The Princess Passes Volume 56 by Alice Muriel Williamson, Charles Norris Williamson (book recommendations .TXT) 📖

The World Was After All Endurable, Though Empty

Of Mules. Besides, Molly Was A Sweet Consoler. She Dwelt On The

Hopeful Suggestion In The Name Piedimulera. It Could Not Be Wholly

Deceiving, She Argued. Why Name A Place Foot-Of-A-Mule, If There Were

No Mules There?

 

"If There Aren't," I Exclaimed, "I Swear To You That I Will, By Fair

Means Or Foul, Dispose Of At Piedimulera All The Things With Which I

Fondly Thought To Deck The Animal My Fancy Had Painted. Everything I

Chapter 6 (The Wings Of The Wind) Pg 45

Bought At Bern Shall Go, If I Have To Dig A Grave By Night In Which To

Bury Them. This Is A Vow, And Though My Heart Be Wrung, I'll Keep It."

 

Molly Listened To This Outburst As Gravely As If I Had Been

Threatening To Sacrifice A Son, Did Not Some Incredible Good Fortune

Supply A Ram Caught By His Horns In The Bushes.

 

For Piedimulera We Left In The Afternoon, Somewhat Buoyed Up By The

Omen Of The Name. The Way Led Back Towards The Alps, Up A Broad And

Beautiful Valley Strewn With Evidences Of The Works For The Simplon

Railway: Embankments, Bridges, Quarries, And Occasional Groups Of

Workmen Hauling Rhythmically On The Many Ropes Of A Pile-Driver.

Presently We Swerved From The Main Road, And Crossed The Valley Bed,

Obedient To The Map, Which Was Our Only Guide To Piedimulera. We

Passed One Or Two Romantically Placed, Ancient Villages, Each Of Which

I Hoped Might Be Our Goal; But, As Usual In Life, The Town For Which

We Were Bound Did Not Appear As Alluring As Other Towns, Where We Had

No Need To Stop.

 

"I Feel There Will Be Not So Much As The Ghost Of A Long-Perished

Roman Mule In This Hamlet," I Said Despondently, Hoping That Molly

Would Contradict Me. But She, Too, Looked Anxious, Now That The Great

Moment Had Come, For We Were Driving Into A Town, At The Mouth Of A

Deep Gorge Already Dusky With Purpling Shadows, And There Was No Doubt

That It Was Piedimulera.

 

The Gloom Of The Twilight Settled Upon Our Spirits, Dissimulate As We

Might, As The Car Swept Into The Cobble-Paved Courtyard Of An

_Albergo_, A Venerable Grandfather Of A Hostelry, Old, Grim, And

Forbidding. Out Came A Large, Fair Man To Welcome Us, With Calculation

In His Cold Grey Eye. He Looked To Me Like A Spider In His Web,

Greeting Some Inviting Flies. We Broke The Ice By Asking For Coffee,

And When We Were Told That We Must Have It Without Milk, As There Were

No Cows Within A Radius Of Many Miles, I Would Have Staked All My

Possessions (Especially Those Acquired At Bern) That There Would Be No

Such Comparatively Useless Animals As Mules Or Donkeys.

 

Instinct Is Seldom Wrong. If Ever There Was Nothing In A Name, There

Was Nothing In That Of Piedimulera, Which Had Evidently Been Applied

In Sheer Mockery, Or Because, Untold Generations Ago, The Foot Of That

Rare Creature, A Mule, Had Been Preserved Here In A Museum. When The

Landlord Found That We Did Not Intend To Stop Overnight, Unless Mules

Were At Once Forthcoming, He Visibly Lost Interest In Us, As Inedible

Insects. He Shrugged His Shoulders At The Bare Idea That Piedimulera

Might Shelter Such Creatures As We Were Mad Enough To Desire, And

Assured Us That There Was Not The Least Use In Trying Domodossola. We

Had Much Better Spend The Night With Him, And To-Morrow Morning Go On

As Best We Might To Brig. No? Then He Washed His Hands Of Us.

 

I Did Not Give My Treasures To This Person: Rather Would I Have Burnt

All, Than Picture Him Battening On My Instantaneous Breakfasts. Molly

Would Have Had Me Keep Them, At Least Until We Knew What Fate Awaited

Us At Domodossola. The Moment I Had Irrevocably Parted With My Outfit,

Chapter 6 (The Wings Of The Wind) Pg 46

Bought In Happier Days, I Should Find A Mule, And How Annoyed Would I

Be, She Prophesied. But I Was Adamant. Had I Not Made A Vow? Besides,

If I Were To Find A Mule Or Donkey The Moment I Had Got Rid Of His

Paraphernalia, That Alone Was An Inducement To Throw The Cargo

Overboard.

