The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman Laurence Sterne (short novels to read .txt) 📖

toping kind of a fellow, who troubled his head very little with the hows and whens of life; so had mortgaged a month of his conventical wages in a borrachio, or leathern cask of wine, which he had disposed behind the calesh, with a large russet-coloured riding-coat over it, to guard it from the sun; and as the weather was hot, and he not a niggard of his labours, walking ten times more than he rode⁠—he found more occasions than those of nature, to fall back to the rear of his carriage; till by frequent coming and going, it had so happen’d, that all his wine had leak’d out at the legal vent of the borrachio, before one half of the journey was finish’d.

Man is a creature born to habitudes. The day had been sultry⁠—the evening was delicious⁠—the wine was generous⁠—the Burgundian hill on which it grew was steep⁠—a little tempting bush over the door of a cool cottage at the foot of it, hung vibrating in full harmony with the passions⁠—a gentle air rustled distinctly through the leaves⁠—“Come⁠—come, thirsty muleteer⁠—come in.”

—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 abbess’s and Margarita’s faces (as he did it)⁠—as much as to say “here I am”⁠—he gave a second good crack⁠—as much as to say to his mules, “get on”⁠⸺⁠so slinking behind, he enter’d 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 tomorrow, nor of what had gone before, or what was to follow it, provided he got but his scantling of Burgundy, and a little chitchat along with it; so entering into a long conversation, as how he was chief gardener to the convent of Andoüillets, etc. etc., 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, etc. etc.⁠—and as how she had got a white swelling by her devotions⁠—and what a nation of herbs he had procured to mollify her humours, etc. etc., and that if the waters of Bourbon did not mend that leg⁠—she might as well be lame of both⁠—etc. etc. etc.⁠—He so contrived his story, as absolutely to forget the heroine of it⁠—and with her the little novice, and what was a more ticklish point to be forgot than both⁠—the two mules; who being creatures that take advantage of the world, inasmuch as their parents took it of them⁠—and they not being in a condition to return the obligation downwards (as men and women and beasts are)⁠—they do it sideways, and longways, and back-ways⁠—and up hill, and down hill, and which way they can.⁠⸻Philosophers, with all their ethicks, have never considered this rightly⁠—how 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 men⁠⸺⁠and for a moment let us look after the mules, the abbess, and Margarita.

By virtue of the muleteer’s two last strokes the mules had gone quietly on, following their own consciences up the hill, till they had conquer’d 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, I’ll go no further⁠⸺⁠And if I do, replied the other, they shall make a drum of my hide.⁠⸺⁠

And so with one consent they stopp’d thus⁠⸺⁠

XXII

⸺⁠Get on with you, said the abbess.

⸺⁠Wh - - - - ysh⁠⸺⁠ysh⁠⸺⁠cried Margarita.

Sh - - - a⁠⸺⁠suh - u⁠⸺⁠shu - - u⁠—sh - - aw⁠⸺⁠shaw’d the abbess.

⸺⁠Whu⁠—v⁠—w⁠⸺⁠whew⁠—w⁠—w⁠—whuv’d Margarita pursing up her sweet lips betwixt a hoot and a whistle.

Thump⁠—thump⁠—thump⁠—obstreperated the abbess of Andoüillets with the end of her gold-headed cane against the bottom of the calesh⁠⸺⁠

The old mule let a f⁠⸺⁠

XXIII

We are ruin’d and undone, my child, said the abbess to Margarita,⁠⸺⁠we shall be here all night⁠⸺⁠we shall be plunder’d⁠⸺⁠we shall be ravish’d⁠⸺⁠

⸺⁠We shall be ravish’d, said Margarita, as sure as a gun.

Sancta Maria! cried the abbess (forgetting the O!)⁠—why was I govern’d by this wicked stiff joint? why did I leave the convent of Andoüillets? and why didst thou not suffer thy servant to go unpolluted to her tomb?

O my finger! my finger! cried the novice, catching fire at the word servant⁠—why was I not content to put it here, or there, anywhere rather than be in this strait?

Strait! said the abbess.

Strait⁠⸺⁠said the novice; for terror had struck their understandings⁠⸺⁠the one knew not what she said⁠⸺⁠the other what she answer’d.

O my virginity! virginity! cried the abbess.

⸺⁠inity!⁠⸺⁠inity! said the novice, sobbing.

XXIV

My dear mother, quoth the novice, coming a little to herself,⁠⸺⁠there are two certain words, which I have been told will force any horse, or ass, or mule, to go up a hill whether he will or no; be he never so obstinate or ill-will’d, the moment he hears them utter’d, he obeys. They are words magic! cried the abbess in the utmost horror⁠—No; replied Margarita calmly⁠—but they are words sinful⁠—What are they? quoth the abbess, interrupting her: They are sinful in the first degree, answered Margarita,⁠—they are mortal⁠—and if we are ravish’d and die unabsolved of them, we shall both⁠⸺⁠but you may pronounce them to me, quoth the abbess of Andoüillets⁠⸺⁠They cannot, my dear mother, said the novice, be pronounced at all; they will make all the blood in one’s body fly up into one’s face⁠—But you may whisper them in my ear, quoth the abbess.

Heaven! hadst thou no guardian angel to delegate to the inn at the bottom of the hill? was there no generous and friendly spirit unemployed⁠⸺⁠no agent in nature, by some monitory shivering, creeping along the artery which led to his heart, to