In the kitchen, paved
with small pebbles, two months' accumulation of used linen had been pressed
down in an old wine-cask, and boiling water was now being poured upon it
through a cloth covered with a layer of wood ashes. In these rural places
the washing-day is usually once in two or three months. This simplifies
matters, but it needs a considerable stock of linen, which, by-the-bye,
peasants generally possess. The wash-house odour that arose from the
_lessive_ was not grateful, but I tried to accommodate myself to it. On the
floor was a baby swaddled up, and tightly fitted into a small wooden cradle
on huge rockers--a cradle that might have served for scores of babies,
and been none the worse for wear. Although the fire on the hearth looked
tempting, the proximity of the wine-cask and the linen that was being
purified with potash made me glad to hear that my meal would be served in
another room.
Considering the region, the dinner was not a bad one. I had soup, veal,
eggs, and a fair wine. I had also a companion, but would rather have been
without him. He was a young man, whose appearance gained by the contrast of
a dusty wayfarer's, and he gave himself airs accordingly.
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