Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-09-05
THE TWO INNS.

'on" wound It's way botwecn gardenk Of
,liyc trees and dwarf oaks under a great,
fiat, silver sun which filed all the sky.
There was not spot Of shade, not a
breath OF air. There was nothing but shs
vibrating heat and the shrill cry Of tho
grasshoppers-a foolish, deafening musio
To quick timo which seemed the expression
OF the great luminous vibration. I had
been 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
fix trees, and Mt the end Of the place stood
two large inns looking at each other from
opposite sides Of the road
There was something striking about
these inns.
One was large new building, full Of
life and noise. All the doors were open.
The diligence was standing I'm front, from
which they were unhitching the steaming
horses. The passengers were climbing
down to get hasty drink I'm the short
shadow thrown by the walls. The court
was filled with mules, loaded carts and tho
drivers lying under the sheds awaiting
fresh relays.
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 trenble
The Inn opposite, on the contrary, was
as silent as IL 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 80 poor, so pitiful, that
1t seemed real charity to stop there for O
glass of something.
entered. There was a long, deserted,
mournful room, which the dazzling light
from three great curtainlcss 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 a heavy, deathly
heat.
And flies, fliesl Never had I seen so
many--on the ceiling In tho glasses, In
punches. When 1 opened the door, there
was q buzzing and agitation Of wings as
II had entered beehive.
At the end OF the room In q window, a
woman stood with her face against the
glass, looking intently outside. I called
twice:
''Ho, hostess"
She turned slowly and lot me see a poor
peasants face, wrinkled, hollow, OF the
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 wantg" she asked wipinp
her eyes.
Il want to sit down a moment and hav,
something to drink"
She looked at me very much astonished
without moving as IL she had not under
stood.
"1his is not an inn, thenr"
The woman sighed.
''Yes, it Is an inn IL you like-but why
have you not gone opposite, like the others,
1t is much gayer"-
at is too gay for me. 1 prefer to stay
at your house."
And without waiting her response
seated myself before table.
NltA SuO Noo NCly SuiO NdS DptthlDH
seriously, she began to go and come with q
bustling air, opening drawers, moving
bottles, wiping glasses, disturbing the
fies-one felt that to wait upon this trav
eler was an event.
Now and then the unhappy woman
would clasp her hands to her head as
though she despaired Of keeping on hel
feet.
Then she went into an adjoining room.
could hear her there rattling great keys,
turning the locks, fumbling In the bread
box, gasping, dusting. washing glasses.
From time to time there was great
sigh, u half choked sob.
After q quarter of an hour Of house.
keeping had before me plate Of dried
grapes, an old loaf Of bread, hard as slate,
and bottle Of wine.
"You arc served" said the strange crea.
ture and she turned quickly to take her
place at the window. While drinking
tried to mako her talk.
"People do not come here often, do they,
my good womans"
"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 everybody. People
would rather go on the opposite side. They
find II too dull here. The fact Is the house
Is not pleasant. am not beautiful. I
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 cajoling gchambermaids. And then
she has good, steady patronagel She has
all the young people Of Bezonces, OF Re-
dessan, Qf Jonquieres. Tcamsters make a
detour to pass her door. IL stay here all
day without customer"
She said this with preoccupicd, indif-
ferent voice. continuing to support her
forehead against the window glass. There
was evidently something In the opposite
inn which absorbed her.
Al, mt once there was great excitement
u ser side of tho road. The diligence
nlOved away In the dust One could hear