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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 abbesss and Margaritas faces (as he did it)as much as to say here I amhe gave a second good crackas much as to say to his mules, get onso slinking behind, he enterd 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 Andouillets, &c. &c. and out of friendship for the abbess and Mademoiselle Margarita, who was only in her 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 devotionsand 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 legshe might as well be lame of both&c. &c. &c.He so contrived his story, as absolutely to forget the heroine of itand with her the little novice, and what was a more ticklish point to be forgot than boththe two mules; who being creatures that take advantage of the world, inasmuch as their parents took it of themand 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 rightlyhow 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 menand for a moment let us look after the mules, the abbess, and Margarita. By virtue of the muleteers two last strokes the mules had gone quietly on, following their own consciences up the hill, till they had conquerd 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, Ill go no furtherAnd if I do, replied the other, they shall make a drum of my hide. And so with one consent they stoppd thus |
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