Wanderings in Spain by Théophile Gautier

Author:Théophile Gautier [Gautier, Théophile]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-09-06T22:00:00+00:00

On beholding such wretched hovels, you feel yourself full of pity for the robbers who are obliged to live by marauding in a country where you might make a round of ten leagues and not find wherewithal to cook an egg. The resources offered by the diligences and galleys are really insufficient, and the poor brigands who vegetate in La Mancha are often obliged to be contented with a supper composed of a handful of those sweet acorns which were the delight of Sancho Panza. What is it possible to take from people who have neither money nor pockets, who live in houses of which the whole furniture is composed of four bare walls, and whose only utensils are a saucepan and an earthenware pitcher? To pillage such villages appears to me one of the most lugubrious fancies which can well enter the head of a robber out of work.

A little beyond Puerto Lapiche you enter La Mancha, where we perceived to our right two or three windmills, which lay claim to having victoriously sustained the shock of Don Quixote's lance, and which, for the moment, were listlessly turning their fans with the aid of an asthmatic breeze. The venta at which we stopped to imbibe two or three jars of fresh water, also boasts of having entertained the immortal hero of Cervantes.

We will not fatigue our readers with a description of our monotonous route through a stony, flat, and dusty country, only enlivened, at long intervals, with a few olive-trees, whose foliage is diseased and of a bluish green; where nothing is seen but tawny, haggard, mummified peasants, with scorched, rusty hats, short breeches, and coarse gaiters of darkish cloth, carrying a tattered jacket on their shoulders, and driving before them a mangy ass whose coat is white with age, whose ears are enervated, and whose back is pitiful to behold; and where you see at the entrance of the villages nothing but half-naked children, as dark as mulattoes, and who view you with wild and astonished looks as you pass by.

Dying of hunger, we arrived at Manzanares in the middle of the night. The courier who preceded us, profiting by his right as first comer and his acquaintance with the people of the hotel, had exhausted all the provisions, which consisted, it is true, but of three or four eggs and a piece of ham. We uttered the most piercing and heart-rending cries, and declared that we would set fire to the house and roast the landlady herself, if there were no other dish forthcoming. This display of energy procured us, at about two in the morning, some supper, to prepare which they had been obliged to wake up half the town. We had a quarter of kid, eggs with tomato-sauce, ham and goat's-milk cheese, with some pretty good white table-wine. We all supped together in the yard by the light of three or four brass lamps, very much like the funereal lamps of antiquity. The flame of

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.