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Sand, George, 1804-1876

"Mauprat"


And now night had come and I was still two leagues from Roche-Mauprat.
The gate would be shut, the drawbridge up; and I should get a bullet
through me if I tried to enter after nine o'clock. As I did not know
the way, it was a hundred to one against my doing the two leagues in an
hour. However, I would have preferred to die a thousand deaths rather
than ask shelter of the man in Gazeau Tower, even had he granted it
gracefully. My pride was bleeding more than my flesh.
I started off at a run, heedless of all risks. The path made a thousand
turns; a thousand other paths kept crossing it. When I reached the plain
I found myself in a pasture surrounded by hedges. There every trace of
the path disappeared. I jumped the hedge at a venture, and fell into a
field. The night was pitch-dark; even had it been day it would have been
impossible to ascertain my way in the midst of little properties buried
between high banks bristling with thorns. Finally I reached a heath,
then some woods; and my fears, which had been somewhat subdued, now grew
intense. Yes, I own I was a prey to mortal terrors. Trained to bravery,
as a dog is to sport, I bore myself well enough before others. Spurred
by vanity, indeed, I was foolishly bold when I had spectators; but left
to myself, in the middle of the night, exhausted by toil and hunger,
though with no longing for food, unhinged by the emotions I had just
experienced, certain that my uncles would beat me when I returned, yet
as anxious to return as if I were going to find paradise on earth at
Roche-Mauprat, I wandered about until daybreak, suffering indescribable
agonies.


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