The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1895-09-19
THE TWO INNS.

road wound its way between gardens o.
olive trees and dwarf oaks under great
fat, silver sun which filed all the sky.
There was not spot of shade, not q
breath of air. There was nothing but the
vibrating heat and the shrill cry Of thu
grasshoppers-a foolish, deafening music
to quick time which seemed the expression
of the great luminous vibration. I had
beon walking in this open desert two hours
when cluster of white houses arose sud
denly out of the dusty road before me.
1t was. what is called the relay Of St.
Vincent. There were five or six houses
with long, low, red rooted barns, an empty
watering trough in a clump of struggling
fig trees, and at the end of the place stood
two large inns looking at each other from
opposite sides of the road. &BE
There was something striking about
these inns. ss4
One was a large new building, full ii
life and noise. All the doors were open.
The diligence was standing in front, from
which they were unhitching the steaming
horses. The passengers were climbing
down to get a hasty drink in the short
shadow thrown by tho walls. The court
was filed with mules, loaded carts and the
drivers lying under the sheds awaiting
fresh relays. N
From the inside could be heard cries,
oaths, the pounding of fists on the tables,
the exploding corks of lemonade BOTTLES,
the blinking Of glasses, the noise of billiards
and dominating all this tumult joyous,
ringing voice singing in a manner calcu-
lated to make the glasses tremble. @
The inn opposite, on the contrary, was
as silent as if abandoned. Weeds grew
about the entrance; the blinds were bro
ken; upon the door small branch Of with
cred holly hung like an old plume; the
doorsteps were propped up with stone from
the road. All was SO poor, SO pitiful, that
it seemed a real charity to stop there for a
glass of something. 's.''
entered. There was a long, deserted
mournful room, which the dazzling light
from three great curtainless windows made
more deserted and mournful still. @
Some limping tables, on which were
scattered few dusty glasses; yellow
sofa, an old counter, broken down bill
lard table, slept there in heavy, deathly
heat. $5&
And flies, flies! Never had I seen SO
many-on the ceiling, in the glasses, in
punches. When opened the door, there
was buzzing and agitation of wings as
if had entered beehive. ..
At the end Of the room, in a window, a
woman stood with her face against the
glass, looking intently outside. I called
twice: S.
"Ho, hostess" ~
She turned slowly and let me see poor
peasants face, wrinkled, hollow, of tho
color of dirt, framed in scarf of red lace,
such as old women wear in villages with
US. Nevertheless she was not an old
woman. Tears had faded her.
"What do you want?" she asked, wiping
her eyes. III.
II want to sit down moment and have
something to drink" III
She looked at me very much astonished,
without moving as if she had not under
stood. $
"This is not an inn, them" 81
The woman sighed. 10. o., ~
eyes, it is an inn if you like-but why
have you not gone opposite. like the otherss
It is much gayer''-
ut is too gay for me. Iprefer to stay
at your house." =.
And without waiting her response /
seated myself before table,
When she was very sure I was speaking
seriously, she began to 60 and come witha
bustling air, opening drawers, moving
bottles, wiping glasses, disturbing the
fies-one felt that to wait upon this trav-
eler was an event. Elk
Now and then the unhappy woman
would clasp her hands to her head as
though she despaired of keeping on her
feet. 4
Then she went into an adjoining room.
I could hear her there rattling great keys,
turning the locks, fumbling in the bread
box, gasping, busting, washing glasses.
From time to time there was great
sigh, half choked sobs %%;
After a quarter of an hour of house
keeping I had before me plate of dried
grapes, an old loaf of bread, hard as slate,
and bottle of wine. 5G
"You are served,' said the strange crea-
ture, and she turned quickly to take her
place at the window. While drinking /
tried to make her talk.
"People do not come here often, do they,
my good woman?" S
"Oh, no, monsieur. Never any one.
When we had the only inn here, it was
quite different. We had the stagecoach,
game dinners in the wild duck season and
teamsters all the year. But since our
neighbors have come and established
themselves we have lost every body. People
would rathergo on the opposite side. They:
find it too dull here. The fact is the house
is not pleasant. am not beautiful.
have had fevers, and my two little ones are
dead. Over there, on the contrary, they
laugh all the time It is an Arle'sieune
who keeps the inn, handsome woman
who wears lace and three strands of gold
chain about her neck. The driver of the
diligence is her lover. With that there are
several cabling chambermaids. And then
she has good, steady patronagel She has
all the young people Of Becomes, Of Re-
dessan, of Jonquieres. Teamsters make q
detour to pass her door. II stay here all
day without customer" #$
She said this with preoccupied, indif.
ferent voice, continuing to support her
forehead against the window glass. There
was evidently something in the opposite
inn which absorbed her.
All at once there was great excitement
the other side Of the road. The diligence
moved away in the dust. One could hear
the cracks Of the whip and the footing Of
the nosti1ion's horn the Girls standing At