 

On Our Way To Domodossola, I Saw A Pretty Dark-Eyed Young Woman, With

A Cherubic Baby In Her Arms, Standing In The Doorway Of A Tumble-Down

Cottage. Evidently She Was Waiting To Greet Her Husband When He Should

Come Home, Weary With His Long Day's Work. Quickly I Made A Decision

And With The Same Abruptness I Had Used In Urging Molly To Draw Before

The Too Attractive Shop In Bern, I Begged Her Now To Stop. My White

Elephants Were Stowed Away In Separate Bundles In The Tonneau, Where,

Ever Since Lucerne, They Had Been The Cause Of Cramps And "Pins And

Needles" To The Feet Of Any Member Of The Party Who Sat There. I

Ruthlessly Collected The Lot, And, Well-Nigh Swamped By The Load, I

Carried Them To The Cottage Door, Where I Laid All At The Feet Of The

Young Mother. She Suddenly Became An Incarnate Point Of Admiration,

And Could Scarcely Believe That I Was Sane, Or That She Was Not

Dreaming When I Explained My Wish To Make Her A Present. If I Had

Stayed An Hour, I Could Not Have Dissipated Her Bewilderment, So I

Left The Things To Speak For Themselves--If She Did Not Take Them For

Infernal Machines And Throw Them Into The River.

 

It Was Evening When We Arrived At Domodossola, And I Felt Nothing

Save Cold Resignation When Told Emphatically By The Concierge Of Our

Chosen Hotel That My Quest Was Hopeless.

 

"You Will Have To Go To Brig," He Said; And Though He Was An

Intelligent And Worthy Man, I Could Have Smitten Him To Earth.

 

"You Must Abandon Me To My Fate," I Told Jack And Molly. "_Il Est Trop

Fort._ If I'm To Walk The Face Of The Earth, I Want A Pack-Mule And A

Man; And, 'Somehow, Somewhere, Somewhen,' I Mean To Have Them. But

You've More Than Done Your Duty By Me. You Can Get Back To Lucerne

From Here Comfortably, Without Daring Any More Mountain Passes And

Fines For Law-Breaking. Since To Brig I Must Go, I'll Make A Virtue Of

Necessity, And Walk Over The Simplon, To See The Tunnel And Railway

Works."

 

"Walk, If You Will," Said Molly; "But If I Know My Lightning Conductor

And Myself, We'll See You Through To The End, Be It Bitter Or Sweet."

 

"Echo Answers," Added Jack. "If You Want To See Things Clearly, You

Must Have Daylight, And If We Wish To Escape The Arm Of The Law, We

Must Fly By Night, Which Means That We Can't Join Forces Till The

Journey's End."

 

"You Needn't Think We're Sacrificing Ourselves, For We Should Love

It," Molly Capped Him. "We're Having The Jam Of Adventure Spread Thick

On Our Bread Now."

 

"Well, Then, Everything's Settled," Said Jack, "Except The Start."

Chapter 6 (The Wings Of The Wind) Pg 47

Molly Thought A Day In Domodossola Too Much. It Was Decided, Therefore,

That They Should Rest Till Eleven, And That The Motor Should Be Ready

At Midnight. They Could Reach Brig Between Two And Three, And Being A

Posting Town, The Hotel People Were Sure To Be Up. I Was To Start

Early In The Morning, And Meet My Friends At Brig, After Walking Over

The Pass.

 

I Saw Them Off, And Then Plunged Fathoms Deep Into Sleep, Dreaming Of

A Land Flowing With Mules And Donkeys. At Five, I Was Up, And Was

Surprised To Find That The Despised Domodossola Was A Beautiful And

Interesting Old Town, With Curiously Spanish Effects In Its Shadowy

Streets, Lined With Ancient, Arcaded Houses. I Thought To Save Time

And Fatigue By Taking A Carriage To The Frontier Village Of Iselle At

The Foot Of The Pass, And Was Glad I Had Done So, For The Road Was

Rough And Covered Inches Deep With A Deposit Of Peculiar, Grey Dust.

But Things Mended When We Climbed A Hill, Turned Out Of The Main

Valley, And Followed The Course Of The River Diveria Into A Lateral

Gorge Of The Mountains, The Real Porchway Or Entrance Of The Simplon

Pass.

 

Chapter 7 (At Last) Pg 48

    "A Jack-O'-Lantern, A Fairy Fire,

     A Dare, A Bliss, And A Desire."

    --Bliss Carman.

 

    "Here A Great Personal Deed Has Room."

    --Walt Whitman.

 

 

The Further I Penetrated Into The Mountains, The More Like A Vast

Engineering Workshop Did The Long Alpine Valley Become. Yet, Curiously

Enough, Instead Of Destroying Romance, This Gave A Certain Majestic

Romance Of Its Own; The Romance Of Man's Struggle To Conquer The

Stupendous Forces Of Nature With His Science. It Was As If Vulcan's

Stithy Had Been Dropped Down Into A Profound Ravine Of The Alps, And

The Drone Of Machinery Mingled With The Music Of The Fleeting River--A

Strange Diapason.

 

On The Right Of The Highroad, The Flat Mountain Face Opened A Black,

Egg-Shaped Mouth At Me. I Got Out Of The Carriage To Approach It, And

While I Stood Peering Down The Dark Throat, As If I Were A Lilliputian

Doctor Examining The Tongue Of Giant Gulliver, I Was Suddenly Clapped

Upon The Shoulder. It Flashed Into My Mind That Perhaps It Was

Forbidden To Stare At The Tunnel-In-Making; And Turning To Defend