The Salt Smugglers by Gerard de Nerval

Author:Gerard de Nerval
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steerforth Press
Published: 2010-10-18T04:00:00+00:00

Ver.

I am very fond of this route, — I remember it from my childhood, — which, passing in front of the castle, links the two parts of the village of Ermenonville with four low towers at either end.

Sylvain says to me: « Now that we have had a look at Rousseau’s tomb, we should move on to Dammartin; from there, we’ll find transportation to Soissons and Longueval. Let’s ask those washerwomen in front of the castle for directions.

— Just follow the road to the left or the road to the right, they said ... Either way you’ll get to Ver or Eve, — then you’ll pass through Othys and after two more hours on foot, you’ll reach Dammartin. »

The misinformation supplied by these lovely young ladies launched us on something of a wild-goose chase. — I should also mention that it was raining.

« Let’s ask for another directions », said Sylvain (not unreasonably, if not in flawless French), « from the first people we run into. »

The first were three men making their way single file out of a small path onto the road.

They were : the steward of M. Ernest de Girardin, — followed by an architect, recognizable by the measuring stick he was carrying in lieu of a cane, and then a peasant in a blue smock. We were on the verge of asking further directions from them.

« Should we offer our greetings to the steward? I asked Sylvain. After all, he’s wearing a black suit. »

Sylvain replied, « By no means. It should be up to the locals to offer their greetings first. »

The steward passed by, rather surprised that we had not tipped our hats to him ... as no doubt any number of hats had previously been tipped to him.

The architect followed behind the steward, blind to the world. Only the peasant doffed his cap. We replied in kind.

« As you can see, said Sylvain, we have refused to lower ourselves ... let’s wait till we meet up with some woodcutter to ask for directions. »

The road was in very poor shape; the ruts were so filled with water that we had to walk on the grassy shoulder. And even so, our progress was often impeded by the huge thistles, — half-frozen but still spiky, — that came up to our chests.

After having progressed a league through the woods, we realized that since neither Ver nor Eve nor Othys was anywhere in sight, we were obviously on the wrong track.

Suddenly there was a clearing to our right, — one of those dark open spaces that seem extraordinarily bright when encountered in the middle of the woods...

There was a kind of primitive log cabin there with a thatched roof. A woodcutter was sitting in front of the door, smoking a pipe.

« How do we get to Ver?...

— That’s a long ways off ... If you keep on this road, you’ll end up at Montaby.

— But we want to go to Ver, — or Eve ...

— In

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