necessary　garment　was　fastened　upon　him　by　cords　of

tarred　oakum　in　guise　of　braces。　A　shirt　of　the　same　burlap　which　made

the　old　man's　trousers；　thickened；　however；　by　many　darns；　open　in

front　showed　a　sun…burnt　little　breast。　In　short；　the　attire　of　the

being　called　Mouche　was　even　more　startlingly　simple　than　that　of　Pere

Fourchon。



〃What　a　good…natured　set　of　people　they　are　here；〃　thought　Blondet；

〃if　a　man　frightened　away　the　game　of　the　people　of　the　suburbs　of

Paris；　how　their　tongues　would　maul　him！〃



As　he　had　never　seen　an　otter；　even　in　a　museum；　he　was　delighted　with

this　episode　of　his　early　walk。　〃Come；〃　said　he；　quite　touched　when

the　old　man　walked　away　without　asking　him　for　a　compensation；　〃you

say　you　are　a　famous　otter　catcher。　If　you　are　sure　there　is　an　otter

down　there〃



From　the　other　side　of　the　water　Mouche　pointed　h