" Here
was a dark saying, over which the Arethusa pondered as he drank his
grenadine; but when he rose and asked what was to pay, the light
came upon him in a flash. "O, POUR VOUS," replied the landlady,
"a halfpenny!" POUR VOUS? By heaven, she took him for a beggar!
He paid his halfpenny, feeling that it were ungracious to correct
her. But when he was forth again upon the road, he became vexed in
spirit. The conscience is no gentleman, he is a rabbinical fellow;
and his conscience told him he had stolen the syrup.
That night the travellers slept in Gien; the next day they passed
the river and set forth (severally, as their custom was) on a short
stage through the green plain upon the Berry side, to Chatillon-
sur-Loire. It was the first day of the shooting; and the air rang
with the report of firearms and the admiring cries of sportsmen.
Overhead the birds were in consternation, wheeling in clouds,
settling and re-arising. And yet with all this bustle on either
hand, the road itself lay solitary. The Arethusa smoked a pipe
beside a milestone, and I remember he laid down very exactly all he
was to do at Chatillon: how he was to enjoy a cold plunge, to
change his shirt, and to await the Cigarette's arrival, in sublime
inaction, by the margin of the Loire.
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