Man is a creature born to habitudes. The day had been sultry—the evening was delicious—the wine was generous—the Burgundian hill on which it grew was steep—a little tempting bush over the door of a cool cottage at the foot of it, hung vibrating in full harmony with the passions—a gentle air rustled distinctly through the leaves—“Come—come, thirsty muleteer—come in.”
—The muleteer was a son of Adam; I need not say a word more. He gave the mules, each of ’em, a sound lash, and looking in the abbess’s and Margarita’s faces (as he did it)—as much as to say “here I am”—he gave a second good crack—as much as to say to his mules, “get on”——so slinking behind, he enter’d the little inn at the foot of the hill.
The muleteer, as I told you, was a little, joyous, chirping fellow, who thought not of to-morrow, nor of what had gone before, or what was to follow it, provided he got but his scantling of Burgundy, and a little chit-chat along with it; so entering into a long conversation, as how he was chief gardener to the convent of Andoüillets, &c. &c., and out of friendship for the abbess and Mademoiselle Margarita, who was only in her 370 noviciate, he had come along with them from the confines of Savoy, &c. &c.—and as how she had got a white swelling by her devotions—and what a nation of herbs he had procured to mollify her humours, &c. &c., and that if the waters of Bourbon did not mend that leg—she might as well be lame of both—&c. &c. &c.—He so contrived his story, as absolutely to forget the heroine of it—and with her the little novice, and what was a more ticklish point to be forgot than both—the two mules; who being creatures that take advantage of the world, inasmuch as their parents took it of them—and they not being in a condition to return the obligation downwards (as men and women and beasts are)—they do it side-ways, and long-ways, and back-ways—and up hill, and down hill, and which way they can.———Philosophers, with all their ethicks, have never considered this rightly—how should the poor muleteer, then in his cups, consider it at all? he did not in the least—’tis time we do; let us leave him then in the vortex of his element, the happiest and most thoughtless of mortal men——and for a moment let us look after the mules, the abbess, and Margarita.
By virtue of the muleteer’s two last strokes the mules had gone quietly on, following their own consciences up the hill, till they had conquer’d about one half of it; when the elder of them, a shrewd crafty old devil, at the turn of an angle, giving a side glance, and no muleteer behind them——
By my fig! said she, swearing, I’ll go no further——And if I do, replied the other, they shall make a drum of my hide.——
And so with one consent they stopp’d thus——
CHAPTER XXII
——Get on with you, said the abbess.
——Wh - - - - ysh——ysh——cried Margarita.
Sh - - - a——suh - u——shu - - u—sh - - aw——shaw’d the abbess.
——Whu—v—w——whew—w—w—whuv’d Margarita pursing up her sweet lips betwixt a hoot and a whistle.
Thump—thump—thump—obstreperated the abbess of Andoüillets with the end of her gold-headed cane against the bottom of the calesh——
The old mule let a f— 371
CHAPTER XXIII
We are ruin’d and undone, my child, said the abbess to Margarita,——we shall be here all night——we shall be plunder’d——we shall be ravish’d——
——We shall be ravish’d, said Margarita, as sure as a gun.
Sancta Maria! cried the abbess (forgetting the O!)—why was I govern’d by this wicked stiff joint? why did I leave the convent of Andoüillets? and why didst thou not suffer thy servant to go unpolluted to her tomb?
O my finger! my finger! cried the novice, catching fire at the word servant—why was I not content to put it here, or there, any where rather than be in this strait?
Strait! said the abbess.
Strait——said the novice; for terror had struck their understandings——the one knew not what she said——the other what she answer’d.
O my virginity! virginity! cried the abbess.
——inity!——inity! said the novice, sobbing.
CHAPTER XXIV
My dear mother, quoth the novice, coming a little to herself,——there are two certain words, which I have been told will force any horse, or ass, or mule, to go up a hill whether he will or no; be he never so obstinate or ill-will’d, the moment he hears them utter’d, he obeys. They are words magic! cried the abbess in the utmost horror—No; replied Margarita calmly—but they are words sinful—What are they? quoth the abbess, interrupting her: They are sinful in the first degree, answered Margarita,—they are mortal—and if we are ravish’d and die unabsolved of them, we shall both——but you may pronounce them to me, quoth the abbess of Andoüillets——They cannot, my dear mother, said the novice, be pronounced at all; they will make all the blood in one’s body fly up into one’s face—But you may whisper them in my ear, quoth the abbess.
Heaven! hadst thou no guardian angel to delegate to the inn at the bottom of the hill? was there no generous and friendly spirit unemployed——no agent in nature, by some monitory shivering, creeping along the artery which led to his heart, to 372 rouse the muleteer from his banquet?——no sweet minstrelsy to bring back the fair idea of the abbess and Margarita, with their black rosaries!
Rouse! rouse!——but ’tis too late—the horrid words are pronounced this moment——
——and how to tell them—Ye, who can speak of everything existing, with unpolluted lips, instruct me——guide me——
CHAPTER XXV
All sins whatever, quoth the abbess, turning casuist in the distress they were under, are held by the confessor of our convent to be either mortal or veniaclass="underline" there is no further division. Now a venial sin being the slightest and least of all sins—being halved—by taking either only the half of it, and leaving the rest—or, by taking it all, and amicably halving it betwixt yourself and another person—in course becomes diluted into no sin at all.
Now I see no sin in saying, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, a hundred times together; nor is there any turpitude in pronouncing the syllable ger, ger, ger, ger, ger, were it from our matins to our vespers: Therefore, my dear daughter, continued the abbess of Andoüillets—I will say bou, and thou shalt say ger; and then alternately, as there is no more sin in fou than in bou—Thou shalt say fou—and I will come in (like fa, sol, la, re, mi, ut, at our complines) with ter. And accordingly the abbess, giving the pitch note, set off thus: Abbess,