The spirit of
desolation threw out broad wings under the fading sky; but from afar
towards the west, whither I was going, came through the dusk the shine and
twinkle of many fires that had been lighted by the peasants upon their
patches of reclaimed desert. They flashed to me the sentiment of the autumn
fields, of hopeful husbandry, of laying up for the winter, and preparation
for harvests that would be gathered under next year's sun.
Tired and hungry, I reached La Page in the darkness. The village looked
very poor and dreary; but I had been told that it contained a 'good hotel,'
and I set about looking for it. It turned out to be a rather large but
exceedingly rough auberge. On opening the door I saw a great kitchen with
pebbled floor, lighted only by the glow of embers on the hearth. The figure
of a woman standing in the chimney opening was lit up by the glare. I
walked towards her, and asked her if she could give me lodging. After
scanning me very acutely for some seconds, she replied, 'Yes.' She was
puzzled, if not startled, by the apparition in front of her; but having
thrown down my pack and taken a seat in the chimney-corner like a familiar
of the house, I talked to her about the comfort of being in such a place
after a long walk in so wild a district as hers, and succeeded in making
her quite genial.
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