The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1900-09-07
The Deserted Inn.
BY AIphonse Daudet.

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was returning from Mines one after
noon in July and stopped for refreshment
at what is called the relay of st. Vincent.
| There were two large inns looking at
each other from opposite sides of the
road. One was a large, new building,
| full Of 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 hasty drink
in the short shadow thrown by the walls.
The court was filled with mules, loaded
carts, and the drivers lying under the
sheds awaiting fresh relays.
From the inside could be heard cries,
oaths, the pounding of fists on the ia
bles, the exploding corks of lemonade
bottles, the clinking Of glasses, the noise
of billiards and, dominating all this tu-
multi, joyous, ringing voice singing in
manner calculated 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 a small branch of
withered holly hung like an old plume;
| the doorsteps were propped up with
stone from the road. All was so poor, SO
pitiful, that 1t seemed a real charity to
stop there for glass of something.
/ 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 a few dusty glasses, a yellow
sofa, an old counter, broken down bill
lard table, slept there in heavy, death
ly heat.
And flies, fiesl Never had l 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 a beehive.
At the end of the room, in window, a
woman stood with her face against the
glass, looking intently outside. called
twice:
"Ho, hostessw
She turned slowly and let me see a
POOR peasants face, wrinkled, hollow, of
the color of dirt, framed in a 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, WHIP
ing her eyes.
Il want to sit down a moment and
have something to drink"
She looked at me very much astonish-
ed, without moving, as if she had not I'M
derstood.
'aThis is not an inn, then?"
The woman sighed
eyes, it is an inn, If you like-but why
have you not gone opposite. like the 9th
ers? 1t Is much gayer''-
at is too gay for me. | prefer to stay
at your house."
And without waiting her response l
seated myself before table.
When she was very sure was speak
ing seriously, she began to go and come
with bustling air, opening drawers,
moving bottles, wiping glasses, disturbing
the flies-one felt that to wait upon this
traveller was an event.
Now and then the unhappy woman
would clasp her hands to her head as
though she despaired of keeping on her
feet.
Chen she went into an adjoining room.
could hear her there rafting great keys,
turning the locks, fumbling in the bread
box, gasping, busting, washing glasses.
From time to time there was q great
sigh, half choked sob.
After a 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 are served" said the strange
creature, and she turned quickly to take
her place at the window. While drink
ing | tried to make her talk.
people do not come here often, do
they, my good woman?"
ooh, no, monsieur. Never any one.
When we had the only inn here, 1t 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. Peo
pie would rather go on the opposite side.
They find it too dull here. The fact is,
the house is not pleasant; am not beau
tiful. / have had fevers, and my two
little ones are dead. Over there, on the
contrary, they laugh all the time. 1t is
an Aries ieune who keeps the inn, a.
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 ca
joling chambermaids. And then she has
good, steady patronage. She has all the
of Jonquires. Transfers make detour
to pass her door, IL stay here all day
without a customer"
She said this with preoccupied, in
| different voice, continuing to support her
! forehead against the window glass.
| There was evidently something in the op.
| posite 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 Positions horn, the girls standing al
| the door crying:
"Adiousias! Adiousiasw And all over
the same formidable voice singing again;
"La belle Margoton."
On hearing this voice the hostess
shook from head to foot, and. turning tc
me, said:
'Do you hear that?" and then quite
low: "That is my husband. Doesn't he
sing well?"
/ looked at her, stupefied.
| "What? Your husband He goes over
there, he toe?"
Then, with heartbroken. but gentle,
softness:
.What would you have monsieur
Men are made like that. They do NOT
like to see crying, and | cry constantly
since the death of my little ones. Then
it is so sad, this great barracks, where no
/ one ever comes. Then, when he is too
much bored, my poor Jose goes opposite.
and as he has fine voice the Arle' sieune
makes him sing. There be is singing
! 90 In, V,-Ex chanua