- And where will
you dry it, Maria? said I. - I'll dry it in my bosom, said she: -
'twill do me good.
And is your heart still so warm, Maria? said I.
I touch'd upon the string on which hung all her sorrows: - she
look'd with wistful disorder for some time in my face; and then,
without saying any thing, took her pipe and play'd her service to
the Virgin. - The string I had touched ceased to vibrate; - in a
moment or two Maria returned to herself, - let her pipe fall, - and
rose up.
And where are you going, Maria? said I. - She said, to Moulines. -
Let us go, said I, together. - Maria put her arm within mine, and
lengthening the string, to let the dog follow, - in that order we
enter'd Moulines.
MARIA. MOULINES.
Though I hate salutations and greetings in the market-place, yet,
when we got into the middle of this, I stopp'd to take my last look
and last farewell of Maria.
Maria, though not tall, was nevertheless of the first order of fine
forms: - affliction had touched her looks with something that was
scarce earthly; - still she was feminine; - and so much was there
about her of all that the heart wishes, or the eye looks for in
woman, that could the traces be ever worn out of her brain, and
those of Eliza out of mine, she should NOT ONLY EAT OF MY BREAD AND
DRINK OF MY OWN CUP, but Maria should lie in my bosom, and be unto
me as a daughter.
Adieu, poor luckless maiden! - Imbibe the oil and wine which the
compassion of a stranger, as he journeyeth on his way, now pours
into thy wounds; - the Being, who has twice bruised thee, can only
bind them up for ever.
THE BOURBONNNOIS.
There was nothing from which I had painted out for my self so
joyous a riot of the affections, as in this journey in the vintage,
through this part of France; but pressing through this gate, of
sorrow to it, my sufferings have totally unfitted me. In every
scene of festivity, I saw Maria in the background of the piece,
sitting pensive under her poplar; and I had got almost to Lyons
before I was able to cast a shade across her.
- Dear Sensibility! source inexhausted of all that's precious in
our joys, or costly in our sorrows! thou chainest thy martyr down
upon his bed of straw - and 'tis thou who lift'st him up to Heaven!-
-Eternal Fountain of our feelings! - 'tis here I trace thee - and
this is thy "DIVINITY WHICH STIRS WITHIN ME;" - not that, in some
sad and sickening moments, "MY SOUL SHRINKS BACK UPON HERSELF, AND
STARTLES AT DESTRUCTION;" - mere pomp of words! - but that I feel
some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself; - all comes
from thee, great - great SENSORIUM of the world! which vibrates, if
a hair of our heads but falls upon the ground, in the remotest
desert of thy creation. - Touch'd with thee, Eugenius draws my
curtain when I languish - hears my tale of symptoms, and blames the
weather for the disorder of his nerves. Thou giv'st a portion of
it sometimes to the roughest peasant who traverses the bleakest
mountains; - he finds the lacerated lamb of another's flock. - This
moment I behold him leaning with his head against his crook, with
piteous inclination looking down upon it! - Oh! had I come one
moment sooner! it bleeds to death! - his gentle heart bleeds with
it. -
Peace to thee, generous swain! - I see thou walkest off with
anguish, - but thy joys shall balance it; - for, happy is thy
cottage, - and happy is the sharer of it, - and happy are the lambs
which sport about you!
THE SUPPER.
A shoe coming loose from the fore foot of the thill-horse, at the
beginning of the ascent of mount Taurira, the postilion dismounted,
twisted the shoe off, and put it in his pocket; as the ascent was
of five or six miles, and that horse our main dependence, I made a
point of having the shoe fastened on again, as well as we could;
but the postilion had thrown away the nails, and the hammer in the
chaise box being of no great use without them, I submitted to go
on.
He had not mounted half a mile higher, when, coming to a flinty
piece of road, the poor devil lost a second shoe, and from off his
other fore foot. I then got out of the chaise in good earnest; and
seeing a house about a quarter of a mile to the left hand, with a
great deal to do I prevailed upon the postilion to turn up to it.
The look of the house, and of every thing about it, as we drew
nearer, soon reconciled me to the disaster. - It was a little farm-
house, surrounded with about twenty acres of vineyard, about as
much corn; - and close to the house, on one side, was a potagerie of
an acre and a half, full of everything which could make plenty in a
French peasant's house; - and, on the other side, was a little wood,
which furnished wherewithal to dress it. It was about eight in the
evening when I got to the house - so I left the postilion to manage
his point as he could; - and, for mine, I walked directly into the
house.
The family consisted of an old grey-headed man and his wife, with
five or six sons and sons-in-law, and their several wives, and a
joyous genealogy out of them.
