It was Stevenson's
'Travels with a Donkey.' Duchemin was familiar enough with the work,
and had no need to dip anew into its pages to know it offered one fair
solution to his quandary.
If--he assured himself--there were any place in Europe where one might
count on being reasonably secure from the solicitous attentions of the
grudge-bearing Bolsheviki, it was the Cevennes, those little-known
hills in the south of France, well inland from the sea.
II
ONE WALKS
A little place called Le Monastier, in a pleasant highland valley
fifteen miles from Le Puy ... notable for the making of lace, for
drunkenness, for freedom of language, and for unparalleled political
dissension was Mr. Stevenson's point of departure on his Travels with a
Donkey. Monsieur Duchemin made it his as well; and on the fourth
morning of his hegira from England set out from Le Monastier afoot, a
volume of Montaigne in his pocket, a stout stick in his fist--the fat
rucksack strapped to his shoulders enabling this latter-day traveller
to dispense with the society of another donkey.
The weather was fine, his heart high, he was happy to be out of harness
and again his own man.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25